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literaila · 2 months

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kitchen scene

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: the aftermath (and more)

warnings: if it doesn't make sense i can't help! they are their own people! they do what they want! (kissing)

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year four.

it's quiet, you think. but it isn't, really.

despite the early hour, your brain has put in overtime, has woken up before your alarm, and every thought is louder than it should be. every concern, every foolish ideation, every word you need to say--

there's a creak in the floor, and then a yawn. "kids aren't up yet?"

"not yet."

satoru leans on the counter across from you, lying on it.

you almost smile, then catch yourself.

you snuck out of bed fifteen minutes ago--leaving him to chill to death. you weren't sure if you should stay there or not. if you should force him to say something, force yourself to say something else.

but the ways you've communicated with satoru have always been out of the ordinary.

always more about the unsaid, the unspoken truths, than the ones you're willing to admit.

and you want to apologize to him for last night--for the past month, for letting any of it happen. but you don't want to break the gentle bridge between the two of you. stomp all over it before you've finished putting it together.

and really, you just want to talk to him about nothing. you just want him there. want him to stop hiding from you.

so, right now, you decide, you'll take whatever you can get.

even if it's him whining on the kitchen island, long limbs almost touching the cutting board you're working on.

then he leans up again, groaning. "is this puberty?"

you continue to cut up the fruit you're working on but glance at him briefly, with a brow raised.

satoru sighs, hands in waving in the air as he speaks. "'cause of the excessive sleeping and stuff. isn't that what happens?"

"weren't you a kid at some point?"

his voice is rough from sleep, and he's still in his clothes from yesterday. but he doesn't seem to mind that you trapped him in your room, and slept on his arm all night--till it was probably numb.

satoru looks casual. simple and disheveled--your favorite version of him. "it's unclear," he grins at you.

"it's only nine," you say, peeking at the clock. "and they stayed up late."

"you let them?" satoru gasps mockingly.

"i don't let them do anything. they're master manipulators."

"thought we weren't supposed to name-call the children."

"you're not," you tilt your head at him. "i can do whatever i want."

"that's dangerous logic."

you roll your eyes.

"hey," he says, coming to stand right next to you. "are we feeding an army?"

you wave your knife at him, threateningly. "you ever heard of leftovers?"

"nope."

"okay," you turn again. "how about leaving me alone?"

satoru hums. "mmm, doesn't ring a bell."

"of course it doesn't," you say, sighing.

"hey," satoru says, again.

"what?"

"look at me?"

you pause, but turn slowly, meeting satoru's eyes like hitting a bullseye with an arrow.

he's already smiling at you. he looks so boyish, so young that it makes you want to look away immediately. but you don't, because he asked.

and he's always had some weird hold on you.

it takes only a moment for him to tug you in by the hem of your shirt, you tripping over the two steps it takes to near him. then his arms wrap around your waist and you're really looking up at him.

staring at him, while he stares back at you.

"what?" you ask, softly. you swallow, trying to push down that aching feeling. you don't want that here, thank you, not right now.

satoru breathes for a moment, checking every inch of your face, looking for something that probably isn’t there.

then he sighs, almost reluctantly, and his lip curls. "i missed you," he admits to you, slowly.

you can see it in his eyes--the way they flicker away for a moment, searching for something else--that it's a silly thing to admit. so stupid that satoru feels embarrassed by it.

but your cheek twitches. "you did?"

"mm-hmm," he tilts his head at you. "where else could i find someone obsessed with me? i don't think there's a market for that..."

your face drops. you make a face at him, then turn, with him still wrapped around you. "hmm," you wonder, looking around. your heart beats harder when his fingers curl even deeper into your skin. "where did i put it?"

"put what?"

"the receipt."

satoru is looking at you quizzically, like you've lost your mind, and you smile at him.

"i think i want to return you," you say, with a cheeky smile. "buyer's remorse and all."

satoru groans, but you giggle, maybe because you haven't felt like this--this content and happy--in weeks. he hasn't held you this close in so long and it just feels right.

"are you laughing at your own joke?" he asks you, "your own bad joke?"

"aww," you tap his nose. "it's okay, satoru. comedy is a talent, you know. it doesn’t come naturally to all.”

satoru rolls his eyes, but he doesn't say anything else, doesn't move his hands from you, or quip back.

it’s easy to feel that hesitance—the chill in the air. the two of you are so good at letting go of things (keeping them forever), forgetting about what matters (never talking about it). but you’re not good at this.

you’re not good at making up with satoru. at being mad at him in the first place.

you don’t know how to… do this with him. to live with the mistakes and not regret anything you’ve said. you don’t know how to be vulnerable and pretend like it’s normal.

and you don’t know how to love him like you do. you’re not even really sure what love is.

but it doesn’t matter, anyway.

none of it does.

satoru’s mouth moves like he knows what you’re thinking—like he’s already sure of what you’re going to say next. he’s read all of your battle moves, he knows what foot you lean on before you punch.

and he’s looking at you like you're a portrait. smiling like he's about to make a bid for you.

when he looks at you like that you forget everything that matters.

"what?" you ask, so softly it's barely there.

his hands are on your hips, fingers tracing the skin and bones there, mass and muscle. he's doing it on purpose, you know. trying to drive you crazy.

satoru shakes his head, but he's still smiling.

"no, really. what?"

you’ll take any answer just to get over this quivering in your chest. the fear that something might happen.

the fear that it won’t.

"nothing," he says, and you can see his tongue. it’s pink and his teeth are white. and you’ve never missed a thing about satoru, but this seems like a new idea.

is he a real person? is he really standing there?

"satoru..."

"yeah?"

you might not be breathing. you might not be anything but mere air, something to pass right through.

you try not to lean back from him. to run away. "nothing..." you whisper, trying to keep your cool.

you don’t want to beg him. don’t want to push him too far.

but it only takes a second, really.

one moment satoru is staring at you, some crazed look in his eyes, a beautiful smile adorning his face. he's teasing you and trying to get you to break.

trying to trick you into pulling him in yourself. trying to test the boundaries between the two of you—things that you’ve never put up.

one moment, he’s just your too-close best friend.

and the next moment your eyes are closed, and his lips are on yours.

he's softer than you thought. warmer.

satoru is on fire. you’re sure that he’s going to scar your skin, that you’re going to blister and burn into something less than ashes—still, you don’t move.

you’ve always been too cold, you think.

it takes no thinking, no consideration to kiss him right back. because you've done this before--in dreams and fantasies--and you know exactly how he kisses.

like he's wanted you forever. like he's been waiting just as long for this. like he’s not afraid of anything.

so strong and overbearing and too much—

he's soft, and his movements are short, exact. satoru is mathematical in the way he kisses you. so very sure.

you breathe out into his mouth, and every single moment of worrying about him, loving him from afar--it disappears. just like you knew—like he knew—it would.

he smiles against your lips, because he’s always been able to read your mind, and you pull back. your lips hurt (they are so cold without him there, so ready for more).

his eyes are very close, blinding, and you can see the way he's looking at you now. the way his gaze changes from your eyes to your lips, the way he's breathing.

there’s an apology on his face, a million secrets he won’t admit out loud—not yet. but you don’t care. you don’t need anything from him but this.

your hand is on his chest so you can feel his heart, how fast it’s beating,

yours echoes back, calling out to him.

"satoru," you whisper, because it's the only word in your head.

just him.

"hmm?" he asks, nose brushing against yours.

neither of you make any harsh movements. you don't move too quickly, don't say anything before you can think about it. and, really, you know that if you push this too far it will break--that this singular moment is so fragile.

but it's so goddamn easy.

and all you want to do is kiss him again.

"why do you taste like watermelon?"

"toothpaste is a wonderful invention..." he says, as he leans in again.

and he kisses you.

he kisses you slowly like he wants to savor every second. in no world would you ever push him away from this, in no world would you ever retreat once you've gotten this far.

you can feel it as he breathes. can feel every inhale and exhale because he shares them with you.

it’s more than sharing secrets. more than sharing your lives.

you suddenly realize how insignificant it is to pine from afar. to love him without really understanding this.

and maybe this means more than words can say.

maybe that's why your hand moves to linger at the curve of his jaw, just grazing him with your fingertips, wanting to pull him closer and never touch him again.

you know this is going to hurt.

satoru pulls back, just so he can brush his lips against yours as he asks, "good?"

you try to swallow, catch your breath.

you want to smile like you've never smiled before. you want to break records, crash down walls, just to keep him right there.

what do you have to lose?

"yeah," you tell him, leaning in again. "good."

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paper-daisy · 8 days

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Like many of us I'm doing a TWD rewatch, looking for all those pre-relationship moments, and a great little one in 4x01 is after Michonne arrives back at the prison -- there's a moment where Daryl tells her "Glad to see you're in one piece." HOWEVER, when he says that he turns to look directly at Rick. Who in turn quickly looks away, almost bashful.

You can just imagine what Daryl had to put up with, with Rick in those early days. So I had to fic it.

Rick never said the words aloud. He never outright said, "I'm worried about Michonne. I hope she's okay. I hope she comes back." He was never that obvious. But to someone like Daryl, a man naturally of few words himself, it was clear as day that their fearless leader was never fully relaxed whenever that smartass/badass - who was more than capable of taking care of herself - wasn't safely tucked away behind their walls.

But what Rick would say when she was gone was - "There was a herd moving south, right?" Where Michonne had last gone hung unspoken between them. And when Daryl answered Yeah, Rick would just place his hands on his hips and nod, jaw tight, as he scanned the perimeter of the compound as if waiting for someone to magically appear.

He would say - "There's a lot more bandits out there, roaming in packs. Isn't that what you said?" A grunt and a shrug from Daryl, and Rick would nod like they'd just had a conversation and go back to his farming, digging the shovel into the dirt with a bit more force than necessary, making a point to not look at the fence. They hadn't heard from Michonne in two weeks.

He would say - "Nights are getting cold," while standing outside at the communal kitchen, plate in hand, his gaze always drawn to the barely visable fence line. Daryl had hummed in agreement, fighting the urge to tell him that Michonne should be fine as she had pilfered his poncho, something Rick already knew.

And on one strange occasion he said, "Do you think we should get some more ... art? In here?"

This had stopped Daryl in his tracks. "What?"

Rick shrugged, perhaps a little sheepishly, but continued. "We have a library, potted flowers, even some toys and things for the kids. This is our home now. Thought ... maybe it could use a bit of ... brightening?"

Daryl just starred blankly. "You want me to, what? Bring back pictures?"

For a moment it looked as if Rick was about to finally say what was actually on his mind, before he instead gave a rueful smile and waved his hand in the air as if to dispel the conversation. "Nah, nah, never mind. It was just a thought."

He walked away, leaving an utterly perplexed Daryl behind who simply shrugged and went on his own way. It was only later that day as he passed by Michonne's empty cell did his eyes fall upon that weird colourful cat thing, the one that looked like it was about to start a fight. It was such a stupid, useless thing but Daryl remembered how Michonne had presented it to him with an air of triumph, as if it was the most gorgeous thing in the world. He didn't get it.

Did Rick really think that if he made the place more art-filled, Michonne might want to hang around longer? he wondered, then immediately dismissed the idea. Well, clearly not because he gave up before he started. Like with other things.

Only once had Daryl said the unsaid thing.

Almost everyone was asleep. Well, Carl was hid under his blankets reading comics and there were low conversational sounds coming from some darkened cell, but for the most part things were quiet.

And they were kept quiet by an exhausted Rick, pacing back and forth with a fussy Judith, bouncing her non-stop so her cries wouldn't awaken the entire community. He'd nodded to Daryl, who in turn took a moment to ask if he needed help putting Judith to sleep tonight.

"No, thankyou" said Rick tiredly. "I think she's pretty much worn herself out by now. Should be sound asleep soon."

"You too."

Rick sighed. "Yeah. I just ..." He shifted Judith a little, "Even when I do get to bed, I can't seem to stop thinking. Thinking of plans for the future, for the people we have in here. The people we bring in. How to protect everyone inside these walls. Keep our people safe despite ... well, despite everything." Rick looked at Daryl as if he might have the answers to those questions he hadn't quite asked.

All he could do was shrug. "We just try. Trust that we all know what we're doing. Lookout for everyone here. Not much more we can do, is there? Future don't care about anyone's plans."

Rick didn't look totally reassured, but he still smiled slightly as Daryl's efforts. "Yeah. I just worry, is all."

"I know." And as Daryl passed by he gripped Rick's shoulder and muttered, "Shouldn't worry so much. Michonne'll be back, all in one piece. You'll see."

And the man had the audacity to look confused, stuttering out, "Yeah, I know that, but - but I wasn't talking about Michonne, specifically. I'm not worried about her. She can take care of herself, I know that, and she always comes back, it's just ... with everything ..."

As he trailed off Daryl eyed Rick critically for a moment. He really thinks he's selling it, he thought, before giving a soft grunt that was akin to laughter and wandering off to bed, leaving a somewhat disconcerted Rick behind, gently bouncing a sleeping Judith.

And the very next day who should come riding through the gates but one Michonne, smiling, baring gifts and all in one piece, as Daryl made sure to point out to Rick, who's ears suddenly went bright red as if Michonne might somehow be able to figure out that they'd been taking about her just that night before.

But she didn't notice. She was too caught up in her almost obsessive search for the Governor and already planning her next venture out, unaware of Rick's barely suppressed disappointment or of the sigh that Daryl kept clenched behind his teeth as he tried to subtly talk her out of another long run. It wasn't her who was stuck with Rick and his wordless pining.

Because it was pining, even if he never said nothing. If they were in school Daryl might've suggested he pass her a note.

When she had quickly offered to go back out again with the rest of the scavenging party - even though, as Carl had said wistfully, she'd just got back - and Daryl could do nothing more than give Rick a comforting pat, grimacing slightly as the man's expression said exactly the same thing his son had vocalised.

God, this was going to wear thin soon.

Ah well. Wasn't like they had TV anymore.

#the walking dead #richonne #rick grimes #michonne grimes #daryl dixon #Heehee #just a spurt of fanfic on tumblr - haven't done that for a while. :)

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augustjustice · 1 year

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When Steve’s parents finally come back to Hawkins several months after the end of the end, they cut Steve off fairly quickly.

There have been rumors, you see, from the few of their friends still left in Hawkins. About the company Steve keeps, galivanting all over town with that Satan-worshipping murderer Munson. And when they finally arrive back at their large, cold house and Munson’s the one who answers the door, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Steve’s old basketball t-shirts? Well, what their son has really been up to becomes all too clear to them, and, careful not to make a scene that the neighbors will hear, they find Steve and tell him that he’s out in no uncertain terms.

Not wanting either of them to get caught in the cross-fires of his dad’s anger, Steve grabs as many of his belongings as he can and goes without much of a fight, at Eddie’s insistence following his van in the Beemer all the way back to the Munson trailer.

Steve moves in with Eddie and Wayne. It isn’t even really a conversation; Eddie just takes it as a given fact, and Steve feels compelled to argue, but every time he starts Eddie cuts him off with a reminder that they’ve practically been living together anyway, shuffling back and forth between the trailer and Steve’s big empty house. “What, big boy, you gonna rebuff my advances now?” Eddie asks, teasing but laying on just a subtle enough guilt trip he knows Steve won’t be able to say no. He’s a pushover that way, always caves to the people he cares about. Eddie can’t help but love that about him.

They don’t leave Hawkins. It’s hell, sometimes, what with Eddie’s reputation, and the whisperings now that Steve no longer lives in the big Harrington house. But they saved this town from hell itself, and that makes them both develop a certain stubbornness about it. Plus, the kids are still in school, and there’s an unspoken certainty that Steve won’t leave until they do, even with the threat over and the Upside Down gone.

But the general atmosphere makes finding gainful employment hard. Eddie still has a few connections at the shop in town, Thacher Tire, with the folks who weren’t susceptible to the things other people said about Eddie to start with. They recommend him to the guys at a garage a few towns over about thirty minutes away. Not completely outside the scope of rural Indiana gossip, but distant enough most people don’t recognize Eddie right away, don’t put the pieces together between his name and the boy who was plastered all over the six o’clock news.

Steve, without making any mention of it, had quietly applied to Indiana Tech, certain he wouldn’t get in.

By some miracle, he’s almost certain, he does, enrolled with a declared major in elementary education. Steve hasn’t quite settled on what path he wants to take, mulling over teaching as well as guidance counseling, but it’s a start. It’s something. He transfers his home campus to the same one where Eddie’s new shop is and quits his job at Family Video, working there agonizing with Robin off at college.

Eddie picks him up off the ground and spins him around when he tells him, despite Steve’s laughing protests.

“I knew you could do it!” Eddie crows, triumphant.

“You did not, you didn’t even know I applied,” Steve argues, still laughing.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you, Stevie? I’m secretly a telepath,” Eddie taps the side of his head, grin wide and mischievous. “Can’t keep secrets out of this steel trap, I know everything.”

It’s Steve’s turn to tackle him in a playful hug, wrestling a minute before he pulls out his “winning move”: tugging Eddie by his belt loops into a kiss.

“It’s not even like it’s that big a deal,” Steve says once they’ve parted, shrugging. “Since it’s only part-time for now.”

He leaves the reasons why unsaid, but Eddie hears them loud and clear, anyway.

“Me and Wayne will chip in,” Eddie assures him.

“You don’t--that’s not--” Steve starts to argue, cut off when Eddie presses a finger against his lips.

“Can’t get rid of us now, Stevie boy. You’re family, now. Which means we’re in this together, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really hate it when you use my own arguments against me, Eds.”

Eddie grins, all-teeth. “I know.”

Steve opens his mouth again, and Eddie can sense the lingering guilt and shame in the line of his shoulders, the way he hunches in on himself as he no doubt to mounts another argument, trying to discourage Eddie further. That won’t do.

“Now you know how it felt,” Eddie cuts in gently, “when you used to offer to pay for shit all the time.”

“That was different,” Steve tries to insist.

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Different how?”

Without missing a beat, Steve replies, a bit of a grin starting to curl at the corners of his mouth, “Because, technically, I was stealing that money from my dad.”

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of helpless laughter, any tension breaking.

So Steve accepts the “this is what we’re here for” argument, especially once Eddie makes clear Wayne won’t have it any other way, but he can’t quite convince Steve to bump up his status to full-time, not yet. Steve won’t let the Munsons pay his full way, is insistent he nail down a job, too, so they compromise with what they’ve got.

Steve looks for a job in downtown, not far from the school and Eddie’s work. There’s a beauty salon on one corner hiring and Steve figures what the hell? He hasn’t gone to cosmetology school, but he knows hair, and he’s gotten decent at doing Robin, Max, and El’s nails at sleepovers. Plus, he’s willing to learn, and that has to count for something.

His niche hair care product knowledge is enough to get him the job on the spot with the promise that he can apprentice a bit, learning as he goes.

Though it’s only part-time, the job turns out to be a perfect fit. Not only has he got the skills, but he’s friendly with a good personality and doesn’t mind indulging in a little small town gossip when it isn’t about him and his boyfriend. The clients quickly grow to love him, many starting to ask for him by name.

Steve and Eddie commute together, trading off who drives and saving on the gas money. The drive isn’t so far that they can’t drop Dustin and Max off at school on their way to the garage and campus respectively. (”At least until they get their licenses,” Eddie teases. “God, don’t remind me.” The mournful way Steve buries his face in his hands makes Eddie cackle.)

Their schedules keep things pretty hectic. They grab food together at the diner on main street during Steve’s free period and Eddie’s lunch hour. On the days Steve has night classes, Eddie hangs around the college library, using his boyfriend’s student ID to check out a few thick fantasy novels to keep him busy. The ladies at the salon all know Eddie by name from the times he’s been the one driving and picked Steve up, asking after Wayne when he sticks around to chat for a few minutes while Steve finishes up. When Steve has day classes and is free by early afternoon, he does his homework on the old leather couch in the garage’s lobby while he waits for Eddie to get off work. Sometimes Eddie finds him dozing off on the sofa. Sometimes Steve finds Eddie doing the same at a library table.

For the sake of safety, they’re discreet enough in public most people don’t catch on; Steve suppresses a snort every time one of Eddie’s work buddies has called Steve his “roommate.”

“Yeah, I’m some roommate,” Steve says drily later, when they’re alternating making out in the back of the van and splitting a joint between them.

“Best roommate I ever had, sweetheart,” Eddie leans in and catches Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth.

A few folks have cottoned on, however. One of the other mechanics is an old friend of Wayne’s from the war and their post-war protest days, and shares Eddie’s uncle’s stoic open-mindedness, asking after Eddie’s “fella.” The owner of the salon calls Eddie Steve’s “special friend” with a twinkling sort of knowingness, but she means well enough.

But, there’s other types of knowingness, too. Frankie, the middle-aged woman at the garage who gives the boys a nod with a twinkle in her eye on her way out when she catches Eddie practically throwing himself into Steve’s arms in the parking lot. Serenity, the punk stylist with multi-colored hair and piercings down her ear that mentions her own roommate to Steve with a Cheshire cat smile. Teddy, the shy 17 year-old taking classes while he’s still in high school with an eye on the cosmetology school who asks Steve if he can put in a good word for him at the salon.

“Did Robin tell you about that club they’ve got up at Emerson?” Steve asks one night over their dinner of cheeseburgers and fries. “The...GLA?”

“GSA,” Eddie corrects, “yeah, she told me. Gay-Straight Alliance, right? What about it?”

Steve hums, thoughtful.

“Maybe I’ll try to start one, next year. At Tech.”

There’s a delicate anxiety that ripples in the air between them, but there’s excitement, too, at the idea.

Eddie’s smile widens.

“That’s a great idea, Stevie.”

Friday nights are reserved for Corroded Coffin concerts, the boys rushing from work to the Hideout to make it in time for Eddie’s gig. The crowd is still modest, but growing, Eddie’s reputation, both tainted and reformed, a bolster that drew people in. “I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s the talent that got them to stay. Seriously, who could look away when Eddie’s the front man?” Steve is quick to insist whenever someone brings it up, hair teased and wearing his own band shirt proudly. By Saturday afternoon, the kids are all piled in around the coffee table for Eddie’s latest campaign, Steve setting out snacks and crowding around the table with them to watch, keeping up a commentary of snarky or confused asides just to rile Mike up. On Sundays, Steve cuts coupons at the Munson family dinner table, glasses he realized he needed a few weeks in to trying to make out the class blackboards slipping down his nose.

In between, he studies for long hours on the couch, determined not to mess things up this time. When he gets too tired, the words starting to blur on the page and his frustration becoming visible, Eddie will take the textbook from his hand and read it out loud to him, Steve tucked up contentedly against his boyfriend’s side.

Robin calls twice a week, spending at least an hour on the phone with Steve as she gives him the latest rundown on college life and how she and Nancy are faring. The rare times they all manage to be home at the same time, Steve and Eddie cook together, sharing a family meal with Wayne. They go to every one of Lucas’s basketball games they can manage, and Eddie has even made the special trip back to Hawkins to go alone when Steve can’t make it due to night school. His half butchered attempt to recount what happened afterwards always makes Steve giggle.

The following Christmas, Eddie buys Steve a pastel pink polo shirt he knows cost too much. Steve decides it’s the best piece of clothing he’s ever gotten, more aware of its worth than he had been of anything else hanging in his closet before. Eddie can barely get him to wear a coat over it even though it’s snowing outside.

They come together, like disparate pieces of a puzzle, to form this mosaic of a life they’ve built for themselves.

Steve thinks about it, one morning, as he watches Eddie pouring coffee into Steve’s ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ mug and Eddie’s own personal favorite, the one with the rainbow on the front. About picket fences and cross-country RV road trips with a gaggle of kids in the back.

This isn’t that, exactly. Not the life Steve had pictured for himself, clinging on desperately to a dream that comforted him when the world seemed dark. Certainly not the life his parents’ had wanted for him, if anything the exact opposite.

Maybe he’ll have the fantasy someday. Not the typical suburban nuclear family version of it, sure, but a version all his own.

And maybe he won’t. Steve wouldn’t trade it for this, anyway, even a second of it.

Because, for once, in his life, he’s happy. Tired, sure, and always unbelievably busy, but incandescently happy.

When Eddie turns and places Steve’s coffee in front of him, black with two sugars just the way Steve likes it, he catches Steve’s gaze. His eyebrows draw together at Steve’s expression, smile confused.

“What’re you staring at, big boy?” Eddie wipes at the corner of his mouth. “I got drool on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” Steve murmurs, still sleepy-eyed as he pulls Eddie down into a kiss, “just love you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie exhales the word against his lips, breathless like he still doesn’t quite believe it. “I love you, too, baby.”

Maybe they’ll move out of Hawkins, some day, when the kids finally graduate and scatter, follow Dustin to University of Chicago or wherever he ends up. Maybe they’ll take up an apartment near Nancy and Robin on the East Coast, or spend a summer with Jonathan and Argyle in San Fran, having a wild, queer time.

But, those are thoughts for the far distant future. For now, they’re happy. Safe. Satisfied.

Home.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my stuff #my things #my writing #something something building a life for yourself against the odds in a small town in the 80s #it sounds angsty at the start but i promise this is happy #more impossibly long not!fic from yours truly

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l2vedive · 1 month

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CITY OF ANGELS w. lee heeseung

inspired by la la land + slight angst (511)

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

note: this is a part of an actual long fic i'm writing but i decided to post it as an individual oneshot and as an excuse to post smth LOL hope you enjoy !!! pls lmk by reblogging and liking ><

in the dynamic world of the korean music industry, you stand at the precipice of your solo debut as yn, surrounded by a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. the practice room buzzes with energy as your team of managers and staff work tirelessly, preparing for the big day.

suddenly, the door swings open, and in strides heeseung—your first love, your first supporter, and the one who broke your heart four long years ago. his presence fills the room with a tumultuous mix of emotions, stirring up memories you thought you had buried deep.

heeseung, now a successful choreographer, has been assigned to mentor you for your debut. but he has no idea that you, yn, are the artist he's been tasked to work with. your management has kept your true identity hidden, adding another layer of complexity to your already tangled history.

after a brief introduction from your staff and managers, the room empties, leaving you and heeseung alone in a charged silence, the weight of your unresolved past hanging heavy between you like a thick fog.

"congratulations," you both start simultaneously, the words feeling heavy and laden with unspoken emotions. your eyes meet briefly and a laugh spills out. endearment. nostalgia. his laugh's melody was always your favourite song.

heeseung takes a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. "are you ready to start?" he asks, his voice strained with the weight of what remains unspoken between you.

you meet his gaze, your heart aching with the memories of what used to be. "always," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

and so, you dive into the dance practice, the music wrapping around you like a bittersweet melody. every movement, every touch, is laced with the ghost of your past—a past filled with laughter, tears, and the echoes of a love that was never meant to be.

as you dance, you can feel heeseung's eyes on you, his gaze lingering on the curve of your smile, the arch of your back. subtle touches and longing glances pass between you, speaking volumes of the words left unsaid.

in those fleeting moments, you both linger on what used to be, on the love that once burned bright between you. but as the music fades and the dance comes to an end, you're left with the harsh reality of the present—a reality where your paths have diverged, and your hearts remain forever entwined in the bittersweet melody of what could have been.

"i've missed this," heeseung admits softly, breaking the silence as he offers you a wistful smile.

you nod, your heart aching with the weight of his words. "me too," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

but amidst the ache of your past, there's a flicker of hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, the music of your shared history will lead you to a new beginning. and as you exchange one final glance with heeseung, there's a silent agreement between you—a promise of what could be, if only you're brave enough to reach for it.

— please do not copy , translate or repost any of my works anywhere.

#enhypen au #heeseung x reader #heeseung angst #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #enhypen #from me 2 you

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rascal-xo · 1 year

Note

Ghost fanfic idea!!

He is in love with reader and has expressed it to her on multiple occasions but they discuss it and realise that their line of work isn’t ideal to have a relationship. So they keep at this game with flirting and just barely being sexual with each other

Until! Konig comes into the picture and she genuinely falls in love with him too. He shows her another way to be treated (we all know Ghost is stiff and gruff) as in all soft and puts flowers in her hair. ONLY THEN GHOST GOES CRAZY, LIKE EYE TWITCHING CRAZY AND STARTS TRYING DOING THE SAME THINGS AS KONIG TO GET HER BACK. READER THEN DECIDES WHO SHE WANTS TO GIVE HER HEART TO — you make that call cos I cannot choose between those 2 hunks.

Just an idea 😌 I’m a lil crazy so ignore if none of this makes sense

Unspoken Love | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

A/N: I love this request omg. I hope I was able to do your vision justice :) Part 2

Chapter Summary: So many things are left unsaid between you and the Lieutenant, but one way or another they’ll come out.

Warnings: Angst, cursing, SMUT, fluff, smoking, injuries, violence, ghost being hostile at times

Word Count: 1.3K (Its a long one, i’m sorry 😭)

For a soldier, love is war.

For Simon Riley, love is you. It’s the way you look at him in the plane when he’s giving orders, the way you accidentally kick his boot under the table during a meeting, without even realizing it.

For Simon, love is the way sunlight filters through the windows and casts a warm glow on your face. But Simon Riley is the man underneath the skull balaclava, the man you don’t know.

You know Ghost. Ghost whose name falls from your mouth like a prayer when his hands are tightly grasping onto your hips, hard enough to leave bruises as you ride him, chasing after the coil that begins to form in your stomach, as you cry out for him while his cock slams into your, causing you to deathly grip the duvet.

Ghost is who you glance at only when you have to during briefings. But Simon Riley, the man behind the mask, the man who watches you from across the room, with a yearning in his eyes that you don't see, are eyes you look into when Ghost tells you “We can’t go farther than this.” And you agree, pushing down your feelings you almost had, knowing it probably wouldn’t work out anyway.

That’s what you tell yourself when you lay in his arms with a leg over his stomach, as his fingers run gently through your hair. All the while so many words go unspoken from underneath the skull mask.

In the moment it only seems like a task, maybe even a ploy you think, to keep you coming back to each other for more release. But again, that’s what you tell yourself, because it probably wouldn’t work out anyway.

As the weeks go by, the tension between you and Ghost is practically yelling for no strings attached. It’s what you repeat in your head as you find yourself at his bedroom door during the ungodly hours of night, after the others have long gone elsewhere.

But when a new member is recruited to 141, the rules begin to change. You meet Konïg. The soldier in the sniper hood and the reaper build that are no match for the kind and soft voice soul underneath. You end up working together on multiple missions, learning each others crafts.

You find yourself no longer aching to find your release, but unbeknownst to you Ghost has found a reason to push you away, when all Simon underneath is wants you to himself, to feel the way you feel tucked in his arms. He finds himself doing the worst. Telling Price you’re not in the right state of mind to be fighting leads you to find yourself at his door again, but this time making yourself known.

“You took me off of the fucking mission!?” You yell, not wanting to but feeling the need to. Knowing whatever it is has nothing to do with your performance in the field.

“You're a liability, Sergeant." he says, his voice low and menacing. "You let your emotions get in the way of your judgment, and thats get you or your teammates killed." You bristle at his words, feeling the anger and hurt rising within you.

"You had no right to bring my job into your hands." you shoot back. Ghost walks closer up, towering over you with his intimidating. "It’s not up for debate. That’s a direct order." he says, and for the first time you can see his eyes blazing with intensity. You can see Simon.

After a few more weeks, the late night visits become a distant memory. As you come in the pub with the team after a victorious mission, Konïg finds his seat next to you. “Look what I found, Schön.” (Beauty) He calls you, capturing your attention. It’s one of the many endearments you hear from him as you two get closer, and Ghost drifts away farther.

He listens to the conversation, only sitting a few seats away next to Soap. He doesn’t want to but he does, only hurting himself more. His knuckles turn white around the class of liquor, seeing the way Konïg makes you smile.

Did Konïg see you the way he did? Simon thinks to himself under the mask. Did Konïg fuck you like he did?

His blood boils at the sight of his hand resting on your arm, playfully. Ghost finishes his drink, but Simon is the one who leaves the pub without saying a word, beginning to resent himself for not telling you what you are to him when he had the chance.

A week later, you're back in the field with Ghost and the rest of the team, determined to prove to him that you belong. The mission is a covert operation to take out a high-value target, and everything is going smoothly at first.

But then, as you're moving through the enemy stronghold, a hostile sneaks up on you from behind. You don't see him coming, but Ghost does. Without hesitation, he pushes you to the ground and in a flash the bullet hits him in the one spot his vest doesn’t cover. “GHOST NO!”

In a haste attempt you cover against the remaining hostiles in your zone quickly getting on the radio,

“This is Delta 6-2, Ghost is shot, I repeat we need Evac NOW.” telling your team over the comms confirms your worst fear; Losing him. You’re rushing towards the extraction point, heart pounding not sure what to think, how to think. It all becomes a blur.

Blood stains your clothes as you realize you have been badly cut. Medics take you away as soon as you step foot on base, not even getting a chance to see him. The thought of him dead almost eats you alive.

You spent the a day waiting anxiously for news about his condition. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you received word from Captain Price that he had made it through surgery and was stable back at base.

You were discharged from the med bay the next day, and as soon as you were able to, you made your way to a place you knew too well. Without even bothering to knock, you pushed open the door and walked in. And there he was, sitting at the edge of his bed with his back facing you.

He instantly turns around, causing you to stop dead in your tracks. “Simon…” For a moment, you were frozen in place. The stone cold man you had been so intimate with, the man you had shared so many nights with only to avoid in the mornings, is now right in front of you, exposed and vulnerable. He puts out the cigarette between his fingers, on the ashtray next to him.

His eyes are full of emotion you can so clearly see looking right back at you. “I thought you died.” Your voice breaks, as you try to compose yourself, but it’s no use, the tears now falling from your face.

“How could you put yourself in that position? You could’ve died!” You started, moving closer. You can resent me all you want Lieutenant but-“

“I love you.” The world ceases to move. You're stunned, unsure of how to respond. All the words you'd been too afraid to say, all the feelings you'd been too afraid to reveal, are suddenly laid out in front of you. And now, standing before you, is the the man who had been there all along.

You had finally come face to face with the man underneath the mask. “I’ve loved you since the day we met, Y/N. I’ve loved you through every mission, every bullet we’ve dodged.” You forget how to simply breathe. “Everytime you have walked through that door, I have loved you. And I cant stop.”

Without another thought, he takes takes your face in his hands, his bruised knuckles gently on your skin, as you meet his lips. His lips are soft and tender, yet urgent and passionate. It’s a kiss that conveys all the unsaid words and phrases.

As you pull away, he look into your eyes, searching for any hint of doubt or hesitation, but instead he sees the very same love looking right back.

For a soldier, love is war.

For Simon Riley, love is you.

A/N: Any comments for future fic suggestions?

#simon riley x reader #konig x reader #call of duty #modern warfare smut #simon riley x you #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #task force 141 #cod mwii #cod fanfic #simon riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost smut #cod x reader #captain price #soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost

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iibonniee · 7 months

Text

Pretty Screaming My Name

Pairing: Son Hyunwoo x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, semi-oral, semi fingering

Rating: R

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Hyunwoo has always had an obsession with two things: how well she could take his cock and cumming inside her.

Masterlist | Tags: @beautifulworldandmore @kyunnielove

Son Hyunwoo was an idol who put on a good face. His smiles could cheer his fans up in seconds, and his actions often seem to have no thought behind them. It was all a face he put on for the public eye. His bandmates knew him well, but Y/N knew him the best.

Standing above her, his eyes met her own. The once cheerful smile he held was replaced with something different. His smile was more sensual, excited for the night’s activities, for his whispered promises would now be fulfilled.

His hands slowly traveled to her bare legs, causing goosebumps in their wake. His eyes never left her own; his feather-light touch made her muscles twitch in anticipation. The smile he wore was a tangle of love and raw desire, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers roamed higher, tracing an intimate path and causing her breath to hitch. His eyes, usually twinkling with mirth, were now flames in the dark, expressing a different kind of intensity.

Closer, he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, sending a shockwave of sensation that had her gasping. His lips brushed along her collarbone before meeting her lips in a fevered kiss. His lips moved against hers in perfect harmony, coaxing soft sighs from her that only stirred his own desire. He managed to pull back, the same sensual smile now etched on his face. His eyes held an unspoken promise of the shared intimacy that was about to come alive. Hyunwoo, the idol, was lost, and in his place stood a man with a passionate desire to make his whispered promises a reality. Intense in his pursuit, the night had only just begun to unfold for Hyunwoo and Y/N.

His hands were once again roaming her body, his eyes now following where his hands were moving. She noticed how slowly he moved as if he was figuring out what to do next, where his mouth wanted to be. Leaning in, he kissed every inch of her untouched skin, his warm breath dancing on her skin. His lips wandered from the valley between her breasts to the hollow of her hip, leaving a trail of fiery kisses. He drew a lazy path with his tongue down her stomach, causing her to squirm in blissful anticipation.

Hooking a finger under her underwear, he teased the fabric down her legs, revealing her to his fiery gaze. He lowered his mouth to her inner thigh, planting feathery kisses there before crossing the boundary of her underwear, kissing her where she wanted him most. His soft lips against her heated skin sent another wave of shock through her, eliciting gasps and soft moans from her lips. Then, one long lick parted her folds, leaving her gasping in response. His tongue traced intricate patterns against her heated core, each swirl and flick causing a jolt of pleasure to surge through her. He tasted her without rushing, savoring her like she was the sweetest fruit he couldn’t get enough of. With each stroke, each careless tease of his tongue, he teased her closer and closer to the edge of sheer ecstasy, his actions making a clear message: he was relishing in her taste, and he wouldn’t stop until she was undone under his sinful touch. However that may be.

Pulling back and resuming his path upwards, his fingers danced around the waistband of his own briefs. The anticipation was palpable; the tension in the room was almost too much to bear. Sharing a final lust-filled stare with her, he removed his last piece of clothing. It was a sight to behold, witnessing his transformation from the charismatic idol, Son Hyunwoo, to the passionate lover, purely Hyunwoo, who yearned for her touch as much as she longed for his. The night was still young and filled with whispered promises, unsaid words, and the beautiful intimacy they were about to unravel.

“I need you, Hyunwoo.” She whispered, desperate for him. She was far too close just from his teasing alone.

“I’m here, love,” he rumbled, his voice thick with lust. Hyunwoo’s predatory gaze flashed with raw desire, his muscles tensing as he absorbed her desperate plea. He removed his last piece of clothing, revealing his commanding length. Her gaze clung to the sight, eating up every inch of him. He was an exquisite blend of male power and carnal desire that struck deep into the heart of her size kink.

His cock was sizable, an erotic challenge she eagerly welcomed. His hand wrapped around himself, giving a few expert strokes that caused her to whimper in anticipation. He moved his body over hers, aligning his size with her dripping clit. His first brush against her core sent a wave of pleasure spiraling through her body, making her shudder.

Hyunwoo watched her reaction, his grin wolfish, enjoying her need for him. Then he nudged his tip at her entrance, parting her with the breadth of him slowly, her inner walls stretching to accommodate his size. This was a test, an addictive pain that had her gasping. Her begging eyes held his as he pressed deeper, burying himself within her.

Her body welcomed him, her authentic responses fueling his desire further. She was a vision of paradise under him, completely laid bare, waiting to be devoured. The wet sounds of their intimal union filled the room, intoxicating and enticing. With each deliberate stroke inside her, he could see the slight protrusion in her lower abdomen where he was stretched deep inside her. The sight was ungodly arousing, a testament to how well he filled her—how his significant length and cock fit snuggly within her warmth.

He started to move, each thrust of his hips driving him further within her cunt. She gasped, her fingers digging into his muscled back as he pulled out, only to plunge back in, each motion drawing her closer to the edge. Watching the indent of his cock moving within her was beyond erotic. The grind of his hips, how his cock disappeared into her before reappearing, stretched her deliciously, pushing her closer and closer towards the edge filled him with a primal satisfaction. He listened to her gasps and whimpers that got progressively louder with each thrust, then fell silent as she exclaimed his name, drowning in the waves of her pleasure at his merciless tempo. He enjoyed every second, knowing exactly how good he made her feel.

Her body tightened around him with each delicious thrust, her moans growing again, becoming more desperate and erratic. The sight of his significant size disappearing into her over and over was sinfully erotic. He reveled in the way the tufted silhouette of his cock stretched her belly from the inside with each powerful thrust. His strokes grew shorter, faster, the delicious friction of her warm inner walls driving him towards his climax.

The delicious grind of his hips, the erotic sight of his length sheathed within her flesh - it was the perfect sin. With every thrust, she met him halfway, her body eager to accommodate him. He listened to her cries and gasps, punctuated by his name; they grew in volume with each thrust, the erotic symphony driving him further.

Her climax hit her like a freight train, her body shuddering beneath him as she was washed in waves of pure pleasure. Her spasming walls clamping down on him triggered his own release, fueling the intense guttural growl that echoed in the room as he filled her to the brim with his cum. He pulled out, watching the sight of his seed spilling from her, marking her as his, only added to the erotic charge in the room, culminating their night of shared passion.

Through his pants of exhaustion, his fingers lazily pushed his cum back inside her cunt, his frown of disappointment all so evident as he watched it leak back out. He bit his lip, his fingers index and middle plunging in again, pushing back his warm seed into her. The sensation caused a soft moan to fall from her lips, echoing in the silent room, her body still twitching from how hard he fucked her. He savored the sight, passion-dazed eyes watching his fingers moving in and out of her, ensuring every drop of him was inside her, marking her as his. His palm met the slight swell of her belly, the evidence of their shared intimacy warm beneath his touch.

“All mine,” he murmured, his voice husky with satisfaction. And with a final kiss placed on her lips, the curtain of blissful pleasure descended upon them, their breaths entwined in silent promises. “I hope you’re ready for round two.��

#kvanity #monsta x imagines #monsta x x reader #monsta x smut #shownu smut #shownu imagines #hyunwoo x reader #hyunwoo smut

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

for the better | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 6 to better left unsaid (the better series)

you never planned on finding yourself caught between two drivers and you certainly never thought that you'd have to make a choice, but your options aren't lando or pierre...it's them or you

word count: 5.6k tags: bro its just pure raw angst, max is the only real one and i apologize in advance

It was unnerving how quiet Pierre was the rest of the time you were in the paddock. And he was only quiet towards you. He interacted and spoke with everyone who stopped him and acted as though nothing happened. If you were standing near him, he would still be holding your hand or touching your back, putting on the charade that he hadn’t just caught you leaving the McLaren motorhome in tears.

You couldn’t tell what he was feeling towards you. Was he upset? Disappointed? Frustrated? It was impossible to get a read on him.

Even at the end of the day when you were finally leaving the paddock, Pierre held the passenger door of his car open for you to climb in. You flinched when he shut it harder than required, but maybe you were reading into it too much because you wanted to. You needed something from him.

You would have preferred if he had said something, then you could get an idea as to what was going through his mind based on his tone. But for the first ten minutes of the car ride, Pierre kept his mouth shut.

But he also didn’t reach over the centre console to hold your leg like he had every other time you got into his car. Maybe that was an indication as to what he felt.

It didn’t help that you were still wearing Lando’s sweater. You didn’t have a choice though, it was the only thing that could cover up the mark on your neck. And you knew Pierre wasn’t an idiot, he probably figured out where the jumper came from seeing as you didn’t get it directly from him.

You rested your arm against the inside frame of the car and dropped your chin to your hand, trying to think of what you could possibly say or do that would make things easier right now because this unspoken, heavy tension was eating you alive.

“Can you just say something?” You turned your head to face him. Pierre kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t even glance your way or make any sort of hint that he heard you, which you knew he did.

You continued to stare at him, anticipating what would come out of his mouth, but you didn’t expect to see his grip tighten on the steering wheel. At least that helped you understand him a bit better. He certainly wasn’t happy.

After what felt like an eternity of holding your breath, Pierre shifted against the seat and licked his lips, “What did you want me to say?”

You hadn’t actually thought about that.

You were the one who made the mistake and while you hadn’t been given the chance to explain yourself yet, Pierre hadn’t asked what happened. Either he didn’t want to know or he already had a fairly good idea and didn't want to talk about it.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking out the window again. There was still another thirty minutes until we were back at his place, maybe you should have just waited but you had already opened your mouth so there was no going back now. “I shouldn’t have left Alpine.”

“I agree,” Pierre nodded once but didn’t add anything to that point, leaving you to keep this conversation going.

“He was upset after qualifying I just thought-” were you really trying to defend yourself right now? You switched directions, “My intentions were good, Pierre. I only wanted to check in on him and make sure he was okay.”

Pierre nodded again. Did he get where you were coming from or was this just another attempt to remind you that he didn’t want to talk?

It wasn’t working, clearly.

You were desperate now, “Pierre, I need you to say something.”

“And I needed you to not lie to me,” Pierre spoke so casually, you almost missed the underlying betrayal in his tone. You almost missed the pain in his voice as he called you out.

But you didn't follow, “When did I lie?”

He finally turned his head towards you. Only for a few seconds, but you saw it out of the corner of your eye before he turned back to the road, “When you told me that you wanted me.”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“Well you can’t have both of us, chérie,” he said, as if that was going to solve all of your problems. “I want to make this work, but I shouldn’t have to fight for your attention.”

And you wanted to give Pierre all of you. You didn’t want to be holding onto Lando anymore, but there was history with him. Years of friendship that was nearly impossible to move on from, even if you thought you could.

“I made a mistake,” you admitted. Again, Pierre nodded. He wouldn’t fight you on that one.

He actually wouldn’t fight with you at all for the rest of the car ride. You gave up on your attempts to have a conversation and decided that it would be best to try again when you got back to the house.

Which meant the rest of the drive was filled with deafening silence. There wasn’t even any music. Just the two of you sitting quietly, waiting with dread for what was to come next.

It was easier to turn your phone off than try to navigate through any notifications. Fans were throwing out their assumptions left and right, especially since photos immediately surfaced of you leaving McLaren.

But they had no idea what happened. You were still trying to figure it out.

Pierre pulled into his driveway and grabbed his bag from the backseat. You followed him towards the door, but even when you stepped inside, he still didn’t initiate any type of conversation. He just tossed his bag down and headed towards the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

You leaned against the island counter and watched his actions, waiting to see if he would in fact say something.

He took a few sips and leaned against the fridge, watching you as well.

More specifically, he was eyeing up the black jumper you still had on.

Pierre finally opened his mouth, “Do I want to know why you’re wearing that?”

With your arms resting on the counter, you glanced down at your hands as if your nail beds were the most interesting things in the world, “Probably not.”

Pierre took another long sip of water. His glass echoed when he placed down on the surface next to him. You held your breath as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Take it off.”

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Take the sweater off.”

“Pierre, I-”

“Knowing Lando, he’s probably childish enough to leave some sort of hickey in plain sight,” his eyes dropped to your neck and you involuntarily reached for the collar of the sweater, tugging it up higher. “Just take the jumper off, chérie, let’s see what sort of mark he left on you.”

You froze, unsure if Pierre was just messing with you or not. He seemed so…unbothered? Like whatever move Lando made didn’t mean anything in the long run.

You grabbed the hem of the jumper and slowly peeled it off your body, letting it fall to the ground next to you. Not that it mattered, but you ran your fingers through your hair to smooth it out as you tried not to pay attention to the way Pierre’s gaze focused in on the dark purple bruise.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move as Pierre pushed himself away from the counter. He walked around the island and came to a stop in front of you, grabbing your waist with one hand and pulling you to face him. With his other hand, he gently pushed your hair out of the way, letting it fall down your back.

His touch was so careful as he tilted your chin upwards, his fingers barely grazing your skin as they trailed down your jaw and stopping just below your ear, right where the mark was.

You swallowed as he brushed his thumb over it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers found a home on the other side of your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure. He could have, but he just left his hand there, reminding you that you didn’t have any control in this conversation right now. You gave up any bit of control the second you left to talk to Lando.

Pierre raised his eyebrows, “Just the one?”

You nodded and he titled your head the slightest bit. His gaze narrowed in on it. You had no idea what was going through his mind. Was he thinking about how you ended up in a position where Lando was able to attach his lips to your neck? Was he wondering how much time you spent with the British driver?

“He’s immature,” Pierre said. “And I don’t like sharing either, chérie, but if you needed a reminder as to who you belonged to, there are other ways.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” this was the most confident you’ve sounded all day. But if there was one thing you would stand behind, it was the fact that neither of these men had the audacity to claim you.

“No?”

“No,” you were firm. “And weren’t you the one who said I wasn’t a trophy?”

Pierre hummed, but he disregarded your words, his words. “So you don’t belong to Lando?”

“No.”

“And you’re not mine either?”

“I-” your voice caught in your throat. He seemed to like that you were speechless because the corner of lips turned upwards into a smirk.

You wanted to be with Pierre, you knew that much. You wanted to be done with Lando.

“Oh I get it,” Pierre’s hand on your waist slipped, his fingers pressed against your skin and pulled you closer against his body. He dropped his face and hovered his lips right above yours. “You want to be mine, don’t you? But you’re worried that this-” he applied the smallest bit of pressure to the hickey, “-has messed things up for us?”

You nodded because there was no damn way you could say anything anymore. Not as he held your body so tight against his that you could feel his cock being restricted by his trousers. He slid a knee between your legs, spreading them slightly and you relied on the counter behind you for support, knowing your knees could give out at any second.

It was almost impressive how quick this conversation had taken a turn. You were expecting Pierre to lose his temper on you or tell you to get out of his house. You hadn’t expected him to flip a sudden switch and be eyeing you up as if he was about to destroy you.

When Pierre’s phone started to ring from his back pocket, you could see it in his eyes that he just debated letting it go to voicemail.

But he released his hand from your neck and stepped away from you. He barely gave you a second look before answering the phone call and stepping away into a different room.

You felt frozen against the island counter, feeling your heartbeat creep up your throat until it felt like you were going to vomit. You still weren’t sure how Pierre felt about the situation you two found yourselves in but it was safe to say he didn’t want you spending any more time with Lando.

Eventually you shuffled away from the kitchen and curled up into the corner of the couch. You could hear Pierre’s muffled voice from down the hall, but when the sound of a door shutting echoed through the house after a few minutes, you let yourself relax.

You had a bit of time to think things over for yourself, not in the presence of Pierre.

Part of you was worried that it would always be like this. You’d put the effort in with Pierre, or anyone, and then Lando would show up out of nowhere and remind you that you still love him. Unless you made the decision to permanently rid your life of one of your oldest friends, you risked him always ruining your chance at happiness with someone else.

But how were you supposed to do that? How were you supposed to throw away years and years of friendship? You’d lose Max. You’d lose his family. You’d lose so much of your life that he was connected to.

Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted his jumper balled up on the floor.

You had so much of his stuff at your house. So many of his t-shirts, jumpers, miscellaneous items that he just left over time. Lando infiltrated so many parts of your life and even just thinking about starting over without him was difficult.

And what about if you were to continue this relationship with Pierre? He’d want you to come to the races and other events where you’d have to see Lando. He would be impossible to avoid.

If he was going to keep popping up, you’d never move on.

You looked down the hall. The door to the room Pierre was in was still closed. You had no idea how long he’d be on the phone, but maybe that was for the best. What were you supposed to say to him anyway? ‘I do want to be with you but I’m worried that I’ll always love Lando’ ? That wasn’t a conversation he’d want to have, especially during a race weekend.

So you opted for no conversation.

You slid off the couch and quietly made your way down the hall towards the master bedroom. All of your items were in there, your clothes, makeup, skincare. It wouldn’t take you long to pack it all up seeing as this was only supposed to be a weekend trip anyway.

You found your duffle bag and started to throw all of your belongings in, making sure your wallet and passport stayed out. You already had a flight voucher to go home, it would be easy enough to book a seat when you arrived at the airport.

You paused.

Was this really what you were doing? Going home?

It was the easiest choice, there was no arguing that. No matter what, this was going to be complicated and messy and as much as you didn’t want to leave Pierre, staying with him for the rest of the race weekend was undoubtedly going to lead to more chaos.

So yes, you were going home.

You stepped into the ensuite and scooped up the travel sized containers of skin care you had brought. While you were looking at them to make sure you weren’t missing anything, you had completely missed Pierre walking down the hall towards you.

He leaned against the doorframe, eyes landing on your half packed bag before watching you trying to carefully tetris everything in your hand to fit. Pierre crossed his arms over his chest, not saying anything as to not interrupt you.

You made up your mind, you were leaving. Pierre wasn’t going to stand in your way.

When you looked up from your bag, you flinched and clasped your hand to your chest, startled to see Pierre just standing there.

He didn’t ask for an explanation. He didn’t need one, but you felt the need to give him one anyway.

“It’s not-” It’s not you, it’s me? Try again. You swallowed, “I really do like you, Pierre, please don’t think that I don't.”

“You packing your bag tells me otherwise,” he nodded his head towards the edge of the bed where all of your stuff was.

“No it’s not-” you shook your head. Why was this so hard to explain? “It’s not fair to you. None of this is fair. This isn’t how it should be.”

Pierre knew what you meant. Being with someone should be easy, it should be you and them against the world. You weren’t even dating Pierre and already you could feel the weight of all of the external factors crashing in on you.

It was suffocating.

You turned away from him to finish packing, ignoring the way his heavy sigh filled the room.

“Pierre, you should be with someone who can give you everything. There shouldn’t be any doubts, you should be able to trust them with your heart.” You kept your back towards him and spoke just loud enough for him to hear you. Your chest tightened when you heard his footsteps start to approach you slowly. “And that's- that’s not me. I can’t give you that, not when-”

You felt his chest press against your back. Pierre slid his arms around your waist and gently pulled you against him, dropping his chin to press a kiss to your shoulder. He swayed the two of your back and forth slowly and you wished that was enough for you to no longer have any concerns.

You inhaled a quiet breath, resting your hands overtop of his, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a competition but until I’m completely over him, it always will be.”

His stubble against your skin sent a shiver through your body as he nodded, understanding what you were trying to say. But he still didn’t let go.

“Pierre-”

“Shh,” he squeezed you a bit tighter, kissing your exposed skin once more. “Let me have this, Y/N. I don’t know when I’ll get it again.”

God that broke you.

You felt so comfortable in his arms. Your body melted against his perfectly, like they were made to fit with each other.

So you let yourself have this last moment with him, both knowing that it wasn’t going to last. The second he let go, you’d finish packing and be out the door. Away from him, away from Lando and away from this mess you didn’t mean to find yourself in.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, raising one of your hands to rest against the side of his cheek. Pierre turned his face and kissed the inside of your palm which only resulted in your heart sinking further into your chest.

“You know what the worst part of this is?” You whispered. Pierre softly chuckled in response, probably because he could think of about ten things that could be at the top of that list, but he didn’t try to ponder a guess as to what was running through your head.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, saying it in a way as though he was wanting to take whatever burden you were feeling and put it on his shoulders instead. You didn’t deserve this man.

He had spent weeks after countless weeks becoming your friend, earning your trust and respect. He learned all the ways to make you laugh, how to bring a smile to your face. He wanted to familiarise himself with you and every aspect of your life before stepping into a bigger role.

And the second he had, you ruined it by running right back to Lando.

Pierre kissed the side of your head, encouraging you to finish your thought.

You turned in his arms, placing both of your hands at the back of his neck. Playing with the loose strands of his hair didn’t help, neither did having his bright blue eyes staring right through you, but you had to say this face to face. You needed him to know that whatever you had, however brief, however sudden, was real.

And it wasn’t his fault it wouldn’t last.

You stared at his face, trying to memorise every last detail before your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping. Pierre watched as your tongue poked out to wet your lips and waited, his arms not moving from around your waist, until you painfully admitted what the worst part of all of this was.

“I really think I could have fallen in love with you.”

There were a few hours until the race started. Lando was walking down the paddock with Max at his side after just having changed into a McLaren polo tee. He had a good morning, or at least that’s what it seemed like to everyone he passed. He wore a bright smile on his face, he was chatty, he was ready for the race.

And he wished the race was the only thing on his mind, it should have been, but every time he caught a glimpse of a girl who looked remotely like you, Lando lost his train of thought. He was using every excuse in the book to leave the McLaren motorhome, just on the off chance he’d see you somewhere in the paddock.

Max caught on pretty quickly, and he tried to remind Lando that you asked for space, but Lando didn’t want to listen. He wanted to find you, talk to you, remind you why you belonged in his life.

“She hasn’t posted anything,” Lando pointed out after looking at your social media pages for the tenth time since waking up this morning. “Usually she posts when she's at a race, why hasn’t she posted anything?”

“Why do you care?” Max rolled his eyes, pulling out his own phone because curiosity got the better of him too. Lando was right, you hadn’t posted anything.

Lando didn’t answer, mostly because he didn’t have a good enough answer. Nothing that would explain why he wanted you here, now, when he knew that if you were here, it would be for Pierre.

“Does she-” Lando felt like an idiot as the thought crossed his mind, but he stopped walking. So did Max and his friend looked at him with his eyebrows raised, wondering what ridiculous question would leave his mouth next. “Does she still share her location with you?”

Max groaned, “Mate, come on.” This was crossing a line. The shared location feature on iPhones wasn’t something to be taken advantage of. It was in case anything happened during a night out, or when one of you got into the back of an uber. It wasn’t so Lando could keep tabs on you.

“She stopped sharing it with me!” Lando explained, as if that made up for wanting Max to check for himself.

“I’m not getting involved.”

“It takes two seconds to check.”

Max slid his phone into his back pocket and held his hands up in defence of his choices, “Why’s it matter? If she’s here, it’s for Pierre.”

“But if she’s not.”

“I think the important takeaway from this is that wherever she is, she’s not with you.”

“Well no shit.”

“No,” Max needed to get the point across more directly. “She’s not in the paddock with you. She’s not watching the race for you. She didn’t tell you where she is and she stopped sharing her location because you don’t need to know, Lando. Y/N said she needed space and you bending over backwards right now, trying to figure out where she is, is not giving her space.”

A young fan wearing a papaya shirt ran up to Lando right as Max ended his speech. He watched as Lando plastered a smile on his face and bent down to the fans level to sign the back of his shirt and answer a few questions, but Max knew that he was only putting on an act.

Lando did love his fans, but he lost you as his biggest supporter. He could sign a thousand autographs and thank hundreds of people for showing up, but at the end of the day, you weren’t there for him.

When Lando stood up again, Max patted him on the back as a type of consolidation.

They walked further down the paddock and if Lando was being honest, he was looking for a way to bring you up in conversation again, but luckily for him, Max was also thinking about you. More specifically, this fucked up situation his two friends were in.

“Why didn’t you do anything earlier?” Max asked, noticing how Lando’s features tensed as soon as he was called out. “I just don’t understand, is all. You waited until Pierre showed interest before doing anything. It was kind of a dick move.”

Lando shrugged his shoulders, earning a smack upside the head from his friend. If he was so adamant on figuring out where you were, the least he could do was explain where the sudden interest came from.

“I don’t know!” Lando exclaimed, shoulders raised nearly to his ears. “I just- I don’t know, Max. I don’t like seeing her with Pierre.”

“Pierre makes her happy.”

“She was happy enough before him.”

Max rolled his eyes. That was such a shitty response. And Lando realised it as soon as the words left his mouth. He sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“She waited for you, Lando,” Max said. He wasn’t trying to hurt his friend, he just needed Lando to know how much he had hurt you. “She waited, got tired of waiting, you missed your shot and now you need to live with that.”

That didn’t sit well with Lando, “But what if she’s supposed to be it for me? What if she’s the right person and I just didn’t see it until now?”

“I think that you asking these questions proves that she isn’t the right person.”

That stung, but Max had a point. There shouldn’t have been any doubt. If Lando loved you the way you once wanted him to, truly loved you, he wouldn’t have taken so long to show it. It shouldn’t have taken him seeing you with Pierre for him to realise his own feelings.

Because that wasn’t love. That was the fear of losing you masked as desire.

Max cleared his throat, “Twelve ‘o’ clock.”

Lando, stupidly, looked at his watch, “It’s half past one.”

“No you idiot,” Max huffed under his breath. “Pierre, headed our way.”

Sure enough, Pierre was walking right in their direction. A pair of black sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, but it did little to hide his expression. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his jaw was locked, even his hand seemed to have an unusually hard grip around his phone.

Lando hadn’t even noticed he stopped walking until Pierre was right in front of him.

What was Pierre going to do? Hit him? He wouldn’t cause a scene in the paddock. If he had an issue with Lando, they’d deal with it privately.

But that didn’t mean Pierre was just going to walk by without saying anything.

Max looked between the two drivers and as soon as Lando opened his mouth, Max was already shaking his head, wondering why he had to be the one to speak first.

“You alright?” Lando’s greeting was polite, both men smiled at each other. It was forced, but it was a smile nonetheless and anyone who walked by wouldn’t think twice of it.

“She’s not here, mate.” Pierre told him, knowing that’s what was on Lando’s mind. Pierre had seen Lando’s wandering eyes when he spotted him, curious to know if you were nearby.

“Who?” Lando played dumb. Max, who had already had enough of his childish behaviour, muttered something under his breath about him needing to grow up before stalking off down the paddock, leaving Lando without any back up. Not like he’d provide it anyway.

Pierre chuckled, running his tongue along his teeth, “I was going to tell why she’s not here but if you can’t be bothered to even remember her name then I don’t need to waste my time.”

Pierre wasn’t going to let Lando get to him. Not on the track, not in the paddock, not in his head. Since day one, Pierre had seen the treatment Lando had given you and he wasn’t going to put up with it on your behalf.

He started to walk past him, accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally, bumping his shoulder into Lando’s as he passed. Lando glanced at the contact and then craned his neck to watch Pierre walk away.

He should have let Pierre keep walking.

But Lando just didn’t know when to quit.

“So where is she?” Lando asked. Pierre came to a halt. Lando wouldn’t have been shocked if Pierre ignored him completely, but when he turned around and walked back, Lando stood up a bit straighter, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.

Pierre eyed him up, even with the sunglasses on, Lando could see the disapproval.

“She went home, Lando.”

But the weekend wasn’t even over. You left without saying anything to him?

Lando tried not to let that thought bother him. You were allowed to leave without a goodbye, you didn’t owe him anything. “Home?”

“Last night,” Pierre nodded. “Didn’t even let me drive her to the airport. She took an uber.”

Not saying goodbye to him was one thing, but Lando couldn’t understand why you didn’t want to say anything to Pierre either.

“So you-” he didn’t even know what to ask. “You two…it’s- you guys are done?”

Pierre’s jaw tightened, “It appears so.”

“Because of yesterday?”

Pierre laughed. He actually laughed at Lando’s idea that a childish hickey was what ended things.

“Because she’s still in love with you,” Pierre said, because Lando didn’t have the ability to come to this conclusion on his own. “She doesn’t want to be, but she is. And until she gets over your self-absorbed ass, she figures it’s better to be alone.”

Lando should have been overjoyed at this news. You loved him. That’s what he wanted. He didn’t want you with anyone else.

But you were gone. Pierre was right, you didn’t want to love him. You didn’t leave Pierre and go straight to Lando, you went home. You wanted to put distance between yourself and him, you were ready to put him behind you.

Pierre could see the gears grinding in Lando’s head. He could tell he was already thinking about ways to reach out to you after the race, how long a flight to London would take. Pierre pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into his shirt, shaking his head at the younger driver.

“You don’t love her,” Pierre stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. One that Lando wanted to ignore. One that you had hurt you time and time again.

“I could.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” the Frenchman stepped closer. “You should have realised how important she was earlier. You had every opportunity to love her, to cherish her, to be the man she wanted you to be and you did nothing. In fact, you waited until she was starting to move on to finally do something and even then, Lando, you still didn’t love her.”

It was easier to pretend that everything Pierre was saying was for his own benefit, but Lando couldn’t disregard the painful truth behind his words.

“You don’t know the type of relationship we have,” Lando tried to argue. “She’s my best friend. I know what’s good for her, what she needs-”

Pierre instantly cut him off, “What she needs is for you to let her go.”

“Why?” Lando scoffed. “So you can swoop in? Save the day?”

“I already tried that,” Pierre chuckled, but his laugh was bitter and cold. Nothing about this was funny. “Or did you already forget about the night at the club?”

Lando stayed quiet. If he could do anything, it would be to go back in time and redo that entire night.

“But here��s the thing,” Pierre started off, his gaze not dropping from Lando. “Y/n doesn’t need saving so the fact that you think she does says a lot.”

He shook his head. This conversation was coming to a close and Lando had contributed nothing beneficial to it.

“Just do her a favour and let her move on,” Pierre’s tone wasn’t demanding, but Lando could tell there wasn’t room to counter his words. “Stop giving her false hope, stop getting in the way, stop making her think the only role in her life that matters is yours. The only person she should be worrying about is herself and for years you’ve been too selfish to let that happen. Let. Her. Go.”

Pierre slid his sunglasses back on his face and turned around, not giving Lando the chance to get the last word in.

Lando couldn’t understand how Pierre was so unphased by your decision to leave before the race. He couldn’t comprehend how Pierre could let you leave so easily without so much as a fight.

But that was the difference between the two drivers. Pierre was right, Lando had always been selfish whereas Pierre knew the only option was to let you go. If one day you wanted to return to one of them, that would be your choice to make.

The only question now was would that day ever come? Or would Lando be left wondering about the what-if’s for a change? Would Pierre be left debating if he made the right choice by not trying to change your mind?

Whether you meant to or not, you had an impact on both of their lives. Pierre’s was sudden and fast and you were gone just as quick as you arrived. But you were there long enough for it to now feel wrong that you weren’t.

And Lando didn’t appreciate what he had until it was too late. You were a constant in his life and in the blink of an eye, he lost you. He knew how important you were, how amazing you were and he let you slip right through his fingers.

They both had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t theirs. You might never be.

part 7 here read all parts here

#pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly social media au #lando norris one shot #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris au #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 requests #f1 one shot #f1 #f1 social media au #holllandtrash

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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months

Note

WE NEEEED A PART 2 OF ANSWER IT !!! 🙏🙏 you don’t have to if you don’t want to but i just NEED to know what happens after ! anyways i love your writings!

ANSWER IT (2) - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after things with your boyfriend end unexpectedly - thanks to no one but you, tom makes a confession that you never could have been prepared for.

contents: tinyyy bit of smut, some angst in the middle, ends in fluff.

a/n: so many ppl have been BEGGING for a pt2 to answer it and honestly i never planned on writing one but here u go i guess!!😭 also random but this clip makes me go feral so had to use it for the gif🙏🙏

my chest rises up and down, completely breathless as tom collapses on top of me, lips lazily pressing to my collarbone. our bodies stick together, sweat glistening against them, the smell of sex circling around the room as our heavy breathing mixes with it. he pulls out of me, a low whine leaving my lips at the loss of contact. his calloused hands run up and down my waist, unspoken words left unsaid as we lay within each other’s embrace, coming down from some of the best sex we have ever had.

“so fucking good.” he mutters against me as his head rests in my neck, a lazy smile on his face.

but, unlike every other time we had fucked, i no longer share the same sense of hazy happiness, lethargic bliss that i usually would, the reality of the situation soon coming to light, a sickly feeling of guilt rising from the pit of my stomach as i realise what i have done - my boyfriend has just caught me cheating on him.

though i completely deserved this, to feel so ashamed, so completely devastated, after all, i was the one to blame, it didn’t at all ease my pain. strangely, i didn’t regret fucking tom the way i had been these past months, i just longed to erase the phone call, wishing that it had never happened as i stare blankly at the ceiling, my eyes welling up with long-awaited tears whilst tom absentmindedly lays with his body on mine, lips placing tired kisses on my bare skin.

“so fucking glad you finally got rid of that guy.” he mutters, gently nibbling at the skin below my ear, pulling at my waist and moving his crotch to grind it against me, his small movements making me realise exactly what he wants. “he was such an ass, didn’t deserve to have you all to his self, didn’t treat you the way you should’ve been, such a fucking cunt.”

my whole body tenses up at the mention of him, eyes no longer able to hold the tears back as they fall down my cheeks. i am frozen in place, unable to move, beating myself up for literally everything, hating how tom can be so nonchalant about it - he had always been aware that i wanted this to be strictly kept a secret. and i cannot help but blame him. he was the one to pick up the phone, to make me answer it, and ultimately blow my cover.

my body begins to shake as i silently sob, tom’s head lifting up from my shoulder in confusion. his eyebrows furrow, clearly not understanding why i am upset, totally oblivious to this whole thing, not able to see where he fucked up.

“woah woah, what’s going on?” he asks, sitting up and resting his back against the head board, quickly scooping me into his lap as he holds me, hands running down to my lower back in an attempt to comfort me.

my sadness soon mixes with anger, utterly despising tom in this moment as i roughly escape his hold, pushing my arms flush against his chest, finally getting out from his grasp. i clench my jaw, shaking my head as the tears continue to fall, angrily slipping my panties and bra on.

“hey, what’s up? talk to me, what happened?” tom frantically asks, getting up from the bed and slipping his boxers on, rushing over to me and trying to place his hands in mine.

“what happened? what fucking happened?” i scoff, shaking my head at his stupidity, in complete disbelief of how someone can be so naive.

his eyes search mine, genuinely not understanding where any of this has come from. he nears me once again, but i take a step back, not wanting to be anywhere near him right now, taking his silence as an opportunity to carry on with my fit of rage.

“what happened is you made my boyfriend break up with me, and you don’t even care!” my voice is raised, just below a shout as his eyebrows furrow, expression now mirroring my rage, as he opens his mouth, ready to lash out on me as i had on him.

“i made him break up with you? are you fucking insane?” he lets out a frustrated laugh, tongue playing with his lip ring as he steps back.

“you answered the phone! i don’t know what shit you were trying to fucking pull, but this is your fault, don’t make me out to be the crazy one!” i shoot back, digging a finger into his chest as i point at him, done with his attempts to manipulate this entire situation.

“you’ve been cheating on him for the past three months! since when do you give a fuck about his feelings or your relationship? it couldn’t have been that fucking great if you felt the need to fuck me on the daily!” each word that falls from his lips pierce me in the chest, completely taken aback at his nerve. the second that my face falls, mouth opening with no sound coming from it, he knows that he has gone too far.

“wow.” i scoff, searching the room for the rest of my clothes. “that’s fucking low.”

“is it? ‘cause the last time i checked, you don’t fuck someone else whilst you’re in a relationship unless it’s gone to shit. stop acting like i’ve ruined something that actually mattered to you, like you had a perfect relationship. it takes two people to fuck, you’re no fucking saint.” he keeps going, knowing that he is getting to me, aware of the right buttons to press - and he is hitting every single one, scoffing when he sees my face fall, tears falling at a much faster pace.

i struggle to find the right words, stuck in place as i know that he is right. though he said it in the harshest way possible, i am no better than him, if anything, i am worse, tom not in a relationship like i was. and it is that realisation that kills me slowly, twisting the blade inside me as i stand silently, tears now cascading down my cheeks.

“thanks. if you were looking to make me feel worse than i already do then you’ve done a pretty good fucking job.” my voice is low as i refuse to meet his eyes, completely ashamed. i slip my hoodie over my frame, redressing myself as i begin to feel uncomfortable in such little clothing in front of him, the confidence that would usually surround me long gone.

his face softens once i walk towards the door, panic setting in as he rushes to stand in front of it, blocking my exit.

“fuck- i didn’t mean it like that. don’t go.” he pleads, his eyes sorry as they look into mine, searching for any hint that his subtle begging is working.

“why should i stay? so you can ridicule me even more? tell me how much of a slut i am? that i should feel guilty, and it’s all my fault?” i scoff, listing off the endless scenarios.

“why would i do that?” he asks, his voice now softer, the anger that previously dominated it long gone as he seems somewhat sorry for me.

i stay silent, partly intrigued to hear him continue, however also knowing that my tears are preventing me from producing coherent speech. he takes a step towards me, hand lightly brushing against mine as he takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak.

“wanna know why i hated him so much?” he asks.

the question had always lingered in the back of my mind. i knew, from the way tom’s face twisted in disgust the first time i told him i had a boyfriend, that he despised him, his hatred only growing each time i would mention him. he never said why, instead using his name to fuel his own desire, never failing to remind me that he could never fuck me that way tom would, always slipping his name into the conversation as some reminder that what i had with tom was far better than anything i had going on with my boyfriend.

i look upwards, my eyes meeting his, my gaze a silent nod of agreement to his question.

“i couldn’t stand the thought of him touching you, being around you, knowing that you belonged to him and not me. drove me fucking insane. i loved that i got to see a side of you he never did, i loved seeing you underneath me, because i knew that that was the only time you belonged to me.”

my eyebrows furrow, trying to understand what he is saying, confused on how it has taken this long for him to say all of this.

“i like you. since that night when we hooked up at the club, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. i tried, but somehow everything came back to you. and it killed me knowing that all i could do was fuck you, knowing that you’d never feel the same way, because of him. and i hated him for it, i still do, because all i could think about is you being in love with someone else, wishing just for one second you’d care about me the way you do him.”

he pours his heart out, lips staying parted once he finishes, trying to make out my thoughts from my facial expression. i give him nothing, only able to stand there in pure shock, not ever anticipating anything like this, especially from someone like tom. i knew his reputation, and i knew that i wasn’t the only girl he was fucking, but it had never mattered for me. it was wrong for me to be doing this with him in the first place - catching feelings would be on a whole new wavelength of immoral.

“say something, please.” he mutters, his voice desperate as my silence only lets his words linger, the atmosphere turning from tense to uneasy.

it may be rash, and admittedly, my mind is hazy from the entire situation, yet in this moment, i don’t care, and it is this impulse that brings me to press my lips against his, arms wrapping around his neck as i pull him closer. he quickly kisses back, hands running to my lower back as he smiles into it, something about his lips against mine igniting a spark that i had never felt before, and though it was wrong, it felt so right - it always had.

against all odds, against everything that was deemed morally correct, i need him, and though it took his unexpected confession for me to realise it, i am more sure than ever, holding onto him tighter and tighter as he does the same, pulling away and smiling against me.

“i hate how crazy you make me.” he mutters against my lips, his cold breath fanning against them. “but i don’t want it to stop.”

those are the final words he says before reconnecting our lips, carrying the unspoken promise that he means every part of it, the missing piece within me now found, finally realising that what i needed had been right in front of me the whole time.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #bill kaulitz

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bxllamiizu · 4 months

Text

Fría

Pairing: Converted Spy!Mizu x Spy! Reader

Warning: Angst, Mizu has a gun.

A/N: This was torture, but depending on how this goes.. there might be a part 2

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

In the dimly lit corridors of the opulent opera house, anticipation hung heavy in the air as you navigated through the elegant patrons, each step laden with the weight of memories and unspoken tensions. Three years had passed since Mizu's inexplicable betrayal, a moment seared into your memory like a haunting melody refusing to fade.

The opera house stands as a testament to your intertwined fates. Fate, it seems, has conspired to entangle your lives once more amidst the grandeur of its ornate halls. Your mission, shrouded in secrecy, echoes the faint whisper of Mizu's pursuit of Abijah Fowler, a quest tied to a haunting familial connection.

The strains of an aria filled the grand hall, but your senses remained on high alert, attuned to any sign of Mizu's elusive presence. Memories flooded in—camaraderie, secrets shared, and a bond once thought unshakable.

In the corridors, amidst whispers and elegant attire, you caught a glimpse of Mizu's unmistakable silhouette. You trailed Mizu through the elaborate corridors of the opera house, shadows cloaking your movements. The years had etched a canyon between you both, widened by her betrayal and the secrets left unsaid. Yet, she remains resolutely distant, each step echoing the chasm between you. The once-familiar warmth in her gaze now hardens, refusing to acknowledge the past you shared.

"Wait," you called out, your voice lost in the grandeur of the performance hall. Mizu strode ahead, her gait purposeful, ignoring your desperate pleas that fell on deaf ears.

As the final notes of the opera drifted away, the opera house vanished from sight, the city streets embracing a clandestine air. It is in those isolated streets, far from the opulent facade, that fate orchestrates your inevitable confrontation.

A tension, palpable and suffocating, hangs between you as you stand, silhouetted against the faint glow of the streetlights.

"You shouldn't be here," Mizu's voice carried the strain of guilt. "This isn't your fight."

"But it is," your words rang with determination. "You were my partner, my confidant. I won't let your actions define us."

A desperate plea lingered, hoping to bridge the gap forged by betrayal. The air crackled with tension as Mizu turned, her eyes ablaze with conflicting loyalties.

A chill seeped through your veins as Mizu's hand darted towards a concealed holster, drawing a weapon trained at you. Instinct warred with fear as you stood, vulnerable yet resolute, facing the imminent threat.

In the midst of the tense stand-off, Mizu’s emotions seemed to wage a war within her blue-eyed gaze, a striking contrast against the midnight hue of her hair cascading in sleek waves down her back. The shadows flickered over her fair skin, highlighting the subtle flush that crept up her cheeks—a silent testament to the storm of emotions churning beneath the composed exterior.

As the weapon was trained, her hands, with their delicate fingers adorned in silver rings, quivered ever so slightly, a telltale sign of the internal struggle she grappled with. The moonlight painted a soft glow on her angular features, accentuating the determination etched into the line of her jaw.

The cold steel seemed to echo the distance between your hearts, a tangible manifestation of the breach caused by Mizu’s betrayal.

“Why?” Your voice trembled, carrying the weight of years of silence and unanswered questions. “Why did you leave?”

Mizu hesitated, her finger poised on the trigger, the conflict etched across her features. "I can't let you intervene. I won't lose Abijah Fowler, not after... not after everything."

"After everything, why?", your voice was on the brink of faltering altogether

Mizu's eyes softened, a flicker of pain seeping through the steel facade. "It was never meant to be like this," she whispered, her voice strained with an unspoken agony. "I had to protect you, even if it meant leaving you behind."

A shiver raced down your spine as Mizu’s confession hung in the air, a fragile admission of the sacrifices made in the name of a greater cause. Gathering every ounce of courage, you stepped closer, defying the imminent threat.

“I loved you,” you whispered, your voice a plea wrapped in vulnerability, “even when you walked away.”

Her breath hitched, the confession echoing in the space between you, a fragile bridge spanning years of turmoil and longing. Her blue eyes widened imperceptibly, shimmering with unshed emotions, reflecting the tumultuous journey of love and duty that had led them to that fateful moment. The moonlight danced in her eyes, illuminating the depth of her internal conflict. "I love you too," she admitted, her voice a fragile whisper, burdened with the weight of her choices. "But I'm not done yet. There are things I can't walk away from, not yet."

The words hung heavy, a tangible barrier between the two of you. With a regretful gaze, Mizu stepped back, her hand lowering the weapon, the distance between you widening with each passing second.

"We were meant to part ways," she murmured, pain etched into the lines of her face, "without goodbyes." With a heavy heart, she stepped back, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow around her tall, slender form draped in a midnight-blue coat.

The ache of her departure eclipsed the echoes of your confession, leaving you stranded amidst the haunting echoes of a love unfulfilled. Mizu vanished into the night, leaving you standing alone, grappling with the shattered pieces of a bond irreparably fractured.

As the city lights dimmed and the night swallowed the remnants of your shared history, you realized that some loves were destined to remain as silent elegies, etched in the corridors of memory, forever unspoken and unfinished.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: Got me bawling fr, but hope you loved it! As i’m typing this.. it’s 8am, worked on this all night, but hey it was worth it.

#Spotify #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai imagine #mizu imagine #mizu x reader #mizu x you #blue eye samurai edit #blue eye samurai fanfic #taigen blue eye samurai #taigen #akemi blue eye samurai #akemi #ringo blue eye samurai #angst #imagine

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mcntsee · 11 months

Text

THAWING SHADOWS

Summary: Y/n grapples with their feelings for Kaz. With the support of Nina, she confronts her insecurities and doubts about being worthy of Kaz's affection. Based off of this request.

Warnings: Contains themes of self-doubt, insecurity, and emotional vulnerability. Maybe OOC Kaz, I don’t know, I tried to make his dialogues fitting. Shitty writing and short.

Prompt: 17. "H-how long have you been standing there?" (list of prompts here)

I stared out at the vast expanse of the Slat, my heart heavy with emotions I couldn't quite contain. Nina, my dear friend and confidante, sat beside me, lending a sympathetic ear as I poured out my inner turmoil about Kaz Brekker. The mere thought of him sending a flurry of conflicting emotions coursing through my veins.

"I don’t know Nina, I can't help but feel like Kaz could never reciprocate my feelings," I confessed, my voice filled with a hint of melancholy. "He's so enigmatic, so closed off. I'm just me… Just an ordinary person." Nina's eyes shimmered with empathy as she took a moment to choose her words carefully. "Y/n, I understand your doubts, but you're selling yourself short. Kaz may be guarded, but he's not incapable of feeling. There's more to him than people realize, and you've managed to capture his attention in a way that surprises even me."

A flicker of hope ignited within me, but it was quickly extinguished by the weight of my insecurities. “Don’t do that Nina.” I said, voice barley above a whisper, “Don’t give me false hope. How could someone like him ever see something in me?"

Nina's voice carried a gentle reassurance. "Kaz may be drawn to strength, intelligence, and the unexpected but trust me, your genuine heart and unwavering loyalty make you extraordinary in his eyes."

I listened intently, the gears of my mind turning as I absorbed Nina's perspective. Still, doubts lingered. "But what if he finds out about my flaws, about my own darkness? What if he sees the parts of me I'm not proud of?"

Nina's expression softened, and her hand found mine in a comforting gesture. "Y/n, we all have our flaws. It's a part of being human. But Kaz, he sees beyond the surface. He knows firsthand the depths of the human soul, the duality within. He's not one to judge but rather to understand. And in that understanding, he might just find a connection with you."

Her words sparked a glimmer of courage within me, prompting me to take a deep breath. "You really think there's a chance for us, Nina? That he could see something in me worth pursuing?"

Nina's smile widened, brimming with confidence. "Absolutely, y/n. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he pays attention when you speak. There's a magnetic pull between you two, an unspoken connection. Just be yourself, and let fate unfold."

Curiosity flickered within me as I noticed Nina's eyes drifting behind me, repeatedly shifting focus to something—or someone. The urge to turn around and see what had caught her attention became irresistible. My heart raced in my chest as I pivoted, only to find Kaz standing there, his enigmatic presence enveloping me.

"H-how long have you been standing there?" I stammered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Nina, ever perceptive, departed with a knowing smile, leaving me alone with Kaz. Panic and regret mingled in my voice as I hurriedly apologized for all the doubts and insecurities I had expressed earlier.

Kaz's eyes, as cold and calculating as ever, studied me for a moment before he spoke, his voice laced with a touch of frost. "Words spoken in truth cannot be unsaid, y/n. But perhaps there is more to me than you assume." His words sent a shiver down my spine, both thrilling and unsettling me.

I faltered, sensing an iciness in his demeanor that made my heart ache. It seemed my fears of pushing him away were becoming a reality. I prepared myself for the inevitable rejection, expecting his walls to rise higher.

But Kaz, ever the master of secrets, surprised me with a small flicker of vulnerability. "You think me incapable of feeling, but you underestimate the depths of my emotions. It is true, someone like me should not deserve your affection." His tone remained cool, even distant, leaving me with a bittersweet mix of hope and uncertainty.

A wave of conflicting emotions crashed over me, mingling with the burgeoning happiness in my heart. Despite his cold demeanor, Kaz's words held a certain raw honesty that both pained and intrigued me. In that moment, I realized that beneath his icy exterior, he too harbored a fragile longing.

And so, the chill that had settled in the air began to thaw, ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of the tenderness beneath. As we stood there, facing each other, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us, connected by a fragile thread of understanding and the promise of something beautiful, even amidst the coldness that defined Kaz Brekker.

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. "Kaz, I understand that you see yourself as someone undeserving of affection, but it's not about who you think you are. It's about who I see when I look at you—the strength, the intelligence, and the capacity for greatness that resides within you. I know you've built walls to protect yourself, but I want to break through them and show you that you deserve happiness, just like anyone else."

For a moment, a flicker of surprise crossed Kaz's eyes, betraying the depths of his emotions that he so skillfully concealed. It was as if my words had penetrated his icy exterior, chipping away at the walls he had built around himself.

"You have a way with words, y/n," he said, his voice softer, the coldness thawing slightly. "But it's not just about what you see. It's about what you're willing to accept—my flaws, my darkness, the shadows that follow me.”

I looked into Kaz's eyes, unwavering in my resolve. "I can't promise that it will always be easy, or that we won't face challenges. But I'm willing to face them together, to support you in every way I can. I see beyond the shadows, Kaz, and I choose to see the person you truly are."

A moment of silence passed between us, filled with unspoken tension and uncharted possibilities. And then, the corners of Kaz's lips lifted ever so slightly, hinting at a rare smile that warmed my heart.

"You are a formidable person, y/n," he admitted, his voice carrying a newfound tenderness.

#angst #fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #kaz dirtyhands brekker #kaz brekker #fluff

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hookhausenschips · 1 month

Text

Just Pretend (Songfic Mini Series)

Word Count: 1,207

Summary: Hook now has to live with the consequences of his actions which had cost him the love of his life.

Warnings: sad as fuck, regret, longing, angstttt

Masterlist

song: Just Pretend by Bad Omens

Hook taglist: @shawtys-things, @gethooked, @hope4more, @redpool, @lovethathookhausen730, @dgcrimson-garcia, @brideofinfamy, @boneyjones7777, @saramusazzi99, @swaggybae, @tallrock35, @romanreigns-supreme

Join my taglist here!

Reblog and like if you loved this little series!!

A/N: my interpretation of the song!

Third Person POV

I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins

I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend

So will you wait me out

Or will you drown me out?

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted beach where Tyler stood, his heart heavy with the weight of longing and regret. It had been months since y/n had walked out of his life, leaving behind a void that seemed impossible to fill.

As he watched the waves crash against the shore, memories of their time together flooded Tyler's mind, each one a painful reminder of what he had lost. He could still hear y/n's laughter, and feel the warmth of her touch, but now, it all felt like a distant echo of a love that was lost to the winds of time.

"I miss you, y/n," Tyler whispered into the evening breeze, his voice barely audible above the sound of the crashing waves. "I miss you more than words can express."

But y/n was gone, a ghost of the past haunting Tyler's present with her absence.

So will you wait me out

Or will you drown me out?

(I might have to let you go)

He had tried to move on, to bury his feelings beneath a facade of indifference, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the ache in his heart, the longing for a love that was no longer his to hold.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Tyler found himself sinking deeper into the depths of his despair.

He tried to fill the void with distractions, with work and meaningless encounters, but no matter how busy he kept himself, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at his soul.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I can wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

He longed to reach out to y/n, to beg her to come back to him, but he knew it was futile. She had made her decision, had chosen to walk away from him and their love, and he had no choice but to accept it, no matter how much it hurt.

But the silence between them weighed heavily on Tyler's heart, a constant reminder of the words left unsaid, the apologies left unspoken.

He wanted nothing more than to tell y/n how much she meant to him, how he would wait for her for as long as it took, but he feared she would never hear him, never know the depth of his love.

I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face

And not a day goes by where I don't think I feel the same

So will you wait me out

Or will you drown me out?

As the months turned into years, Tyler found himself falling into a routine of numbness, of pretending that everything was okay when it was anything but.

He plastered a smile on his face and played the part of the carefree bachelor, but inside, he was crumbling, his heart breaking a little more with each passing day.

He tried to convince himself that he didn't need y/n, that he could find happiness without her, but deep down, he knew it was a lie.

So will you wait me out

Or will you drown me out?

She was the missing piece of his soul, the one who had made him whole, and without her, he was lost, adrift in a sea of loneliness and regret.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I could wait for years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

But still, he held on to hope, a flickering flame in the darkness of his despair. He knew that one day, somehow, they would find their way back to each other, that their love was too strong to be extinguished by time or distance.

As the years stretched on, Tyler found himself consumed by the depths of his longing, the ache in his heart growing more unbearable with each passing day.

We'll try again

When we're not so different

We will make amends

'Til then I'll just pretend

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

He missed y/n with a fierceness that took his breath away, a longing so profound it felt like a physical ache in his chest.

He dreamed of her every night, her face haunting his every waking moment. He could still feel the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her lips against his, but now, it all felt like a cruel mockery of the love they had once shared.

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

"I love you, y/n," Tyler whispered into the darkness, his voice choked with emotion. "I'll never stop loving you, no matter where you are, no matter what happens. Please, just give me a chance to prove that I'm worthy of your love."

But his words were lost in the void, swallowed up by the silence of the night. He knew that y/n would never hear him, never know the depth of his love, but still, he couldn't bring himself to let go, to give up on the one person who had ever truly mattered to him.

I can wait for you at the bottom

I can stay away if you want me to

I could wait four years if I gotta

Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

As the years turned into decades, Tyler found himself growing old, his hair turning gray, his body weary from the passage of time. But still, he held on to hope, a beacon of light in the darkness of his despair.

He knew that y/n was out there somewhere, living her life without him, but still, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were destined to be together, that their love was written in the stars.

And so, he waited, his heart filled with longing and regret, but also with the promise of tomorrow, of a future where they would be reunited once more.

We'll try again

When we're not so different

We will make amends

'Til then I'll just pretend

He knew that it wouldn't be easy, that there would be obstacles to overcome and challenges to face, but he also knew that their love was worth fighting for, worth waiting for, no matter how long it took.

And as he watched the sun set on another day, Tyler made a silent vow to himself, to never stop loving y/n, to never give up hope that one day, they would find their way back to each other and that their love would be stronger than ever before.

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

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half-bakedboy · 21 days

Text

everything stays unsaid

Buddie | 1.5k | general | 7x4 coda

After Tommy leaves his apartment, all Buck wants to do is talk to Eddie. He wants to apologize for making Eddie collateral damage to his stupid crisis. But he feels like he's broken some unspoken agreement between them or betrayed Eddie by feeling something other for Tommy. It doesn’t make sense because it’s Eddie, but he doesn’t feel like he can trust his gut feelings right now.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

After Tommy shuts the door gently behind him, all Buck wants to do is tell someone why he has been such an asshole.

But when Buck thinks about calling Eddie, the person he’s hurt most, he doesn’t know how he would even begin.

Hey, remember how I body-slammed you into the pavement and sprained your ankle? It’s apparently because I wanted Tommy to kiss me and I didn’t know that until he did. So sorry about that. I’ll bring you takeout next time we hang out.

No, of course he can't do that. He has to prepare for this conversation, right? He has to figure out what he’s feeling, put a label on it so it’s wrapped neatly in a bow when he finally tells his friends and his family.

He’s seen movies where nerves are haywire and difficult sit-down conversations lead to teary-eyed pride and general… emotions. He’s supposed to say the term and let a few seconds of silence worry him before the people he loves remind him they love him back, whether he’s into men or not.

“I’m—” he begins to say into his now empty apartment. He’s not sure what to follow it up with.

“Gay?” He tests. He thinks about how Abby’s soft voice made his skin simmer, how chasing Taylor had sent thrills up and down his spine, the instant connection he had with Nathalia. No, he doesn’t think he’s gay.

“Straight?” He tries. The thought of Tommy’s lips on his, the gentle power behind the fingers on his face, the scruff on their chins velcroing together. The heat that catapults straight to his stomach tells him he can never call himself that ever again.

He knows there are other words. Bisexual, pansexual, demisexual… But he doesn’t want to dwell any longer on what he might be, not when who he has been over the last few days has been so awful.

The last thing Tommy asked before he left was for Buck to call Eddie and that’s all Buck wants to do.

But he still isn’t exactly sure what to say.

I’m sorry I put you in the hospital. I’m sorry I’ve been such a possessive asshole. I’m sorry I put you in the middle of whatever my feelings were doing. I’m sorry you became collateral damage when all I’ve ever wanted was to make sure our relationship never changed no matter what.

Luckily—or unluckily, he’s not quite sure—his phone is ringing before he can talk himself out of finally reaching out. His entire body freezes when he sees Eddie’s name flash across his screen, but it relaxes almost instantly when his picture comes into view.

A few months ago, Christopher decided he was too old to be the background of his dad’s contact, especially now that he has his own phone. When Buck left his phone on the dining room table to clean up dishes, Christopher took it upon himself to snap some pictures of Buck and Eddie at the sink. They’re hip to hip, almost like one of them pushed the other in jest, and Eddie’s smiling over his shoulder like he’s caught Christopher in the act.

Usually, seeing the picture sends a warmth through him at the friendship he’s created and cultivated throughout the years. One of domesticity and care that almost no other relationship in his life can match.

Today, the picture ties his stomach in a knot—like he’s broken some unspoken agreement between them or betrayed Eddie by feeling something other for Tommy. It doesn’t make sense because it’s Eddie, but he doesn’t feel like he can trust his gut feelings right now.

He can’t really trust any part of himself, not until he clears the air with Eddie and figures out where the Hell things are going with Tommy.

Caught in his spiraling mind, Buck almost misses the call and answers abruptly with a choked-out, “H-Hey!”

“Hi, Buck.” Eddie’s words exhaled like he wasn’t convinced Buck was going to answer. “I’m sorry to call so late, but Tommy called—” Buck’s heart leaps into his throat before dropping into a pit in his stomach— “and said that he’d been there to see you and that he told you to call but he wasn’t sure if you’d actually do it. He said you guys talked and you seemed worried that he was replacing you in my life?” Buck didn’t have time to breathe, let alone speak before Eddie continues. “You have to know that’s not true, Buck. Tommy could never replace you. You have a permanent place in my life and you always will. Tommy can’t even begin to change that—”

“I kissed someone!” Buck blurts out.

Buck didn’t know what he was going to say to Eddie, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Eddie is very aware of the fact that Buck has kissed people before.

There are a few moments of silence, and Buck can hear Eddie pull the phone away from his ear like he has to check the caller ID to make sure it’s Buck he’s called.

Eddie clears his throat before he asks, “Am I supposed to be surprised, or…?”

“I—” Buck inhales deeply and lets out a shaky breath. He figures diving headfirst into this is the best way to go. “It was a guy,” Buck says as steadily as he can. He doesn’t say Tommy’s name. He’s new to this whole sexuality thing but he’s pretty sure that outing someone is a big no.

There’s more silence. It’s not unusual, really. Eddie’s never been one to jump to words before thinking them through. That was typically Buck’s job. But that doesn’t make it any easier for Buck to wait it out.

There’s something about the pause that makes Buck’s insides feel like tinder just waiting for a spark to ignite him from the inside out.

“And how do you feel about that?” Eddie asks slowly.

“Surprisingly normal,” Buck answers.

“Congratulations?” Eddie sounds unsure, but honestly, Buck is pretty unsure of most everything himself so he can relate.

“I was going to wait to tell you, figure out what this thing between Tommy and I is but—” Fuck.

“Tommy? My Tommy?”

Buck ignores the way his heart stings at Eddie’s choice of words which makes no sense because all they’d done is kiss. He shouldn’t be so easily soured at the mere thought of someone else having Tommy. Unease settles somewhere between his heart and his stomach like his mind has decided he can’t unpack all his feelings in one night.

“Your Tommy?” Buck tastes the bitterness on his tongue like he’s got a mouthful of Eddie’s too-hoppy beer that refuses to settle in his stomach.

“I just meant—” Eddie cuts himself off as if he knows it’s too late for excuses. “I didn’t think you guys were that close.”

“We ended up real close,” Buck jokes, an attempt at pushing down the awkwardness in the conversation. He swears he hears Eddie inhale sharply like there’s something painful in the words. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know what to do with this feeling, and all I wanted to do was tell you.”

Buck doesn’t know what he expects. For Eddie to have the answers, for Eddie to know him better than he knows himself like he always does, for Eddie to tell him that he’s always known or that nothing is going to change.

Then Eddie says, “I’m glad you told me.”

The sentence holds more weight in Buck’s heart than it should. It’s everything Buck imagined and, I’m glad you trust me with this part of you and I’m here for whatever you need to do next, just like I always am.

So why does Buck still feel like it says so much more?

“I’m sorry I knocked you down and sprained your ankle because I was having some sort of crisis,” Buck tries again to make Eddie laugh and this time, it works.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to injure me to get my atte—” Eddie trails off, and Buck’s heard this sentence before. He heard it right before Tommy’s lips connected with his.

Whose attention had Buck truly been trying to get?

Why is it so hard for him to answer that question when the answer should be so… obvious?

“Next time, can you knock me over on grass or into some water? It’d be a lot easier for you to forgive yourself if I could walk away if this crisis of yours keeps going.”

Eddie’s joking, and Buck laughs. Eddie’s joking, but there’s something else there. There’s something underneath Eddie’s words that feels like hope. It can’t be hope that Buck hurts him again or hope that Buck continues to plunge deeper into crisis. It’s like an acknowledgment that Buck is going to continue to hurt him, but he’s okay with it as long as Buck cushions the blow this time.

He doesn’t know what it all means, what unspoken conversation they're having that feels half-finished but barely begun. But he does know that if he’s going to figure anything out, it’s going to be later.

For now, he revels in the feeling of Eddie’s forgiveness and the excitement of whatever is to come.

#911 on abc #911 spoilers #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 coda fic #7x4 fic #i feel like i never write from bucks pov #this fic started because i feel like im cheating on eddie #when in reality #he'll catch up eventually #and we'll all be happy again #my writing

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tempting-andromeda · 3 days

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Draft! Not edited

I wanted to get some content out but I’m too busy to do headcanons

Eagle Flies wasn’t one to confess his feelings. He won’t confess, but it lies between the pages of unsaid words and longing gazes. He doesn’t confess yet; he plays with your fingers from under the table as you go out to eat with him and Paytah. He’ll never say he loves you, yet the moment you open your arms for an embrace, he’s holding you like he needs it to live. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and grips the fabric of your shirt as if he’s afraid you’ll melt away.

Sometimes when he wakes up from a nap, he spends his lips in your arms, and you swear it’s what he wants to say. “I love you” or something of the sort, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes himself away.

Loving Eagle Flies is complex. You’ve known him for so long, yet a part of you wishes he’d change and just spit those words out. You wish he would get over his issues and just hold you without fear of tainting you with his issues. Yet you settle for the unspoken moments. He barks out a laugh as he lifts you when the rez dogs sprint towards you both. How he placed his hand on yours while he drove, the tips of his ears pink, though he insists it’s a habit from his hookups, you know. You know it’s not.

You’ve never kissed. It’s as if it’s the only thing keeping Eagle Flies from ruining this. His lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling over them, before he shoves himself away. As if you burned him or he suddenly remembered he had better things to do. His hands never travel to places untouched by the sun. The most intimate way he’ll go is by touching your hips or waist. Though his fingers clench ever so slightly, As if he’s struggling not to pull away or go further.

His words get harsher as well while you stay in this routine. A routine of looking at one another the way friends don't. There are some moments when he stares at you like he wants you to say something or do something, but the moment you start, he cuts you off.

The moment he lets his walls down, it isn't romantic. It might be the opposite. He grabs onto you when you try to leave, tears in his eyes. He has just spoken so cruelly to you, yet the way tears glisten in his lower lashes, you'd assume you were the one who yelled at him. His words are shaky, and he croaks them out, begging you to stay. And you do.

#rdr2 #rdr2 headcanons #eagle flies #eagle flies headcanons #eagle flies x reader #i wanted to get something out

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cailynwrites · 2 months

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Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

Thank you @squibstress for tagging me in this. Though I’m not a writer (publicly, anyway), there’s clearly something about first lines that draws me to recording a podfic. This is such a fun idea. Working backward from my last posted podfic today (!), here goes …

1. “There was certainly something amiss with the temporal forces that morning, for Sybill Trelawney awoke with a splitting headache.”

From Ambiguity (podfic) by @vermin-disciple, Rated G

This is a perfect encapsulation of what’s to come. I already waxed rhapsodic about this character study in another post, but this first line crystallizes the dichotomy of the character and the world view, the tragedy and the comedy, the ethereal and the mundane, the two warring factions inside Sibyll Trelawney. She prances around dispersing her gift of Sight and great wisdom while at the same time completely wrapped up in the lowest level of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. It’s so hard to tell what’s real and what’s a sham with her, because she doesn’t even know herself. And all of that is in the first sentence! Masterful.

2. “The summer after Draco’s first year at Hogwarts was perfectly lovely.”

From there and back again (podfic), the 3rd installment in the dogfather AU series by @nonasuch, Rated G

Of course, the unspoken part is that nothing every would be again after that point. Draco fares much better in this AU than in canon or in many other fanfics. He reads The Hobbit, gets support from cousin Sirius, and ends up more or less on the right side of the war, though definitely not unscathed. @nonasuch is a whiz with a turn of phrase and leaves so much unsaid to be inferred. This fic in particular is almost like a series of interludes; it’s never telling the story as the exciting parts are going on, but rather it gives Draco's version of (semi-)canon events in the calm denouement periods after. As a reader, it keeps you on the edge of your seat because you don’t know when the next time jump will be or what things will have radically changed when you see Draco again on the other side.

(I’m going to cheat here and also give the first lines of the other fics in the series that I’ve recorded thus far, because I think they’re similar in an interesting way and I just want to celebrate every day what a masterful writer @nonasuch is.)

“Remus woke up warm and comfortable, and that was all wrong.”

From the black dog (podfic) by @nonasuch, part 2 of the dogfather AU, Rated M

A prequel to the original story, the dogfather, in which Sirius breaks out of prison and meets up with Remus much earlier than in canon. Again, this first line leaves us to infer so much and imagine what has changed, why Remus hadn’t been warm and comfortable before, what is to come. The first line presages all the angst and hurt/comfort to come.

“To begin with: this is a version of events where, on the morning of November 1st, 1981, the police are called to a house in Surrey.”

From the dogfather (podfic) by @nonasuch, Rated T

This one is slightly different and although this story also has very economical prose, it is much longer than its prequel and sequel above and has more room for details. The author spends a lot of time giving details and breaking the fourth wall, so to speak, to explain character motivations. But it’s all so blunt and bittersweet and funny. As I said in my original post, I think it might be my favorite wolfstar of all time, even though it barely wolfstars at all (especially compared to its M-rated prequel above).

3. “Looking at his watch for perhaps the twentieth time, Ron sighed loudly.”

From Libiamo! (amor fra' calici più caldi baci avrà) (podfic) by @khasael, Rated E

What better way to start a story than to drop our hero in media res at a restaurant with his future enemy-to-lover, Pansy Parkinson? And this is such a pitch perfect Ron characterization in my mind, all rough edges and a gooey, melty vanilla and caramel center.

4. “You can’t be serious?” The words were out of Hermione’s mouth before she could stop herself when Minerva broke the news about Hogwarts’ new Arithmancy professor.

From Stay (podfic) by vendettadays, Rated T

Another in media res and another pairing with Pansy. (I’ve been devouring Pansy fics since I recorded ‘tis the damn season (Pansy's version) by @the-francakes - podfic during the holidays and I can’t get enough of her, paired with just about anyone. I recorded this for @femslashfebruary and it really only features female characters, even the students.

5. “Poppy could feel sweat building around her temples as she continued to cast.”

From The Anniversary Quilt (podfic) by @vdoshu, Rated G

More in media res, with Poppy trying to heal her long-time partner, Minerva, after she gets hit with all those stunning spells. Throughout, we see Minerva through Poppy’s eyes and through the lens of their decades-long relationship.

6. “Severus found Hermione in the kitchens.”

From Mating for Life (podfic) by Arsenic, Rated T (sequel to Care of Magical Creatures (podfic), Rated E)

It may not be fair to compare a sequel opening line to the first in a series because it doesn’t have to do the same work. A first work needs to exert itself immediately to draw the reader in. But presumably, if you’re reading a seven-years-later sequel to a beautiful, pro-werewolf Remus/Hermione/Severus polyamory fic written almost 20 years ago before the book series was finished, you’re already hooked to the characters, the relationship, and the premise. You are drawn in by a desire to see a story you loved continue. And it does!

7. “Oliver Wood had one single year left at Hogwarts.”

From messin’ up my mind (podfic) by SkyRose, Rated T

This one is so nice and simple, but it sets up the stakes for the whole fic, a mutual pining story of Oliver and Percy finally getting together, with a little help from some of their Quidditch teammates. A lot of this story is Oliver’s internal monologue, so it’s fitting that this first sentence lays out what governs Oliver’s motivations - that this is the beginning of a series of “lasts” and that he still has so much he wants to do before leaving school.

8. “What are you doing?”

From The Cat With The Stars in Her Eyes (podfic) by @peachonified, Rated G

The first line isn’t spoken by the main character, Luna, but rather Ginny as an audience proxy to lead us into the story. We also want to know what, in fact, Luna is doing. Turns out she’s creating beautiful magic tattoos and therapizing all of Hogwarts (and later all of the Wizarding World) at the same time.

9. "Well, that's the last of them," Arthur said musingly, over breakfast on September second.

From Empty Burrow (podfic) by @copperbadge, Rated T

When I was looking for a little fic for Arthur’s birthday, I found this little gem, also written pre-Half Blood Prince. All the dialogue in this fic is sparse, like is so often the case with an older married couple who no longer need words to communicate most of what they want to say.

10. "I must ask one more time," said Dumbledore, the picture of grave concern with his fingers steepled on his desk, "If you are entirely sure about this decision."

From the stranger in the shell of a lover (podfic) by @slashmarks

Once again, the first person to speak is not the most important to the story, nor even the second most important. But it sets the tension and has a good hook, and once you find out in the next line that he’s talking to Lily, you’ve got to wonder what he’s so worried about …

Looking back over my recent work, I think a few things are clear:

I like fics that start with dialogue. I work hard on my voice acting and my accents, and though they are by no means perfect, I think they add something to the work. Being able to come out of the gate with a Dumbledore or a Ginny voice is a joy.

I also like jumping into the action of a story. It’s easier to tune out audiobooks or podfics than a story you’re actively reading (at least that’s true for me), so making sure that I have a story with a good hook is important to me.

Ever since I did A Very Pair-y Christmas in December, I’ve been branching out with different characters and ships, as opposed to doing mostly Drarry and Dramione a year or two ago. It’s been an absolute joy, I’ve discovered so many amazing new authors, and I welcome any suggestions for future recordings, especially if they’re different than what I’ve already done.

On the other hand, as I've moved away from recording Dramione and into more queer pairings, I worry that a lot of the fics I record wouldn't pass the Bechdel test. I'm pleased to see that in the start of 2024, the majority of my protagonists have been women.

On the other other hand, there's only ONE Explicit-rated fic on this list?!?! What have I been doing? Well, I promise there's some smutty stuff coming very soon ... 😉

This ask was so fun! I love gushing about other people’s writing. Thank you @squibstress for tagging me. Send me more of these so I can procrastinate on the Spanish paper I’m supposed to be writing.

Tagging @teledild0nix, @sweatersinthesummer, and @theselittleponders.

#harry potter fanfiction #hp podfic #first lines

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