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luxurychristmaspudding · 5 months

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let me be needed

summary: the mandalorian pays you an unexpected visit. you both get more than you bargained for.

pairing: din djarin x f!sex worker!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. set in the star wars universe. sub!din, soft dom!reader, oral (m receiving), thighriding. established sexual relationship. you get cockblocked by grogu and feel a little sad at the end :(

wc: 3k

an: written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge!! <3 i know i said this would be for dieter, i know. it still might be. the links to din are SO tenuous but that tin can has left me with devastating brain rot.

The Razor Crest is docked in a terminal in the main part of the city, but you are yet to see the Mandalorian.

Not that you particularly expect to, but it’s rare that he takes a trip to your city and doesn’t visit.

You’ve been busy enough with customers all day not to dwell on it, and as the evening begins to wind down, golden light slanting through the windows, you begin to make peace with the fact that he might just not have time. He has the child to look after, and, presumably, quarry to retrieve.

You make your way back to your room with a fresh cup of caf, passing the droid which mans reception and the welcome area.

‘You have a client waiting,’ it says, smooth and robotic. You frown.

‘Who?’

‘A walk in. They did not leave a name.’

You nibble at your lip and sigh, gut swooping, heart kicking up a notch at the thought of him seeking you out at last. You shake it away. The last thing you need is to be disappointed further by some ragged old merchant laid out on the bed.

When the metal of your door clicks and sweeps open, you do well to suppress your delight. The Mandalorian is sat upright on the mattress, hands clasped over his lap.

‘I’m surprised to see you, Mando,’ you say, placing your mug on the console and busying yourself with your data-pad to check his information. ‘I wasn’t expecting you today.’

‘I wasn’t expecting to be here.’ He answers, voice smooth and husky through his vocoder. But it’s twinged with something a little different, a little warmer - you notice it the more he speaks. You smile up at him.

‘Anything changed?’

‘No.’ He says, and you tick the relevant boxes on the data-pad, tucking it away again on the console by the threshold.

‘Business or pleasure?’ You ask, locking the door.

‘Business.’

Your mouth quirks.

‘Nothing to do with me?’

He cocks his head at you, and you flutter your eyelashes like he hasn't already paid the droid on reception your fee and, likely, a generous tip.

‘No. No bounty for you.’

You smile with your teeth as you move towards him, the helmet tilting to watch you, to look up and down your body.

‘So pleasure, then?’ You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders.

‘Pleasure.’ He echoes, voice a little tighter than normal, betraying him more than you’re used to. You cup the side of his beskar cheek, stroking your thumb over the cool of the steel, though you know he can’t feel it.

‘What do you need?’ you ask, gently. ‘Do you want to watch me again? Or do you want my hands?’

Mando’s head drops to look down and away from you. You’re getting used to it - to an extent - his hesitancy, his shame. It spurs you on, wants you to make him feel good, to realise his desires. To live them, and not push them away. It’s why you wait for him to come around.

‘I want -’ he starts, but cuts himself off with a choked sound, and you tilt your head. You place two fingers below his helmet and tilt his chin up towards you.

‘Use your words, Mando,’ you remind him. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

‘I want - your mouth.’ He breathes.

And whatever you were expecting, it was not that.

You keep his chin tilted upwards, eyes searching his visor as though you could see the face beneath.

‘You’re sure?’

The Mandalorian nods, once.

‘Yes.’

You nod back, considering, thumb swiping back and forth again over the beskar.

‘Are you gonna be good?’

A broken moan filters through the modulator, and his head tips back further of its own accord.

‘Yes.’

You smile down at him.

‘Take yourself out for me, baby.’

You step away from him as the hunter’s hands scrabble with his fly, shifting his hips up briefly so he can pull his cock from his trousers. He grunts when it makes contact with the cold air of your room, and holds it steady, squeezing at the base. You coo at him, at the deeply flushed tip, at the precum already smeared down his length.

‘Oh, baby boy,’ you breathe, lowering yourself to your knees with two hands on his. You blow even cooler air on his tip, smirking as he flinches and hisses. ‘How long have you been like this?’

‘Dinner.’ He grits out. You raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Hours?’

He nods quickly, squeezing his base again. You watch, thrilled, as more precum oozes out.

‘Yeah. Couldn’t leave without seeing you. Knowing you were so close by. Just had to get the kid to sleep.’

You pout at him.

‘My poor Mandalorian. Let me make it better.’

He watches with dogged devotion as you lean forward and brace your elbows on his knees. You watch as his gloved hands clench the edge of the bed in anticipation as you draw near, watch his thighs tense beneath his clothing and armour as he feels your breath against his skin.

You don’t let him think anymore before you’re licking a long, hot stripe from his heavy balls to his tip, and his whole body goes slack, helmet thumping against his breastplate. When you do it a second time, a ragged, torn breath echoes from the modulator, and you hum against him, bringing a hand to his base to squeeze as you slot your lips over the tip.

Mando knows the rules from here. He has to watch you, has to keep his visor trained to your movements, has to keep his hands to himself. These are his rules every time.

You’re excited to see how he holds up tonight.

You swirl your tongue around his slit, and he groans long and loud, twitching as you flutter at his frenulum. His precum is thick and salty in your mouth, and you swallow it greedily before loosening your jaw and taking him all the way to the base.

The Mandalorian’s whole body goes rigid as he watches you, feels you take him down your throat and swallow around him.

‘Fuck,’ he half-sobs through the modulator, and you hum against him. ‘So good. How is your mouth so good? How do you -’ he cuts himself off as you begin to bob up and down him, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. He chokes out moan after moan, lost at what to do with himself.

But he doesn’t touch you. He’s a stickler for rules, after all.

When you pull off him to breathe, you make sure he sees you palm your tits through your dark tunic. Make sure he sees you cup your sex through your trousers, rolling your eyes back for good measure, already feeling the wetness soak through the linen.

‘Fuck, baby,’ you groan, ‘If you could feel what you’re doing to me.’

He moans desperately as you move your mouth back to him, taking him faster, deeper, stroking what you can’t manage so easily.

You huff against the neatly trimmed hair at his base as your nose presses against his belly, and the Mandalorian physically holds his breath, drawing his spine straight as you swallow around him again, as you move a hand to cup his balls, feeling them tighten.

‘Please,’ he gasps, ‘Please, please, I’m so close -’

You draw off him, painfully slow, and pump him with your hand as you talk.

‘You wanna come, baby boy?’ You coo, fluttering your eyelashes and drawing your brows together. His helmet bops hastily, sharp breaths being drawn in through hidden teeth.

‘Please,’ he chokes.

You nod.

‘You can come, baby. You’ve waited long enough.’

He whimpers loudly, unrestrained as you continue pumping his base and sucking his tip, fluttering and tracing with your tongue, sucking with just enough pressure to send him hurtling over the edge. His hips push up into your throat as he comes, spilling himself, warm and salty, down your throat. His cock twitches and jumps as he moans brokenly above you, the noise unusually vibrant through the vocoder. You keep him in your mouth long enough for the overstimulation to kick in, and let him whine and beg and thrust shallowly a little longer before you pull off him, smiling.

You swallow and open your mouth, and he groans at the sight of his spend disappearing.

‘You okay, baby boy?’ You ask as you gently tuck him back into his trousers, doing up his fly. He tries his best to catch his breath, heavy head hanging limply between his shoulders.

‘Yeah,’ he gasps. ‘So good. Thank you. So good.’

You hum approvingly at him, standing.

The sight of him still so spent, so fucked out, has you burning. You press your thighs together through your trousers just as he looks up.

His movements are languid, his words slurred, but his shoulders square. His hands twitch at his sides, loosening their grip on the mattress.

‘Take them off,’ he begs. ‘Please. I just want to see -’

You raise an eyebrow at him, at his tone. You want to be unimpressed, want to be disappointed. But the horrible, deep ache you feel in your core won’t let you. You’re soaked, and as Mando continues to meet your eye from the helmet, you begin to move.

He sucks in a breath, huffs out a moan as you hook your thumbs in the waistband and push them down. They pool easily at your feet and you step out of them, left bare after having forgone underwear as soon as you’d seen the Razor Crest this morning.

Your chest heaves, and all the Mandalorian can do is stare at you, taking in the shiny slick covering your pussy, so painfully obvious now you’re not covered.

‘You’re wet,’ he says, voice heavy and desperate, cracking. ‘You haven’t been touched. Come here. Come here, sit down -’ as he moves one of your legs on either side of his thigh and presses you down onto it, hands on your hips. You let him, going easily, brain fogged with arousal.

The metal is bitingly cold, and you hiss as your clit makes contact. But Mando continues, unfazed.

‘Go on, pretty girl,’ he groans. ‘Go on. Wanna see you come like this. Want you to feel good, too.’

You moan against him, driving and grinding your hips down. It feels wrong, the way he’s so quickly taken control, but having him finally in charge makes you feel lightheaded. Wanted, needed.

And it already feels so good.

‘Good girl,’ he whispers in your ear as you lay your head on his shoulder. ‘Such a good girl. Using your fucking mouth on me. I want you to come. Need you to come.’

You moan loudly against him, gasping at the coolness, how solid he feels as he rocks you back and forth. You’ll recall this later, imagining his cock instead, imagining dragging yourself over it, onto it, feeling him thick and long, moving inside you as you whisper praises to each other, as you clench around him. The tightness in your stomach grows more ferocious, winding itself until it’s hot, strong. If you can catch the right angle, if you can steal five more minutes -

A loud, ringing shriek fills the room, and you jump out your skin. The Mandalorian’s firm hands on your hips are the only thing that keep you from leaping up. He growls as your heart hammers in your chest, as you look around wildly for its source.

‘Mando -’ you moan -

‘Keep going. It’s nothing.’ He grits, and the shock of hearing his voice firm like this, close and a little clearer than usual, makes your cunt clench. You moan against his pauldron, teeth scraping against the metal as you give in, as he moves your hips faster, as you feel yourself moving easier over the slick you’re swiping over his armour.

‘Feels so good,’ you murmur. ‘Wanna soak you. Want you to go back outside to your ship and everyone to know where you’ve been. Want them to know how you made me come for you.’

He groans back at you, digging his fingers into your flesh, pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing, and you grit your teeth against a particularly strung out fuck as his vambrace begins to shriek and buzz with more urgency. Mando’s hands on your hips falter and then stop completely. You whimper against him, sucking in air as you bury yourself in his clothed neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you tilt your head back to gaze, bleary-eyed, at him. ‘I have to go.’

He lifts your hips effortlessly off his lap and sets you on unsteady feet, holding your arms until he’s sure you won’t fall.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You croak, panic clawing up your throat as he rises. Your legs shake, wet almost down to your knees, and you feel so bare and vulnerable. Fuck, you should have known -

‘No. No. Stars, I -’ The Mandalorian looks around the room, exasperated. He looks down and catches sight of your wetness spread on his thigh guard. He groans breathily, and your cunt pulses at the noise. ‘I want to stay. I want this. It’s the kid -’ he huffs, shaking his head. ‘He’s fuckin’ with the ship. Maker, the day he listens -’

‘It’s okay,’ you soothe, relieved. ‘It’s okay, let me clean you up.’

‘No.’ He barks. You flinch, and he rounds his shoulders apologetically. He repeats it, softer. ‘No. I want people to see. Want them to know,’ he steps closer, a gloved hand coming out to touch your jaw. You allow your chin to dip into it. ‘And I want to remember. Before I come back.’

You swallow, staring into his visor, seeing yourself reflected back - needy, wide-eyed - a state he has never had you in before.

Another sharp, tinny noise echoes from his vambrace, and he hisses out a frustrated, pained sigh. You soften your gaze.

‘Next time.’

‘Next time,’ he agrees. ‘Next time, I’ll - I want you to feel so good. Going to make you feel so good.’

You can’t help the shudder that runs down your spine, the way your body curls in on itself at his promise. Mando clears his throat, agitated, and busies himself with signing the data-pad, his back to you. You’re grateful. The longer he stares at you, watches you, the easier you find it to forget about the adorable little green frog he travels with.

‘And get your helmet checked,’ you say absentmindedly, gathering your trousers from the floor. The Mandalorian stops at the door.

‘What?’

You flush, biting down on your lip. Shake your head, shrug.

‘Your vocoder. One of the filters for the frequency bands in the modulator sounds like it’s damaged.’

He whips his head to look at you, unreadable. You twist your mouth at him.

‘Used to be a mechanic.’

‘A mechanic?’ He asks from the doorway. You try to smile at him, wishing you’d kept your mouth shut.

‘Little while ago, now.’

The Mandalorian stares at you for a while, the beskar of his helmet glinting in the low light from your bedside. You shift from foot to foot, heart beating so hard in your chest you can feel it in your arms. Leave, you chant in your head. Please leave, please go, please -

‘What happened?’ His tone is so soft that it skips past being condescending. Past the point of what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this and straight to worry, to sadness. Stop. Stop.

‘The usual,’ you say quietly. ‘Not enough money, some hostile competition.’

‘You didn’t have anyone who could help you?’ The question is simple. You know why he’d ask it. Mandalorians have always been big on family, only abandoning them with good reason.

‘No. My parents died when I was young. A man who lived close by took me in. He was a farmer. Taught me all he knew,’ you huff a little laugh. ‘If it weren’t for him, I’d have been a foundling.’ Your heart stutters and you suck in a sharp breath as soon as you say it, eyes shooting to the Mandalorian’s visor. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move an inch. Your skin burns hot, anyway. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘What planet?’

You furrow your brow at him.

‘Lothal.’

He looks away, up at the steel ceiling, piecing it together.

‘Your hostile competition…’

‘The Empire.’

A breath rushes through his vocoder, easily heard through the fault in the mechanics.

‘And the farmer?’

‘Got me out in time. He - he didn’t -’ The softening of the hunter’s stance is enough to tell you he understands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says.

‘It’s okay.’ You murmur. You want to reach out, want to touch him. Want to be held, even against the coldness of his breastplate. People don’t usually ask, don’t care enough. But he has, he does. He curls up in your arms after a particularly intense session. He loves watching you come. He makes you feel safe, like he sees you.

It makes you feel sick.

The silence is heavy, thick, until you turn your back to him to place the dirtied trousers in the laundry chute. It breaks the spell, and you clear your throat.

‘You should get back to the child,’ you say, strained, facing him again.

The Mandalorian dips his head, once.

‘Take care.’ He says, voice part-controlled, wrapped over that warmth trying to escape.

‘You too. Be safe.’ The words are soft, quiet as they leave your lips. Mando nods at you once more, still, before stepping out into the corridor, past the droid, back out into the city.

You watch him go, bereft, throat tight. And you can’t work out for the life of you why.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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lcvemiyuki · 12 days

Text

"nostalgia and night patrols" | daichi, hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: after years apart, a chance encounter with your childhood crush, daichi, leads to a night that opens up a box of unspoken feelings for you; welcome home, y/n.

warnings: fluff, high school classmates to ??, timeskip!daichi, f!reader, y/n is clingy+touchy while drunk, drinking, light cursing

character(s): daichi

word count: 2878

a/n: rewrote this 3-4 times...but timeskip!daichi mmmmm. (not proofread!)

art cred: @/W4W7o (on twt)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

the moon gleams down onto miyagi as you and your friends celebrate your success in opening up your own business. it was only a matter of time before you built something from the ground up, fulfilling a promise you made to yourself to visit your hometown once your shop opened. its been five years since you’ve last been home. you were determined to come back and make your friends and family proud.

keep pushing forward, even when it gets tough.

it pulls at your heartstrings every time; what was he up to these days?

𓇢𓆸 later that night

the bell chimes once more as customers pour into the chaotic restaurant; dishes piling up on each table as work ends for every adult.

“i think that's enough for tonight, y/n!” your friend exclaims in concern while rubbing circles on your back.

what started with light drinking and bubbly laughter ends with your face down on the cold, metal table. your friends worryingly nudge you, fearing the last round might make you hurl.

your raven-haired friend nervously laughs, and you only make groaning noises as a sign of life. “okay! are you ready to take this lightweight home?” she claps her hands together, directing the conversation to the girl with curls framing her face, whose eyebrows furrow in worry for you.

the three of you soon exit the busy restaurant, and you wave your hand in the air, hoping your words reach the owner. “thank you for your service!” your friends stifle a chuckle as they cage you in and hold you up.

“i hope she wakes up and gives us a hundred bucks each for this tomorrow,” the raven-haired girl jokes as she struggles to hold up her end. a sigh heaves on the other side as the curly-haired girl tries to blow her curls out of her face.

as you stumble down the quiet, moonlit street, your intoxicated state makes you a challenging companion. you occasionally mumble incoherent words, your legs wobbling and causing your friends to adjust their grip frequently. you are a comical sight, half-laughing, half-struggling, as you make your way through the sleepy town.

“maybe we should have just gotten a cab,” the curly-haired friend mutters, her breath visible in the chilly night air.

“no way, we’re almost there,” the raven-haired girl replies, though the strain in her voice suggests otherwise.

just as you turn the corner, you almost bump into a tall figure. the streetlight illuminates his familiar features—daichi sawamura. his eyes widen in surprise, then soften in recognition.

“daichi!” the curly-haired friend exclaims, relief washing over her. “perfect timing. can you help us get y/n home? she’s, well, had a bit too much.”

“oh yeah, suprise! y/n’s home.” the other one chimed in, her free hand doing jazz hands.

at the sound of the oh-so-familiar name, you lift your head just enough to peek through your eyelashes.

he looks so grown up now. the light blue uniform clings to his form, the short sleeves seemingly inadequate for the freezing night. yet, he stands unbothered by the cold, a picture of unwavering composure. his broad shoulders fill out the fabric with ease, and the muscles of his arms bulge slightly, pressing against the tight sleeves. in the dim light, his presence is commanding, a blend of strength and tranquility, as if the cold air dares not touch him.

you audibly gasp, a hiccup or two crawling out of your throat.

“desk-mate!” you slur, your words slightly muddled as you throw yourself at him, intoxication evident in the lack of coordination in your movements.

daichi's muscles tense momentarily at the unexpected weight crashing into him, but he quickly steadies himself. his fingerless, black-gloved hand finding its place on your head with a gentle pat. an awkward laugh bubbles from his lips as he glances at your amused friends, one of whom is already lifting her phone to capture the hilarious scene, while the other attempts to push the phone back down.

“hey, easy there,” he chuckles softly. his tone, slightly raspy and warm, makes you straighten up slightly as he tries to guide you to compose balance.

“it’s nice to see you too, y/n,” he adds with a warm smile, his hand continuing to smooth your hair out in a playful yet reassuring manner. his gaze flickered briefly to your friends who are now fully engaged in their mock make-out session; hands crossed and on their backs rubbing all over the place as if it were someone else's.

you don’t say a word as if you could even make out any of the conversation—your heart drumming is to blame.

despite his attempts to help you stand up straight, you droop your head back down. your giggles mixing with the chilly night air as you lean heavily against him.

with practiced ease, daichi catches your stumbling frame once more, positioning himself for you to climb onto his back.

“all right, y/n, can you hop on? i can hold your heels if you want,” he offers gently, mindful not to speak too loudly given your state.

you respond with a playful salute, your movements exaggeratedly dramatic. “aye aye, captain!” you chirp, swiftly kicking off your black wedges before wrapping your arms snugly around his neck.

as daichi hoists the giggling, slightly wobbly you onto his back, he gestures for your two friends to walk in front of him, ensuring they remain within his line of sight. you four navigate through the dimly lit streets.

a few minutes into your impromptu piggyback ride, you, in a moment of drunken clarity, peek over daichi's shoulder and lazily poke his cheek.

“are you the real daichi? like, really?” your words slur slightly, carrying a curious lilt. “i thought i was hallucinating when i first saw you, mr. officer,” you ramble on, your train of thought not allowing daichi a chance to reassure you.

“oh my god, did i just randomly hug you? what if you aren't the real daichi?” your expression shifts to one of concern, teetering on the edge of tears. “it’s okay, you can arrest me, mr. officer. i've been inappropriate with law enforcement,” you add with a serious expression, offering your wrists for imaginary cuffs in shame.

this has daichi turning his head in the opposite direction to stop the laughter bubbling up his throat; a small grin curls upward. you squint at him a bit harder to see and can’t find the answer as to why it’s so funny.

your curious mind once again spoke out loud, “huh? what's so funny, mister? does this mean i’m not going to the slammer?” you reach out, placing your hand over the officer's heart, and sigh in relief as if it were your own.

his footsteps falter for a moment as he clears his throat, “y/n, you don’t have to worry. it’s me, daichi,” finally finding an opening to reassure you.

a few deafening seconds pass by as the cogs in your brain turn. “…oh,” a few more seconds pass, “oh! daichi!” your palm departs from his chest, and snakes upward to squish his cheeks.

the touch of your cold hands once again startles the officer, but they soon warm with the use of body heat.

you ramble on, your palms gently turning his head to face yours. “well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?! ah, it feels good to know i won’t get arrested after all.”

his smile widens, amusement dancing in his eyes. "you know i wouldn't arrest you, even if you tried to talk me into it." he replies, his voice teasing.

he had always been the sensible one in the class, the steady presence that balanced your more pessimistic tendencies. despite your different aspirations—his to excel in nationals and yours to make something of your own—you both found a middle ground through your shared ambition. you admired his dedication and often found yourself inspired by his drive, feelings that blossomed into a secret crush. even though your paths diverged, you continued to support him quietly. however, emails changed and no phone numbers were exchanged making it inevitable to lose touch; yet, the memory of him remained, a constant whisper in the back of your mind.

𓇢𓆸 five years ago

it was a sunny spring day, and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom; their petals gracefully drifting past the glass-paned windows.

our last day together.

you wanted to say it, to let those three words spill out and maybe change everything—but something inside you held your tongue. perhaps, it was the fear of being rejected.

‘you’re leaving for tokyo after graduation. why confess now? and have him wait for you for who knows how long? what if he doesn’t even like you back?’

the more you thought about all the possibilities, the more you convinced yourself against it.

a calloused hand rested on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. “y/n,” he said, drawing your attention to his familiar short, coal-black hair. “are you worried about something?”

his eyes innocently searched yours.

‘about you, actually.’

“…yeah. i think i might get homesick, you know?” you played along—it was too late anyway. you didn’t want to ruin this happy moment right now; not when it’s the last day before everyone moves on to the next chapter of their lives.

“keep pushing forward, even when it gets tough.” his eyes were filled with concern.

you knew he wanted to say more, but was cut short by the class photographer passing by, wanting a picture of the two of you.

“daichi! y/n! let me get some pictures!” the enthusiastic classmate aligned the camera with you both as you smiled for the picture—daichi’s arm snaked toward your waist, his touch light and almost hesitant.

“say cheese!” the camera clicked twice with flashing lights.

it was a memory you wanted to hold onto forever, even if your heart ached with the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

𓇢𓆸 present day

some things never change.

ten minutes pass as daichi ensures the other two ladies make it back to their house safe and sound. both give him a good luck pat and wiggle eyebrows—he only rolls his eyes in response, a tiny chuckle escaping his lips as he watches them disappear into their house.

turning back to you, he notices your eyes drooping. his black boots clack softly on the cement as he continues the trip. “come on, let’s get you home,” he says softly.

the night is quiet, save for the distant sounds of crickets and the occasional car passing by. daichi can feel your breath against his neck, a steady reminder of your presence.

“daichi, you’ve always been there for me,” you mumble, your words barely audible breaking the silence.

just like in old times; he would always stick up for you and be the voice of reason whenever you got too much in your head.

his eyes flicker to the side to check up on you. “i’ll always be here for you, y/n,” he replies, his voice filled with sincerity.

“officer daichi to the rescue,” you tease, your voice filled with playful cheerfulness.

as you approach your front door, daichi pauses, his brows furrowing with apprehension. before he can speak, the door swings open, revealing your parents standing there, worry etched on their faces.

“oh, thank goodness,” your mother sighs in relief—a hand held to her heart as if she had gotten a big scare, “come in, both of you.”

your father steps aside, allowing daichi to guide you inside. “thank you for bringing her home safely, daichi,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

inside, the familiar warmth of your home wraps around you. daichi gently guides you through the hallway to your bedroom, his touch steady and reassuring. your parents follow, watching with concern as he helps you sit on the edge of your bed, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary.

“thank you, daichi,” you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion. “once again, saving my ass.”

he smiles, patting your head. “get some rest, y/n.”

as he turns to leave, you reach out, your hand catching him. “daichi, wait…”

he stops, looking back at you, his eyes filled with concern. “what is it?”

“daichi, i...” you begin, your voice barely more than a whisper. the words are on the tip of your tongue, but the exhaustion and alcohol make it hard to form them. “i...”

before you can finish, sleep overtakes you, your head falling back onto the pillow. daichi watches you for a moment, a mix of emotions playing across his face. he carefully tucks you in, making sure you’re comfortable.

your mother steps closer, her voice soft. “she’s lucky to have a friend like you, daichi.”

he nervously scratched the back of his neck, the weight of the moment dawning on him as he realized this was the first time meeting your parents. "of course," he managed, a hint of awkwardness tinging his chuckle as it slipped out.

“ah, i’m going to run to the store mrs. l/n. just to get her some remedies for tomorrow morning.” she simply nods with a heartwarming smile.

𓇢𓆸 the following morning

soft morning sunlight filters through the cream-colored curtain, casting a warm glow in the room.

you groan slightly and squint to see daylight once again. your hand lifts, reaching your forehead to pinch the pounding in your head. blinking slowly, you try to piece together the events of the previous night.

as you push yourself up, a wave of dizziness hits, and you groan again, cursing your choice to drink so much.

your eyes catch sight of a bottle of water and a few painkillers on the bedside table, alongside a neatly folded note. curiosity piqued, you reach for the note, recognizing daichi's familiar handwriting.

good morning, y/n. i hope your hangover isn’t too bad. i left some medicine for you. take it easy and rest up. if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me. - daichi (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

you read the note twice, a mix of gratitude and embarrassment flooding your senses. memories of the previous night begin to surface—your friends struggling to take you home, running into daichi, him carrying you to your bed.

you cringe inwardly, recalling drunken ramblings and how you almost confessed your feelings.

“dear god…” you whisper to yourself, the reality of your behavior sinking in. “what did i do?”

you flop back onto the pillow, groaning loudly.

“why did it have to be daichi? after all these years, and i act like that?” you cover your face with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to your cheeks.

images of daichi’s concerned face, his gentle reassurances, and his steady hands guiding you through your house flood your mind. you remember leaning into him, nuzzling his neck, and calling him "officer daichi" with a teasing cheerfulness.

“why did i do that?!” you mutter, your hand repeatedly hitting your pillow as if that could erase the memories.

your heart races as you recall the moment you almost confessed, your drunken state allowing you to voice the feelings you’ve kept buried for so long; thanking the universe sleep had taken over you beforehand.

“what does he think of me now?” you wonder aloud, anxiety creeping in. “i acted like such an idiot.”

you take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. unscrewing the bottle of water, you down the painkillers, hoping they’ll at least take care of the headache. as you do, you glance at the note again, daichi’s words providing a small comfort.

“always helping everyone still,” you whisper to yourself.

you couldn't help but glance over again at the digits scribbled at the end of the note; your heart fluttered once more like a teenager giggling over a crush.

𓇢𓆸 last night

with the small box of headache medicine in hand, he approached the counter, fumbling for his wallet. as he pulled it out, something fell from one of the inner pockets—a small, slightly worn photo. daichi paused, staring at the picture that had slipped out.

the photo was from high school, a candid shot taken by one of their classmates. in it, you were smiling brightly, your eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine happiness. daichi was right beside you, but his gaze wasn’t on the camera; it was on you. his expression was soft, a quiet admiration in his eyes that he had never voiced out loud.

a soft smile tugged at daichi’s lips as he remembered the moment. he could almost hear the laughter of that day, and feel the warmth of your presence beside him. tucking the photo back into his wallet, he felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with something more—a longing that had never quite gone away.

‘you’re finally home’

a surge of emotion washing over him. it was as if he had been waiting all these years, silently holding onto the hope that one day, you'd return.

the weight of unspoken words and hidden glances pressed heavily on his heart.

he was set on making sure you saw him more than just a lingering memory of the past.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

#𓇼—haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu daichi #hq daichi #haikyuu fluff #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi sawamura #karasuno #daichi fluff #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x y/n

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toasty-melons · 1 year

Text

Thinking about Coworker!Abby so hard rn that it’s making my brain hurt.

Coworker!Abby who’s so sweet to you that it takes everyone else by surprise because of her usual stoic nature.

Coworker!Abby who flirts with you so hard that you start smiling before she can even start talking now.

Coworker!Abby who protects you against mean customers because she knows you’ll cry if someone yells at you.

Coworker!Abby who doesn’t let you carry anything even remotely heavy. (Her big strong arms flexing when she lifts the box of supplies off the ground.)

Coworker!Abby who asks for your number for “work purposes” but always texts you throughout the day, especially if it’s yours or her day off.

Your face is dimly lit by your phone in the dark supply closet, which you’re totally not hiding in right now to avoid work. The grin on your face widens as your phone buzzes with a new message from your blonde headed coworker Abby.

‘get your ass out here’ you can’t help the giggle that spews out of your mouth as you open the message so that it’ll show as read. You expect her to text again with a ‘answer me dammit’ but instead your met with the closet door swinging open. Her large frame blocking most of the light, but some still peers through around her, lighting up the room. Your grin only grows as you throw your hands up, feigning innocent.

“Don’t laugh, you’re in some serious trouble pretty girl.” Pretty girl. Every time she calls you that your stomach always erupts with butterflies. Her voice is hushed as if she doesn’t want anyone to hear her or catch you.

“Don’t be such a goody-goody and come join me. We’re slow anyways it’s not like anyone will care.” She hesitates at your words. She clearly wants to join you but she’s torn between you and her work.

You know that you won when she rolls her eyes and closes the door behind her, shutting out all the light and the room going dark again. She takes a few steps over to you and sits down beside you on the makeshift seat of boxes. The room is small so her side is pressed up against yours, and it makes your heart speed up. She’s so close you can smell her cologne, it’s strong in way that it’s all you can notice but it’s not overbearing.

“So what do you do in here?” Her voice is quiet, clearly she’s still a bit apprehensive about hiding during her shift. So you unlock your phone, the screen now lighting up both your faces as you open Tik Tok. You hear her groan and mumble ‘oh my god,’ under her breath.

“What?” You look over at her wide eyed and slightly offended.

“This is what you do in here? This is so boring.” You scoff at her and pout.

“Well what do YOU want to do then?” You watch as her mouth open and then closes. She shifts slightly and leans over, her elbows resting on her knees. Looking away while shrugging.

“I don’t know.. we could.. talk?” She picks at her finger nails as her voice gets smaller. A little smile and a blush creep onto your face, thankfully hidden by the dark room.

“Okay.” Your voice is quiet like hers, somehow making the room feel even smaller than before. She peers over at you through her eyelashes and it makes your heart skip a beat at how pretty she looks. You tear your eyes away first, too flustered to maintain eye contact.

“Did you know that when you do your hair like that it makes you look really pretty.” You’re caught off guard at this. This isn’t something unusual for her to say but maybe because of the small room and how close she is, it feels more intimate than usual. You feel your whole body flush and heat up, looking over at her you’re met with Abby’s face so close to yours. Your breath hitches and she grins. She leans in ever so slightly, your lips almost touching.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You feel her breath against your lips and it makes your heart skip a beat. It takes a moment before you can respond to her.

“Don’t. Please.” She grins even wider and you can’t help the little smile making its way onto your face again.

“Well.. since you asked so nicely.” Her lips are on yours not even a second after the words leave her mouth. Her hands find their way to your body, one cupping your neck and the other rubbing slow, soothing circles against your side.

The kiss is sweet and gentle at first, but when you breath into her mouth shakily she can’t help but deepen the kiss. She licks your bottom lip and you’re more than willing to let her in. Her tongue pressed against yours makes you whine slightly, your hands coming up and cupping her face, pulling her away from you.

Her eyes are heavy and you’re trying to catch your breath. You stroke the apple of her cheeks your thumbs and giggle. She smiles as you place a sweet peck against her cheek.

“As much as I would like this to be considered talking, we’re still on the clock.” She nods and swallows thickly, her hands and yours slowly removing themselves from each other.

“I’m sorry..” Your eyes widen at her sudden apology and your hands fly up and wave widely in front of you with concern.

“No no no, that’s not what I meant, I liked the kiss, I mean I like you. I-.. i’m just not really a.. kiss before dating kind of girl. But.. I really do like you Abby.” For a moment you’re met with silence, causing a split second of regret to slip into your bones.

“So.. can I take you on a date? Because I really like you too.” She has a slight grin on her face, one that oozes confidence but her voice says otherwise, a slight shyness to it.

“Yeah.. yeah I would really like that.”

#abby anderson tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby tlou2

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ebaybears · 1 year

Text

Rainbow Furby Deepdive

Now that I've decided my website is a sea slug fansite (long story) I don't have anywhere to put my rainbow furby research. I considered putting it in a youtube video, but decided to post it to tumblr instead.

Anyway, here it is! The forbidden furby lore.

On the 14th of June 2016 supersonicmario0770 made a post on the adoptafurby forums. The thread was titled "Rainbow Furby?" and included a link to an archived ebay listing.

"I have never seen one of these before or where it came from. I can't find it when I look it up, no sign of it anywhere online but this ebay listing. It's pink with rainbow ears, hair, and chest."

At first most forum members thought it was a customized furby with dyed fur, although some thought it could be an unknown prototype. While the ebay listing is unarchived, we know roughly what it said.

On the 15th aibo7m3 posted this:

"I would err on the side of caution and and say that it's probably a custom too, but the seller's story is that this furby was an employee gift given to some of the members at tiger electronics (including her husband)."

Two weeks later on July 6th furbyandchips made a forum post, providing pictures of their own rainbow furby.

"My friend bought me the other rainbow furby the seller on ebay was selling. Identical to this one. I do not believe it to be fake or custom made. I have inspected it closely and the bottom of the box was open, so the inside cardboard can be removed, but the furby is still attached to the cardboard and didn't look tampered with. All tags are present and in mint condition. Everything is as it should be and looks like it was made in a factory and not customized by someone. The seller told my friend the same story which I believe to be true going by the fact the other furby she bought with it was only furby number 4 of that release, which makes me think it could of been someone who worked for tiger to have such a early one. This furby is in a regular box but if you look at some of the other special editions they too were in regular boxes."

Three years later, on the 19th of January 2019 furbyandchips provided an update on their website heyfurby.com.

"Hello Furby Fans! To start off our new blog, I thought I would write about a very interesting Furby in our collection. I do not know her Furby name as I have never switched her on, she is still attached to the cardboard base from the factory. We decided to name her May May, which means Love ;-)

A good friend found May May on Ebay America and I have never seen another furby like her. A while ago I posted about May May on a furby forum to try and find out some information about her, but no one there had ever seen or heard of this furby. I'm not sure which generation she is, if she is a prototype, limited edition or something very special. She has all tags present and looks to be an Official Furby Release.

Looking at the photo you will see she has rainbow eyelashes and a purple face plate, unlike any other furby. She also has rainbow pattern ears, mane and belly.

Her colours are amazing and I wonder if there are any more around like her. We will always treasure May May and hope to eventually find out more information about her. Stay tuned!"

furbyandchips quickly provided an update on the 21st. In this post, furbyandchips described searching the wayback machine for furby.com articles, finding what they were looking for on a page titled 'news updates'.

From the 9th of November 1999 until the 1st of August 2000 a competition to design a furby took place on the back of Post brand cereals. Children 17 and under were asked to color in their own furby design, and send their entry in the mail by the 1st of August 2000. Twelve designs at random would then be selected and posted on furby.com where a winner could be voted by the public.

The winner was Brittany from Missouri, who won a trip to the furby design studio in Illinois, as well as recieving their own furby. However, furbyandchips was still left with some unanswered questions.

"So it turns out that this is in fact an official Furby-Tiger Release! (some doubted this on AdoptaFurby Forum). I wonder if 'Brittany from Missouri' still has her Rainbow Furby? Also were any of the other 12 entries created?

As far as I know, there are only two Rainbow Furby's in existence. The one that I own, and the other one the original seller (maybe) still has? After some more detective work, I found out the other rainbow Furby had a highest bid of $525.00 before the seller chose to end the auction early! I can only guess they had a change of heart and wanted to keep it."

Eight months later, on the 11th of august 2019 an update was posted on the private facebook group Furby Collectors.

"Hi guys! I'm brand new to this group, and while I'm not a “collector” per-se, i am very proud of this furry rainbow dude right here. He's one of three in existence, made in 2000 when i was just 10 years old. i just so happened to be the lucky winner of a coloring “design your own Furby” contest hosted by Post cereals back in the day. i was flown to Rhode Island with my family and allowed to tour the Hasbro factory, meeting the artists, getting sneak peaks into prototype toys to come, and got to meet the CEO himself! He presented to me, in a formal greeting ceremony, with three of the Furbies I'd designed as a little girl. One to play with (kept outside of the box), one to keep sealed, and one they put into their archives. i felt ike a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Truly a dream come true for a kid. Sadly, when i was 16 years old, 13 years ago now, my boxed Furby was stolen from me and sold by my late older brother who had been battling an incredibly difficult and heartbreaking addiction. I've come to terms with it over the years, but have always wondered what happened to the rainbow siblings of this furry cutie. I'd seen images posted online of an Ebay listing with one of the sibling Furbies before but have not discovered much more about their fates. thought I'd reach out here and give a bit of backdrop to this weird story in hopes i may learn something! Here I've included a goofy photo of my multicolored friend from recently and a clipping of the arcticle written from when i was an excited 10 year old girl!"

This still leaves some questions. If the other furby furbyandchips's friend bought was number four, then why would the facebook poster believe there to be only three in existance, why would furbyandchip's believe only two to exist, and why would the original ebay seller say their husband recieved two as an employee gift?

We can most likely rule out the brother making both ebay listings, since he only had access to one furby. Could there be more rainbow furbies that we don't know of?

If you have any more information on this furby, please get in touch! I tracked down the news article the original creator was mentioned in, but I needed a newspaper.com subscription to view it so I wasn't able to get further information from that. I also wasn't able to check the facebook group for further updates as I don't use facebook. If anyone has pictures of the back of the rainbow furby and can share them, that would be appreciated!

Here's some more images:

#furby #rainbow furby #furblr #furby community #furby love #bear speaks

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holylulusworld · 10 months

Text

Secret Spot

Summary: The secret spot.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader

Warnings: just fluff, mentions of his business, established relationship

A/N: I love soft mafia Bucky. So, you will all suffer with me...

Part 3

Soft Spot masterlist

“Doll, where are we going?” Bucky sighs as you harshly tug at his wrist.

“You must see this, Bucky. It’s perfect…”

You want him to follow toward a shop, hidden at the end of an alley. He frowns as the store looks a little…shabby. The windows have cracks, the door has seen better days, and in front of it stands a box filled with old books…

“Ah, I get it. You found another bookstore.”

“No!” You drop your hand from his wrist to cup his face with both hands. “Bucky, that’s not just an ordinary bookstore. It’s the one I visited when I was a little girl.”

At that, Bucky smiles. He softly says your name, as you keep on babbling about how much you love the store. “They give away books for free too, look.” You point at the box which has seen better days.

“What did you say last time?” He dips his head to glance at the books. “You cannot buy another book.”

“But…uh…that’s a bookstore, and it’s impolite to not buy a book if you enter it,” you conclude, and batt your eyelashes. “Let's go inside. I’ll show you my secret spot.”

“Secret spot?” Bucky furrows his brows. You are adorable to him when you talk about books and your passion for reading. “Let’s go then. I don’t want to miss the chance to see your secret spot.”

You give him a wink. “To more books,” you smirk. “I knew you’ll love it.”

Bucky follows you inside the bookstore. It looks a little better inside, but not much. The shelves look like they are going to fall apart at any time and we don't want to talk about the wallpapers, carpet, and reading corner. “Y/N, be careful. These shelves…”

“Are my dreamland!” you clap your hands. “Look over there.” Pointing at a spot at the far right you grin. “That’s it. My secret spot.” You whisper. “I used to hide there from the world when I was a kid. And sometimes before I met you. I sat on the ground and read books.”

Bucky’s heart wants to burst as you tell him you didn’t need this place since you met him. “It’s a nice bookstore.”

“It’s a wreck of a store,” the owner clicks his tongue. “But it’s all I have.” The elderly owner says. He has seen better days too. His shirt looks worn-out, and his tired eyes tell Bucky he didn’t seel much lately.

“Doll, how about you look at the books,” Bucky whispers, hoping you won’t get lost between the shelves. “I’ll be right there.”

“More books…more books.” You chant like the bookworm you are. “See you later, Bucky Bear.”

And off you go. Bucky watches you, chuckling as you look over your shoulder to blow him a kiss.

“She’s a nice young woman,” the owner says. “My only constant customer. If not for her, I’d close the store.”

“Hmm…” Bucky looks around the store again. “How much longer can you keep the store open?”

“Not much longer, son,” the man shrugs. “It’s…everyone buys books online or at that fancy new store in town. I can’t keep up, young man.”

Looking at you, happily roaming the shelves Bucky sighs. “What if you get a little help? My girl loves this store, so…what do you need?”

The owner gasps. “I…I won’t lend money from you Sir. I can’t pay it back.”

“That’s not what I had in mind,” Bucky shushes the man. “I’ll help you keep the bookstore open, and make sure people will buy their books here, and you will not give up business as long as you want to run the store. If you ever want to close it, I’ll buy it.”

“Young man,” the owner nods knowingly, “you must love that girl with all your heart if you offer to safe my business.”

“I’d do anything for her.”

“I had someone like her once upon a time too,” the owner says. “If it makes your girl happy, I’ll keep the store open.”

“Deal,” Bucky offers his hands. “I’ll send my lawyer this week. You can tell Andy how much money you’ll need to keep the business running and to do some…renovations…” Bucky hands the owner his car. “If you need help, give me a call.”

“Thank you, Sir…”

“BUCKY! Come here! I’ll share my secret spot with you,” you call for your boyfriend, waving your hands. “Hurry!”

“I’m gonna marry that woman,” Bucky grins. He already got the ring. He just needs to prepare the perfect proposal…

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mafia au #mobster!bucky #mobster bucky barnes x reader

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custompackaginghub · 1 year

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How to Make Beautiful Custom Printed Eyelash Boxes

The proper colors and graphics must be used when making custom-printed eyelash boxes for wholesale. These ought to allow customers to see your goods rather than those of your rivals.

You can use colors on the packaging that imply elegance and beauty. For instance, black can be one of these.

Even adding images to the package might help it stand out. To avoid confusing customers about what the product is, these should also be related to eyelashes. For example, the image can show a lovely eye with an eyelash on it. You shouldn’t overdo the product’s appearance so that customers are disappointed when they open the Custom Printed Eyelash Boxes.

#Custom Printed Eyelash Boxes #Custom Eyelash Boxes #Eyelash Boxes

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buckymorelikefuckme · 2 years

Text

i ♡ caulk

inspired by a tweet i saw ages ago and have since lost rip.

steve rogers x bimbo reader

words: 2.3k

a/n: there is definitely an overuse of italics in this so i apologize in advance lol. any and all mistakes are my own! header made by me, and yes, graphic design is my passion, thanks for asking :') pls leave some feedback or come chat in my inbox!! ♡

part 2 ❀

The sound of high heels clacking against the concrete floor of the hardware store is more than a little unusual. Steve almost doesn’t register it at first, thinking maybe it’s part of the music playing overhead, but when the song changes and he still hears it, he glances up with a frown. He certainly isn’t expecting the sight that greets him.

The heels make perfect sense now. Steve’s eyes trail up from sparkly pink toenails showcased in strappy heels to, somehow, an even pinker flared mini skirt that is doing a fantastic job of showing off your legs, and a cropped fitted tee that reads MILF IN TRAINING across the front in, you guessed it, pink glittery letters. Everything about you is just… pink.

He doesn’t want to admit it aloud, let alone think it, because he tries not to judge based on appearance, but you look a little lost. Your doe-eyed gaze flits from one end of the store to the other, glossed lips pursed in thought.

Steve doesn’t mean to stare, honest, it’s just that you’re so dainty and bright in a way this dull, musty smelling hardware store isn’t. He doesn’t think he’s seen eyelashes that long before and he briefly wonders if they’re real. The tint to your cheeks definitely isn’t, but he thinks it's pretty regardless.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts; that’s not important. What is important is that he does his actual job and helps a customer who needs it.

He wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his ugly, orange work apron and is about to make his way over to you, but you spot him before he can. A smile spreads across your shiny lips and you quickly walk to where Steve’s been restocking boxes of nails, your perfectly styled hair bouncing with each step. Or, well, he was restocking the nails, until he caught sight of you.

“Hi,” you say in a relieved tone. He opens his mouth to say hello in return, but you continue before he gets a chance. “Could you please show me your caulk?”

Steve chokes on nothing, a startled cough wheezing out of him. “I-I’m sorry, what? My what?”

You tilt your head curiously, brows pinching slightly in a frown. “Your caulk? You know, the like, long thingy with the sticky, white stuff inside? Gets hard as it dries…?”

The hand gestures you’re using do not help the heat from rushing to Steve’s cheeks or his blood pressure that is suddenly skyrocketing.

“I… Ma’am, I-I don’t think—” he starts sputtering until you cut him off again.

“I really need it,” you say, almost whining, cocking your hip as you begin to explain, “because, like—okay, so, my apartment is nice, right? I totally managed to snag one of the better ones, and my friend said that I wouldn’t be able to because it’s, like, impossible to get a good one in the building I’m in, but once I spoke to the landlord he was super sweet and let me choose whichever one I wanted. Isn’t that, like, so cute? But anyway, it could definitely be nicer, especially after I noticed that the caulking around the bathtub needs some serious retouching, so, like, that’s why I’m here.”

Steve blinks a couple times to process the rapid pace of sentences thrown at him, and when it finally registers, he nearly smacks his own forehead.

“Oh!” Relief floods him so quickly he nearly collapses. “Caulk, you need caulk.” He probably over enunciates the word, but Jesus Christ. “Wow, okay, that… that makes much more sense,” he says, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a sigh.

“What did you think I meant?” you ask in confusion.

His cheeks flush anew as he clears his throat. “Uh, nothing, it’s nothing. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the—the caulk.”

“Thank you so much,” you gush, smiling widely.

He checks that you’re still following probably too many times, considering the click-clacking of your heels is prominent behind him, but you only grin happily when you see him looking. He takes note of the stares from other men, even some women, and is curious if you notice them, too, or if you just don’t care. You certainly carry yourself with the utmost confidence, your head held high and shoulders set in a gentle, relaxed slope. Steve admires it and maybe even envies it a little.

Which isn’t to say that he lacks confidence. He just sometimes still feels like that scrawny kid he used to be.

He almost walks past the right section, having let his mind wander, but he’s quick to direct his feet to the shelves that hold what you’re searching for.

“Is there a specific brand you’re wanting, or…?” he trails off, cocking an eyebrow curiously.

“Whichever one is the best,” you say sweetly.

Steve grabs the brand he personally thinks is better than the others and hands it over with a polite smile.

“Do you need a caulk gun, too?” he asks.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, no, I have a pink one at home.”

Somehow, that doesn’t surprise Steve in the slightest, but all he says is, “Great! Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

You get a twinkle in your eyes, your smile turning playful at the corners of your lips. It makes him squirm a little in a way he’s not entirely sure he hates, like the anticipation of your reply could make or break him, and he finds that he wouldn’t mind staying in your presence a little longer. Your response, though, gets cut off by a random man behind you.

“I could do a better job helpin’ you out, baby,” he says suggestively, not even attempting to hide his lust as he leers at you.

You spin on your heel in a flash, hair swishing around your shoulders and sending a rather pleasant waft of what’s either your shampoo or perfume in Steve’s direction. The short skirt you're wearing fans out with your spin as well, riding up almost dangerously high. Your grin is now sharp, edgy, and your eyes are piercing in a way they haven’t been in the brief moments Steve has been around you, and he takes a cautious step back.

“First of all, worry about helping yourself with that receding hairline you’re sporting, big guy. Second of all, we weren’t talking to you, so you should mind your business. And lastly, if you ever speak to me again I’ll have this nice man beside me show me where the chainsaws are and I’ll chop off your fucking dick. M’kay?”

The man scoffs. “Bitch,” he grumbles under his breath.

Steve frowns and is about to tell him off for calling a lady a bitch, but you giggle and he stops in surprise.

“Takes one to know one, baby.” Your tone is mocking yet deceptively sweet as you give him an obvious once over. “I can see that ugly silver band on your left ring finger,” you note with a cute wrinkle of your nose, “so why don’t you get the rest of the shit on your honey-do list and head home to your, undoubtedly, extremely unsatisfied wife and leave other women alone.”

A snort of laughter sneaks out of Steve before he can stop it. The man, now red in the face, huffs before stomping away, wisely choosing not to say anything else.

“Tell her to call me if she ever needs a girl’s day!” you sing-song to his retreating back, smiling in satisfaction when his shoulders hunch higher and his pace picks up.

Steve is biting back his own smile, but his inner old man shoves his way to the forefront of his mind and demands to offer unsolicited advice.

“You know, you ought to be careful,” he advises. “Some guys won’t just walk away like that.”

You seem both amused and touched by his concern. “I can take care of myself,” you assure, flicking your hair, adding, “Plus, I have, like, a gazillion self defense keychains.”

You reach into your purse and pull them out, each one of them pink, sparkly, or leopard print, clinking noisily against each other. You pick out a specific one that looks like a castle, putting your fingers into the holes and holding it up for Steve to see.

“This one is like, super stabby,” you explain.

“The tips definitely look sharp,” he concedes, taking note of all the other defenses held together in your small hand.

Part of him wonders if you’ve ever used any of them, but a larger part of him sincerely hopes you haven’t. He clears his throat.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

He pastes on a polite smile and takes one last look at you, sighing wistfully internally, then heads back to finishing restocking boxes of nails. He’s hoping the monotony of the repetitive task will bring him back down to earth after such an interesting altercation.

You’re certainly a bundle of contradictions. Your appearance is all pink and sparkles and ruffles galore. Anyone giving you a passing glance would think like Steve did at first.

I doubt there’s much going on in that pretty, little head.

Of course, Steve feels guilty now. He should know better—not only because his Momma raised him right, but because people also make assumptions about him and his appearance too. Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, big muscles… He’s definitely had to deal with his share of rude people. However, he doubts any of his encounters hold a candle to yours.

He sighs to himself as he grabs the last of the boxes and places them neatly on the shelf. If he’d been braver, he would have asked you out. You’re very beautiful; kind of like a fairy or a princess, or… something. Definitely something like that. Damn. He really screwed the pooch on this one.

“Excuse me?”

Steve stills, heart picking up pace as he turns to see you smiling up at him. You’ve got a plastic bag with the store’s tacky logo on it resting in the crook of your elbow with your purchase inside.

“Yes?” he croaks. He coughs lightly and hopes his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Did you need something else?”

You cock your hip again, twirling some of your hair around your finger, looking at him through your lashes.

“Yes,” you pout. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find this guy.” Steve’s stomach drops to his toes. “He’s got these like, stupidly pretty blue eyes, a very attractive beard, sandy blonde hair I can’t wait to sink my fingers into, and he’s about this tall.” You bite your lip as you step closer and hold your hand up, measuring Steve’s height with it. He gets another whiff of that tantalizing scent coming off of you and it kicks his heart right back into overdrive.

“What… What did you need him for exactly?” he asks carefully.

You drop your hand as you hum in thought. “Well, I thought we’d start with a date, but I’m open to almost anything,” you say, your smile turning sly.

“Oh,” he says faintly. “I, uh. I think he’d be okay with that.”

You giggle and fuck, he wants to hear that again.

“Good,” you reply as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Just for clarification’s sake,” Steve rushes out, “we’re talking about me, right?”

You let out more giggles (oh god) and cover your mouth with your tiny hand and Steve melts. He feels his own lips stretching into a grin, chest fluttering.

“Of course, you silly billy.” You’re still smiling as you reach into your purse, rummaging around and extracting a pen with feathers on the end of it and a tiny, glittery notebook. You scribble something down and rip the piece of paper out. “Call me?” you ask as you hand it over.

“Absolutely,” he replies, not believing his luck, staring at the numbers on the paper.

You reach up to tap on his name tag. “Oh, and Steve?”

His eyes are now glued to where your pink nails have trailed down to teasingly swipe back and forth on his pec. He’s pretty sure he mumbles something back to show he’s listening, but who knows, really. You lean in even closer, pressing up on your tip-toes.

“You can treat me like a lady and still fuck me on the first date,” you whisper, your warm breath fanning out across his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. When you pull back to meet his unfocused gaze, you’re smirking. “M’kay?”

He swallows thickly. “‘Kay,” he replies.

You tilt your head and stare at different parts of his face, biting your lip. Steve lets you, terrified to move, otherwise you might say gotcha! and take off. You sigh dreamily and give him a glossy kiss on the cheek. Then you boop him on the nose and step back.

“Ugh, you’re so cute. This is gonna be like, so much fun. I can tell.” He nods dumbly in agreement. “Don’t forget to call me, okay? I’ll be really, really sad if you don’t.”

With a beaming grin and wave, you spin on your heels and sashay away.

“Bye,” he says to the fading sound of your clacking heels, feeling bowled over and utterly lost, but knowing he’d be a fucking idiot to not call you.

With that thought in mind, he digs his phone out of his pocket, never mind the fact that he’s still on the clock and is technically not supposed to have his phone out, and dials your number. He double checks (and triple checks) he’s put it in right, then hits the call button. You answer on the third ring.

“Hello?”

Steve is pretty sure he can hear how you’re smiling smugly to yourself.

“So… Are you free tonight?”

“For you? I’m free whenever, handsome.”

#steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #bimbo reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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