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doobea · 4 months

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BORN TO MAKE HISTORY ─ RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST. | MASTERLIST

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around, inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, rin being awkward, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric word count: 5.1K a/n: life has been super busy and hectic recently :( kisses to @popponn for beta reading my works as always <3 im forever grateful for you :) more notes towards the end of the fic <3

PREV. RINK | NEXT RINK

“What should we wear?” You’re pacing across the living room, hand tucked under your chin and brows furrowed.

Sae’s leaning to the side on the couch, trying to get a decent view of yesterday’s playback practice run on the rink every time you cross his line of vision. Rin’s also trying to pay attention to the jumps and step sequences too but, whenever his parts are about to come up, you seem to pause in front of the TV.

“I dunno, ask Rin,” Sae shrugs and turns up the volume, hoping that you would catch the hint.

It doesn’t matter though, because you’re shuffling in place and now your attention is honed on your phone, scrolling rapidly through what Rin can only assume are images of various costume designs. He’s seen a few of your professional photos from the previous years during his recent down time, a lot of the designs highlighted your feminine side with bright colors and pastels. It suits you, no surprise there, considering your outgoing personality. Rin, on the other hand, likes to keep it moody and, as his fans would like to call it, “Dark Paradise” core — whatever that means.

Well, it wouldn’t really matter if you did happen to ask for his opinion because, recently, Rin didn’t give two shits about what he wears. If anyone were to peek into his closet, which they would definitely need to fight through him first, they would discover an array of all different shades of black and blue in their deepest forms. Oh, and all he owns is athleisure attire, too. Rin doesn’t bother with all things fancy and tailored ever since going on break, though he has a creeping feeling that he might have to go back to it soon.

“As long as it’s not flashy, I’m fine with whatever.” Rin answers finally, and closes his eyes as he says it, realizing that he’ll either look incredibly out of place with whatever costume idea you’ll have in mind. He can’t quite place why he feels so stressed about it.

“Whatever?” You chirp back with a slight tilt. Rin can almost see the gears turning desperately in your head as your foot taps away in deep thought. “Have we even decided on a theme yet?”

“Considering we literally just started practicing? No.” Rin huffs out. He tips his head, letting his cheek settle comfortably against his palm.

Safe to say, his thighs and feet hurt like hell, laced with heavy exhaustion from yesterday’s session. He probably needs more sleep in more but, with both you and Sae knocking on his bedroom door this morning, he firmly decided in his mind to sneak away after today’s practice to catch up on some hours.

“Your jumps are sloppy,” Sae points out casually.

Rin rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” his brother shoots back before replaying the same damn sequence where Rin nearly loses his footing. The video is now playing in slow motion and zoomed in, painfully reminding Rin that he needs to upgrade his skincare routine. Somehow, he’s glad that you’re still covering half of the TV screen, unaware of the near wipe out scene from behind.

A few seconds later and Sae speaks again. “You look stiff here, bend your knees and loosen your arms.”

Rin sighs. “ ‘Kay…”

“We’re still going for ‘love’, right? Or are we not doing that?” Your arms are crossed, fingers drumming away, still deep in thought and tuned out from their own conversation. “What songs do you wanna skate to?”

Before Rin could even provide a half-assed answer to that, Sae interrupts his thoughts with, “Please try and at least look like you’re having fun.”

“…noted,” Rin decides with a sigh. “I’m going back to bed when this is over.” Screw napping after practice, he barely got a full eight hours last night and being berated so bright and early in the morning killed any sort of energy he had prior.

“Nope,” Sae pauses halfway through the video, turning to face him with a stern look. “You’re not going back to bed, because then you won’t wake up in time for practice. Sleeping in will only ruin your current sleep schedule, too.”

Rin wants to retort that he’s not a fucking child anymore, that he doesn’t need Sae to be looking after him. However, there’s the fact that his brother is sorta his manager now and in charge of quite literally everything of Rin's career. Also, it’s kinda hard to come up with a solid comeback when they’re reviewing his rusty movements, lackluster jumps, and every thirty seconds he’s taking a small break to catch his damn breath.

You eventually plop down in the middle of the couch, between both brothers, when you realize that your question isn’t going to be answered simply. After Sae finally gets the chance to thoroughly watch a good chunk of yesterday’s practice sequence, you switch topics. “Just so you know, Rin, have you seen your comment section lately?”

Sae shuffles in his seat and suddenly Rin feels the air in the room thickening. Rin fiddles with his phone in hand, knowing full well that he did post a ‘comeback’ announcement only to then quickly turn his app notifications off, because… of his feelings of self cautiousness? Would that be the right term he’s looking for?

“What did he do?” Sae’s asking you because he knows damn well Rin wouldn’t give him the full details and you’re just so damn open about everything so Rin can’t possibly hide from this one.

But, instead of answering Sae, you cough, loud and awkward, before shooting Rin an apologetic look. “Um, nothing…?”

Alright, well Rin takes it that you’re a god awful liar.

Sae’s now staring directly in Rin’s direction and he’s trying so hard to avoid eye contact right now by pretending that their family portrait wall is the most interesting thing in the room. Of course, that doesn’t work because he can hear Sae tapping away freely on his phone and—

“Did you fucking block me on Instagram?”

Okay, yeah, Rin totally forgot about that, too. To be fair, when someone is going through a depressive episode for over a year, the last thing anyone would want to see on their feed is the success of their older sibling.

“No?”

And, turns out, he’s also an awful liar.

Sae is not happy. He is very, very unhappy.

He’s not usually the emotionally expressive type to most people, so that usually leaves Rin the luxury of experiencing the back end when his brother does decide to let his walls down. And, well, in the past, when he did get pissed off, Sae would normally vent about his coaches and stalkerish fans with a bit of sass to it, but today?

He’s currently grumbling and groaning and Rin’s pretty sure his shirt is on backwards, and bless your soul, but also fuck you, for dragging him into this mess.

After a very short Google Search of what Rin has done, followed by an equally as short lecture on how to be professional on the internet, Rin is grimley reminded by the large number of likes and retweets on Twitter that his announcement might’ve not been the best thing he’s ever posted. He really can’t understand why though, because Rin was deadset sure he was going to lose his career nearly three years ago when he got into a fight with another skater, so why is he getting canceled for announcing something… tamed? Well, he also hasn’t exactly opened his social media apps since then. A strange gnawing feeling comes up whenever he fights off the urge to check.

“You should’ve held off or at least came to me before posting something like this.”

It’s a miracle that there’s nobody else but you three at the local rink right now. It’s been nearly an hour since arrival and Rin has gotten nothing but an earful from Sae. If any family were to walk in, they’d probably immediately walk out by the sheer amount of heavy tension steaming off on the ice.

You’re stuck in your own little corner doing all sorts of warm up jumps and stretching, glancing over every now and then at Rin as your way of saying ‘sorry’ and ‘are you doing, okay’. To which, Rin would glance back with a very stiff shrug.

“What difference would it make?” Rin’s cheeks are a little flushed and there’s a slight hitch to his breath, he had just completed a couple of routine jumps Sae instructed him to do.

“Plenty,” then Sae flashes Rin a quick glimpse of his phone screen.

An array of outrageous news articles and forums come through, many of them pointing out the strange timing and the internal turmoil of sibling rivalry. There’s a couple of them mentioning drugs, two threads from some third-party news site throwing your name to the mud, and then a short Buzzfeed article listing a slideshow of other skaters congratulating Rin for rejoining the sport again.

“People are speculating that you’re only stepping in because I’m down for this season. If you would’ve just waited until everything was put together then everything would’ve been different.”

Rin blinks a little, surprised by the flush coloring his brother's cheeks that’s most certainly not from the cold rink.

Although, in a way it did make sense. If there’s one thing that famous athletes do know about the media is the fact that news outlets love fabricating drama out of nothing. Sae’s a well known gold medalist, no matter what division that medal came from, so his name came out of people’s mouth as frequently as compared to Yuzuru Hanyu or even Yuuri Katsuki, whenever figure skating was mentioned. It made sense for others to grow suspicious when Rin randomly posted that he’s coming off of hiatus without further explanation. Sae most likely hasn’t told anyone that he’s being subbed in.

Rin hesitantly nods, his snarky response dies in his throat and he feels like he’s swallowing needles when faced with the awkward reality. He’s now reluctant to speak, unsure if anything he’d say would make a difference — for better or worse. Knowing himself, probably the latter.

After a few seconds of silence, followed by a few jumps performed by you in the background, Sae runs a hand through his hair, in what Rin believes is a rare nervous gesture, looking away briefly.

“Revival,” his brother finally blurts out. “That’s the theme. You guys fine with that?” Sae’s asking, but there’s a finality to his tone. Rin and you will have to be fine with it. The season starts in a few months, soon Sae would need to prepare choreography for two programs, consult a designer for custom fittings, and take over all things that a coach and manager would do. Somehow, despite being out for this year, Rin thinks Sae might have the hardest job here.

“No objections here.”

Two months and many hours of exhausting training later, you and Rin are standing in the locker room for the first competition as an official pair. It’s the first day of the Japan Figure Skating Championships and, somehow, you look more put together than he is.

“Think this looks good?” You do a 360 spin in front of the wall mirror in your short program outfit. It’s a simple short black, gray dress with mesh sleeves and small rhinestones running down the middle. According to the designer, it’s supposed to represent the night sky.

Rin stands behind you and adjusts his black vest. Gold and white thread accents throughout his patterned shirt compared with plain black trousers. He’s supposed to adjust his cuffs, but his fingers keep fumbling with the last button because his eyes are awkwardly getting lost in your outfit. Luckily, you’re too focused on yourself to take notice.

You eventually lean closer, repeating the question when he takes too long to answer, and he feels your breath against his shoulder. “Everything alright? Are you nervous for today?” Your voice is a little hesitant, full of concern that makes Rin’s stomach slightly jump to his throat.

“Everything’s fine,” Rin sighs as he manages to shove the last button through. It’s not like he’s going to lose this competition, he might be somewhat rusty but he didn’t qualify for the Grand Prix Final just based on his name alone. “It’s just… a little bit weird that we’re the oldest ones here,” he confesses.

“You’re still hung up about that?”

It’s stupid and maybe a bit irrational, he knows that much.

You’ve also already tried to convince Rin otherwise multiple times today, but he couldn’t shake off the humiliating feeling of entering a competition where your competitors are almost half your age. Okay, maybe Rin’s being dramatic, but at least five years younger. From what he can recall, it was usually the other way around whenever he competed in men’s singles tournaments. Having to see and now experience that is something he never really mentally prepared himself for.

From the moment he stepped into the locker room, Rin was basically towering over the rest of the athletes. It’s fine, kinda, all he really needs to focus on right now is landing all of his jumps and catching you. Sae’s a strict teacher, but he doesn’t force weird techniques on others if he knows they can’t handle it.

“Isn’t he, like, totally washed up right now?”

“Shh, don’t say it so loud, Makoto! He’s right there.”

“Oh, shit, let’s go before he…” Rin didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the sentence, not with you scooting right beside him on the bench and shoving your right ear bud into his ear.

He’s learned quickly from the following days that you are not the playlist type of person like most people. Unlike normal and sane folks, you have all of your liked songs in one playlist and you like spending your time shuffling away through the vast hundreds of genres and artists until finding the right one. In your own words, if you were to make a playlist then it would easily be over a few dozen — why do that when all of your favorite songs are in one spot?

That being said, you’re currently blasting a Frank Ocean song before shifting through a couple more songs with the intent of finding both the short program and free skate song. Oh, and for some reason you don’t use the search function at all through your liked playlist. Apparently, it “ruins” the fun.

“This would’ve been a nice song to skate to,” the tune switches to something more upbeat and indie, Rin recognizes the band to be Florence and the Machine from the vocals alone. “Sae complained about the song being too long and I called him a lazy loser shortly after.” You say with a smile but Rin’s eyes drift down only to see your leg bobbing up and down rapidly.

Rin tries to pay no mind as he continues to put on his skates. “A six minute long performance would be too much,” he agrees with Sae’s previous answer.

“Hey, tickets to these sorts of things are expensive nowadays with scalpers everywhere!” You try to reason. “If someone’s spending two hundred dollars on a seat then they can sit through a six minute long skating sequence.”

Rin rolls his eyes as he fiddles with a tangled lace. “I didn’t mean the people in the audience, I meant the skaters.”

“Well, maybe we should learn a thing or two from people who do Disney on Ice?”

“I do not want that to be my fall back career, thank you.” A shiver creeps down his spine at the thought of being forced to skate while wearing a Mickey Mouse costume of all things. Seriously, do people clean those suits?

“Hey, are you…” both of your ears perk at the sound from behind. Rin turns around first, he’s immediately greeted by one of the younger male competitors. The boy looks like he’s still growing into his body, probably not any older than seventeen.

“Yeah, I am,” Rin finishes the obvious question. Maybe the kid’s a fan by how bright his face lights up soon after. “Is there something you need?” Sae’s been drilling him to be a little bit more receptive to fellow competitors and fans alike, in order to fix some of his reputation.

“I’ve been looking at your past performances, lately,” the kid starts with a smile. “Last year, during the Grand Prix Final, you did good!”

“Thanks—”

“Your theme was the same as the previous years, but I guess that’s just something you’re comfortable with, right? The falls that you took, it was because your balance was off. You need to work better on finding your center during jumps if you seriously plan on competing in the senior division again.”

Rin only notices the pain digging in his fists when you reach over, palm encasing over his closed ones. You don’t bother looking his way, but you do say something to the kid. It sounds muffled though, or maybe Rin’s somehow zoning out? He’s not sure.

The loss from the Grand Prix is apparently still at the forefront of his mind, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise. People love to pick out that particular part in his performance, acting as if they could pull it off any better. And, for a brief moment, all his past of anger and frustration at the sport suddenly comes rushing back at an overwhelming rate. Rin’s wondering who else wants to criticize him when they meet him again.

“Don’t they teach kids manners these days?” You try to shoot a glare back but, from Rin’s perspective, it just looks like you’re mildly constipated.

It kinda ends up working, because the kid backs off, scurrying away and off to his manager for last minute pep talk. Sae’s currently running late as usual, but it’s not like you two would need any words of encouragement. Rin’s competitive nerves have fizzled out by this point, at least for this event, but he’s now seething with discomfort. He’s certainly positive that you’re feeling the same way.

“I take it back, some of these kids need to be humbled and maybe even bullied.”

Okay, while Rin would agree, he feels like he has to somewhat step up in Sae’s place to make sure you don’t accidentally get kicked out of this competition for sucker punching a kid.

“It’s fine, don’t get too worked up over it. I more or less expected comments like that.”

Rin never expected anything to come easy. Climbing for his spot again in the competitive world can be absolutely ruthless and meeting skaters who are arrogant, condescending, and taunting are just part of the reality. He suspects that everyone else sees him as a washed up skater, never as a real competitor, or a real challenger for the gold medal.

“Still,” you pout, unsatisfied by his logical response, but drop the conversation as Rin tightens his laces. Then, you finally manage to find the song for the short program section after the relentless shuffling.

“It’s fine,” he reassures, and really, it’s kinda-sorta fine. It’s something that he’ll eventually get used to, even if he’s well aware of the heinous rumors floating around. Everything will die down after a week or two since most people can barely hold their attention span nowadays.

“If you’re positive,” you go back to your phone, but not before poking Rin’s sides and redirecting his attention towards the TV screen in the locker room. “Hey, the first pair is competing.”

Pair skating is a lot different from competing in singles. Aside from the obvious involvement of another party, there are more requirements in the short and free skate performances. In the Adult Singles programs, the skater focuses more on their jumps, having a higher emphasis on how many quads they can shove in — or at least that’s how Rin used to work. Quads granted him the majority of the points, it’s something that he can take some pride in compared to his other juniors and seniors.

For pairs, instead of focusing on jumps in the sequences, it’s lifts. There’s two types of lifts, overhead and twists, both are required in the programs. In general, overhead lifts rely on the movement of the person in the air, the control and execution of their rotations around the person carrying them. For twists, the most “exciting” part of the performance by judges’ words, requires an insane amount of coordination and strength since Rin has to propel you into the air by the waist.

Sae had the lovely idea to throw in three overhead lifts, just because he thinks Rin can handle it. Those evening practices at the rink, followed by early morning lifting sessions absolutely killed him, both physically and spiritually. Though, safe to say that he’s just about near his physical peak last year from all the training.

You and Rin both waited patiently in the locker rooms for the first three pair performances, only leaving and heading by the outer rink when you guys queued next. Sae leans against the railing, the brace on his foot now gone and, instead of chunky sneakers, he’s opted back to his expensive loafers. Maybe that’s why he ran late, just in case paparazzi took snapshots of his entire outfit. Go figure.

“I think you guys will have no issue securing gold.” Sae’s voice comes through the haze of Rin’s thoughts, sounding distinctly unimpressed by the current line up. “Even if you guys fumble your lifts, I think the amount of it will carry enough points.”

Erupted cheers soon fill the air and all eyes turn to the rink as the pair’s performance ends. You soon recognize one of the skaters being the teenager from earlier and throw Rin a look.

“We’re going to make sure that he doesn’t get a chance at winning until next year.” You announce, tone casual but eyes flickering something darker than what Rin’s used to.

Sae scoffs and leans against the railing, holding Rin’s Winnie the Pooh tissue box in his arms. “I’m assuming the locker room talk wasn’t all too friendly?”

“Maybe not your usual idea of friendly,” and Rin surges forward, taking your hands into his, when the pair in question struts by and casts both of you a nasty glare. Your grip around his bicep tightens and, while he didn’t care too much about beating a bunch of lukewarm competitors earlier, Rin’s fully certain that he wants nothing more than that gold medal and to clear both of your names from accusations right now.

Piano sounds ring throughout the arena from the speakers, starting with a single word that you’ve both heard countless times during practice. The soft piano notes quickly turn into a somber melody, growing louder with every passing second. The music is beautiful. Haunting, even. Capturing the audience in a trance while Rin prepares you for your first lift.

It’s strange, he thinks. While he’s gotten used to handling you, this is different from every other time. During practices, you’re always carefree and cheerful but, out here, surrounded by cameras and opinions of others that don’t weigh a thing, you’re focused and extremely precise in your form.

Rin thought he knew your routine. Clearly, he’s mistaken.

You skate with conviction, confidence, and accuracy. He can understand why you were originally Sae’s skating partner.

Once you’ve landed back on the ice, keeping up with Rin’s speed, the two of you follow the song’s beat with a smooth series of spins and jumps, each one rotating faster and faster until it feels like the mere audience is just a blurry backdrop in the foreground.

The final lift jump transitions easily into a simple step sequence before finally ending in a death spiral. Rin has a firm grip on your hand as you begin flattening your body low enough, face barely grazing the ice below, as he pivots you around in lull circles.

Judging from the sounds from the audience, Rin didn’t need to stay around to know the results of the performance. The roars, chants, and the standing ovation from them is enough to make out the outcome but, for your sake, he’ll stick it through.

You both glide through the last few seconds of the short program, focusing on nothing but the music and remaining movements. Finally, the music notes fade out and the two of you come to a rest in the middle of the rink, the final position has Rin tipping your body backwards with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, as if you both were reaching for something just out of your grasp.

Thunderous roars ring in his flushed ears and you’re shooting him a look, eyes glassy and lips parting, possibly saying some sort of praise, but Rin can’t seem to focus. He’s too lost in thought, too distracted by the tenderness of the performance, the flashing lights, the way your chest is heaving in rapid waves, and didn’t realize he had been holding in his breath until you pulled him into a tight embrace.

Everything is just about perfect. Every jump, lift, and spin. He can already imagine the gold medal around his neck, and the thought of winning gold at the Grand Prix only makes the rest of his blood course through his veins faster.

Being a professional athlete again is… exhausting.

Rin spends the following day in back to back conferences and being introduced to people. Most of them end up being unremarkable and forgettable. A couple of them are rude and eccentric, with one guy in particular honing down Rin in a corner and bombarding him with questions both surrounding his performance last year and his personal life. You and Sae had to step in to diffuse the situation before Rin blew a hole in his career again.

By the end of the night, Rin debates whether he should switch careers because this shit is absolutely not for him. It’s no surprise to anyone that Rin hates being around people and this night he’s probably escaped to the restroom maybe about five times to catch a breather. And, while Rin is not the type to exactly care about his image, he absolutely does a full body inspection in the full body mirror every time before he steps back out. Each time he revisits a new wrinkle line forms.

And his brother hasn’t told him when it’ll be over.

Rin’s hands twitch after another self-proclaimed journalist finishes up a half-ass interview about his latest goals for this year. He pulls out his phone when they suggest giving out their contact information and Rin just zones out, tapping away gibberish in his notes app and nodding until they finally went away.

He feels like he’s going to vomit and pass out if this goes on any longer.

“You look like you’re about to freak out,” and of course, you have the decency to point that out as he’s made the fruit salad section his little hideaway spot. Turns out people really dislike any sort of fruit dishes at these fancy events.

“I’m not,” Rin muffles back, mouth stuffed with various chunks of honeydew and grapes. Even if it is true, he’ll never admit it, but it also does suck that he's stupidly easy to read. “The food just sucks here, that’s all.” The fruit isn’t that bad. Maybe just the strawberries.

“Whatever you say, partner,” you roll your eyes playfully, almost giggling at the nickname before taking a sip from the glass of champagne in your hands. “If you want, we can sneak out of here and explore the city.” It’s a suggestion but, from the way you’re smiling, Rin picks up that he can’t wiggle his way out of it.

But he tries anyway.

“Do you even know your way around?” He sounds vaguely concerned.

Sure, it’s been approximately two months since you’ve crashed and turned his life a complete 180, but you’re still new to the area and very much new to the country. Rin’s heard you picked up basic phrases from his brother to get around but it’s still nearly not enough to go and explore, especially late at night. And, rightfully so, he doesn’t plan on babysitting while you waltz around half tipsy off your mind after winning first place.

You fake a wound over your chest and gasp, hiccuping soon after. “I have maps on my phone! I already pinned and favorited a bunch of cute stores we can check out.”

Rin doesn’t know why you even bother throwing him into the equation considering it’ll clearly be stores you’ll like.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Sae’s sauntering over, a half empty glass of wine in hand, and his movement is a little sluggish, but he’s probably the only few sobered up person in the room aside from Rin.

“Out,” you reply with a casual shrug, as if Sae’s supposed to be satisfied with the answer.

“Out...” Sae echos before flickering his sudden sharp gaze over to Rin. He feels himself straightening up before he realizes. “You guys still have to make your statements to the press, you know that, right?”

“Can’t we do it after we get back?” You quickly dismiss Sae’s annoyed scrunch with a quick waft of a hand.

Rin really doesn’t want to stand in front of a bunch of drunken and overly zealous journalists right now if he doesn’t have to. The idea of visiting a few late night street vendors might just be his highlight for today.

“Hey,” Sae’s agitated voice snaps him out of his daze. “Are you seriously going out?”

Instead of providing his brother a proper answer, Rin takes a hold of your hands and throws his jacket over your bare shoulders. You were complaining earlier about losing yours, and the last thing he wants is a drunk and cold skating partner in the middle of the streets of Nagano.

2024 — NAGANO: JAPAN FIGURE SKATING CHAMPIONSHIPS

Posted 16 hours ago 278,293 views

Comments 543

[niCOnii] - 10 hours ago All these rin haters from earlier can eat my socks because i knew he would comeback!!! his partner ain’t half bad either tbh View 30 replies [klnen2003] - 9 hours ago GO TO THE VIDEO AT 4:45 and see how Rin looks at Y/N!!! There’s definitely something there, right??? View 12 replies [YOICHISAGI OFFICIAL] - 9 hours ago Can’t wait to see Rin Itoshi and Y/N L/N compete at the Grand Prix this year!! Let’s catch up sometime! View 154 replies [jiroMark8734] - 8 hours ago I dunno… isn’t it weird how they swept everyone else tho? Can’t tell me that they’re both not taking anything lmao [my_skates_my_life] - 7 hours ago Congrats to everyone for winning!! And thank you so much for posting this. LOVE FROM ARGENTINA!! [merhaba234] - 7 hours ago Rin’s always doing the same level type program both in technique and artistic. It’s refreshing to see something new!

TAGLIST - OPEN

@anurst @blissblossom @genneii @wooasecret @chaosinanutshell @kaiserkisser @rroxii @takotakigum @jaynawayna @peachesncats @sseishiross @izumi-astra-123 @sereniteav @pokkomi

a/n: im crawling on the ground,,, if anyone knows me: i love making rin suffer but please know its in a loving way. is his brother hotter? yeah. but does his brother have a sad backstory? yeah probably. either way, i love working w men with sibling complexes and his whole design basically oozes with melodrama. rin!!! you are gonna be in it for a surprise next chapter!! also apologies for the late update everyone hehe i dont have a set schedule for everything ;-; and my mind runs either at 500 miles an hour or 0 miles. as of late, life has gotten in the way of things and maybe i do need to stick with some sort of plan to make myself ... less stressed when creating content :> anyways, i love you guys!!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x female reader #cw: depression #cw: mental health

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

Steve believes he was meant to stay in Hawkins forever. College should've been his ticket out and it wasn't. And now, he can't really picture himself going anywhere else anymore. It's his home, even if everyone else keeps leaving. It starts with Robin and Nancy, both off to college in the summer of '86. Then the younger kids follow, three years later, all destined for great things and big nerdy science careers. And Steve knows for a fact that Eddie will leave, too, sooner rather than later. All the desolated rooms in his parents’ big house will become even emptier than before, now that they’re marked with the memories of how they were once filled with laughter and good company.

So yeah, when Eddie announces on his 25th birthday that he can't stay with his uncle forever and that he's been saving up to get his own place in Indianapolis, it doesn't come as a surprise for Steve.

'I wanna ask you something, but you can say no,' Eddie continues. He sounds oddly earnest. They're sitting on the porch of the trailer, cross-legged opposite of each other. 'Do you wanna come with me?'

'Come with you - as in, move to - to Indy?' Steve stammers, thinking he either misheard or misunderstood what Eddie was saying.

But Eddie nods.

'What would I be doing in Indy?'

Eddie shrugs. 'I dunno. Maybe Family Video can relocate you. Or you could, like, reinvent yourself.' He hesitates, then continues, 'I mean, what's left for you in Hawkins, really? I know you wanted to stay here as long as the kids were still around, but now... What's keeping you here?'

He's right, of course. To Steve, Hawkins has become just as empty as those rooms in his parents' house.

Eddie leans closer towards Steve. 'Wanna know a secret?' he asks, his eyes wide and almost glowing in the light of the setting sun. 'I was planning on leaving years ago. But I didn't wanna go without you.'

Steve’s heart skips a beat; he doesn’t know what to say.

'Indy's only two hours away, man,’ he blurts out after a few seconds of silence.

'One hour, if you drive like me.' Eddie shrugs, a smile on his face - but the look in his eyes is anything but casual as he continues to say, 'Still one hour too far away from you.'

Steve can't stop the most enormous smile from appearing on his face at those words. He stretches out his hand, gently touches the skin of Eddie's knee that's poking through the tear in his black jeans.

'Alright, I'll come with you,' he says. 'Wouldn't want you to miss me that much, that'd be cruel.'

Eddie snickers, slowly shakes his head while dodging Steve’s gaze. 'Whatever you say, big boy,’ he says. ‘Are you sure?'

Steve nods. ‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t even really have to think about it; it simply feels right, somewhere deep down in his gut. ‘I’m sure. I wanna come with you.’

A couple of months later, they’re both ready to relocate. Steve soon finds out that the city means freedom, anonymity, new people, new goals in life; a fresh start in every single way. It also means growing closer to Eddie in a whole new way, something which feels brand new and familiar all at once. Steve can’t get enough of it, and he knows for a fact that he always wants to be wherever Eddie is.

After Robin graduates, she makes Indianapolis her new home as well, and it doesn't take long before Nancy joins them there. Even some of the younger kids find their way to the city a few years later.

Indianapolis fits Steve and Eddie perfectly, from the adventurous years in the city center to the quieter times after they reach thirty and get a family of their own to raise in the greener outskirts of town. And after all that time, Steve finally learns that home doesn't depend on where your memories are - it's the place where you're making new ones.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #angst? i don't know her #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fruity ficlet

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cordeliawhohung · 6 months

Text

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Healing never comes as fast and easy as you want it to, but you try and adjust to your new life as best as you can. The thing is, there is no going back, there is only going forward, no matter how much you wished it was otherwise.

warnings: PTSD, angst, minor comfort, panic and anxiety attacks, spook and simon are going through it.

wc: 6.6k

A gentle breeze danced through the open window of his therapist’s office, bringing the scent of spring with it.

Moist grass, a hint of rain, freshly bloomed flowers; all hints of something new being born. Except this wasn’t new for Simon. Sitting in an overly calm and quiet room in a chair that was too soft as a man who looked too ancient for this earth flipped through notes of their previous sessions.

This wasn’t Simon’s first time in therapy, and he was certain it wouldn’t be his last. After everything he had endured over the winter, he was required to attend sessions before he would be allowed to return back to active duty. He had only started a few weeks ago, as most of his energy and time had gone into taking care of you, but once you were well enough to go back to work, well, it was time to take care of himself.

“How was your week, lieutenant?” the man spoke up after finally putting his notes down. His name was Gus, and was ex-military. Or, at least Simon assumed he was, judging by the deep and long wrinkled scars that littered his face and the unceremonious use of his rank. “Anything new?”

“It was alright,” he answered bluntly. He was never quite good with the awkward small talk that came with therapy. Something about how he was supposed to bare his darkest secrets just to talk about the weather was unnerving. “Spook started physical therapy this week.”

Usually, Simon never used that nickname Johnny coined for you, but ever since you were taken, he felt as if he couldn’t use your real name. That sharing anything about you was forbidden. Or maybe he was just being selfish, wanting to keep you, even your name, all to himself.

“At least she’s in some sort of therapy,” Gus said dryly. “She still refusing counseling?”

He nodded solemnly. “Says she doesn’t think she can talk about it yet.”

Gus grunted a little as he sat forward in his chair. A pair of frail and shaky hands reached up to remove the oversized glasses on his face before he settled his foggy eyes back on Simon. “Does she talk about it with you?”

“Tries,” he responded sourly. “She used to talk so much about everything; everything except for whatever was hurtin’ her. Always thought she’d tell me eventually, whenever she was ready. But after this shit? I’m fuckin’ lucky to get anything out of her. Even the good stuff.”

Instead of prompting him with another question, Gus stayed quiet as he stared at Simon, and he knew what it meant. That man must have been in the business of fixing broken soldiers for quite some time because it never took him long to figure out what was bothering him. Always struck gold on the first shovelful of dirt. Might as well make things easy and give up the rest.

“Everything that I’ve learned about her past I’ve had to piece together myself,” Simon explained. “Her moms passing she told me herself, but I know her previous partner was a right piece of shit. Judging by the way she hardly ever talks about her father, he probably was no better. She hasn’t told me anything about when she was taken, or what they did to her. There’s some stuff I can figure out. God, there was fuckin’ photographic proof on the damn floor.” He paused for a moment and shook his head as if trying to get his thoughts back in order. “She tries but then just shuts down and I… fuck, I dunno.”

“And what have you told her?” Gus asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Eyebrows drawing together and cheeks scrunching under his mask, Simon tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“I mean, what have you told her? About your past, or your family? Are you making her play the same guessing games?” Gus pressed.

A lump formed in Simon’s throat so thick he thought he would choke on it. He wanted to say that sharing his past was different. How was he supposed to talk about the torture he endured, the hook tearing through his ribs, the slaughter of his family? How their deaths were pinned on him, and he burnt away the evidence of them; what would you say to that? Or if you knew about his revenge, how he traversed a jungle just to kill a man?

He grimaced. Hadn’t you already seen his revenge?

“You’ve been pretty open with me so far, lieutenant, and that’s a lot more than I can say for most of the men I see in here,” Gus continued, “so tell me; what is it that you’re really afraid of?”

Really, therapy wasn’t all too different from being interrogated. In both circumstances, there was someone trying to poke and prod around inside of his head. And in both circumstances, it was never fun when they poked the right spot.

“I don’t want her to think I’m like them,” he finally admitted.

“Her abductors?” Gus clarified. “Why would she think that?”

“I broke a man's arm and shot him as I had him pinned to the ground. Right in front of her,” Simon explained as if he saw Bukin dying all over again. Heard the bone snap and the crunching sound of his flesh grinding underneath his boot. Watched as his head jumped dully against the ground as the bullet tore through his skill.

“You saved her life,” Gus countered.

“I was violent,” he spat.

“So were they.”

“I’m supposed to be better than them.”

“If you were better than them, she’d be dead, son.”

Silence. The breeze continued to drift through the open window, attempting to kiss Simon’s flesh through his clothes, too kind for him to be deserving of it. He continued to stare through the old man as he waited for him to explain himself.

“You brought her home alive. You know better than anyone that being soft comes with consequences. Some good, some bad. Be violent, be a monster; be Ghost in the moments when you’re doing your job. When you’re protecting the ones you love.” Throughout his last few weeks of therapy, Simon hadn’t heard the old man speak with such conviction until that moment. Like the man spoke from experience. “Be soft when you’re with her. Share the stuff that hurts. It sounds like you’re the closest person she has. Certainly the strongest. How is she supposed to be vulnerable with you when you’re the one who’s scared?”

The thing Simon hated the most about therapy was hearing things he already knew but was trying to ignore. Everything would have been so much easier had he let you ramble that night the oxycodone had scrambled your brain. But it was his fault things had gotten that way in the first place. That picture of you that he kept despite his better judgment, leading Bukin right to your door; that was his fault. Selfish of him to hope that you’d be the one vulnerable first as if he didn’t have something to atone for.

Simon let out a heavy sigh as he looked down at his hands. The old man was right, and it was frustrating. “Christ,” he muttered.

“Start with the small stuff. You don’t have to air everything out all at once. Actually, it would be better if you didn’t. Don’t want to overwhelm the poor girl,” Gus assured him. “Remember, she’s a civilian. She didn’t have the resources and training that you did going into that.”

He didn’t spend much longer in that office before Gus sent him away to do his homework: figure out a memory to share with you. Sounded easy enough, but when he had spent countless years keeping things to himself so as to keep others safe, it was near painful. But he tried his best to think of something as he made his way back to the apartment.

You weren’t there when he got home. Not that he had expected you to be, though it still felt wrong. As soon as your wound was no longer needing constant attention, you instantly hopped back into work. He tried to dissuade you from doing so, saying that he’d still have more than enough money to pay for everything, but you wouldn’t hear any of it. Claimed you were tired of being locked up in the apartment all day, even if he was there with you. Though it worried him, he couldn’t blame you, not after everything that had happened there. Every now and then he still found a small, green bead somewhere on the living room floor.

A sigh left him as he stood in the entryway, staring at Boo who watched him curiously from the couch. The window had been left cracked open, and it looked like the little guy had been enjoying some fresh air. Simon tried to tell you that leaving the blinds open was just asking for someone to snitch that you had a cat in the apartment. You had retorted by saying boarded up windows made for a shitty home.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled to himself.

This was going to be a pain in his ass.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“This guy is getting on my fucking nerves.”

That was the fucking understatement of the year. Méabh lazily leaned against your desk as she glared over at the new branch manager they had hired during your absence. His name was Jace, and he liked to spend his time at work micromanaging all of his employees, including Cheryl, who was able to wire money with her eyes closed after so many years in the business. The poor woman looked like she was one more annoying comment from smacking the overbearing manager.

“He told me I didn’t ask enough security questions on the last transfer I did as if I didn’t ask all the ones that popped up on the screen,” Méabh continued in a droning grumble. “I wish Anna was still here. She did her job and wasn’t a complete cunt about it.”

“Just be glad that you only work part time,” you teased while trying to focus on your paperwork.

“Yeah, for now,” Méabh whined. “I’ll be going full time over summer holiday. Means I’ll get to see this prick twice as often.”

Really, it wasn’t Jace’s hawk-like gaze, or even his annoying nasally voice that got on your nerves. It was his shoes. While most of the girls at the bank wore flats to save themselves from achy feet, Jace wore terribly loud dress shoes. Whenever he walked, it sounded like he wore high heels with the way they clacked on the floor, and with how much he stomped around it was impossible for him to sneak up on anyone.

“Are you almost done?” Méabh then prompted. “I wanna get out of here.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know,” you chuckled.

“Thought I’d do the noble thing and keep you company. You know, unless you want Jace to read over your paperwork before you submit it,” she retorted with a playful roll of her eyes.

“How kind of you.”

Luckily for Méabh, or perhaps the both of you, you had just typed up the finishing touches to your work. Not even a minute later the whirring of your computer died down as you shut it off for the night and stood from your desk. However, you made the mistake of pushing with both your hands, and you winced as a zapping pain shot through your left shoulder. Even after all those months, your wound hadn’t fully healed.

“You alright?” Méabh asked as you gathered your items.

“Yeah,” you said, slightly winded. Glancing quickly over at Jace, and poor Cheryl who was still stuck listening to his ramble, you looked back at the young girl before nodding towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Without saying goodbye, or saving your co-worker, you and Méabh slipped out of the building unnoticed and into the fresh spring air. Or, at least as fresh as it could get in the midst of London. It had been months since you last smelt real fresh air. When had it been, back at the end of August when you and Simon had gone on holiday? With the beautiful seaside and mist that tasted like salt? Or was it…

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

“Need a ride?” Méabh prompted.

You pulled your head out of the frigid water, dusted the sand off your knees, and smiled politely as you adjusted the blazer that perfectly complimented your pristine work clothes. You always had a way of bringing yourself back to reality if it meant avoiding an awkward conversation. Always so calm and put together, even with fragments of a bullet still stuck in your body.

“No, I’ll, uhm, just walk home. Thanks,” you excused as your eyes glanced out at the busy streets ahead.

Saying goodbye was awkward. Hell, everything was awkward those days. But like you did with all things in your life, you gritted your teeth and bared it before starting your walk home.

It was strange trying to remember how you used to fit into the world before everything. Sure, you never quite fit in beforehand, squeezing into places too small for you to exist in, but it had become home. But not then. Your edges had become warped, curling in on themselves, retracting into your body. Your piece of the puzzle had shrunk, but everything else stayed the same size, leaving you stuck with a gap that separated you from everyone else.

You were a watcher; a stranger to the very earth that nourished you. You could hear the seagulls rummaging through a pile of rubbish left beside the bin, and you could see the vibrant valley flowers that took up the window of the florist's shop on your left, but it was… blurry. Fuzzy, like the tingling sensation that plagued your arm every now and then when the blood flow was bad. You tried to focus, do anything to make the imagery around you feel sharper, but the faces of pedestrians were empty, like nobody around you was real, least of all yourself.

And then you were home.

It was difficult to tell how long you were standing outside of the door, staring at the empty wood as if it was a mirror. You had just sort of appeared there, like some sort of ghost. Without taking your eyes off of the door, you dug your hand into your bag and blindly felt around for your keys. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the view Leon had before kidnapping you. Before drugging you and taking you to that fucking basement.

No. Bukin. Simon told you his last name was Bukin, and you weren’t going to give your dead captor the pleasure of using his first name as if you had been friends.

Eventually the keys ended up in the lock and you entered the apartment. A heavy aroma of seasoned chicken filled the air around you, and you heard quiet cursing coming from the kitchen. You rounded the corner and were greeted by Simon cooking at the stove and Boo trying his hardest to trip the poor man. The critter stareed up at him with big, begging eyes as he followed your lovers every step.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, quickly glancing away from his work to look at you.

“You two look busy,” you chuckled, tossing your bag onto the counter.

“I’m busy,” Simon corrected before tossing a playful glare down at the poor cat by his feet. “He’s a menace.”

Humming, you stood next to Simon and glanced at what he had on the stove. It was pretty common for you to come home from work with dinner already started, if not finished. Simon had become something of a chef since taking care of you, and he had some pasta boiling and some chicken frying. He had started eating a lot more protein and carbs since going back to the gym, attempting to gain back the strength he had lost while captured.

“He’s just a baby,” you said, reaching a hand towards the hot pan. With careful fingers, you tore off a small bit of the chicken before blowing on it a little to cool it down. Boo had already stretched up to reach up your thigh by the time you had bent down to give it to him. After a few deep sniffs, he eagerly took it in his mouth and ran off.

“Spoiled rotten, he is,” Simon mumbled.

“He was being so patient,” you cooed, watching as Boo scarfed down his treat in the corner of the kitchen, as if afraid someone would take it from him.

“Patient, my arse,” he chuckled.

A dull beep sounded from the stove, which Simon quickly pressed a button to shut it off. With a twist of the dial, he turned the heat off of one of the burners and you heard the sound of boiling water quiet down before he moved it towards the sink to strain it. As hot steam billowed upwards, you turned your attention towards one of the cabinets where you found yourself reaching up for it. A small stack of china sat on the lowest shelf. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had actually set the table yourself.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” Simon said as he sat the still steaming pot on the counter next to the sink.

Shooting him a weird look, you continued in your pursuit. “I can handle getting plates, Simon.”

And you did. Grabbed two plates right off the shelf and held them in your hands as you looked at him as if in a challenge. But you understood why he was still so… skittish. He had spent the last few months doing everything for you. Bathing you, dressing you, making your food; he did it all. It almost felt more vulnerable than bleeding out on cold grass. A burden, that’s what you had become. Just another pet for someone to take care of. And Simon didn’t mind it, you knew that; he never did. Still, it was difficult to rot away in that apartment in good conscience knowing he was caring for someone who more than likely should have been a corpse by the ocean.

Saying nothing, Simon turned his attention back to his work as you walked towards the dining table. You hadn’t even made it halfway there before something crumbled inside of you. A shooting pain ran up and down your left arm, searing your nerves and burning away your flesh. A tingling numbness settled over your hand and the plates you tried to hold so carefully slipped right through your fingers where they shattered on the ground at your feet with a deafening crash.

Your gasp was cut off by a short whimper as your hand reached up to press against your old, yet still aggravated wound. You kept the pressure there as if trying to keep yourself from spilling on the floor, and you looked down at the mess you made.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cursed. You pulled your hand away from under your arm and looked at your hand as if expecting blood.

“You alright?” Simon asked, heavy footsteps trailing across the floor behind you.

“I’m fine,” you spat, words sharp enough to tear through flesh.

The footsteps behind you stopped, and it forced you to realize the bite in your tone. It also made you realize how your hand trembled and heart stung as if you were afraid, as if you had been running. In an attempt to calm your nerves, you let out a heavy sigh before looking down at the mess you made. A terrible mosaic of broken glass and a now slightly chipped wooden floor spanned the area around your feet. You had ruined two perfectly good plates, damaged the floor, and you were the one snapping?

So much like your father. Being angry at the mess when it was your own fault.

“I’m… fine,” you tried again, softer this time. Empty. “Sorry, I… didn’t mean to…”

When Simon continued to walk towards you, you half expected him to reach for you, and some strange part of you didn’t want him to. Didn’t want his touch. Couldn’t stand it because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Instead, he knelt on the ground next to you, large fingers carefully picking up the bigger pieces of the shattered plates and gathering them into the palm of his hand.

“You don’t have to clean up my mess,” you said softly, lip trembling as you knelt down next to him to mirror his actions.

“I know,” he replied simply. He still cleaned anyway.

Anger was a weird thing for you. It wasn’t often that you felt it without some other emotion accompanying it. Confusion. Frustration. Grief. Shame usually followed shortly after. Truth was, you were angry all the time those days, and it was worse than almost any other emotion you could have experienced. When you had first started your road to recovery, you felt numb, and when you didn’t feel numb you felt terrified. A part of you wished you were still in that stage because you could at least explain why you felt that way. Some sort of self preservation mode your body had forced itself into in an attempt to smother the trauma you had endured over several long weeks. The anger that hid itself away in your chest was something you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know why it was there, but you wished it wasn’t.

So you stayed silent as you assisted Simon in cleaning up the shattered plates. It had remained mostly in several large chunks, but there were smaller, more fine pieces that you’d have to use a broom for. You hated that your hands shook for each piece you reached out for.

“I broke one of my mum’s vases when I was a kid,” Simon said unprompted. You found yourself pausing. As you held what pieces you had gathered in your hand, you glanced over at him, and he must have felt your gaze because his eyes flickered to you before focusing back on his work. “Was an accident. Kickin’ around a football in the living room when she told me not to. I tried to hide it from her until I could fix it, but she knew immediately it was missing.”

“Was she mad?” you asked.

It felt… odd. Strange. Nice. In all the years you had been with Simon, neither of you had really talked about your pasts. All you had gotten or shared were fragments. And there he was, picking up your mess, showing some raw part of himself you had never seen before.

“Upset, but not mad. She never got mad, even when she should have,” he replied, voice unwavering.

A thick lump had formed in your throat that was difficult to swallow. Something fuzzy tingled in the back of your mind, like something was trying to rip a chunk of flesh out of you; a memory. Teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, you swallowed again before speaking.

“My… father broke a lot of plates when I was younger,” you admitted, staring down at the chunks of china in your hands. “Usually to get a reaction out of my mom. They were her mother’s, my grandmother’s, plates. Eventually she had to end up buying plastic plates when he had smashed them all, but that didn’t stop him from throwing them. He was always…”

So predictable.

Hadn’t you just said that not too long ago? After the shattering of a bowl? More broken china to stain the ground, the carpet, in that basement. You remembered his glare, Erik’s glare - Adakskin - when you told him he was predictable. And you were right. He had done everything you knew he would. A broken dish was always followed by pain. It didn’t matter. It never did. A broken dish was always followed by pain, even if you were the one breaking it.

Eyes watering, you coughed a little as a sharp tickle formed in your throat. Simon, whose eyes had been on you, glanced over his shoulder to see a fair bit of thick steam and light smoke rising out of the pan he had been cooking chicken in. Cursing, he stood to his feet and quickly tossed the pieces of china he had gathered into the trash before moving the pan off the heat.

And just like that, you were back. Still kneeling, still cleaning, still quiet. Your life had become nothing but a blur of time; living in the past and present at the same time. Even at work, at home, with Simon, the past held onto you so violently you weren’t sure you would ever be able to shake it off. You tried telling yourself you could - that you would - but once again you were cleaning up a broken plate. Always cleaning but never clean.

“Hope you like crispy chicken,” Simon sighed. Spatula in hand, he attempted to scrape the burnt meat off of the pan.

Once you ensured every single shard had been picked up, you turned your attention towards the kitchen for a split moment. You attempted a smile, but it felt too big on your face, so you got rid of it the moment it formed.

“I’m gonna change out of my work clothes,” you said instead, crossing through the kitchen to head towards the bedroom. “I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get the plates this time.”

He didn’t say anything in response as you vanished down the hallway, but he kept his eyes on you. His lips tightened into a thin line for a moment before relaxing once more and turning his attention back to dinner. He knew this stage of healing was going to be the hardest. The body had a way of mending wounds that the mind just couldn’t mimic with trauma. That conversation had been the most he was able to get out of you in months, and you still looked terrified.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been years since Simon had last smoked a cigarette. He used to smoke regularly when he first joined up, especially more so after his family was killed. It was a good way to keep himself awake on missions, or for avoiding nightmares. He quit when the withdrawal symptoms got bad and he had difficulty with cardio during PT. Now he smoked for the alleviation of stress, even if it only lasted for a moment. Or maybe he did it just to keep his hands moving. No matter the reason, it didn’t change the smoke curling in his lungs as he took drag after drag.

Something had been on his mind since you dropped those plates at dinner the previous night. The empty look in your eyes haunted him almost as bad as the shaking of your hands. It was getting worse. Or, at least, it wasn’t getting better, and that terrified him. He didn’t know what to do to help you short of dragging you off to some therapist, which he knew wouldn’t do any good. Something was building. Something was going to burst, and he didn’t know when, but the pressure was there and there was nothing he could do about it.

So there he stood, off in some secluded area on base, smoking his cigarette with a jaw so tense there were indentations of his teeth on the filter. It didn’t take him long to finish it, and when it had been stomped into the ground with the heel of his boot, he was half tempted to smoke another. Keeping the pack in his pocket, he released a heavy sigh before marching back towards the building that housed his office.

Avoiding as many people in the halls as he could, he quickly unlocked the door and shut it as soon as he slipped inside. The air felt stale, like no one had entered to clean his space in his absence, which was probably for the best anyway. He flicked the light on, and it struggled to fill the room, being dimmer than he remembered it being, but it was enough for the moment. With a press of a button, his computer started to whirr to life, and he sat in his chair as he waited for it to boot up. It had great difficulty starting, and he could hear his SSD grind and whine after being shut off for so many months.

Eventually the monitor lit up, and Simon wasted no time logging in before opening his browser. The last time he had used this computer he had spent all his time and energy searching through houses and apartments and hotel rooms in search of where you were being held. Now, he found himself looking at houses and apartments again, but for a different reason.

He needed to get you out of there; out of the apartment the two of you had been staying in. Too many bad memories stained the walls for either of you to do any sort of healing. And so he searched and searched and found his frustration growing. A one bedroom apartment for 3,000 a month? Christ, the housing in that fucking city was astronomically expensive, and sure he could afford it, but for a single damn room?

So he kept searching. It was difficult trying to find someplace that wasn’t halfway across the city from base that was also still close to your work. He’d hate for you to have to take the tube alone, or walk too far alone at night in the city, especially dressed as fancy as bankers usually were. Of course there was always housing on base, but he wouldn’t be able to bring you with because the two of you weren’t married.

Your wife; they are relocating her.

Even after all that time he could see that woman clearly, whoever she had been, sitting on the floor of the room you were supposed to be in. At the time he tried to shake off the way that statement made him feel. Behind the anger, frustration, and fear, there was something else there. Wife. He had liked the term. He wished it was true. Then he remembered the photos in front of her. Your face; your gorgeous face, trapped in that Polaroid. The tears and blood that stained your cheeks and lips, the way an unforgiving hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at the lens.

Wife. He wanted that, craved it. But that wasn’t the time, not after everything that had happened.

Simon wasn’t brought out of his thoughts until someone knocked on his door, where he found himself glaring at the big hunk of wood. He hadn’t been there in months, and most people should have known that, so why was someone trying to bother him? Still, he gave them a gruff order to come in and he was quickly greeted by Johnny’s wide eyed expression.

“You’re back?” Johnny asked breathlessly as he shut the door behind him.

Well, at least out of everyone that it could have been, it was him.

“Not yet,” he replied simply. His chair squeaked as he leaned back in it in an attempt to relax some. He tried to make a mental reminder to use some WD-40 on it later. “How’d you know I was here?”

Johnny used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the door behind him. “Was on my way to storage to put some files away,” he explained simply, simultaneously shaking the manilla folder in his hand. “Walked by and saw the light peeking from under the door. Figured someone was cleaning, but knocked just in case.” He took a few cautious steps forward, as if approaching a skittish cat. “How’s everything?”

Simon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. Things certainly weren’t great, but they could be worse. For example, you could be dead, or still hospitalized. But saying things were great was far from the truth, and he wasn’t exactly keen on explaining every little issue that had been plaguing him as of late.

“It’s an adjustment,” he admitted instead, “but we’re getting there.”

Johnny nodded, getting even closer to his lieutenant. “Spook doin’ alright, then?”

Even after all that time, Simon still didn’t like talking about you with other people, even if it was Johnny. Hell, even talking about you to his therapist made him feel tense. But he couldn’t hold onto you like that forever, keeping you caged in the safeness of his arms where you were supposed to be safe. And he had to come to the realization that his sergeant deserved to know. Simon had been there the entire time; through the hospital, through your healing. The last time Johnny had seen you, you were bleeding out on your way to the nearest hospital.

“She’s back to work. Started physical therapy this week, too,” Simon explained, though he wasn’t sure how much more he could say.

That small bit of information seemed to mean the whole world to Johnny, and his face lit up. “Good, that’s good! Glad she’s doin’ better.” Then, his eyes darted to the monitor. He caught sight of the rental listings lined up on the screen, as well as their crazy high prices. “Searchin’ for a new home?”

Simon’s attention turned back to the computer for a moment where he let a heavy sigh escape him. “Yeah. Figured it was about time I got her out of there. The apartment. Wanted to get her out sooner, but couldn’t when she was still hurt.”

“It woulda been a lot for her to adjust to at once,” Johnny agreed.

Things fell silent for a moment as both men lost themselves in their thoughts, but only for a short moment before Johnny adjusted the folder in his hand.

“Well, I’ll let you continue searching,” he excused himself as he took a step back. “Gotta get this to storage eventually.”

Simon was one second away from wishing the man well before watching him leave his office, but something stopped him. He knew that if he was alone again, his thoughts would go right back to where they were before. That woman in the room. Pictures of you on the floor. The blood. The Polaroids. That fucking hand that gripped your face - the hand that had no fucking right to touch you. Those goddamn pictures.

“I’ll come with,” Simon said, already shutting his computer down.

Eyebrows drawing together, Johnny tilted his head to the side as he paused his retreat. “You sure?”

There was no room for argument. Everything in his office was quickly shut down and put away, and the two men walked through the halls of the building. There were a few familiar faces that threw Simon odd glances, as if surprised to see him there, or perhaps surprised he was still alive. His name was Ghost for a reason.

Neither man said anything to one another until they reached the storage room. Shelves lined up like dominos and spanned all the way to the back wall where an industrial sized paper shredder sat. Large white cardboard boxes rested on the shelves with simple flip open tops, each labeled with either a case or date of some sort. Painfully white lights washed out the entire room, causing Johnny to squint for a moment before his eyes adjusted.

“Hate sorting through this shit,” he muttered as he began to wander through the aisles.

Simon stood in the doorway for a moment, breathing in the scent of old paper and rotting ink. Usually he never had to go into that room; whatever paperwork that he did have that would go there he’d make someone else’s problem. Even then, he found himself searching, eyes scanning the labels on the boxes. Locations, names, dates, everything. Johnny caught onto his search, and watched him for a moment with careful eyes, but still refused to say anything.

“Aye, here we are,” Johnny sighed as he flipped the lid off of one of the boxes. He unceremoniously tossed the file into it before shutting it once again. “Right. Ready to get outta here?”

But when he turned to Simon, he saw the man’s attention was caught by one of the boxes. Salthouse | 8, December. The lid was already opened, and Simon stared blankly into it as if he wasn’t sure where to start.

“Ghost?” Johnny said softly.

Simon’s hands dove into the box decisively where his fingers grabbed onto a small, orange envelope. There was a slight thickness to it, like something had to be shoved in there to fit properly, or too many things had been stacked and folded on top of one another. He wasted no time undoing the brass clasp at the top and pouring the contents into his hand.

A plastic bag full of Polaroids tumbled out of the envelope, and Simon and Johnny were met with the image of your face. Beaten, irritated, and bloody, it was a different image than what they had seen last time, like whoever had collected it shuffled through the images in morbid curiosity. You laid on the ground on your back, no hand gripping your face, but still very obviously out of it. Passed out, probably, or at least on the verge of consciousness.

He wasn’t prepared for the anger that bubbled up inside of him upon setting eyes on those images again. So many regrets, things that he should have done differently. He should have been stronger, faster, deadlier. Should have made Bukin and Adakskin pay for everything they had done to you with more than just a bullet to the head. Should have ripped up that picture of you the moment he got the chance.

“Simon,” Johnny said again. It was rare that the man ever used his lieutenants real name, but it left him before he was able to stop it.

Ignoring him, Simon tossed the orange envelope back into the box before ripping open the plastic bag, nearly scattering the photos all over the ground. He gathered them up into his hands before marching off towards the back of the room, boots hitting heavy against the floor.

“What’re you doing?” Johnny asked, voice a bit more firm.

“No one needs to see these,” Simon responded within an instant. “Everyone knows what happened to her. No one needs to see her like this.”

He approached the shredder that sat against the back wall of the room. It was a large thing, made for shredding stacks of paper all at once with teeth that could eat an entire hand within an instant. A few Polaroids wouldn’t be an issue at all. The thing was, Johnny couldn’t even argue with Simon, because he felt the exact same way. So he stood there and watched as Simon powered on the shredder, gears whirring and whining.

Without remorse, Simon tossed the photos into the shredder and watched as the metal tore them to shreds with ease. Plastic crinkled and cracked until they were all eaten up and spat out into the bag that stored all the other scraps it had thrown up. The thing was, Simon was never very good at fixing things. No matter how hard he tried to be, he always ended up breaking things. His mother’s vase or a man's arm. He could pull a trigger and end someone’s life and yet he felt something convulsing inside of him at the thought of opening himself to you.

But this? This felt right. Destroying those pictures. There was enough evidence on your body and in your mind as it was. He tried so hard to be something else, anything else; but in the end, Simon was a brutal man whose hands were only capable of violence; might as well put them to good use.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here

find my taglist here

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

202 notes · View notes

fallinforerling · 1 year

Text

the pinterest board - eh

A/N: this is so silly and stupid, i love it so much. i dunno why i thought about this, but my pinterest boards for erling are very specific, and yes, i do have a board for his short hair era. i still miss it. love you guys xx

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling's taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It was unusually quiet around the house, and Erling wondered what could be causing that. There weren't many moments throughout the day where you weren’t doing some type of activity that caused noise. From playing music, to cooking or practicing your pronunciation in Norwegian, you were always making your presence known.

So when he finally arrived from practice, it felt odd to find a very silent living room, with no sight of you anywhere. He peeked through the kitchen door, hoping to find you with your headphones on, but it was as empty as the previous room. Then he thought that maybe you went out, but you rarely did that without giving him a heads up.

So where were you?

“Baby?!” He shouted, still not getting any response.

He was starting to get worried. While making his way to the bedroom, he got his phone to call you. Only when he reached the door, he realize he did heard your voice. And you were giggling. But it wasn’t your usual laugh; it sounded like the giggly laugh you made when he kissed you behind the ear or when you saw him shirtless.

You were giggling because you liked whatever the hell was happening.

Of course he wasn’t thinking about cheating or anything related to that matter, but something clicked in his brain. He made sure to open the door as quietly as possible, sticking his head just enough to see you resting flat on your stomach, seeming to scroll through your phone.

Your smile was so big and mesmerizing that he took a moment to openly stare at you, finding your happiness contagious. It lasted a few seconds, because you giggled again and then he remembered wanting to find out what you were looking at.

“What are you doing?” He murmured, smiling when you visibly jumped on the spot. You turned and smiled at him, but your eyes were full of panic as one of your hands hid the phone deep into the pillows.

“Babe! Hey, I didn’t see you there. How was practice?” You fixed your hair behind your ears, something that you only did when you were nervous. You were hiding something. And now he was determined to find out what. “Wanna have some dinner? I prepared that liver you like so much.”

“Sure, sure. Thank you, honey.” He discarded his training bag on the floor, still standing at the door. “What were you watching?” The playful smile never left his face as he leaned on the doorframe, not letting you get out.

“Me? Nothing—I was just, you know, checking out Pinterest. Typical stuff! Anyways, back to the liver? Pretty well seasoned, let’s go make it! My big guy needs to eat!” You let a nervous laugh out, hitting his arm with no actual force. You were so nervous, it was killing him.

“I’m sorry, baby. Don’t hate me for what I’m about to do, okay?”

You seemed confused for a few seconds, and that was enough for him to grab you by the waist and practically kick you out of the room. He made sure to quickly lock the door, making a little run to the bed to get your phone before it was too late. He could hear your muffled screams as you banged on the door, begging him to stop being so noisy.

The problem was that the noisy monster he is today was created by you.

Once he got a grab on your phone, he thanked every god available that it was still unlocked. As he stared at the screen, his mouth opened in a silent laugh as his thumb kept scrolling through the content. There were hundreds of photos of him at literally every stage of his career. Then, he noticed that you didn’t lie about the Pinterest thing. There were boards dedicated solely to him. Once he had finally seen it all, he opened the door, still laughing a bit as you stared at him with hatred.

“Seriously, baby?” He still held your phone at his face level, so you weren’t able to reach it. “Short-haired Erling? There’s a specific board for that point of my life?”

“Give me my phone back!” You said instead, taking it roughly from his hands. “And yes, I have a Pinterest board for photos of you with short hair, so what? You looked stunning.” You turned around, and started to walk towards the kitchen.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my long hair?” He touched the man-bun he had going on hesitantly, following you. “You don’t like it?”

Then it was your turn to laugh as you turned again to face him.

“Of course I do.”

“Oh, but you don’t love it.” He didn’t even know why it offended him so much. “You don’t like it enough to make a Pinterest board. huh? Are you trying to say that I don’t look stunning in it?”

“Oh, c’mon! I didn’t say that!”

“But you’re not denying it!” He was getting worked up for no apparent reason, but it was mortifying to think that his own girlfriend didn’t like his hairstyle. “That’s it— I’m chopping it off!”

“Erling! It’s not that big of a deal! You do look stunning with long hair!”

But he didn’t let go for at least another two hours. Dinner got forgotten as he went off about how you loved his past-self more than his current one. You had to make sure to create a new Pinterest board with recent photos of him in front of him, and just after that, he seemed convinced enough that you liked the long hair as much as his short hair phase.

Talk about unnecessary drama queens.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST

438 notes · View notes

mouschiwrites · 8 months

Note

Hi!! I wanted to ask a reader with abusive parents and the main 4 reacting to this

Sure thing!

National child abuse hotline: 800-422-4453 / National domestic violence hotline: 800-799-7233

TW for (implied) abuse!!

South Park - Main Four With a Partner Who Has Abusive Parents

Stan

He understands the struggle

Honestly he’d be the best out of the four to vent to about this, he can absolutely empathize

And you can empathize with him when he needs to vent

You also share tricks that you use to avoid the abuse

Whenever it gets to be too much, you both sneak out and meet at Stark Pond

You don’t always talk when this happens, because sometimes you just need some silence and a hand to hold

Oftentimes you’ll vouch for each other in public when you try to hide it

And you’ll help change the subject

“Oh, that bruise? I just fell down the stairs.”

“Yeah, I was there. Okay, new subject—”

But deep down you both know the truth

If/when you finally decide to tell someone about what’s going on at home, you have a pact to do it together

Kyle

He invites you over a lot just to get you away from home

And when he walks you home he goes veerrry slow

He’s constantly reminding you that you can always come to his place whenever you need

When you vent to him, he SEETHES

He HATES your parents

He has refused to meet them on multiple occasions

“Wanna come inside for a snack?”

“Are your parents home?”

“I think so.”

“Then no.”

Will absolutely indulge you in making “hypothetical” plots to violently murder them

He wants you to get help, but won’t push you

He has offered to help you speak up about it though

In the meantime he just wants to always be there for you and offer a safe space

Kenny

He also empathizes with what you’re going through

He knows his house isn’t that much better, but he’ll still invite you over when you need to get away

Goofing off with him and Karen usually cheers you up

If that doesn’t do the trick, Kenny loves to cuddle you while you vent

It does make him sad, but he just holds you tighter and reiterates how much he cares for you

“I’m so sorry baby. You don’t deserve that. You deserve the world.”

The few times he’s been around your parents, you’ve noticed him glaring at them with clenched fists

He really wants to punch them

He won’t though, he knows that’ll just make it worse for you

Whenever you tell him something particularly shocking, he tries to convince you to get help

Gets a little frustrated when you decline, but knows that you’ll do it when you’re ready

He just doesn’t like seeing you suffer :(

Cartman

Out of the main four, he empathizes the least with your situation

Genuinely doesn’t understand why you “let” it continue

“Why do you let them treat you like that?”

“It’s not that simple, Eric.”

“Do you want me to do it for you?”

“…Do what?”

“Kill them. Torture them. Whatever. I dunno.”

“Pfff—”

Unfortunately, he’s more bark than bite; if you agree to let him “help,” he’ll most likely chicken out when he actually meets your parents

When he bosses his mom around, he’ll tell you to take some notes

This both baffles and amuses you

He’ll only ask you to get professional help once; he’ll drop it if you decline

He’ll listen to you vent, but the most he can do in terms of comfort is say “that’s stupid/messed up” and give you snacks

He does use your situation as an excuse to have you over like. All the time

Thank you for this request! And thanks for reading, stay safe guys <33

National child abuse hotline: 800-422-4453 / National domestic violence hotline: 800-799-7233

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park headcanons #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #stan x reader #kenny mcormick #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #tw abuse #abuse tw

210 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

Don’t Let Go

“Fuck- oh, shit, Steve, what-” Robin collapses to the ground next to him, worried hands waving frantically around his body, unsure how to help. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s alright, take a breath, Steve, you’ll be okay.”

He retches again. Watches, detached, as red streaks into the bowl. “Oh, shit,” he hears Robin whisper. “That- that’s blood. Okay. Okay, this is fine, we’re okay. I don’t- I don’t really know how to help you, Steve, I’m trying to stay calm, I swear, but you know how easily I get worked up and-” she shuts her mouth and takes a few deep breaths. “Steve? Can I touch you?”

He tries to think about it. Tries to think about anything other than the memories flashing through his head. Nods.

She breathes out a shaky, grateful sigh. “Okay, good, that’s good, thank you. Um, I’m gonna- my hand. I’m gonna put it on your back, okay? I’m just gonna rub a bit. Just like this. Try to match your breathing, okay? When I rub up, you breathe in. When I rub down, you breathe out. No pressure, just nice, slow breaths, okay? Here, up, so in, breathe in. Now down, so breathe out. In, out. Easy does it, Steve-o, you’re alright.” She grabs a wad of toilet paper and brings it to Steve’s face. “Let’s clean you up a little, yeah? Any chance you wanna tell me what that was about?”

He lets her clean his face off, takes a shuddering breath, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, Jesus- okay, hey, alright, Steve, it’s okay. I’m right here. Is me touching you still okay?”

Her touching him is usually fine. He’d say always—if he could speak—but there have been times he’s reacted so unfavorably to her touch… it’s for the best she asks. Even if the majority of the time, the answer is yes.

The answer is yes tonight, as well, but words are too difficult when he’s trying not to drown in his own tears, so he tips sideways into her, lets her hold his weight up as she rubs his back and arm, comforting him. “That’s okay, Steve. It’s alright. We’re fine. I do think we should talk about this one, though, it hasn’t hit you that hard in a while. Which I know is kinda hypocritical, I mean I’ve slept over every night for like the last month in a row. So I get it. But I do think talking about it could be good. But, uh, we’ll wait a bit. Let you calm down some first.”

He does eventually calm down, at least enough to try to talk, and he does, disjointedly telling Robin about the nightmare. He doesn’t know where to start, and she shushes him. “Start with whatever you can. Baby steps. Small things, one at a time.”

He shudders. It’s not a small thing, the thing taking up every inch of his brain, it’s so big and consuming and taking over and- “So much,” he manages. “So much blood. Thought- thought it was mine. ‘N maybe some of it was, I dunno, but it was Dustin, a-and E-” he breaks off, heaves, manages to take a breath somehow, and the name doesn’t stick in his throat. “Eddie. I was- I was too late, Robs, too late, he was- I tried, I tried, there was so much blood, he- he looked at me and-”

Robin shushes him again, pulls him closer and wraps her arms around him, rocks them back and forth. “‘S alright, Steve, hey, take a breath, c’mon. One big one, I know you can, just one breath for me.”

He manages a medium-sized breath, enough to make Robin happy, enough to make the lump in his throat recede some, enough to let him finish. “He said it’s okay. That- that he didn’t expect me to save him- to care- and I- Robs. I- I kissed him.” He vaguely realizes he’s trembling.

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down his back again. “Can- can I ask if you’ve, uh, thought about that before?”

Steve sniffles, ducks his head, nods. “I’ve had a few dreams. Not nightmares. J-just, like, little things. Sitting together on the couch talking about nothing, going on dates, cuddling in bed and- I do want it, but Robs, I- I can’t, I can’t, he’s gone-” and Steve’s gone, collapsing into sobs again, not even hearing Robin as she’s trying to tell him something.

He notices when she moves away, and he lets her, because somewhere in his subconscious he remembers how she is about touch, and how sometimes it’s too much. So she moves away and he stays on the floor in the bathroom, sobbing.

She’s back a few minutes later, a comforting hand on his back. “Hey, Steve, shh, you’ve gotta calm down a little, which I know isn’t helpful but you’re gonna throw up again if you keep going, and then I’m gonna freak out even more, and then where’re we gonna be? We’re both gonna be freaking out and no help to each other. Hey, slow breaths, it’s alright, copy my hand again, yeah? Up and down, in and out, okay?”

She moves suddenly, says, “Oh, thank God you’re here, I’m useless, here,” and moves completely out of Steve’s space.

She moves back in again a second later, except it’s not Robin, the hands are different, bigger, and he stiffens up, lifts his head, and freezes when he sees who it is. “Eddie,” he breathes, and Eddie gives him a small smile.

“Hey, Steve. You doin’ alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers again, so relieved he can’t bring himself to care about how he normally acts, just burrows into Eddie.

And Eddie lets him, opens his legs to give Steve a stable place to sit, lets Steve tuck his head in Eddie’s shoulder, even puts a hand on Steve’s head. “‘S alright,” he murmurs. “I don’t really know what you dreamed about but it’s okay, I swear, I’ve got some sort of idea it was about me but I’m fine, I swear, I’m okay, got a little chewed up but you got me out. We’re okay, we’re fine. I promise.” He rubs his other hand up and down Steve’s back, like Robin had been doing, and Steve does his best to follow the pattern, except Eddie’s rubbing his back a little too fast, and all he feels is the panic coming back.

Suddenly Eddie stops rubbing. “Oh- oh, Stevie, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, then continues rubbing, slower. “Robin told me you were trying to match your breathing to my hand rubbing your back. It’s a good idea, and I’m- I’m proud of you for initiating it. Here we go, nice and slow, in and out.”

Eventually Steve’s breathing slows back down enough for him to say something. “Sorry.”

Eddie hums. “What? Sorry? What for?”

“You havin’a come out here.”

“That’s not something you ever need to apologize for,” Eddie tells him seriously. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Steve manages to lift his head and look Eddie in the eye for a few seconds. “There you are,” Eddie whispers with a soft smile. “It’s alright, Steve. I’ll always be here if you need me, m’kay? Now, how about we get off the bathroom floor?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, moving out of Eddie’s space and trying to stand, only to collapse again. “Fuck, sorry,” he mutters. “Legs’re asleep.”

“That’s alright, you’re not too heavy, c’mon, I gotcha. You wanna brush your teeth real quick?”

Steve notices the taste in his mouth for the first time and makes a face as he nods, moving with Eddie’s help over to the sink. “Grab on here,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“M’kay.” He brushes his teeth, looking down at the sink, hearing Eddie bustle around as he flushes the remainder of Steve’s nightmare and disappears back into the room for a moment, drawers opening and closing before Eddie make a reappearance, standing this side of too close. Steve welcomes it, finishes brushing his teeth and leans back into Eddie when he’s done. “Not sure I can sleep,” he murmurs, not looking in the mirror. He doesn’t want to confirm how he knows Eddie’s looking at him. He knows, if he meets Eddie’s eyes, he’ll see pity.

“D’you wanna try? Or just wanna head downstairs? We can watch shitty movies and make fun of the acting.”

He thinks about it. Thinks about laying back down, the dark creeping in, being unable to see Eddie even if he knows he’s looking directly at him. His breath sticks in his throat. “Dow- downstairs. Please.”

“M’kay. Wanna bring Robin?”

“No. She’s gotta shift t’morrow morning. Needs to sleep.”

“So do you,” Eddie murmurs, enough levity in his voice it doesn’t sound judgmental. “Wanna bring anything downstairs?”

Steve sighs as he tries to think. “Don’t think so.”

“Okay. You ready to go then?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t- I can’t-” he shakes his head, makes a bitten-off, frustrated noise. “Don’t wanna let go.”

“‘S okay. You don’t have to.” A hand appears in his field of view, palm-up, open and inviting. He takes it. “Is this enough for now? Till we get downstairs?”

Steve thinks about it, then nods, squeezing once as Eddie steps away, leaving their hands linked. “Sorry,” he mutters again, even though he knows Eddie’s going to tell him to stop apologizing. “Dunno why I’m like this.”

Eddie chuckles softly. “Pretty sure you get a free pass to act like this as much as you want, Stevie. You’ve been through hell more’n anyone ever should.” He tugs on their joined hands, a small smile hovering on his lips. “And quit apologizing.”

“No promises,” Steve says instead of what he wants to. I’m like this because it was you. Because I love you. Because I’m too much of a coward to say anything.

Eddie stills like he hears it all anyways. All he does is wrap his free hand around Steve’s wrist, gripping for a moment before releasing him, gently tugging him out of the bathroom.

Robin’s sitting up in bed, lamp on, waiting for him. He feels bad, but still too shaken up to release Eddie. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

She glances over at Eddie with a flick of her eyebrows, and he snickers as she looks back at Steve. “Don’t apologize, dingus. I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nods, tries to smile. “Love you, Robbie.��

“Gross,” she says with a smile, but grabs his free hand as they walk by. “Love you too.”

They get downstairs and Eddie stops by the TV. “Wanna watch something?”

Steve thinks about it. Thinks about the movies he owns, the way he’s feeling, and shakes his head. “Want some water.”

Eddie chuckles. “Probably should’ve been my first thought. Whaddya wanna do after?”

Steve shrugs. “Just… don’t wanna be alone.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment before pulling him into a hug. He realizes, as his nose mashes into Eddie’s shoulder, he’d been curling into himself. “C’mon,” Eddie murmurs. “Water then couch, m’kay?”

Steve nods, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s waist, letting his eyes close as he tucks his face into the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder. His hair tickles Steve’s forehead. He doesn’t move, just relaxes, tightening his hold when Eddie starts to move them.

“Gotta move for a second,” Eddie murmurs eventually. “Can’t drink the water with your face mushed into my neck. And the last thing you want right now is a dehydration headache.”

Steve knows he’s right, can already feel the tightening that means a headache is coming on, and reluctantly untangles himself, holding out a hand for the glass. It wobbles dangerously when it’s in his grip, and Eddie’s hand comes back to wrap around the glass, overlapping Steve’s fingers, steadying him. “Easy does it,” he murmurs, guiding the glass up to Steve’s lips. “A little at a time.”

Steve drinks slowly, allowing Eddie to take the glass after a few sips, only for him to put it down and pick something else up. A pill, he sees when Eddie brings his hand closer, and he’s at least steady enough to hold that and slip it into his mouth, and by the time he does Eddie’s got the water back up by his face again. “Thank you,” Steve murmurs eventually, instead of the I’m sorry that wants to come out.

Eddie smiles, small and fond. “My pleasure. Couch?”

Steve nods, so they walk over together, Eddie placing the water on the side table before arranging them on the couch. He sits down first, then tugs Steve almost on top of him, a gentle hand on his neck guiding Steve’s head back to his shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Eddie’s fingers running up and down Steve’s spine, before he breaks the silence. “Wanna tell me what happened? All Birdie said was you had a nightmare and thought I was, uh. Gone.”

Steve heaves a sigh. “That’s pretty much it. You and Dustin, but you especially, and I… I dunno. And it wasn’t even one of those dreams that made sense, or anything, it’s just all of a sudden there I was, and there was so much blood, and I think some of it was mine but I was fine, Dustin was in bad shape but was gonna make it, but you…” he shakes his head. “Told me you didn’t expect me to save you, didn’t think I’d care, and that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard you say so I kissed you, and you… you died. Didn’t say anything. Just… there one second, gone the next, like I had killed you.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can definitely see how that would’ve freaked you out. Especially given that you’re straight. Which! Is not the point. Sorry. Um.”

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Um. Straight, that is.”

Eddie freezes. “No?”

“No.” Steve shifts away, hates the feeling of Eddie’s hand slipping off his back, but hates the thought of Eddie being uncomfortable because of him even more. “I like both. Um. Like Bowie? Robin told me that’s a thing.”

Eddie chuckles. “That it is, Stevie. Thanks for telling me.”

Steve shoots him a look. “You’re okay with it?”

Eddie frowns. “It would be kinda hypocritical of me to not be, wouldn’t it?”

Steve waves a hand around. “Not that. The fact that I like you, and had a dream that freaked me out and you came over and oh my god, all of that was false pretenses, wasn’t it, fuck, I’m sorry, Eddie, I swear I wasn’t thinking about that, the- the dream really did freak me out, and I-”

“Steve,” Eddie says, putting a hand on his forearm. “Hey. Calm down before you spiral into another panic attack, alright? It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me in the least.” He lets out a breathless chuckle. “Actually, I guess that would be kinda hypocritical of me, too.”

Steve blinks. “What would?”

“Me freaking out about you liking me.” He stares for a moment before looking away, huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “I had the most unfortunate crush on you in high school. Admittedly, then it was purely based on looks. But then Spring Break from hell happened, and I learned you’re actually a really good guy, and the crush transitioned into something more than just surface-level.” He holds out a hand, palm up, waiting for Steve.

Steve stares at it, then lifts his gaze to Eddie’s face. “You… like me?”

“I do.”

A shy smile begins to grow on Steve’s face as he ignores Eddie’s outstretched hand in favor of leaning back in, setting his head back on Eddie’s shoulder and sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiles as Eddie chuckles and wraps an arm around his back. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Steve asks quietly. “About what we want to do and be?”

“We can wait as long as you want,” Eddie promises. “Just as long as tonight, we can stay right here.”

Steve giggles quietly. “Deal.” He’s silent for a few seconds before the giggles start again. “Robin’s gonna be so pissed I got a boyfriend before she got a girlfriend.”

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove

Side note, I may be convinced to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants it… I don’t know what that part 2 would entail but if y’all want it (or anything really, my asks are always open) let me know! Thanks for reading! ❤️

#stranger things #steddie #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #nightmares #tw nightmares #tw vomit #because of the aforementioned nightmares #panic attacks #steve harrington has ptsd #they all do but this specifically is about him #starambles

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 8 months

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄, 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇

# day 2 — orgasm denial.

s. he's always had an attitude whenever you pointed out how much he stared at you. and of course, he's being a little shit when he's balls deep in you.

cw. fem!reader, orgasm denial, teasing, rough sex, cowgirl position, mutual pining, creampie, degrading, cervix fucking, breeding kink, wanderer being a little shit & implied multiple rounds.

wc. 3046

Wanderer has a serious staring problem.

You know that gut feeling you get when you can just feel someone or something staring at you, even when you can’t see them? Like you could physically feel their stare on you? Well, that’s what your current predicament with your companion is. His stare was almost that of a cat looking at its owner before it pounced, and you swear you could even see his pupils blown wide when he looked at you. It’s not like you find it unsettling or even annoying; the extra attention gives you that nice little ego boost and he wasn’t trying to be a nasty creep about it. But even you have to comment on how frequently you can feel his eyes glued to your form.

He always finds a way to tease you or just tch’s and roll his eyes when you point out his rather blatant staring. In the case of the latter, he just stomps off, grumbling some expletives with his cheeks all red and burning and glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. He more or less resembles an angry kitty when he decides to act offended, all bristled up yet too cute to even give much thought to.

Well, sometimes.

The weather outside is hot, unbearably so, and the occasional humidity waves don’t make it any better. So you’ve opted to start wearing those spaghetti-strap crop tops you bought a while back, and they hugged your chest juustt right, enough to give them that cute bouncy look. You had even been checking yourself, admiring yourself in a ‘wow my tits look hella good’ kind of way. And clearly, you aren’t the only one doing so.

Wanderer would stare at your now exposed cleavage, from little fleeting glances to outright stares that would linger for a bit even when you’d spotted him. Even with his cheeks all rosy and bright, and a hand over his mouth to partially hide his embarrassment away, he still couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop staring at you. But it seems like he doesn’t have the courage, for whatever reason, to make a move on you—even though he had plenty of courage to tell you that your breath stinks in the morning. You’d prefer it if he was upfront about what he clearly wanted, but you don’t mind having to make the first move yourself.

So you tease him a bit; raising your hips and rolling them ever so slightly when he’s behind you, giving him a nice view of your ass, and standing up straight with your back arched (it pushes your chest forward and even makes you look more confident too!) so he can have a nice view of your chest, but not enough so it can leave much more to his imagination. After all, having on some revealing clothes was a lot sexier than having none at all.

And it’s pretty clear that your little plan is working, because—

“Alright, what are you up to?” He’s got you cornered now, palm flat against the wall as he glares at you. His cheeks are blooming red again, and it’s pretty obvious that he’s trying (and failing) to not stare at your boobs like he’d been doing all day.

“Hm? What are you talking about?” An innocent flutter of your eyes and he scoffs.

“Don’t you play dumb with me, smart ass. You know what I’m talking about. What’s up with,” he gestures to your chest with his eyes and purses his lips. “This.”

“Oh, this? It’s pretty cute, right? Makes me look pretty sexy too. Why, you got a problem with it?”

“What—no, that’s not what I meant,” he groans in exasperation. “You know what I meant. Acting like a fuckin’ tease all day and riling me up. It’s driving me crazy.”

“I dunno sounds like a you-problem Wanderer. I’m just doing what I’d do around anyone else.” His expression sours at that, clear annoyance being plastered all over his face. Seriously, could he be any more obvious in showing what’s going on in that little brain of his?

“So you’re saying that you’d do this to anyone else that just came along?” He spits, lips pulled back in a grimace as if the very thought burns him like acid. “You’d give them a little show just because they seemed nice enough?”

“Hehe, sounds like someone’s jealous~♡” He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, but that’s a part of his charm. Guys like him who act all tough and teasing but crumple once they’re on the receiving end of it are the cutest, so you can’t help but taunt him a bit!

He chuckles dryly, a bitter smirk on his face. “Yeah, I’m jealous. Just thinkin’ about other guys seeing you like this and even touching you makes me jealous. Happy now?”

You’re grinning stupidly now, practically shivering in excitement as you snake your arms around his neck to pull him in real close. “Then why don’t you do something about it? Go on and fuck me, fuck me so good that I can’t get off without your dick and no other guy can satisfy me like you can~♡”

That’s how you’re in your current position, straddling him as you lowered yourself onto his cock, moaning lewdly as he brushed up against your g-spot. Fuck, his cock was just the right shape for your pussy; not too long but the tip still manages to peck your cervix lovingly and not too thick but he stretches you out enough to feel good instead of in an overstimulating painful way. It’s like you were both made for one another, perfectly aligned to fit like a puzzle piece; hehe, your pussy would even start molding into his cock’s shape, a perfect fit for him and him alone~♡

“You like my dick that much, huh? You slut.” You could feel the smug smile on his face; even with your eyes closed in bliss, you could practically envision his haughty expression. But you can hear the little pants and whines he’s trying to suppress. For how much shit he likes to talk, he’s just as bad as you and can’t seem to get enough of your cunt.♡ “It’s so wet, you wanted my dick that badly didn’t you?”

“Mhmm, I wanted you s’badly~♡ Wanted you to t’fuck me like you own me~♡” Leaning back with your arms behind you to balance your body, it gives him a perfect view of your needy cunt swallowing up his cock and drooling all over it. And he clearly likes it, because he attempts to roll his hips into the welcoming heat and hisses when your walls clamp onto his cock. “But you really suck at making a first move and kept me waiting.♡”

“I do not.”

“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. We both know I’m right.♡”

Wanderer scowls, then pistons his cock up to brush the tip against your cervix like a clumsily-aggressive kiss and you respond with a cry of his name. “Yeah, and we both know that you’re a slut for my dick. I’ve barely done anything and you’re already moaning like that.”

“Hehe, y’got me~♡” You breathily moan, too focused on grinding down on him and making sure that he’d rub up against your g-spot perfectly. “Why don’t you make me moan even louder then, hmm? Make everyone else hear just how big of a slut I am for your dick~♡”

“Damn, you…” Wanderer starts, but he’s soon grinning cockily up at you. Oh, looks like your smug companion has a thing for other people knowing just how big of a slut his pretty girl was for him~�� “I’ll make sure you eat those words.”

His movements start off a bit awkward, what with your body weight grinding down into his crotch and having to use his pelvis muscles to actually move, but he gets the hang of it. He works into a rhythm of slow deep thrusts that occasionally have him griiinding up into your cunt right as you push down, and you two share a collective moan from the depth of his movements. Fuuckk, he was hitting so deep that it almost felt unhealthy with how far he reached, but it just felt so good that you couldn’t be bothered to really even care. If he kept fucking you like this, then your pussy wouldn’t be able to love anyone else’s dick but his; all shaped for him to use and fill to his heart’s content.♡

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight, m’so close…” Wanderer throws his head back on your bed, eyes clenched tight as he bites his lip while your pussy massages and assaults his cock all over. You’re so fucking wet for him, pretty cunt hungrily drooling and swallowing him up to the point where he could feel your slick oozing down to his balls. You really weren’t kidding when you said you loved his dick.

If this kept up, he’d end up finishing inside you and—

—Huh?

You stopped. Why did you stop moving? Why?

“Wha—I was so close, you bi—” You quickly shush him with your finger against his lips. Geez, must he resort to name-calling all the time? Especially right now?

“Ah-ah, watch your language sweetie~♡” The scowl on his face gives him an unpleasant look, but you could hardly take him seriously when he’s got such a cute little face! Ugh, he’s just sooo cute! “There’s no point in cussing me out y’know. It won’t get you anywhere.”

He clicks in his tongue in response, clearly not in the mood to be lectured, not when he’d been so close to bursting. “Don’t you, ngh, dare lecture me. Just move your hips already damn it.”

“Aww c’mon, can’t you just play nice for once?” You pout when he gives you a deadpan look as if to say ‘Are you stupid?’ “Fine. I won’t move until you beg for it~♡”

“You—!”

You hesitate a bit to pull him out because you really do love his cock so much, but he’s being a little shit even when he’s balls deep in you, and you’re not having it. But you work yourself off his shaft inch by inch until the tip just barely remains tucked in past your velvety folds. And you have to admit, you really like the dragging sensation of his cock slipping out as it rubbed along your ribbed walls. You’re really tempted to shove yourself back down and lift yourself up again just to feel him dragging along your walls, but he doesn’t deserve that. Not until he begs of course.

“C’mon, just beg for it. You know you want to~♡” Since you wanna tease him, you do move your hips down, letting your soaked cunt swallow up just a bit more of his cock, teasing him with the addictive heat that hovers just out of his reach. He’s trying and failing to keep his cute moans in, drooling all over himself like the needy little pervert he comes off like.

“Shit, don’t do that,” he rasps, watching in agony as the rest of his shaft goes untouched by your pussy, feeling your juices dribble down and cool against his warm skin. This is torture for him. But when he tries to buck his hips, you just move away, threatening to pop his swollen tip from the confines of your tight wet heat. “Don’t tease me like that…”

“Then just beg for it. It’ll feel good for the both of us.”

“Damn it, just, j-just move already… I can’t take it anymore, I want your pussy so fuckin’ bad—”

“Mmm, that’s good enough, hehe~♡” Well, he could always beg some more, but you’d rather not push him to the point where he’s actually so impatient that he gets turned off. You’ve learned that Wanderer needs a little shove with just the right amount of force so he can do what he’s told. So, lowering your hips back down, your pussy greedily swallows up his cock aaalll the way down to the base.

“Fuck!”

This time his movements are much more desperate, more frantic like he’s a dog in heat. He’s even looking the part too, tongue lolled out to the side a bit, breaths coming out in hot steamy puffs, and occasionally whining with a high-pitched strain. You can only imagine that this much motion must be exhausting for his hips, but the fact that he’s ignoring any possible strain just to pound straight up into you says a lot. All you’re really doing is just rolling your hips, but damn is he doing a good job of fucking you like his personal slut.

“F-fuck, m’so close, m’gonna, inside…!”

“Say it.”

“Huh?”

“Say you want to cum inside of me,” you say with a sweet smile, making sure to squeeze up your walls reeaal tight to bully him. “Or I won’t let you~♡”

You even stop moving your hips for good measure, this time keeping him tucked inside your cunt. He looks frustrated beyond belief, having had his orgasm stopped twice and having to beg for it like some needy dog. Well, you suppose it can serve as a bit of payback for his bratty attitude since he clearly doesn’t learn until you have to fuck it into him just so he can get the message.

“I-I wanna cum inside you, I wanna make your pussy all mine, please just let me cum inside..!”

You giggle in satisfaction, feeling a rush of satisfaction all throughout your body. Getting Wanderer to beg to cum inside you was such a delicious treat, and you’d be sure to savor it fully. Who knows, you might even get him to do this again some other time.

“Good boy, Wanderer~♡”

You seem to catch him off guard when you finally begin to really move your hips, making sure to wiggle them rapidly when he’s sheathed inside down to the base so as it urge on his orgasm. And it works, because he starts moaning a breathy high-pitched noise while he desperately pistons his cock up into your cunt with his hands squeezing your ass, kneading the soft flesh like he owns it. You don’t bother stopping him, since he’s just soooo cute when he gets all desperate for your pussy like this and starts fucking you with rabbit-fast thrusts.

“Wanderer, you’re s’cute, such a cutie, how’re you s’cute?♡” Your jumbled praises come bubbling out like soda pop, as your juices come gushing out with intense fervor, coating his cock with your slick until it oozed down enough to coat his balls. But you keep grinding down, riding out your orgasm for as long as possible.

“Fuck, don’t—don’t move your hips like that!” He likes it when you do it, though, because that thick vein rubbing against your walls pulses a lot more rapidly. You were still coming down from your high, but it wasn’t doing anything to stop you from enjoying how nice his dick felt in your pussy. There was pleasure in being filled.

It only takes a few more seconds of frantic movements from both of you before he follows suit with a whimper of your name, still fucking up into your messy cunt whilst he pumped you full of his thick seed. You have to place your hands on his chest to keep yourself still, giddily smiling as warmth pours into your belly. It was like he was trying to breed you, fill your womb up with his cum until it was full of his babies. Oh, maybe you could tempt him with that next time; get him a little jealous and riled up, encourage him to knock you up then become his breeding bitch until his seed was dripping from your ass to the sheets.♡

Despite having finally reached his high, that didn’t seem to stop Wanderer one bit as he continued fucking his cum deeper and deeper till it reached your womb. He seems determined to truly make your pussy all his, to push his seed so deep inside that it might take root and stay buried within you forever. Hehe, maybe he really does wanna breed you badly; and make you into a mommy, even if he might be acting on those hidden fantasies subconsciously.

Once he finishes fucking your pussy like his personal cocksleeve and giving it all he has, he sinks bonelessly into the soft mattress. His length finally goes soft, even despite the tight squeeze your walls have on it and his breaths become deeper as he calms himself down.

“See? That wasn’t too hard, now was it?” You press a soft little kiss to his sweaty forehead, and he just hushedly groans in response. He doesn’t even bother swatting you away like he usually did when you displayed your affection for him; guess this really had taken quite a lot out of him. Seeing that you’re also feeling incredibly sore yourself (all that arching and hip grinding had done a real number on your back muscles), you snuggle yourself up against him, soaking up the intimate feel of his skin pressed up on yours.

His softened cock was still inside of you, keeping you wide open and making this position a bit uncomfortable, but you’re too busy basking in the afterglow. But if it’s uncomfortable for Wanderer, then he doesn’t show any signs of discomfort. Or maybe he’s just too tired to really notice you yanking his dick about—or maybe he just likes how it feels inside of you.

“Feels like you just drained my fucking balls,” he mumbles tiredly, lazily tossing an arm over your back as you nuzzle into his neck. “Seriously, felt like you were gonna squeeze me dry back there…”

“Hehe, oopsies~♡”

“Don’t you ‘oopsies’ me, you damn sex fiend,” he hisses, delivering a weak slap to your back. “Is it always going to be this way with you?”

“Hmm, I dunno, why don’t you find out? D’you think you can go again?♡”

Upon seeing your flirty grin, he groans in defeat. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me one of these days, y’know that?”

🏷. @lakeside-paradise @shrooms-go-brr @sakurakiko

#lati's kinktober #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut

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chochuuya · 6 months

Text

flu confession.

kazutora hanemiya x fem!reader

notes: classic old school fluff, shy tora (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

wc: 587

his voice is so stuffy over the phone.

“hurrgh,” kazutora groans. you can picture the scene now— him swaddled in layers of blankets, desperately trying to get over the flu. it’d be funny if it didn’t sound like he was two seconds from sneezing every time he spoke.

you call out his name and he goes, “huh?” in return. “oh, i didn’t mean to call somebody. uh, i’ll hang— achoo!”

you chuckled in response.

“poor you. get well soon, kazutora. don’t worry, i made extra notes and got you the handouts for the lessons you missed!”

“no, no, hang on,” he says, sniffling. “don’t go.”

his voice is strained, but he still sounds grateful for the time. “you don’t have better things to do? like... hang out with friends or whatever?”

“it’s 4 in the morning man..”

“yeah, uh, true.” he pauses, “what’re you doing up so late?”

“can’t sleep haha, plus it’s raining. i thought i could listen to some songs down the nostalgic lane.”

“oh, you’re a music girl, hmm?” he grins behind the screen, you can tell he likes the sound of that. “whatcha listening to?”

“not really.” you chuckled softly. “oh, right now.. don’t laugh but it's beautiful girls by sean kingston. kinda random, i know.”

hanemiya raises his eyebrows. “that’s a catchy song. i’ll be honest with you, though, most would’ve said taylor swift or... uh, i dunno, i’m running out of examples.”

he laughs, “so do you usually stay up this late all the time or is it the storm?”

you laughed along. “honestly, both.”

“yeah, i’m with ya there. the rain’s pretty relaxing, but it’s also kind of lonely.”

he pauses. “can i ask you something?”

“sure, what’s up?”

“you’re not gonna think it’s stupid?”

“let’s hear it first.”

“well…” he gulps, “do you think we’d make a good couple?” his voice is shaky but he says it anyway.

that made you sit straight up, staring at the phone in disbelief. the time keeps on running and you still couldn’t believe your own ears.

“..why would you think that, kazutora?”

“well.. i’m not sure, really. i just...”

he trails off, ‘just’ almost turning to ‘got a crush on you’.

“never mind,” he says quickly. “i’m just tired and sick. i shouldn’t say things like that.”

“i, uh.. it’s fine.” you chuckled nervously.

shoot i don’t even know what to say, you thought to yourself.

“yeah, okay.” he sniffles again. “can... uh... can you keep a secret, (y/n)?”

“of course.”

“okay. so, uh…”

there’s silence for a moment. kazutora takes a deep breath, then spills his guts. “i’m really into you.”

the boy blushes but he swore it’s just his fever acting up. “i’ve thought about it for a while, but i didn’t want to ruin anything. but we always get along and you’re really funny. and pretty.”

he clears his throat. “‘m i embarrassing myself?”

“no.. not at all, kazutora. thank you, you’re so sweet. i think you’re kinda cute too.” you let out a nervous laughter.

“wait, really?” his voice is a jumble of different emotions. surprised. happy. relieved. nervous. he doesn’t try to hide them very hard.

“are you just saying that?”

you laughed quietly at his remark. “no, i mean it.”

“oh. okay then.”

tora’s heart is about to jump out of his chest, but when did it ever listen to him before?

“so... do you want to hang out sometime?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant. “when i’m not dying of the flu, of course.”

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

so so cute (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) please do like/reblog/interact if you enjoy reading this hehe, always appreciated ♡♡

#🐯 luna writes #🐯 luna's fics #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader

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aesthetic-bbyg · 5 months

Note

might I request 🫣

an Usopp x ditsy y/n where the reader is.. 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑚, busty, to say the least, and always clings to him (sort of like how Nami does), albeit unaware that the behavior seems to always fluster him

And maybe they end up paired together when everyone splits up to fight someone or whatever, and Uso pulls them aside to hide, obviously, but in a bit of tight spot?

you can edit this however you like, thank you for reading!!

A DAMSAL IN DISTRESS - USOPP

usopp x ditzy,fem!reader

IN WHICH you can’t help but cling onto Usopp, he’s just so cute.

nattie speaks!: AHHHHH I’m so sorry for the wait, I felt so bad that this took way longer then expected so some parts were a bit rushed and a bit shitty🫣🫣. Also, I gave the reader this power, basically like a banshee, she screams and it’s a weapon. It’s only included in a small portion bc I wanted to stay close to what the anon requested!!

USOPP WASNT SURE IF HIS BAD habit of lying constantly was currently a blessing or a curse. You took interest in him after he’d rambled on about escaping the large beast of the sea, the Kraken. Since then you’ve been—he didn’t want to be rude and say obsessive, so..clingy. He’d somehow managed to capture you’re attention with his false stories. You nodded dumbly with big eyes as he dramatized yet another tale, waving his hands around like a maniac while you just giggled.

“Uh-huh, what after?” You leaned closer across the table curiously, your cheek falling to rest on the palm of your hand.

“Then, I took my sword and I sliced his ass from head to toe.” Usopp smirked triumphantly, sucking in a deep breath and releasing as he fell back against the chair. “And that’s the story of how I defeated the monster of the Blue Lagoon.”

“No way!” You gasped, eyes wide with such content, completely unaware of how close your tits were to spilling out of your top. Truth be told, Usopp had dragged out the story as long as possible to see the moment a nipple peaked out. He swallowed before he chuckled, eyes flickering between your bright smile and bouncing breast. “You’re so brave, Uso.” You stood from your seat, walking over to give him a peck on the cheek. “How ‘bout I go get food for my brave Captain, hmm?”

Usopp never nodded his head so quick, both out of being very hungry and because he needed a breather. You had made him so ridiculously flustered, he nearly forgotten to take in air with how close you were. The moment you footsteps faded to enter the kitchen he let out a large sigh. His senses struggling to regulate, all he could think about was you. The sticky gloss that clung to his skin, the sweet scent you left behind, the echo of your giggles in his mind.

He needed to get a grip before he literally exploded. The next few days to Arlong Park would be hell if he couldn’t learn to control himself when around you. But he just couldn’t figure out how it was possible to do that when you pranced around in such low cut shirts and tight bottoms. He didn’t have much time to think about it before you were back, holding two servings of food. You placed it on the large crate that laid between the two of you.

“What did Sanji make?” Usopp questioned, mustering up to the most normal smile he could give.

“Some sort of pasta, dunno, wasn’t really attention.” You shrugged casually, handing him a shimmering silver fork. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, you went unaware of the stolen glances Usopp took of you. He paid far too much attention to your features, especially your most prominent one..but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

You were close to opening your mouth and breaking the silence before Zoro came up, plopping a whiny Buggy between your plates.

“Usopps turn, I’m done.” The swordsman muttered annoyingly, walking away without another word.

“Hey—what!” Usopp shouted back to Zoro, his calls being ignored as the the blue-haired clown chuckled.

“Hiya, pal, nice to see you!” The clown exclaimed with an overly happy tone. “Tell me, have, have you boned pretty babe over here or wh—“

Usopp clamped his hand over the clown mouth, embarrassingly looking over at you, your eyes held an innocent confusion as you stood. “I’ll go ahead and take these to the kitchen, be back!”

Usopp nodded with a smile, waiting for you to be out of ear shot before uncovering Buggy’s mouth. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Shut up.” Usopp mumbled with a flushed face, hiding it by fiddling with his slingshot.

“Oh, c’mon, she’s totally into you and it super fuckin’ obvious in case you couldn’t already see.” The clown commented, “And, hey, I’m not one to give relationship in advice here but you should bone her—“

“Can you stop saying that.” The man snapped quietly as he noticed you approaching. You didn’t sit down, instead placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

“It’s getting dark, Uso, ya wanna head in?” You asked softly, eyes glowing curiously in the moonlight. You shared a space with Nami, but ever since she left you’d didn’t liked sleeping in that empty bed. Instead, you slept next to Usopp every night.

It came as a surprise at first. The midnight sky had caused a dark hue to blanket over the ship. The moon hidden behind indigo clouds, only a few strings of light guided you down to the boy’s chambers. You’d pushed Usopps door open, thankful that it didn’t creak loudly, and slowly entered. You footsteps patting against the hardwood floor, hands out in front of you to navigate the darkness until you felt a soft cushion. You peeled back the blanket and climbed in, without a care in the world except for finding some warmth.

Usopp had felt the bed shift, covers shuffling without him moving which is what caused him to fully awake. He panicked at first, not moving an inch as the person beside him got comfortable. It was until he felt you soft hands caress up his bicep, bare legs entangling with his own, then a sweet sigh that tickled his neck. After a few moments he heard nothing, just your deep breaths as he laid there, completely clueless on what to do. Should he hold you? But that would wake you again wouldn’t it? He chose to go to sleep and see what the next morning held.

And if Usopp wasn’t flustered enough already the next day he was practically dead. Your position had switched in the middle of the night, and so did his. Ass against his hips, his arm draped over your waist, and you back against his firm chest. He wasn’t sure how you two needed in this position but every morning now was like this.

Usopp determined that the best way to continue this routine was if Buggy’s head was shoved into a empty barrel and left there for the night.

“You better bone her if your leaving here—“ The clown angrily shouted before his voice was muffled by the lid sliding over the open top. Usopp let out a sigh, walking over to the sleeping quarters below deck where you’d already gone to get changed for bed.

Your head quirked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, smiling softly at the sight of him. “We’re nearly there, Uso. It’s best that you get some sleep for the rest of the journey.”

Usopp nodded in agreement, removing his shirt like he always did before bed and climbing into the covers. You shouldn’t be so excited as you are each time you cuddle close to him. It shouldn’t be so rewarded to feel him so close to you as you drift to sleep. Usopp was suppose to be your fellow crew member and nothing more. Yet there was an undeniable feeling that made you cling to him. It made you giddy.

Unbeknownst to you, these feelings struck Usopp tenfold.

“LAND HO!” USOPP EXCLAIMED, ARM raising to point to a spec of land from afar. You lifted your head, squinting to see the bundled up islands from you spot. As you got closer it looked like nothing almost, and when the boat docked it was even worse. The small village looked abandoned, old homes falling apart and grey in color. Most of the plants around were dead, drained of their natural color. One home was even raised above the grown, ripped from the floor and left to rot mid air.

This is when things started to blur together. One moment, you watch in fear, clinging onto Usopps arms. He’s a brave warrior, you thought, surely he’d protect you against the strange atmosphere that this place brought. But the next you were sprinting into the woods, just behind Usopp as a fish man with strangely large lips chased after you.

It was a fight you had no idea on how to win. They were fishman, some of the strongest beings of the world, and here you were running away from one. Even worse, the fish with the huge lips was able to spit out fire with just a sip of his hard drink. There was more than enough evidence to prove that you were screwed.

The boy in front of you turned around, quickly tugging your arm and pulling close, ducked down, rolling to hide behind a fallen tree. You fell atop of Usopp, panting heavily as fishman’s spits barley flew over your head. All went quiet, weirdly quiet but you didn’t dare even blink loudly.

“Hey.” Usopp whispered as you lifted your head from his chest. “Ya think you can scream for me, pretty girl?” You swallowed thickly, nodding, the pure terror of the approaching footsteps muting your voice. “Then wait for my signal, ‘kay.”

Usopp shuffled from under, making it more comfortable for the both, well, mostly you. Being within such a close proximity of your soft skin made him nervous, no amount of comfort was able to calm his nerves. But he ignored the squeezable skin that pressed against his chest, ignored that your core that was hovering just above his dick, ignored the grip on his bicep. He looked at you, waiting for the right moment to give you the sign so the fishman went down once and for all.

You were terrified, that was for sure, but you mustered up some courage to pull the plan off. You felt a tap on your hand, causing to rise up and stare directly at the fishman. But before he could open fire you let out a ear piercing shriek. A wail so loud it launched the fish man backwards. Far enough so he was too distracted in getting up and gaining back his senses to realize that Usopp was sneaking in.

You watched, wide eyed as the fishman sat up, bottle still tightly in his clutch. Usopp loaded in his new invention into his slingshot and directly hit the alcohol. A loud explosion followed, smoke clearing to reveal a motionless fishman.

You laughed in a relief, standing up and slowly approaching the scene.

Usopp shouts in excitement, proudly chuckling at the sight of the smoking body laid motionless on the ground. “Yeah! Take that! The Great Captain Usopp fells yet another notorious villain!” He swallows back his heavy breaths, glancing around. “And..no one’s around to see it.”

“I saw it, Uso!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him with a giggle. The sheer force of your excitement gave you enough strength to drag him down into your chest. His whole face making contact with your tits while you rambled in content. “Just as brave as you tell in your stories! Gosh, I can’t wait tell everyone how you saved me.” You pull his head up, planting kisses along his cheeks.

The boy puffed his chest out pridefully, smirking despite the blush that littered his cheeks. “What can I say, a great Captain like me never fails to save a damsel in distress.” He hooked an arm around your waist, gazing down at you.

“A reward is much needed after this.” You Pat his chest, smiling softly with such a innocent yet antagonizing look. Without another word, you’d pulled away, waking back in the direction Arlong park.

Usopp stared at your fading figure with furrowed brows. “A reward?”

OMG THIS TOOK WAY TO LONG BUT I WAS LITERALLY GOING BACK ND FORTH W THIS FIC BC I FELT LIKE IT WAS SOO BAD. But I need to release smth so this is it!! I really hoped this lived up to the request, ik i added some of my own elements but ignore that🫣

(sucks dick coquettely)

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece show #straw hats #usopp x reader #usopp #jacob romero gibson #Jacob Romero #agent 00 lookin ahh #but he’s so fiiiine #i’m actually losing it #I need him #he needs me #HIS BICEPS BRO #LIKE I WANT TO LICK THEM #UGHHH #send help #one piece imagine #captain usopp

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