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ethereal27cereal · 2 years

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Bruises - Eddie Munson x Plus Size Female Reader (Part 3)

series masterlist

part 3/?

summary: Self-doubt creeps in with the morning after and a conversation with Holly sends your thoughts in a million different directions. Will Eddie actually call? Does he really want to get to know the real you, or will it go the way of all your past relationships?

warnings: Adult themes and content so MINORS DNI! This chapter gets pretty candid about dating, love, and confidence as a plus size person and some of the trauma that can be involved in that, so read with caution. mentions of fatphobia, societal expectations of larger bodies, being sexualized and fetishized as a plus size person, skinny friends offering somewhat triggering advice, body positivity vs. toxic positivity, and general feelings of self-doubt and healing trauma. Eddie is a bit of a perv with reader’s underwear, but no smut just yet.

genre: angst, a little bit of fluff at the end

word count: 7.7k

author’s note: Writing this part kind of broke my brain a little and got honestly pretty personal, so I want to thank @boomhauer and @wroteclassicaly for talking me through it and being so kind and willing to read over a section that was tripping me up. ❤️

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You perch on the edge of Holly’s bed, same spot you had been just the day before, instead this time you are absently listening to Holly as she prattles off all the salacious details of her escapades with Theo the bassist the night before.

“Is it safe for me to even sit on the bed? Should I have disinfected it first before I sat down?” you cringe and adjust in your spot as she describes in graphic details all the ways and places Theo had made her cum.

“Ugghh don’t be such a prude, Y/N. He didn’t make me cum in exactly that spot, it was right there,” she laughs and pats the spot next to your right thigh, causing you to hop up off the mattress and cross your arms, finding a new seat on the edge of her desk.

“How did you manage your mom not hearing any of this? Wasn’t she home last night?” you ask. Holly’s mom, Jen, had been a gracious host for the summer thus far, always making sure you and Holly had a fully stocked fridge and would even leave some extra pocket money out for pizza or the movies, a concept you were wildly unfamiliar with when you first saw the crisp fifty dollar bill just sitting out on the counter. But Jen was often gone, spending a lot of her time at the hospital with Holly’s dad since his illness had progressed so much.

“No…she ended up having to go in to see Dad…” her voice deflating as she picks away the loose skin from the perpetual summer sunburn on her arms. She plops down on the bed and begins to inspect her other arm, brushing her palm absently along the tender skin.

“Well at least you and Theo could get as loud and rowdy as you wanted to then,” you offer, quickly changing the subject knowing that her dad isn’t a subject Holly wants to dredge up at that very moment. Holly smirks and cheers again, diving right back in to divulge more and more detail about the sex.

“I think he might have made official boy toy of the summer status. I asked him what his plans were for the summer, and he said me. He said he wants to spend as much time as possible with me until we both have to go back to college. Isn’t that so sweet?” she blushes and bites her lip, only making you roll your eyes.

Holly had a tendency to attract men wherever she went, and she always found one charmer, ‘dumb and eager to make her cum’, that she would fall for hard and fast. You certainly weren’t slut shaming Holly, hell you’d had your fair share of fun, but Holly always managed to turn that fun into relationships. Whether they lasted only a week or two or several months, you always see the way she was willing to love with her whole heart, unapologetic and not scared to get hurt in the process.

Whenever Holly did have a breakup, she’d have a good cry, eat several pints of Ben and Jerry��s without ever gaining a single pound, brush herself off and get back out there without even a chip on her shoulder. She made love look easy, she made it look like being loved was easy. You hated to admit your envy of her, an inky viridescence that seeped through your veins and clawed away at the walls of confidence you had worked so hard to build up over the years.

“Did you hear me, Y/N, I said isn’t that sweet? That he wants to spend all his time with him this summer?” Holly’s dulcet voice shakes you away from your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Super sweet. I mean, just be aware that it might not work out when you both go back to college, so it might not be worth the heartbreak of getting into a relationship with that on the horizon,” you reply gloomily, often confusing pessimism for realism in order to keep your expectations for situations and the people in them low. Holly gives you a stern look, scolding you with her icy blue eyes.

“Don’t be such a poophead! So what if it doesn’t work out when the fall comes. But what if it does and what if Theo is the man that I fall in love with and marry and we are together forever and ever? If I never give it a shot just because there is a chance of heartbreak then I’ll never know, will I,” Holly muses, and while you hate to concede to the soft romantic notions she is spewing, you know she has a point. It might be worth it to have some carefree fun for the summer, though you could take or leave the part about wedding bells in the end.

“I’m not being a poophead, I’m just being cautious. Also what is with the insult, are you twelve?” you counter and she sticks her tongue out at you, wiggling her hands above her head for added effect. Holly smirks, as if she’s won the whole argument with a single gesture.

“He’s taking me on a date tomorrow night to Enzo’s. And Theo said he wants to see me again on Saturday too, maybe go to Lover’s Lake for a swim. I asked if it would be cool if you came along too and he said that would be totally fine,” Holly continues, pausing for a moment to gauge your response to this offer “I mean you don’t have to go, I just know there’s not a ton for you to do around here without me,” she finishes, seeing the wheels turning in your brain as you debate the offer.

“Theo is updated to boy toy status and I’m updated to third wheel status. Yay…” you mime a sarcastic cheer, waving invisible pom poms in the air.

“You don’t have to be a third wheel. You could bring someone….Eddie maybe?” Holly’s eyebrow quirks up as she suggests Eddie, testing the waters.

“Eddie? What makes you think I would want to bring Eddie?” you question, feigning ignorance and hoping that Holly can’t see the subtle pink that is slowly invading your cheeks.

“Because…because he totally took you on an adorable date last night and you haven’t even given me any of the dirty little details yet! I’ve given you all my details..”

“A few too many if we’re being honest here,” you interject. Holly rolls her eyes and exhales sharply before finishing her thought.

“Now it’s your turn, spill. Where’d you guys go? Was it good? Is he huge? There was a rumor that went around in high school that he had a huge cock, but no one I knew was ever able to confirm or deny that claim. Did he make you cum?” Holly rattles off a list of questions and thoughts and your mind swirls, trying to figure out just what information you really want to share.

Last night with Eddie, it was different. You cringe at the way the word sounds in your head but,it was special. He made you feel special. The way he looked at you with those full brown eyes, seeing through your skins to your thoughts and fears buried deep below.

Eddie’s heart had shown itself unapologetically, brave and bold even though he claimed to not always feel that way inside, welcoming you into his world one easy confession at a time. He had easily taken down barriers and blockades to let you in, making you feel like you were someone who was easy to be loved, could offer you kindness without any bite of cruelty or backhandedness to it. It makes you want to take all your already strong defenses and build them higher, stronger and studier just in case he might see you crumble.

You want to share with Holly, be able to have the casual girly chit chat that she was able to find a rhythm with so comfortably and easily. But it’s difficult. You want to guard the memories and keep them safe. If you let the memories out, some of your feelings might escape alongside them and then you would have to admit how you actually felt about Eddie, not just to Holly, but to yourself too.

“It was really nice,” you decide on your words finally.

“And….” Holly motions with her hand for you to go on.

“He took me to dinner at a diner outside of town and then we went to the lake and looked at the stars. He was very sweet and we kissed. I had a good time,” you summarize and hope that maybe that will satisfy Holly, but you can tell by the look on her face that she is not at all satiated.

“So that’s how you want to play it. Alright, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me every single last detail, but I will get to the bottom of how you’re feeling. You know the drill,” she hops up from the bed and shoos you away from your perch on the desk, guiding you by your shoulders to lay down on the tainted mattress.

“Holly, for real, I don’t want to get a venereal disease from your crusty sheets,” you groan and put up a weak fight.

“Shhhh, this is the only way I have found to get you to talk it out, and I need the full scoop on the Eddie situation. So lay back, close your eyes, and feel the way your body relaxes with each deep breath,” Holly soothes, settling herself in an upright position beside you. You hate and love the way she knows you so well, knows the way your brain works and the ways to ease the overstimulation that took over sometimes.

“Fine, I’m breathing and relaxing. You happy?” you sigh, trying to let your mind wander slowly to the events of last night without delving too deep.

“I am. Now, I don’t need to know all the dirty details if you don’t want to give them, but I sense that maybe this was a little more than just a hookup? Or at least you're fighting the feelings that it could end up being something more than that?” Holly’s voice is calm and steady, almost melodic as she tries to coax out the answers.

“It’s not more than a hookup, well not yet, but I don’t know. I mean just….I don’t know how to make sense of him. I may have had a little bit of a breakdown in front of him before we got to the dinner. It all hit me about everything that happened out The Hideout, and I’m still not really sure how to feel about all of that, but I sobbed all over his shirt and he just held me. Told me nice things and comforted me. It didn’t even sound like he was trying to be nice, he just was,” you blurt out, eyes squeezing shut, trying to keep out the world.

The situation with the drunken man at The Hideout was a new low, but it definitely wasn’t the first time a man had felt entitled to your body and your attention. Too many men assumed that just because you were bigger, that you should be flattered by even the tiniest speck of attention they paid you. Even if that attention was unwanted and unwarranted, you were supposed to bend over backwards to thank them. You had finally stopped the bending, but it didn’t mean they had stopped trying to break you.

“I’m really sorry that all happened at The Hideout. When you’re ready to dive more into those feelings, I’m here, but I know that can take time. What happened next, after you guys had dinner?” she presses gently, pulling you away from those thoughts and urging you to develop more of the details before really diving into your true feelings on the events.

“We got to talking about my Iron Maiden shirt, I told you someone would notice it, but he was really funny about it and wanted to give me a ‘metal music education’ so he offered that we go listen to music at Lover’s Lake. He played me some songs and then we smoked and looked at the stars. He was so open and honest about every little detail about him. Like he didn’t have anything he wanted to hide from me. He told me I made him nervous, and he wanted to kiss me. So I let him,” you exhale deeply and feel your body melting into the mattress as you try to clarify everything that proceeded from that point.

“Go on,” Holly purrs, her voice lulling you to your next utterance before your mind even has a chance to catch up.

“We kissed. A lot. His lips felt like this weird mixture of fire and ice and he kept saying all these things while he kissed me and touched me,” you pause, bringing your palms up to press gently against your closed eyes, the pressure grounding you, keeping you from floating away with your thoughts

“What did he say?” you hear the sharpness in Holly’s tone, a defensive and maternal bite as she prepares for the worst words he could have said.

“He told me I was a goddess. He said I was beautiful and pretty, and I think he really meant it too. And he said he wanted to taste me, I didn’t even have to ask or beg or offer anything in return, he just wanted to. He asked me for my consent every step of the way and didn’t make me feel forced into anything. And then after I came, he wanted to cuddle. Like not even a cuddle where he slowly forced my head down to suck him off either. Like his arms wrapped around me and my head on his chest. And I fucking fell asleep for a little too, he wasn’t mad and didn’t kick me out. He was just nice. He’s just really nice,” you hiccup down a sudden wave of emotion with the last phrase, all the words and thoughts suddenly bursting from your chest, leaving a lightness and what you are sure is an overwhelming flush.

“How did it make you feel? Eddie being nice just to be nice, singing genuine praises about you and your body, wanting to hold you and keep you close after?” Holly asks softly, but you flinch at the words. She played the role of friend therapist well, she knew when to push and went to relent, and this question hit a soft spot you don’t even realize you have.

“It made me feel…made me feel confused and scared. I felt like I was expecting his words and his actions to all of a sudden not match up and he would make some excuse to leave or some excuse why he was busy and wouldn’t be able to see me again. But Eddie didn’t. He didn’t do any of that. He said he would really like to see me again soon and I about shit a brick.” You slowly open your eyes to see Holly staring down at you, her expression pinched and perplexed.

“I think maybe I’m a little lost. Why was him being sweet and just genuinely a good person so foreign to you? Like I know it’s been a bit since your last relationship, but I see you with different guys all the time and are none of them nice?” Holly puzzles, honestly baffled by your response to Eddie’s kindness.

“Have you seen me Holly?” you say grimly, gesturing down at your body, thin lounge shorts exposing the ample curves of your thighs, baggy t-shirt clinging around your breasts and tummy as you lay flat back on the bed.

“Yes, I’m looking right at you, and I just see a beautiful, thick, real woman” she replies scrunching her eyebrows together, emphasizing every word as if she’s just given you some profound compliment that you most definitely should be so grateful to her for noticing.

“I love my body, well most days, but a lot of men don’t. The men who love bigger women like me tend to only love them in private. I’m fun to fuck, but not conventionally pretty enough to keep around and introduce to your friends and family. The men I’ve been with before have run through the whole gambit of sweet words to say while they fuck me, but they cringe when they accidentally touch my stomach and they can’t look me in the eye in the morning,” you hiss, words dripping with hate and regret and shame, and the one you hate most of all, self-pity.

“Why do you do it then? Why do you hook up with guys who treat you like that?” Holly searches your eyes for some kind of answer.

“Because I don’t know any other way how. I want to have closeness and intimacy just like everyone else! You can get pretty much anyone you want just by batting your eyelashes. I have to prove to men that I am simultaneously pretty, and funny, and also not a monster before they will even consider spending the night with me let alone get into a relationship with me,” your pitch escalating as you feel the unwanted sting of tears forming in your eyes.

“I think you’re being kind of mean, Y/N. I don’t get just any guy I want whenever I want them. And you’re being really mean to yourself,” Holly’s voice is barely above a whisper, steeling her jaw as she tries to come up with a better response. “I don’t think you always make the best choices in men and then you write off them being an asshole as some kind of reflection on you.”

“No. I think you’re being mean, Holly! You don’t know what it is like! You don’t know what it is like to have your first boyfriend, your very first fucking boyfriend, the one you’ve given all your first to, spent all of freshman and sophomore year of high school with, tell you that he thinks you would be a lot prettier if you lost weight, and that he gets a little sick when he touches your body during sex. He couldn’t even look at me when he said it,” you choke down a sob but force yourself to go on.

“And then I still had to go to high school for two more years with him! You know how long it took me to come back from that? Do you know what it is like to spend everyday trying to love yourself when you’re not even sure that you have ever experienced real love from someone else before? You don’t know what it is like, Holly,” you’re steaming with a rage that you didn’t even know was buried deep inside.

Holly shakes her head weakly in response to your questions. “You’re right, I don’t know what it is like. I’ve had breakups and heartache, but I have never had to hear such hateful words like that stupid little prick of a boyfriend said to you. You did not deserve that. You’re right though, I have not ever known what it is like to walk in your shoes and see how you see the world, but I do know how I see you. You like to think you can hide, but I see you, and I think Eddie does too and that is what scares you,” Holly’s cheeks are pink and tears are slowly streaming down them and she looks away from you quickly as she tries to regain her composure.

“He does scare me. And I feel like I’m just going to fuck it up so why waste his time,” you huff and quickly wipe away your own tears.

“When will you realize that it is not you who is the problem but the men you are choosing who are the problem? You’ve picked men who are no better than literal garbage and you set your standards low to keep yourself safe. If they treat you like crap then you have no reason to become emotionally invested in them or the potential of a relationship so you don’t have to let down any defenses at all. You hook up without feelings or emotion because you’re too afraid of having to be vulnerable and really let someone see who you truly are. And I don’t even think you can fathom the fact that someone might actually really like you for you. You keep these walls up with everyone, even me,” Holly speaks the painful truth and you open your mouth to protest, but she hushes you instantly.

“Don’t start, I see that look on your face, I know you keep things from me and that’s ok. There are parts of you that you’re not willing to open up about and I get it, but at some point, you gotta just let go a little. It’s okay to cry, show some of your weaknesses, and let someone take care of you, but still be strong and independent as hell,” Holly offers, really trying to be helpful. She makes valid points, you do have a hard time opening up and it has been for good reason, but the last thing you really want is your petite pretty friend giving you love and life advice.

You can’t think of any words that would be able to match the flurry of thoughts going on in your head, so you simply nod, pursing your lips and looking away from Holly as tears continue to trickle down your cheeks. You get up from her bed and walk towards the door, hand pausing on the handle for a moment when you hear her speak again.

“I guess you know where I am if you want to talk about it more. And I know it’s not really my place to say, but I think you should give Eddie a chance. Give yourself a chance, Y/N,” Holly preaches, a sickly sweet smile lacing her lips. You’ve never been more angry. Angry with Holly. Angry with yourself.

You fight the urge to throw something at her, scanning the dresser nearby and spotting a music box that doesn’t look like it would injure her too badly. But you resist, simply clenching your jaw in silence and closing the door behind you. You escape to the solace of the guest bedroom and collapse in a heap on the bed, burying a scream into the pillow.

Holly is right about a lot of the things she said, but you don’t need her to be your skinny savior. You may have been friends for a while and exist in the same spaces, but she was living in a wildly different world from your own. You don’t want to hear her preaching about your choices in men. You don’t need her to tell you that you’ll find the right guy when you just open up and love yourself. That line is bullshit. Utter bullshit.

You had spent many years fighting the negativity with that same kind of toxic positivity, if I love myself then I can be loved if I love myself then I can be loved, I can be loved despite the way I look I can be loved despite the way I look. Never realizing that you didn’t need to be whole to be worthy of love.

Too scared to look inward to heal the sad high school girl that didn’t ever deserve to be treated that way, that didn’t just deserve to be loved in spite of the way that you looked, but because of it. And also not because of it at all, but just because you are a person who is deserving of love.

The only way you knew how to move forward was to wall that high school girl in, keeping her safe there so the words wouldn’t hurt so much. You swallowed down self-love mantra after self-love mantra, I am beautiful, I am strong, I am worthy, hoping it would feed her and grow her strong. And it did, for a little. But your voice could only shout so loud and the walls got thicker and thicker, so the you inside had stopped being able to hear those kind words so well. You have truly grown more confident, age alone will do that sometimes, but all the attempts at losing weight did not equal happiness and that was often found out the hard way.

You were content with the body you had, but had to work around the ways others felt. With college came the newfound ability that you could actually attract men, a small handful, but still enough, and whether or not they were gutter trash was never your biggest concern because they were ready and willing to be close to you. You found fleeting moments of sick and twisted assurance in the brief power you held over men, your ability to give them pleasure and your willingness to do whatever they wanted.

It was wrong, and some part of you knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that that was the only way you knew how to get men to look at you, like you, see you. Their cock in your mouth and control at your fingertips, a powerful seductress as you watched them come undone at your bidding and then brush you away.

And Eddie hadn’t wanted that. He didn’t even want anything in return for the pleasure he gave, insisted upon it in fact. That alone was baffling and perplexing, but only compounded with the way he had worshiped your body, covering every inch of you with kisses and praises that made your ears ring and eyes water.

The way he held you in his arms when you cried, after you came, it felt overwhelming and new, and even though there is a nagging part of you that is telling you to run, you know you want more. Need more. You need more of Eddie. But did he need more of you? Was he genuine when he said he wanted to see you again soon? Would he actually want to get to know you or would it just be about sex like it had been in your past relationships? Above all that, would he even call?

You almost wish that he had given you his phone number so that you could have control over when you got to hear his voice again, hear more of those stupid jokes he told that made you laugh way harder than they should have. You stare over at the phone resting in its cradle on the bedside table, telling yourself not to obsess.

“He’ll call when he calls. He will call when he calls,” your voice comes out in a weak huff as you try to reassure yourself. You sit up from the bed abruptly and rifle through your belongings to pull out a well loved copy of The Princess Bride. You flip open to where you had left off, hoping for some escape from your own thoughts and lose yourself in the fantasy world where true love existed.

“And if he doesn’t call, that’s fine too,” you mutter to yourself, trying to resign to the idea by pushing the phone further away on the side table and burying your nose in your book.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine.”

~*~

Eddie stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, tracing the lines of the afternoon shadows cast there, trying to conjure up any other thoughts in his brain besides you. He tries reading, but the words become a jumble before his eyes. He tries practicing the band’s newest song, but his fingers fumble over the cords he should know.

He huffs in frustration, thoughts clouding with your image, before quickly flopping over onto his stomach and pulling out his campaign notebook, hopeful that maybe planning some sick combat for the next D&D session could be the key to distracting him.

But it doesn’t work. In his hunt for a pen, he finds your panties and phone number still hiding in the pocket of his leather jacket. He delicately plucks the piece of paper with your number out and sets it on his bedside table, then pulls out your underwear, shivering as his fingertips make contact with the swath of fabric that had covered your core.

Without a second thought, he brings the pink cotton up to his nose and inhales deeply, the fading scent of your arousal washing over his senses and making his dick twitch in his boxers. He feels a little guilty for having taken them. You hadn’t said he could keep them, but you also seemed aware that they had gone missing and you weren’t too keen to find them.

But what does that mean? Does that mean that she wanted me to keep them, to remember her until next time? Or was it more of a parting and final souvenir? That she won’t plan on answering if I call and doesn’t want to get to know me or see me again, let alone let me get into her pants again.

He has already asked about five different people about when was too soon to call after a date. If you could even call it a date, he was pretty sure it was a date. Nancy had told him at least three days, at least that is what she had always heard. Robin said it was all made up patriarchal bullshit to mess with the girl’s head and to call whenever he wanted to. Steve had insisted on at least a three day minimum, but it could go up to five depending on how long he wanted to keep a girl waiting. Jeff and Gareth were pretty clueless, Gareth only just recently getting up the nerve to ask out the girl he had been dancing around for months, but they both said to do just whatever felt right.

Eddie doesn’t know what any of that means, all the conflicting opinions pound in his head and he just wants to hear your voice. He had spent the day after that night reeling in his thoughts, replaying the night over and over again just to make sure it had actually happened. He had figured that calling the day after was probably a little hasty, and he didn’t want to put you off by seeming too needy.

But it’s Thursday and with the weekend quickly approaching it is prime time for plans and maybe a second date? So what if he didn’t make it to day three before calling, Robin had a point that it was probably all just made up bullshit anyway and if wasn’t messing with your head it was certainly messing with his.

What would he even say if he did call? Hey, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you punched that guy and let me eat your fries and your pussy. I really like you so can we do it all over again today, and the day after that, and the day after that, and forever until you get sick of me?

Absolutely not. That was way too intense, but exactly how Eddie feels. He hums over whether to ask you out on a date for this weekend or ask you to come join Hellfire tonight, wondering if that again was moving too quickly in this whole unfamiliar world of getting to know someone.

Without even realizing his hands are already in motion, Eddie’s long fingers are punching in the numbers, the hand that is holding the paper shaking like a leaf. He holds the phone up to his ear, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, some of your scent still lingering in his nostrils. Please answer, Y/N. Please answer.

~*~

You are just getting to the good part, Buttercup has been kidnapped and the man in black has just made his first appearance, when the shrill ring of the phone startles you. You wait for a few rings, hoping that someone else will answer it, but then you remember that it is Thursday and Holly is out on her date with Theo and Jen is back at the hospital again. You hadn’t spoken to Holly all day, and frankly, you are kind of happy to have the house to yourself for the night. The phone continues to ring and you roll from the bed, deciding you are going to answer it. Trying not to hope too hard that it would be Eddie’s voice you hear coming through the phone.

“Hello, Anderson residence,” your voice oddly formal, but trying to be courteous since it wasn’t really your house.

“Uhh..I hope I have the right number. Is Y/N there?” the voice on the other line falters and cracks.

“Yes, this is Y/N, who is this?” you have a pretty good idea who it is, the boyish nervousness filtering through the phone lines, but you want to hear him confirm that you aren’t just dreaming it.

“It’s Eddie,” he hesitates, silence for a moment before you speak again.

“Eddie who?” you jest, trying to give him a hard time but your tone doesn’t come off quite a light and jokey as you wanted.

“Uhhh, from the other night at The Hideout.. You punched a guy and then I took you out to dinner and…” he trails off. Is she messing with me or am I that fucking forgettable. Eddie’s mind races, trying to debate the only two options he can see, and if it is the latter, how is he going to recover from that one.

“Oh yeah, that Eddie,” you reply lamely, hearing the anxious wavering of his voice as he tries to place an image of himself in your head. One that, little did he know, was already tattooed there since that night.

“That’s me. Not too many other freaks with long hair named Eddie running around Hawkins, as far as I know,” he offers, trying to add a lightness to his tone even though he is feeling a little bit hurt.

“That was a horrible attempt at trying to make you laugh, I’m sorry Eddie. Of course I remember you! I still have the bruises on my hand to prove the punch and you have me penciled in for a satanic sacrifice on Thursday. Oh shoot, today is Thursday! Did I miss it?” you ramble, cheeks flushing wildly when you hear his laugh ring through the line.

You stare down at the bruises decorating your knuckles, tracing the delicate yellow lace that has begun to surround the fading violet blooms, thinking about how Eddie’s fingers had followed the very same path.

“Ok good, I got a little worried there for a second that I just dreamt everything that happened that night, you being the woman of my dreams after all,” Eddie confesses, and you catch an audible thump and airy mutterings as Eddie trips over the phone cord. He presses a finger to his temple once he’s on steady feet again, trying not to overanalyze the words he has just said.

“I…uh…I mean, I’m glad you remember me. So the sacrifice is still a go for tonight. Hellfire, um it’s…uh, the Dungeons and Dragons club that I run is meeting tonight, and maybe you would want to join in and play, or you could just hang out and watch and I could teach you the rules. I think you would make a really cute Tabaxi cleric or maybe like a sexy Moon Elf wizard,” he rattles off excitedly before quickly falling silent in anticipation of your response.

“I only caught about half of the words in the last sentence, but I did hear that you think I’m cute and sexy and you’ve clearly been thinking about me playing D&D a lot,” you laugh, falling back into the easy playfulness of conversation with Eddie.

“Well I have been thinking about you a lot. Shit. I mean I’ve been thinking a lot about you coming to play D&D with me,” Eddie stutters and you hear what sounds like his forehead thudding against a wall.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot too,” you admit, willing your voice to sound sexy and confident and not absolutely terrified. Eddie laughs in response, stuttering and stopping as he tries to begin to form his thoughts around that idea.

“I would love to come to D&D tonight. I don’t know if I’ll play tonight, as a sexy Moon Elf or a Tabasco clerk…”

“Tabaxi cleric,” Eddie corrects with a chuckle.

“Right, Tabaxi cleric. But I would love to hang out and see the magic happen, learn some of the rules so I can play next time,” you suggest with a beaming grin.

“Oh yeah for sure, you are welcome to come anytime you want. To D&D, I mean. Or like you did the other night. I mean not that I have been thinking about that. Fucking hell! This is not going as smoothly as I had planned. You’re relentless with that word vomit curse, Y/N,” Eddie chokes on his words and laughs, you can imagine the pink that must be spreading across his cheeks.

“Well, I will definitely be keeping that in mind for future reference,” you tease, quoting him from the other night when you’d had your own slip of the tongue.

“Ahh, I see what you did there, think you’re real funny don’t you, princess. You find it very amusing that you make me lose my mind a little bit when I talk to you,” Eddie sighs contentedly, enjoying the gentle slip into insanity if it means he gets to hear your voice.

“It’s only because I’m secretly a witch and have mastered the brain melt elixir, I snuck it into the milkshake the other night,” you try your best at a maniacal cackle, but it comes out as more of a nervous giggle instead.

“Clearly you are a very powerful witch, because the effects of the potion are still lingering. Or it could just be that I get tongue tied when I talk to the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” his voice drops to a lower register, a thick, warmness and sincerity to the tone that sends shivers down your spine. Your cheeks instantly redden and you try to think of an appropriate response, but flounder.

“Shut up, no you are,” you offer with a forced laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you to shut up. I don’t know how to respond to compliments, obviously.”

“I think the normal response is ‘thank you’, but fuck normal and I could also be very wrong. I’m not exactly the king of receiving compliments myself,” Eddie confides with a snorting laugh.

“No? You’re like a rockstar though, doesn’t that kind of thing come with the territory?” you question, trying not to pry, but very curious about Eddie’s dating history. After getting to know his personality a little more, he doesn’t seem the type to have a different groupie or fan every night, but maybe that was just you not wanting to picture him with anyone else but you.

“You are far too kind if you consider me to be a rockstar, sweetheart. But yeah and no, there’s a good handful of women who hang around The Hideout after gigs looking to have their moment with a musician or whatever, but those aren’t ever very genuine compliments anyway,” he concludes, trying to figure out how much is too much information to give.

“What about high school? I bet you had ladies lining up for some of that Munson charm,” you flirt, flopping over on your stomach to get more comfortable, feet kicking up behind you on the bed.

“Munson charm!? I feel like maybe you did meet another Eddie the other night, sweetheart, because I think you might be confusing my dumb luck for charm. I definitely tried to charm you, but I think we know how well that went with the word vomit,” he lets out an airy giggle and you both laugh for a moment before he goes on.

“As far as high school, I don’t know if you remember but I am the local freak. I didn’t exactly have them lining up waiting for me after my Hellfire Club or after it took me an extra two years to graduate. And now I’m a year out of graduating and still working at the local tire shop, so uhh…I don’t know if that answers the question, but that was my answer,” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb in an attempt to stop more words that might spill from his mouth without a filter.

You can’t help but smile, nodding and chuckling softly at his response. You shouldn’t have any right to feelings of jealousy about Eddie’s past relationship, but a sneaky small part of you is happy that he doesn’t have quite the lengthy history you thought he might.

“I can feel you nodding and smiling, Y/N, but my telepathy is feeling weak tonight so you still do actually have to say words over there,” Eddie reminds you.

“Oh duh, yeah, sorry. I do that way too often when I’m talking on the phone. But I…uh..I don’t think that working at a tire shop is a bad thing, everyone just has to take life at their own pace,” you comment, pulling a pillow up to your chest as you think about what it would’ve been like if you had known Eddie in high school.

“What about you, princess? Since you got me to spill my brief and nonexistent dating history, I think you should share at least a little snippet of yours. Being as gorgeous as you are, I’m sure yours is much more eventful than mine,” he coaxes lightly, also thinking that he’s not too sure he wants to picture you with someone else. He’s not a virgin, but definitely inexperienced enough to balk at the possibility that you’ve had a more skillful lover than he is.

“I think you might also have gotten me a little confused too, Eddie. Mine is just about as nonexistent as yours. There have been guys, a handful or two, but I’ve not really had any stick around for too long since high school, and the one in high school was a total prick, so I didn’t date at all in high school after him,” you explain honestly, hoping you hit the right mark of being just open enough without laying out all your cards.

“Well that’s a shame, I’m sorry he ruined things for you. If we had been in high school together I would’ve had such a big crush on you,” Eddie blurts out and then falls silent, his staccatoed breathing rustling in your ear.

“Yeah? I think I would’ve had a big crush on you too, Eddie,” you reply, voice curling into a seductive whisper as you let the heavy silence hang on the line after your words. Neither of you speak for a few moments, the sounds of breathing and thoughts swirling filling the line.

“So, um, Hellfire. What time is it tonight and do I need to bring anything? Sacraments to the dark lord? Sprite? Snacks?” your questions cracking through the silence, Eddie’s sonorous giggle filling in the gaps.

“No sacraments are required this time, no snacks or drinks either really. We have moved our base of operations to Gareth’s garage since both Jeff and I graduated, and his mom always does a big spread of snacks for everyone. So all you need is yourself and I’ll come by to pick you up at 7?” he proposes, creating a scratching static sound as he rubs the mouthpiece of the phone nervously against the stubble of his chin.

“Perfect, I will see you at 7 then. Do you remember how to get to Holly’s place?”

“I do indeed,” he replies eagerly.

“Great! I’m excited, I can’t wait!” you grin, sitting up from the bed and looking over at the pile of your clothes, hoping something would be appropriate for a D&D session.

“I’m excited too, I can’t wait to see you. Um…yeah, so I’ll see you at 7,” Eddie rambles.

“I’ll see you at 7. Bye Eddie,” you sign off.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Eddie finishes and you hear him let out a puffy exhale before your ears are met with a click and the monotonous dial tone as the line goes dead.

You look down at your gold wristwatch, 2 more hours until 7. Just enough time to have a minor crisis about how you were going to properly function being around Eddie again, how to be cool about meeting all his friends, how to be open but not too open, and figure out what to wear!

Your stomach immediately weaves into intricate knots, closing in on one another as you try to keep your cool. First step to tackle will be the outfit, and maybe the other things will fall into place while you hunt through all the clothes you brought for the summer. After a heated internal debate about whether or not to wear a dress to such a casual event, you settle on simple with a pair of well worn jeans and an off the shoulder top.

“It’s good, you’re good. He called, so that’s already a good sign,” you reassure yourself, looking at your reflection in the mirror after putting on the chosen outfit. You probably should cover up a little more, it might embarrass him in front of his friends. Don’t get your hopes up too high, he might let you down. You allow the negative thoughts to rise in your mind for a brief moment before exhaling them away, no longer offering space for them to crawl back inside to fester. “I can go in with an open mind and an open heart and hope for the best, and even if he lets me down, that doesn’t make me a bad person or unworthy of love,” you stand firm and tall, staring thoughtfully into your own eyes. Offering yourself as much confidence, kindness, and sincerity as you can muster, you feel a tiny crack creasing through the walls built deep inside, crumbling and falling away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: @boomhauer @wroteclassicaly @thisishellfire @wtf-lindsay @tayhar811 @churchmuffins @eddiethesexy @thatsonezesty13 @hellv1ra @lacrymosa-24 @halialex1119 @e0509 @a-time-for-wolvess @erinsingalong @warmaidensrevenge @natalielbeauty @fandomohana @bebe0701 @chickpeadumpsterfire @sillypurplemurple @renaroo123 @nackrosor

Some of the tags weren’t working well, so I’m really sorry if I tagged you wrong!

Always open for feedback and what you all would like to see in the next parts 💕

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #joe quinn #joseph quinn #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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princelylove · 6 days

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My Prince,

This is a bit personal, so feel free not to respond if you desire to do so. A fear I have is driving. I think I’m a bad driver. I get over it enough to drive, since I have to, but I’ve come home panicking over almost getting into a car accident. It feels terrible. My fear is that I’m going to accidentally kill/hurt someone and then I don’t know how I’d live with it. I’m mostly scared about myself driving, I feel less worried if I think the driver isn’t reckless.

I wonder if and how yanderes would use the fear to make me dependent on them.

They could screw up my car, sabotage it so it breaks down, or mess with my tires? They get to be a ‘knight in shining armor’ when they coincidentally show up to help if I’m stranded. Struggling to get money needed for repairs is also a good opportunity for them.

Show me videos or news reports of terrible car crashes or pileups to remind me of the danger, or tell me about people they knew that were injured or died in a car accident?

I don’t know how anyone could do this, but somehow orchestrate car crashes to happen around me so I see them up close?

Maybe they could make comments about my driving, insult my driving, make a joke out of it to hurt my confidence while driving and make me feel guilty? But I’d hope they would be at least somewhat gentle about it…

And then as I get more scared of being ‘behind the wheel’, they could slowly offer to take me places themselves, until it’s to the point I’m dependent on them for getting around. If I refuse to drive, they have significant control of my schedule and how I do things. It also makes it much harder to escape a kidnapping if I’m too scared to take transportation.

Who would most likely do these kind of things?

i apologize for this being so long, and it’s appreciated if Your Highness read through all this blabbering. Thank you very much.

You would like a yandere that scares you, anon? One that manipulates you? It's too easy sometimes.

I like it when my peons prattle, it's often cute.

Typical manipulators are going to abuse any sort of fear- Noriaki, Diavolo, Melone... the list goes on. Cars are tricky because they don't really come around until part two, and leave in part six. Part seven has very, very new ones- they count, I guess. There's a window where cars are just in development and not that reliable, but I don't see many yanderes in part three and behind as all that manipulative.

Sure, Caesar is, but he's too proud to take the easy way out. Lisa Lisa doesn't see the point in cars when you're meant to be living on her private island. Joseph respects the technique and isn't above sabotaging yours, but... that's pretty lame. He's more creative than that.

There's also the fact that some manipulative yanderes are out of touch or otherwise don't care for cars. Kars doesn't know what that thing is and he doesn't care to learn. DIO is newly acquainted, but isn't going to drive himself, as he's above it. Giorno is banned from being behind the wheel ever since the White Album incident. Leone is normally too tipsy to reasonably put himself behind the wheel, Bruno tends to walk everywhere...

Some yanderes could sabotage your car with their stand if they wanted to, but putting on the news works too. Court TV is on because knowing about the news is important, no you can't have the remote. Ohh, that man drove into a parade, that's crazy. They're saying he was drinking. Isn't that little treat you get during the day alcoholic? Ohh, no? I thought there was a lawsuit going on with the company that makes it, said they were putting it in and mislabeling it. Crazy, huh.

Mariah fucks with your car before she asks you to drive her anywhere. Kochi could easily attach "Heavy!" under your car in traffic, as he did in canon. Akira could- well, to be honest with you, I'm not sure how cars work, but I'm sure Red Hot Chili Peppers could mess with it somehow. Machines are always going to be just that- machines. They break, they stop working. Fickle things.

As for who I think definitely would.... Melone likes to do tricks on his bike to scare you, Hol Horse would do just about anything to get one up on you, and Funny Valentine is absolutely not above orchestrating a crash in front of you. Newly invented, so unreliable.

But some yanderes are very understanding about it, can you take the train or just walk? Maybe bike? They'll come with you so you don't get lonely! Josuke normally takes a train to get to his university, he can teach you how to use the little card and how to get a good seat or stand in a good place.

Or, you could get lucky and get Jolyne, who wasn't gonna let you drive anyway and takes safety super, super seriously. Or Rohan, who could easily rewrite any of your fears! (But won't.)

#request granted #yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure

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spectaculardistractions · 1 year

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To Marie-Laure and Charles de Noailles Culver City, 2 December 1930 Very dear friends, First, I must thank you for sending the two letters, the one from Drieu and the other one, as well as the press cuttings, all of which arrived in good time. I see the critics are still prattling on and lecturing you about charity (donating that million for a retirement home), instead of promoting a film against charity. My friendship and admiration for you increase by the day. You are unique among those of your class for having produced a work like that. And I hope that when more reviews come out they will confirm what I’ve just said. Let’s hope! I’ve been here for a month now and I’ve achieved nothing. I arrive at Metro at about midday and have lunch, then I leave at around 3pm and don’t go back until the following day. If I had hopes of doing anything they are beginning to fade. All I can say is that there is an immense list of untouchable topics. And all the topics that interest me are on that list. They just go on making the same old films where the star is the only object and the only subject. Eisenstein, to give a fine example, is leaving tomorrow having achieved absolutely nothing. And not because he proposed any overtly revolutionary scripts. They rejected the idea of him making L’Or by Cendrars. There is more talking in films every day and Metro alone has over sixty writers charged with inventing, writing, adapting or translating scripts. And you’ve already seen what they produce. For example: Yves Mirande is the first French writer and Martínez Sierra will be the first Spaniard. All the directors are controlled directly, and at all times, by supervisors whose job it is to safeguard moral values, public taste, political ideas, good sense, and every kind of routine human convention. They are marvellously well set up to quash any new ideas, unless they are purely technical ones. I don’t mean the practical side of things, that is even more impressive than I imagined. However, I am learning to despise such levels of perfection and marvellous organization at the service of the worst kind of imbecility. For my part, in order to justify my salary, I’ve asked to be put in charge of dialogues in Spanish or the adaptation of foreign films. It involves very little responsibility and will allow me to get through the first six months of my contract without being noticed. I shall return to Paris in May. We had no idea how impressive Los Angeles would be. It is ten, maybe twenty times as big as Paris. It is a vast garden with palm trees, lawns and flowers, on which they’ve built avenues where the house numbers go up to seven or eight thousand. Each one is a bungalow. And the standard of living couldn’t be more perfect. Even with my outgoings, I’ve been able to buy myself the latest Ford and live in an apartment I could not have dreamt of. Particularly in terms of the comforts. Even with the garage, monthly payments on the car, etc., I’m still saving almost 100 dollars a month. I play miniature golf every day, which is much more entertaining than normal golf. I spend Sundays at Chaplin’s house. He’s very likeable, but not particularly clever. He never spends any time with the Americans and he’s always with us (us = two young Spaniards and me). When he’s out in public, he only likes to joke around, doing the bread roll dance, miming and performing other charming tricks. When he gets serious, he shows us a postcard from London and tells us all about his childhood with his mad mother begging on the streets. And then he suddenly goes back to performing the bread roll dance. He is only ever still for a moment, at the Turkish baths, perhaps meditating. However, he does have human qualities and a quite straightforwardly warm personality. I’m sending you a magazine with photographs from the police archives over here. It is quite remarkable, completely dedicated to gangsters and their crimes. I hope you find it interesting. I see all the famous stars every day, male and female, at the Metro canteen. They are extremely disappointing. Joan Crawford is truly ugly. Greta Garbo keeps herself to herself and dresses very plainly. Norma Shearer is insignificant. Lily Damita, on the other hand, is very pretty, but she sticks her tongue out whenever she notices people looking at her. Menjou and Lewis Stone are just as they appear in the films. Buster Keaton is not particularly interesting either. And many others. The Metro canteen is like a DEAR LITTLE MALAMPIA’S GROTTO. But the film magazines have fooled us all, one way or another. I honestly envy you when I think of Saint-Bernard. I often remember my visit there and it makes me sad to think I won’t be able to visit this winter. Nonetheless, I shall save your kind invitation for next winter. I can just imagine Charles in his coat and Marie-Laure taking the flowers outside at night. And playing with Laure and Nathalie from 5 to 7 in the evening. Send them both my love. Yours affectionately, Luis Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Culver City, California PS Why don’t you come to Los Angeles and Hollywood in the Spring? The climate is wonderful, and the city is truly beautiful. It would be a wonderful trip… and I would be able to spend a few days with you. So, it’s a very selfish suggestion on my part. If you were to come, I would delay my return to Europe. The photo: my car, Georgia and me (Georgia is Charlot’s friend, the lead in The Gold Rush, where she was a brunette).

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

#jo evans #breixo viejo #luis bunuel: a life in letters #luis bunuel #charles de noailles #sergei eisenstein #charlie chaplin

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her.

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance

Wordcount: 7.8k

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics.

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!).

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time.

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out.

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter.

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball.

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party.

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back.

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air.

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory.

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head.

Why on earth did he agree to this again?

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’

His glare softens by a fraction.

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting.

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here.

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down.

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’

‘Hm.’

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews) when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey.

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively.

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender.

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree -

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek.

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest.

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness.

Then he takes a breath.

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end .

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands.

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn.

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts.

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders.

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even worse .

Much, much worse.

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand.

He ends up face planting directly into her chest.

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – ,

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt.

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed.

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.

He takes her hand with a rare smile.

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband.

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees.

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough.

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product.

He appreciates that.

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal.

He likes that.

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify.

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules.

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer.

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls.

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently.

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings.

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together.

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes. He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so I know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb.

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks.

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’ on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way.

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod.

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other.

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north.

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself.

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant.

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course.

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night.

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands.

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence.

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify.

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle.

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind.

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’.

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze.

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before.

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze.

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant.

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways.

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day.

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on.

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially.

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time.

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss.

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her.

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain.

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars.

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up.

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer.

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air.

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands.

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look.

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either.

He finds himself wondering about them.

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text.

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two?

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion.

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’.

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him?

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers.

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card.

Oikawa Tooru .

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further.

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer.

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’

He blinks. That was unexpected.

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance.

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb.

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’.

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined.

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache.

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’.

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance.

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause.

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her.

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground.

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales.

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’.

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him.

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips.

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips.

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no – it’s always going to point towards her.

They move in together after that.

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards.

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife.

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while.

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep.

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much.

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold.

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning.

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob.

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly.

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other.

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell.

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way.

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’.

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them.

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in -

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place.

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open.

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’.

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal.

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat.

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath.

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.

He waits.

Then his phone buzzes.

Ah.

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.

“Omi?”

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first.

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind.

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what I want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’.

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face.

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles.

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date.

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again.

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two.

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more.

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party.

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association.

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread.

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name.

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make.

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’.

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake.

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out - pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead.

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability.

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud.

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser.

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist:

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

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athensgorgia · 3 years

Text

Jealous Gojo x female reader

Summary: Gojo is running all your dates with potential partners. He just doesn't know why yet.

Warnings: Mature language and suggestive themes

Gojo was sitting next to you. Why the fuck was he sitting next to you. For the first time in your life you had a date and Gojo decided to tag along. "Get the fuck out of here before my date gets here or so help me god I will kill you!" you seethed. Gojo payed your threats no mind flagging down a waiter "I want whatever cake you have. What about you y/n-chan?" he asks nonchalantly. "I want you to leave." you say in an exasperated tone.

"Now, now y/n-chan. We can't have that now can we? What if he's a total wierdo?" Gojo insists. "You're the one who is being wierd! I didn't even tell you I was on a date! How did you even know!?" you cried. "Well when something is really important I make it my business to know what is going on. Especially when it comes to my little y/n-chan." Gojo explains ruffling your done up hair afterwards. "Ugh, I'm not a little kid anymore you have to start letting me go." you sigh.

You think you've finally gotten through to Gojo. He turns to you and sighs. "That lipstick is so not your color." Gojo scoffs. Gojo then takes his hand and starts forcibly rubbing his thumb on your lips to remove the makeup. You Immediately start trying to slap his hand away, but him being the strongest it was no use.

Right then your date walks in and finds you and Gojo. Gojo's hands still resting on your face smearing lipstick everywhere. You instantly muster all your strength and shove Gojo off of you. "Hiro, hi it's good to see you!" you greet your date awkwardly. Hiro puts on a very confused face. "Hi, who is this y/n" Hiro asks. "He's nobody and he was just leaving." you insist and give Gojo a face that says 'beat it'.

Gojo cracks a sinister smile. "So Hiro, how much money do you make per year?" Gojo prods. You go to hit Gojo but your hands just bounce off of him. Hiro looks very nervous and stays silent. "I was just wondering what redeeming qualities you have since attractiveness clearly isn't one of them." Gojo prattles on. Hiro turns to you "Sorry I don't think this is going to work out." Hiro says not even waiting for an excuse and rushes out.

You place your head in your hands trying to recuperate from the fiasco that just unfolded. When you look at Gojo he's happily eating his cake not at all ashamed at what he had done. "Why would you do that? That's the first time anyone has ever even wanted to ask me out." you say too defeated to yell. "Oh it's definitely not the first time. This is just the first time I haven't assessed them beforehand." Gojo states casually continuing to munch on his cake.

"What!?" you gasp in disbelief. "Oh you know I've just been really busy so I couldn't get around to it this time." he shrugs. "Not that stupid the thing you said before!" you seethed. "I'm not just gonna let anyone date you. I have to make sure they're good enough for you. I have to do alot of research. It's very tiring you know. You should really thank me. The least you could do is pay for my cake." Gojo huffs mouth full of cake.

"Oh my god..." you whimper and run your hands through your hair. "It makes so much fucking sense." you cry. "Don't cry over that guy! He was as interesting as a piece of white bread." Gojo says with gusto trying to cheer you up. "FUCK YOU! I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE BECAUSE OF YOU!" you screech and then storm out.

"And that's why I need you to date her for me!" Gojo chimes. Nanami takes a deep breath "I'm not going along with this game of yours." he sighs. "Aw c'mon! She's a great girl. You won't find anyone better than her." Gojo pleads. "Find someone else it doesn't have to be me." Nanami deflects. "Yes it does Nanami! I can only let her date in good conscience if I know the person is good." Gojo insists. "Find someone else then there are tons of people better than me." Nanami states flatly.

"No Nanami you're perfect. You're young, handsome, responsible, make a decent living, and have a nice dick. I know because I peaked in the urinal." Gojo says proudly. Nanami was disgusted with Gojo's hidden knowledge and wanted to flee as fast as possible. "Fine one date." Nanami sighs already regretting his decision.

Gojo waited outside the door of your apartment and kept banging on the door. "Hi y/n! I know you're still mad at me but I have a piece offering!" Gojo announces. "Go away! I'm still mad at you!" you yell through the door. "I can make it up to you! I got you a date with the best guy I know!" Gojo promises. You open the door "What!? When!?" you ask very confused. "Right now. Go get ready!" Gojo urges you to hustle.

You get ready as fast as you can and bolt out the door with Gojo. The walk there was stressing you out. You had no idea what kind of person Gojo set you up with all Gojo sad was 'the blond one with glasses'. On your way there Gojo walked arm in arm with you making sure you didn't trip in your heels and assuring you looked great.

When you reached the front of the restaurant Gojo pushed you through the door and waved goodbye. You were nervous, very nervous as you scanned each table to find your blind date. Till you spotted a serious looking man matching Gojo's description. You walked over and introduced yourself "Hello I'm y/n l/n. I think Gojo Satoru set us up together." you said. The man stood up from his seat and held his hand out for you to shake it. "I'm Nanami Kento." He says formally as you shake his hand.

"Have you been waiting long?" you ask genuinely concerned about how long Gojo made Nanami wait. "I've been waiting two hours, but I know that's not your fault." Nanami replies coolly. "I'm sorry he's always been like that. He must have also dragged you here for a date." you apologize. "No worries. Your a pretty and polite young woman. I'm glad he's found someone like you." Nanami says and flashes the ghost of a smile.

"What do you mean?" you ask not quite sure what Nanami was referring to. "Gojo's always going on and on about you. I'm not even sure he realizes how in love with you he is." Nanami chuckles. "No, he doesn't like me like that. He's got pretty much all of Japan to choose from if he even wanted a partner." you say trying to shut Nanami down. "That's precisely why he likes you. He's just a regular man to you. You don't care if he's rich or handsome or strong. With you he can be whatever he wants. I bet you've even gotten him to share sweets with you." Nanami explains.

"No. That can't be." you say more to yourself than to Nanami. "Yes it is. He's an extremely busy man but he makes time to spend with you. Who do you think is always covering for him?" Nanami sighs hoping you'd understand by now. Nanami looks at his watch "Any moment now he's going to realize his feelings and storm in like the man child he is. Don't say anything one he walks in just go with it." Nanami says and as if on que Gojo walks in.

"Date's over Nanami. I've decided she can do better." Gojo says as he stomps over to your table. "Why, I really like her. I'm even considering marrying her one day." Nanami bluffs. "No, you're not right for her." Gojo hisses and pulls you out of your chair. Nanami stands up "Then who is?" Nanami prods trying to get Gojo to admit it. "I am! She's mine!" Gojo yells and holds you close to his chest causing an even bigger scene in the restaurant.

Gojo processes what he just said and carries you out of the restaurant. Suddenly Gojo teleports you somewhere and when you look around you recognize that this is Gojo's appartment. Gojo says nothing and just continues walking in the direction of his bedroom. "Gojo slow down! Where are we going!?" you protest. Gojo doesn't answer and continues walking to his bedroom's adjoining bathroom. He sets you down on the counter.

"Take your makeup off." Gojo demands. "What? Why?" you ask desperate for answers. Gojo doesn't answer he just grabs a wet towel and starts scrubbing your face. "Ow that hurts!" you protest, but Gojo continues scrubbing your face too hard. After your makeup is off Gojo smiles and drags you over to his bed. He pushes you down and straddles your waist.

"What are you doing!?" you scream. "Oh c'mon y/n isn't it obvious or do I have to tell you exactly what I'm going to do to you?" Gojo whispers in your ear. "No!" you yell as you push him off of you with all your strength. Gojo falls and lands on his butt looking utterly confused. You gather yourself and begin leaving. Gojo grabbed your arm to stop you "Wait... please." he said hesitantly. "Why should I you just tried to fuck me like some whore?" you hissed.

Gojo stayed silent gathering what he was about to say "Isn't that just how I make you mine?" he questions. "No that might work on some people but that's not how you make me yours." you state. Gojo gives you a dumb stare. He was utterly shocked. No one had ever not wanted to sleep with him, and if he couldn't win you over with his body then his personality sure wasn't going to win you over. Gojo broke into a cold sweat he wanted you like no one he had ever wanted before and for once in his life what he desired was out of his reach.

He wracked his brain for something people usually wanted from him. "I know! You're like Mie Mie! I'll just give you money! How much do you want?" Gojo asks cheerfully but he was not joking this time he was dead serious. You looked at him appalled and continued walking out. "Wait! Wait! Wait!" he pleaded desperately. You only stopped when he got down on his knees in front of you "Please! Just tell me how I get you to love me!" he begged.

You had to admit you liked seeing Gojo beg for you, but now was not the time for that. You tilted his chin so he was lookingup at you "You promise you love me?" you smiled. Gojo nodded his head frantically. "Then I'll pick you up tomorrow at six?" you winked and left. Leaving an awestruck Gojo in your wake.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojou x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction

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genshxn · 3 years

Text

@/datonecanadianartist asked:

A Zhongli x reader where the reader is a chaos magnet like Bennett, but unlike him they refuse to get any help and finally Zhongli tricks them to help them? Many thanks friend!

i hope this is something like what you had in mind :,D

it’s also a little long lmao-

【ｚｈｏｎｇｌｉ】

chaos magnet s/o refuses to get help until they get tricked (ft. Chongyun)

warnings ; haunting

There was only one other person you had heard of who had your level of bullshit, and it was some poor kid who lived in Mondstadt. Apparently the events that would follow you were on par with what he’d experience.

And more often than not, your partner Zhongli would get caught in the cross fire. Treasure hoarders would always know where you are. Zhongli would just send them flying with his monoliths, however. Or maybe you’d get hit in the head by an incoming bird, also knocking into Zhongli in the process. Either way, it’s always a little messy in the end.

He was more concerned for your safety than anything. You miraculously don’t get hurt amidst the chaos, but he isn’t sure how long this is going to last. The last thing he wants is for you to get hurt.

He’s tried to get you to do all sorts of things to try and get rid of this abysmal luck of yours. He’s bought about 30 different charms supposedly imbued with energy to repel bad luck. You refused to carry any.

Another time, you walked into your bedroom with him looking like he was about to start some kind of ritual, just waiting for you to arrive. You scrambled back out the door, not having a bar of it, and he had to chase you for a very long time before he finally caught you.

So those didn’t work.

Zhongli was wandering the streets of Liyue one day, simply wondering what else he could do to try and cure this ailment of yours, if it even was an ailment.

His mind wandered to something Hu Tao was prattling on about to do with mischievous ghosts causing trouble for people in their daily lives. He had overheard her talking about this in passing the other day. Perhaps this was something going on with you.

So he sought the help of an exorcist.

Except given his current track record, no way in hell was he going to be able to get you to sit down and stay still for the exorcist to do their work. So he’d have to come up with a plan to keep you in one place.

"My darling, tonight is a beautiful night in the harbour. Would you perchance go to dinner with me?" He asks you. He hopes he’s not being too suspicious to suddenly ask you to dinner out of the blue.

“Oh, yeah sure. I’ll go get ready.” You say, getting up to get changed into something a little nicer. Your hesitation likely would have come from the fact that he asked you so suddenly. He doesn’t blame you.

When you finally emerge from your room, you look lovely. He really wonders how you always look so good. But a little part inside him feels guilty because what he has planned may ruin your clothes slightly...

You make your way to Third Round Knockout where Zhongli had already made a reservation. The two of you sit and decide what you’ll order. He wants you to eat first before he potentially ruins your evening. Zhongli casts a glance beside him, where the young, blue haired exorcist was sitting eagerly. Zhongli previously told the exorcist his plan. The exorcist was to look like another customer for the time being until Zhongli gives the signal to begin the ritual. Zhongli would take care of keeping you in place so you don’t escape anywhere.

The two of you enjoy a lovely meal together, but you couldn’t help notice that Zhongli has been looking a little fidgety the entire time.

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting suspicious all evening.” You say, finishing your last mouthful of dessert.

Zhongli exhales and opens his eyes to meet yours. He looks very guilty. “I’m sorry for this, but it’s to help you.”

Before you could question what he meant by that, a stone structure had snapped around your waist and arms, keeping you in place. It wasn’t so tight that you couldn’t breath, but you certainly couldn’t go anywhere either.

“Zhongli, what?!”

“Chongyun,” He says. A blue haired youth in white attire jumps up from his chair and quickly summons six talismans in a hexagon, which then fly out towards you.

Everyone else in the surrounding area looks at you. There you were with a stone containment and talismans attached to your head.

“Evil spirit be purged!” The exorcist slams his fist onto his palm and the talismans all quickly dissipate. With a harrowing scream from an unknown source, a weight feels like it’s been lifted off your shoulders.

“Wow! That was my first proper exorcism!” The boy exclaims. An exorcism? You were being haunted?

“What?!” You suddenly cry out. People suddenly look over in your direction.

“Ah, so my theory was correct,” Zhongli says to himself. “It was a malicious spirit following you around.”

“A ghost?”

“Yes. It was quite a potent one too. It managed to resist my pure yang energy enough to not run off in my presence,” The exorcist happily explains. “I don’t know how it got attached to you, but that should be the end of whatever harm it was causing you. Very well, I’d best be on my way now. My services are free of charge!” He says as a final note and walks off, barely containing his excitement of his first proper exorcism.

“Oh thank the gods, I forgot to pay him,” Zhongli mutters under his breath.

“Can you let me go now?” You ask.

“Oh! Yes, right. My apologies.” With a wave of his hand, your rocky constraints dissolve back into the earth.

“Right... Now what the hell was that?”

“I suppose I do owe you an explanation. It wasn’t fair of me to do something without your knowledge, but I had enlisted that exorcist on the chance that there was a ghost causing your abhorrent luck. Such events simply aren’t natural... But it turns out it was true. I’m very sorry for doing all this behind your back. I just don’t want you to eventually get hurt one day. The circumstances you could find yourself in could be perilous, and I don’t want to see the one I love suffer so often. It feels selfish since you didn’t want to do anything, but—“

You cut off Zhongli by placing a finger on his lips. “You don’t need to apologize so much. Thank you for looking out for me. It means a lot to me.” You pull him into a hug. The poor guy looked sad from guilt, so you have to show him he’s not in trouble. “But I won’t be able to have anymore crazy stories.”

“I think you’ve had enough for a life time for now.” He replies.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines

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arvandus · 3 years

Note

So hopefully I got in on time! Btw, I’ve been absolutely loving your HC’s, the stutter one was friggin adorable! I love soft Dabi, there’s not much of him out there in stories 😢

Anyway! I was wondering if you could do HC’s with Dabi for someone who may be deaf or just hard of hearing? Ifff your comfortable, I would love to see what he would do for a male s/o (or platonic friend/league member, etc, whichever you choose!) If you don’t want to do this it’s completely fine and you can switch it to ambiguous/female (I don’t know if you have ever done men before haha!)

Hello! I’m so flattered for this ask because you’re trusting me to portray something that’s personal to you and outside of my own experience. I can absolutely do this with a Male Reader (my first one!).

I’m not sure what type or level of hearing loss you had in mind, so I did my best with this and went with an acquired hearing loss that’s moderate-to-severe. Also, I wrote Reader as someone who wears hearing aids. I hope that’s all right, since that’s typically the case for those with more severe hearing loss (otherwise communication is really difficult to do, since I don’t suspect Dabi would know sign language). Also, I got a couple of cute ideas that I really wanted to fit into this that follow more of a friends-to-lovers sort of vibe rather than established relationship. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 

Headcanons for Dabi x M!Reader who’s Deaf/Hard of Hearing (HOH)

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1240

💙 When you first join the LOV, Dabi will be skeptical at first, as he is with all things. How could someone with a hearing loss really be of any value to the league? He can’t help but wonder what skills you’re bringing to the table to that convinced Shigaraki to allow you to join.

💙 Dabi doesn’t interact with you right away... he prefers to observe. Part of it is that he doesn’t care for attachments, even amongst his comrades. Another is that he doesn’t expect you to last very long in the League. If he does interact, it’ll be through snarky quips and insults. After all, he loves getting under other people’s skin... it makes him feel like has an advantage.

💙 So, it goes without saying that Dabi will be a hard nut to crack at first. He’ll definitely have some crappy preconceived notions about people with hearing loss that he’ll get to face as he’s forced to get to know you.

💙 For example, he learns super fast that your hearing has little to do with your intelligence. You’re fucking smart and more than capable of handling yourself, much to his surprise. You quickly become an important member of the team, and even Dabi can’t really argue your value. It only makes his interest in you grow, his skepticism giving way to curiosity.

💙 Another thing he learns about you... you value your independence and hate when others coddle or dote on you due to your hearing loss. The first time Toga had tried to treat you as something fragile (granted she was trying to be nice), you’d quickly put her in her place. Dabi couldn’t help but grin at that exchange...

💙 The great thing about Dabi sitting back and observing everyone else most of the time is that he gets to learn by proxy how to interact with you.

💙 Don’t mumble or talk too fast. Don’t look away when talking to you. Talk more clearly, and slower, but for God’s sake, don’t treat you like you’re dumb. You’re hard of hearing, not stupid.

💙 Even with all of that taken into consideration though, he’ll notice that while you seem to do fine in one-on-one exchanges in quiet environment, you’ll withdraw more in group gatherings. Is the chattering of multiple voices too much? Is the noise overwhelming? Even he can’t always tolerate the prattling of the social butterflies of the group, so he wouldn’t blame you if it got under your skin too.

💙 His interest will finally be piqued when he watches you retreat during a rather boisterously loud game night amongst the League. He’ll follow quietly behind you, watching as you pass your own room in favor of the stairwell leading up to the rooftop.

💙 You don’t notice he’s followed you until he sits next to you. Your eyes betray your surprised at his presence.

💙 “What are you doing here?” you demand.

💙 He’ll give you a grin and a cock of his head. “You didn’t seem like you were havin’ much fun back there. Got anything to do with these?” he’ll tap your hearing aid playfully.

💙 You huff at him. “If you want me to hear you better, you’ll need to sit on my other side. My hearing aid battery died.”

💙 “You don’t have a backup?” he asks as he adjusts his position.

💙 You shake your head.

💙 “Doesn’t sound too bad.” He’ll tease. “I wish I could turn off my ears, especially when Toga laughs.”

💙 You give him a glare at his insensitive comment. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

💙 He raises an eyebrow at you and think for a moment, before looking back out over the cityscape. “Why don’tcha tell me about it then.”

💙 You give him a skeptical look but he waits silently for you to continue. His smirk is gone as his sharp eyes glance back at you. He's serious.

💙 You’ll finally open up to him, explaining how hard it can be sometimes. How noisy environments can make your hearing aids nearly useless when the noise is too much, when everyone is talking at once. How frustrating it is to not be able to follow a conversation let alone participate, and how it can sometimes make people assume things about you. At best, they’ll assume you can hear fine with your hearing aids and therefore assume you’re being aloof or don’t want to interact. At worst, they’ll think your slow or stupid, and look at you with pity.

💙 Dabi will listen, but he won’t offer much up except sarcastic remarks about the others in an attempt to make you feel better. After all, sympathy isn’t his strong suit. But you’ll find yourself feeling better by the end, just grateful to be able to vent to someone.

💙 When you smile at him and tell him thanks for listening, it’ll take him by surprise. Not because of your reaction – he expected that, at least. What’ll surprise him is his reaction to it – a strange sense of satisfaction will wash over him, filling him with an unfamiliar warmth. He realizes - a moment too late, before he can bring down his barriers - that he likes seeing you smile, especially when it’s at him.

💙 You’ll feel slightly closer after that, finding more opportunities to hang out on the quiet rooftop and chat.

💙 He’ll surprise you on your next visit with a brand-new pack of hearing aid batteries. You’ll give him a suspicious look, asking where he got them and how he knew what kind to get you, but he’ll give you a wicked grin and brush off your question with an evasive comment.

💙 It won’t take long for you to start developing a crush on him, and against your better judgment, you find yourself staring at him a lot more and finding ways to be around him more. Hanging out at the bar, going on missions together, sitting next to him during the LOV discussions… you try to brush it off as ‘becoming friends,’ but deep down you know better.

💙 It doesn’t take long for Dabi to take notice and begin to suspect that maybe… just maybe… all of your secret glances and increased attention aren’t strictly platonic.

💙 What a wonderful turn of events. He wasn’t sure if you were interested in men, but now he’s 99% sure you are... or at the very least, interested in him.

💙 It leaves his skin feeling hotter than usual, his heart pounding in his chest with excitement. He wonders if you know... or even suspect... that he watches you too in mutual attraction.

💙 He’ll start testing the waters, just to make sure, of course. Hit you with a few flirty nicknames to see how you react. As soon as he sees you fluster and flounder in obvious embarrassment, he’ll know he’s got you, and it makes your exchanges only that much more entertaining.

💙 The more he learns about you, the more interested he becomes. He’ll start to do research on ways to support you with your hearing loss. It’ll be purely out of curiosity, of course... it’s not like he’s gonna go out of his way or anything. But he ends up finding himself down the rabbit hole of hearing aid supports, and learns about Bluetooth capabilities, FM systems, infrared systems... ways to send targeted noise – like speech for instance – straight to your hearing aids, bypassing any pesky background noise.

💙 It won’t take long for him to get an idea – two birds with one stone, so to speak...

💙 You’ll be on the rooftop together, when he says, “I gotta surprise for ya.”

💙 He pulls out a box that’s labelled ‘Dynamic FM System.’

💙 If you try to reach for it though, he’ll hold it out of your reach. “ah ah ah... we gotta find the right place to try it out.”

💙 He’ll lead you downstairs and you’ll think he’s heading to the common space where the others are, but instead he takes you outside of the hideout, leading you down the street.

💙 “Where are we going?”

💙 “You’ll see.”

💙 The two of you will end up outside of a bar. Not just any bar, though… the line of patrons is already a huge hint of what you’ll find inside.

💙 “Wait isn’t this….?” You’ll start.

💙 Dabi will only smirk at you though, before he grabs your hand and leads you in.

💙 Inside will be loud. So loud you have to turn down the volume on your hearing aids, and too loud for you to hear anything of value. But as you look around, your suspicions are confirmed - instead of the usual opposite sexes pairing up like you find at most bars, this one is different. Men are pairing up with men, women are pairing up with women. Your heart is beating like a drum in your chest, your pulse racing with excitement. Of all the places for Dabi to bring you…

💙 You keep close to Dabi, holding onto his arm. He loves that, loves that you’re looking to him for protection. And protect you he does, his eyes threatening violence to anyone who stares too long at you.

💙 He’ll sit you down at the bar with him in the center of the noise while drunken gay couples flirt over their drinks and a group of girls laugh in the corner. He’ll say something to the bartender, and a minute later, two fresh drinks are place before the two of you.

💙 He won’t try to talk to you yet as he opens the box and begins taking out all of the pieces. He’ll plug in the small, cylinder-like component into your hearing aid - the receiver. He’ll be completely up in your space when he does it too, grinning at you with his ocean blue eyes. In his hand he holds the transmitter that contains a button with a microphone on it.

💙 Once everything is hooked up properly, he’ll speak into the mic, his finger on the button.

💙 “Hey there.” He says. His voice comes through crystal clear.

💙 “Hey.” You smile.

💙 Once Dabi knows you can hear him, his devilish grin will widen and he’ll lean casually against the bar counter as he stares at you, his eyes drinking you in. “Have I ever told you how hot you are?”

💙 That’s when it finally clicks… Dabi is actually interested in you. And he’s taken you out on a date.

💙 BONUS: If the bar scene ends up being too much for you, he’ll be more than happy to spend the rest of your date on your favorite rooftop spot with some take-out. 10/10 will kiss you by the end of the date.

#Arv's 750 Followers Event #dabi #dabi hcs #dabi x male reader #dabi x m!reader #dabi x reader #deaf #hard of hearing

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edenmemes · 3 years

Text

assassin’s creed valhalla starters

words within ‘()’ are additional, optional choices! more maybe to be added at a later date. some n/sfw present.

❝ you should see the other man. he got the worst of it. ❞ ❝ and who better to lead us to glory than me? ❞ ❝ i am most at home helping others. ❞ ❝ i’ve waited long enough for you, and you for me. ❞ ❝ thank you for not saying anything about my past. ❞ ❝ know that however far away, you’re always in my thoughts. ❞ ❝ when you see your god, tell them i sent you. ❞ ❝ what you make up in muscles, you’re lacking in spine. ❞ ❝ i almost envy you, to see the world through such a muddy glass and live with such petty concerns. ❞ ❝ i smell the stink of a dozen kingdoms in your beard. ❞ ❝ this feud is not yours, yet you fight it all the same. i find that strange. ❞ ❝ by the look on your face, you have lost your will to live. ❞ ❝ my arms are numb from battle. does it need any dressing? do you think it is a serious wound? ❞ ❝ oh dear. this is not how i foresaw things. not at all! ❞ ❝ should we take this to your chamber? ❞ ❝ i want this. i want you. ❞ ❝ turn around, walk away, and you keep your insides inside. ❞ ❝ stay back! back! i will fight you! ❞ ❝ you look like reddened shit. what happened? ❞ ❝ i have always wanted to experience the world as you do. ❞ ❝ you come like a valkyrie out of a fog. but i have no dead to give you. ❞ ❝ all right, stay close and do as i do. ❞ ❝ home. or...it was home, once. now it is nothing but bone. ❞ ❝ i’ll have no qualms wiping clean your grin. ❞ ❝ just take care. such hatred can make you careless. ❞ ❝ away from your table for a day and you are already lusting for blood. ❞ ❝ if i did not know any better, i would say you are teasing me. ❞ ❝ the dream of new lands is a powerful lure. ❞ ❝ i love climbing up here. makes me feel as high as a raven. ❞ ❝ if i don’t find your horse, i will steal you a new one. ❞ ❝ i feel somewhat trapped. in this room, in this settlement, in this life. ❞ ❝ you are lost in a sea-storm of your own making. ❞ ❝ the poet in you sings once again. ❞ ❝ tonight, we will eat and drink like gods and wake in a kingdom made new. ❞ ❝ i wish i understood you better. for those i do not understand, i do not trust. (and i cannot stomach a lack of trust.) ❞ ❝ i’ve been called worse. ❞ ❝ you have nothing to fear from me. i bear you no ill will. ❞ ❝ you are a shadow of your father. weak and witless. ❞ ❝ what is this? is this...are we in hell? ❞ ❝ keep company with kings and you will soon have a crown of your own. ❞ ❝ a toothless cub may grow to be a dangerous wolf. ❞ ❝ you are far too young to speak so wise. ❞ ❝ i need clear, sound judgement. i need you. ❞ ❝ kind and courageous people live the best lives, but it can be a difficult path to keep. ❞ ❝ i want to say...i love you. and i have for some time. ❞ ❝ you smell that? the stink of jealousy. (of our budding friendship, i think). ❞ ❝ ah, while i have you, i’m reminded...i have this for you. ❞ ❝ your lies are just like you. big and bold. ❞ ❝ don’t excuse yourself. you enjoy this too much. ❞ ❝ you've come back. why are you wasting your time with me? ❞ ❝ care to sing a song? helps me pass the time. ❞ ❝ that is twice you have earned my admiration. ❞ ❝ you have only the setting sun to tell you when to stop. ❞ ❝ i want to know what you know. name your price. ❞ ❝ people like you deserve something worse than death. ❞ ❝ they called me a lout, a disgrace. they were right. ❞ ❝ i will have to get used to watching the sights of war from afar now. ❞ ❝ there’s no other way. fight or hide. it’s up to you. ❞ ❝ do not think me a coward. i am not afraid of war. ❞ ❝ friendships end. often at the point of a spear. ❞ ❝ i will make you beg as your father begged. ❞ ❝ (until that time,) it would be best to keep all discussions about... about us to yourself. ❞ ❝ without you i would have lost my way a thousand times. ❞ ❝ you have no other friends. so tread lightly here. ❞ ❝ be it a blessing or a curse, family is always first. ❞ ❝ let’s not walk too far with that idea. i need you right where you are. ❞ ❝ you bested me. yet, i’m the one left standing. ❞ ❝ it’s a pleasure to meet you at least. ❞ ❝ you and your people here have done more for me than i could ever repay. ❞ ❝ you have my highest respect, regard, and trust. ❞ ❝ you’re not shy, are you? ❞ ❝ if we do this, you’ll earn the right to call me friend ten-thousand fold. ❞ ❝ does this have the stench of betrayal to you? ❞ ❝ today has meant so much. we rode, we fought, we drank, we laughed. (you showed me your world.) ❞ ❝ your end was written the moment you came for me. ❞ ❝ i am a sellsword. i ask what i please, and i take what i’m owed. ❞ ❝ you move and i will take your eyes. you hear me? ❞ ❝ i will leap first. on my word, you must follow. ❞ ❝ many times i wished to tell you. wished to say what was in my heart and what i desired. (but duty kept me from it.) ❞ ❝ these wounds will heal quickly. you’re lucky. ❞ ❝ anything to help you feel at home. ❞ ❝ our friendship is the best thing to come from this mess. ❞ ❝ you will be remembered for this, for years to come. ❞ ❝ i thought i had lost you. for good this time. ❞ ❝ you have shown me a great kindness. it is only fitting that i do the same. ❞ ❝ the mess you’re in...you don’t know the half of it. ❞ ❝ you have drawn a dark conclusion about me, haven’t you? (that is all well and good. i’ve drawn some about you as well.) ❞ ❝ you seem...strangely familiar. ❞ ❝ here i am, an upright man who never once learned how to bend the knee. and yet...i shall try. ❞ ❝ that’s a bread knife. do you mean to butter me? ❞ ❝ is that not something you worry over? ❞ ❝ a blind pursuit of vengeance has made you predictable. ❞ ❝ no matter where you are, or how far you travel, i will hunt you down. ❞ ❝ i came for you, looking for a friend and ally. ❞ ❝ people change. it may be that you change with them, or you go your separate ways. ❞ ❝ i wish you whatever peace you may find in this new life you’ve found. ❞ ❝ i want your word: you will follow my orders. ❞ ❝ the day is new, and the air is bracing. are you ready for the fight ahead? ❞ ❝ er...good to meet you as well? ❞ ❝ what riches are worth so much misery, and the deaths of honorable men and women? ❞ ❝ my destiny is mine to weave. ❞ ❝ my road forward has been a muddy one. slick with blood and tears. (but we can reach its end together.) ❞ ❝ it is a wise leader who considers the needs of others. ❞ ❝ i think my mouth has gotten me in enough trouble today. ❞ ❝ at the end of all things, you will find yourself with nothing but your regrets. ❞ ❝ you saw fit to keep me guessing through your fits of madness. ❞ ❝ by all the gods, what was that? ❞ ❝ i was...restless. a quiet walk alone clears the head. ❞ ❝ when winter is past, summer will come and wind you in a flowered skirt, for you are beauty and shall not wither. ❞ ❝ ...unless you had a more interesting day planned for us? ❞ ❝ i do hope you see it now, for all you have done for me. ❞ ❝ your passion, your strength. i have never met such a burning soul. ❞ ❝ i have no guilt nor regret for what we have done, but we should be careful. ❞ ❝ i see before me a person full of passion, vigor, and a love for their people. ❞ ❝ if i wanted to hear you talk shit, i’d cut out your tongue and shove it up your ass. ❞ ❝ you! you look stronger than most of the others. ❞ ❝ your hatred for me burns bright. i could warm my balls on it. ❞ ❝ you’re quite like your arms: incredibly thick. ❞ ❝ i fought as i do, as hard as i do, to survive. (for i know what awaits us in the end. only darkness.) ❞ ❝ a shameful trick. you are your father’s child. ❞ ❝ you destroyed my life. i will take yours. ❞ ❝ you snore a little, like a wounded bear. ❞ ❝ that’s when i knew i would live and die for you. ❞ ❝ i’m going to pretend your last words were taken by the wind. ❞ ❝ i might still kill you yet, if your prattling doesn’t cease. ❞ ❝ you are weak like your father was weak. (you dance better than you fight.) ❞ ❝ have you ever seen muscles as massive as mine? ❞ ❝ i’m honored by your faith in me. and your confidence. ❞ ❝ after my missteps, i worry what you must think of me. ❞ ❝ with so much blood in the water and death in the air, i’d like to know your name and purpose. ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling about this place. ❞ ❝ you helped me reclaim what i had lost in myself. ❞ ❝ you speak of honor. where’s yours? ❞ ❝ you will throw away all reason to defend what you sworn to. ❞ ❝ you really are like a hero out of folk tales. ❞ ❝ how much would you sacrifice to be freed of fate’s shackles? (would you give your tongue, your hand, your sight?) ❞ ❝ there’s no power strong enough to do what you say. ❞ ❝ please, you must fight for me. who knows what vile people might come to harm me? ❞ ❝ i have no need to count my kills. they number too many. ❞ ❝ i appreciate you for all of your qualities. ❞ ❝ not even the gods can change fate. ❞ ❝ i think it is time i take my leave. ❞ ❝ you really thought my life was in danger? (and you risked your own life...) ❞ ❝ the path ahead is bright, with glory at its end. ❞ ❝ it is easy to lose one's way on the road to glory. do not let false victories blind you to what is true. ❞ ❝ the act of leaving so beloved a home, there is a sadness to it. ❞ ❝ so there’s nowhere...you call home? ❞ ❝ all things end. ruins are not a warning, they are a testament. ❞ ❝ be nice to sleep in a real bed when this is over. ❞ ❝ in my sleep i dream. and in my dreams i see an end to the doom that will grip the earth once again. ❞ ❝ even when we win, we lose. ❞ ❝ i am as good with my lips, as i am with my tongue. ❞ ❝ is this your idea of a pleasant ride through the country? ❞ ❝ no whispering god brought me here. i brought myself. ❞ ❝ i would like very much to pass some time with you. ❞ ❝ ...and that’s how i got that scar. ❞ ❝ do i now haunt your dreams? ❞ ❝ it was never in their character to lead, it was always within yours. ❞ ❝ so easily wounded by words. imagine the ruin my axe would inflict on your flaccid ego. ❞ ❝ i have felt this way for some time now. i care for you. ❞ ❝ i have not felt safe since then. not really. ❞ ❝ how long have you been chasing me? seventeen winters? eighteen? ❞ ❝ you are not always to be trusted. your passions overcome you. ❞ ❝ i like you. you may help me here or step on me...and by the look of you i’d welcome either. ❞ ❝ it is good to have you in this fight. ❞ ❝ you need only know my impressive scale and flawless build. ❞ ❝ i am better than any man here. ❞ ❝ i can tell by looking at you, you are not a great warrior. (you know it too, there is no reason to deny this.) ❞ ❝ i am looking for honor, and have become lost as a result. ❞ ❝ many apologies. you are no child, simply a frail and fully-grown fool. ❞ ❝ i was stupid, selfish, reckless, blind, boneheaded, and i smell like blood and shit. ❞ ❝ anything to say for the mess you led us to? ❞ ❝ how was your...first kill? ❞ ❝ you squirm like that and my axe will miss your neck! unpleasant for both of us. ❞ ❝ i know you would defy me to the death, fighting for a glorious end. that i will not allow. ❞ ❝ most men choose to be loud or stupid. impressive, that you managed both. ❞ ❝ you are a great warrior. conquerer of this land and that of your birth. ❞ ❝ you’re chasing shadows like a madman howling at the moon! ❞ ❝ quite a hit you took. how many were lost? ❞ ❝ well fought! even if your wits were somewhat rattled. ❞ ❝ we suffered no losses in this fight, and the men who humiliated us are dead. what is there to say? ❞ ❝ i would like to be close to you. ❞ ❝ if you are a warrior with honor running like sunlight in your veins, then you may help me fulfill my destiny. ❞ ❝ you are a long way from any warm hearth, warrior. Is this where you call home? ❞ ❝ am i to go the rest of my days without love or attention? i think not. ❞ ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞ ❝ the others, they are like clubs. blunt and ungainly, you are nimble, like a knife. ❞ ❝ people with eyes that gleam like yours are always up to something more. ❞ ❝ only a fool stays awake all night worrying. you are tired when you get up, and the problem is still not solved. ❞ ❝ i liked you from the first. i saw something in you that captivated me. (as if a forgotten memory of an old friendship had suddenly resurfaced.) ❞ ❝ you've done nothing but give me your blind word! ❞ ❝ did you bring me any treasure? ❞ ❝ the woodsmoke from your firepit does sting the eyes. but the warmth is welcome. ❞ ❝ it is not something i can speak on. or wish to. ❞ ❝ i'm with you. only say the word. ❞ ❝ until we cut off this serpent's head, it will poison us, day by day, drop by drop. ❞ ❝ get some rest and return here at first light. ❞ ❝ i missed having you at my side. how i wished i could have taken you along on my travels. ❞ ❝ i do not like this, but i will not stop you. ❞ ❝ i have waited too many years for this day. when ___ stands before us, give me the final blow. ❞ ❝ why do you carry such a useless burden? let it go. ❞ ❝ i have waited years for this, but i will not risk losing it through rashness. ❞ ❝ i cannot fathom your game. you are either a young fool...or deceptively wise. ❞ ❝ your confidence blinds you to so much in plain sight. ❞ ❝ it’s good to be here, with you and your people. (i feel my life has found a new road.) ❞ ❝ there has always been war, even among the gods. ❞ ❝ my honor has been stained. until it's wiped clean, i want nothing else. ❞ ❝ i lack the patience for pole fishing. i would have better luck with my bow. ❞ ❝ if we tell all our stories, we’ll be here for a week. ❞ ❝ can you teach me the art of archery? ❞ ❝ bury the past. build the future. ❞ ❝ i missed you. your clear head and your courage. (we have not had enough of both in recent months.) ❞ ❝ i have a good feeling this war is near its end. ❞ ❝ explain in plain words why you have willfully disobeyed my commands. (do you mock me?) ❞ ❝ the gods favor you. they always have. ❞ ❝ my love for you rises tall and strong, like the tree of life. ❞ ❝ the prize is some of my time. (a walk in nature, maybe more if that is where our conversation takes us.) ❞ ❝ together, we are unstoppable. ❞ ❝ it is natural to fear change. to resist it. (but all things change, and all things end.) ❞ ❝ you said nothing of this to me, not a word. ❞ ❝ so long as men and women fight to secure honor and freedom, their allegiance hardly matters to me. ❞ ❝ i care for you. i do not know how to say it any other way. ❞ ❝ love can burn brighter near death. ❞ ❝ i knew this would be difficult, but sometimes the weight bears down heavily. ❞ ❝ you are young and still foolish, so i will spare you your life. (but cross me again or harm anyone i cherish, and you will join your friends in hell.) ❞ ❝ if you are as brave as you appear, you will come. ❞ ❝ this is not a natural quiet. it's as if a curse has befallen this place. ❞ ❝ there was a curse here long before i came along. ❞ ❝ we’ll forge a warrior from your softness, hammered on the anvil of war. ❞ ❝ you are different than the kind my flights of fancy attract. burdened, decorated and…delicate. ❞ ❝ i do not know what else to say. m-my memories are faint, hazy. ❞ ❝ how are you doing? you survived a serious blow. ❞ ❝ we’ll weave our sagas together, thread upon thread. ❞ ❝ i try to use my knowledge to help others. i am only a threat to those who fear the unknown. ❞ ❝ slap some moss on that gash and wrap it well. ❞ ❝ a knife to the back is a wound that never heals. ❞ ❝ with me you have wisdom! glory! power! what more do you need? ❞ ❝ if your hell is real, i’m glad you’ll get to see it. ❞ ❝ to fight beside such legends is an honor. (i've only heard tales of your conquests. now i get to live them.) ❞ ❝ i have tried to live well. it is enough that the gods know that. ❞ ❝ a cloud hangs over you. is something wrong? ❞ ❝ you have plunged my city into chaos. ❞ ❝ my sword is gore-greedy. i am ready to fight. ❞ ❝ accept your fate and die a coward, here before your people... and i will spare the rest. ❞ ❝ you would take the rescue for yourself, so the victory song is written about you? ❞ ❝ kneel, and i will spare your life. ❞ ❝ it has been some time. what brings you so far to see me? ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /

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meigh-day · 3 years

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Meet Cute (Tendou x F!Reader)

Title: Meet Cute

Pairing: Tendou x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Status: Complete

Word Count: 2.1k

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"I can do this..." You mumble to yourself, eyes focused on the single page menu in your hands. The words scrawled across the page wanted to seem familiar but only a couple managed to find their meaning while the rest just sat there taunting you. Maybe choosing to eat out was a bad idea. It had been only a couple of weeks since you'd uprooted your whole life and moved to beautiful Paris. Sure, your apartment wasn't the prettiest or the biggest and yea maybe not actually speaking a word of French prior to moving wasn't the brightest idea but you couldn't say you regretted the decision. Not yet anyway. A kind looking waitress approached your table, pen poised to take your order as she spoke to you. Her words came quick and left you staring up at her with an awkward smile while she stared at you, expectantly at first and then confused when you said nothing.

"Oh... uh... un moment..." Is all you finally manage to stammer out in your very limited French. She sighs a bit but nods and disappears back inside, leaving you to stare a bit longer at the menu as you worry your lip between your teeth. With a sigh you place the menu flat on the table. Resting your chin in your palm as you stare out at the bustling street before you. People wandered by, laughing with friends, arms full of shopping or flowers, hands intertwined as soft words passed between them. It seemed familiar in a way, watching others pass by on their way to or from some place. Yet, that familiarity only seemed to make you feel all the more alienated, amplifying that feeling of loneliness that was starting to creep up on you. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, your train of thought derailing immediately after as you realize someone was talking to you and you'd absentmindedly acknowledged them.

"Ah, sorry!" You sit up, turning your attention towards the source. An amused smile greets you as a pair of sharp red eyes catch your own. For a moment you sit stunned, mind stuck on one word: pretty. A short chuckle brings you back and you clear your throat as you try to think of something, anything to say to this stranger. "Uhm... Ah... P-pardonner monsieur." You offer up a stammered apology, though you aren't sure if you are sorry for not hearing what he said or for deciding to grace this café and the city with your inadequate French. Both maybe?

He laughs and shakes his head before pointing to the seat across from you as if to ask permission. You nod, offering him a somewhat nervous smile as you watch him take a seat. He was tall and thin with the prettiest red hair you had ever seen. He squints his eyes at you a moment before plucking the menu from the table and reading it over. With nothing else to occupy your attention, you watched him, curious why he had decided to approach a complete stranger.

"Hmm, do you like sweet stuff?" He questioned, eyes peering at you from atop the menu, not a hint of French accent in a single syllable.

You smile and nod, humming in affirmation before your eyes widen. "Wait... You speak... You're not..." A sigh of relief passes your lips as you relax in your chair, grateful to not have to stammer and stutter through the minimal French you'd managed to remember. The red headed man snickered at your obvious relief, hiding his smirk behind the menu.

"Geez, you poor thing. I admire your courage."

"Courage?"

"Yea. I didn't try my hand at dining out for like the first 2 or 3 months." He lowered the menu, his smirk now visible to you as he placed the menu back down on the table.

"Oh, heh, yea probably not the smartest move. It just smelled really good and my stomach overruled my brain."

He nodded, almost as if to say he understood the feeling before glancing back up at you. "I know we just met and all but do you trust me?" He taps the menu as he asks, indicating the reason behind his question.

"I might be inclined to trust you a little more if I knew your name..." You chuckle, watching his eyes widen in the realization that not a single word of introduction had passed between you. The smirk that had been on his lips is replaced by a sweet smile, his squinted red eyes soften as his whole express shifts from that slightly mischievous one he'd been wearing to a rather warm one.

"Ah, yea. It's Tendou, Tendou Satori."

Several minutes later, introductions now over and your order placed by the very gracious man before you, you two sat chatting back and forth. Both curious what had brought each of you to Paris, almost equally as unprepared. You found out Tendou was attending school to get his associates degree in bakery and pastry arts with the intent on training to become a chocolatier after. You stared at him, eyes wide with excitement as he spoke very animatedly about his latest project.

"But yea, not super exciting or anything." His own excitement dwindled a bit, nervousness settling in as he realized he'd been prattling on about himself for the last ten minutes.

"That sounds incredible!" You finally say. It had been so fun watching and hearing him talk about something he clearly loved.

"What about you?"

"Me? Ah..." The main reason you'd come to Paris was school. Well that's what you told people when asked and it was true. Though you couldn't deny to yourself the underlying reason for moving halfway across the word was to get away from your family. They had wanted you to stay local, go to college and work at your uncles company when you graduated. What a nicely planned future, all neat and packaged with a bow. It wasn't what you wanted though and you expressed that on many occasions. In the end you decided that if you were going to go to school for what you wanted you might as well do it as far away as possible while you were at it. Not wanting to unpack any of that though you gave him a very watered down version of why you'd come to Paris.

Tendou could tell as you spoke that something was missing from your story. Maybe it was the way your eyes shifted around as you spoke, or the stiff smile on your lips, but it was clear to him you maybe weren't telling the whole truth. Though considering he was more or less a perfect stranger, he couldn't fault you for that. Just as you were wrapping up your food arrived so any further talk regarding your coming to Paris halted in favor of eating whatever deliciousness Tendou had kindly ordered.

"Ah, that was so good." You breath out happily, leaning back in your chair in an effort to alleviate the fullness in your stomach. Tendou gave you a wide grin as he set his empty cup down. "I did a pretty good job guessing at what you'd like then?"

"Mhm!" You agree enthusiastically. "God knows what I would have ordered if not for you. So.. uh..." You sit up a bit, fixing your eyes on him as your smile softens. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

He shakes his head, waving off your gratitude. "Nah don't worry about it." The waitress comes back around and leaves the bill, just the one, but before you can even think about how to fix this, Tendou has paid for the both of you.

"Oh no you don't have.. "

"Consider it a welcome to Paris gift." He stands and smiles down at you before slowly turning, a bit of reluctance in his step.

This was not how you had anticipated your lunch going. If anything you thought you might order something, hopefully delicious but at the very least edible, in your awful broken French and then go home. You couldn't fathom you'd end up meeting someone so kind and generous, who you maybe also thought happened to be the most beautiful person you'd ever seen. Yet you had, and now you were sat in your chair like a complete idiot watching his back grow smaller and smaller, he'd be lost in the crowd by now if not for his lovely hair.

"What am I doing?!" You harshly mutter to yourself as you stand, grabbing up your jacket and bag before breaking out into a run.

Tendou chewed on his lip as his feet carried him away from the small café. It wasn't like it was totally unusual for him to talk to strangers but he'd never just invited himself to eat with a complete stranger, pay for their meal and then leave. Yet here he was, having done all that, though the latter was being done rather reluctantly. Part of him wanted to turn around and go back to you. You'd only spent the better part of an hour together but he was curious about you. There was something that had drawn him towards you. At first he thought he'd gone to you out of the desire to help, and that was part of it to be sure, but maybe there was more to it. Sure your wobbly French had drawn him over but that wasn't why he stayed. Was it the way you had smiled up at him? Or was it the way you sat and listened to him ramble on with actual interest? Perhaps it was the gentle look on your face when he'd caught you staring off into space. Whatever it was, it had his already slow pace halting.

"Tendou!" His eyes widen at the shout of his name, turning to see you waving at him as you run, reaching him a moment later half out of breath.

"Miss me already?" He jokes, watching as you lean down, bracing your hands against your thighs while you attempt to catch your breath. He isn't kept waiting long as you stand upright, a nervous chuckle finally coming out in response to his initial reply.

"Kinda, yea."

"I-- uh... What?" Tendou falters as he tries to process what you just said, not trusting his ears.

"I know we really don't know each other but it seems like such a shame to just... ignore this."

"Ignore what?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"This!" You state as you frantically motion between the two of you. "I mean what're the odds we'd even meet. Besides, I don't know about you but I don't really know anyone around here and it'd be really nice to change that..." You end with a shrug, starting to second guess this whole endeavour as you watch Tendou stare down at you. His dark red eyes were wide at first, surprised that you had even bothered to run after him but even more so that you wanted to be...well friends or at the very least friendly. His look of surprise softened a moment, a smile on his lips before he narrowed his eyes at you, a glint of mischief in them.

"Sounds pretty suspicious to me but I suppose I can show you around or whatever." His smile widens, almost curling at the ends. "But it'll cost ya."

"C-cost me?" Oh no, maybe this was a bad idea. Perfect stranger remember?! "W-what?"

"Whoa now." He chuckles, holding his hands up in as if the action would ward off whatever dubious thoughts were drifting through your mind. "Just your number... It'd be pretty hard to show you around if I can't get a hold of ya."

"Oh... OH, yea right." You nod, cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. You pull out your phone and enter his details, not really sparing him a glance, too mortified by the assumptions that had sprung to mind.

"I'll text you so you have my number too." You mumble as you type a short message and hit send. A moment later you hear a ding and Tendou pulls out his phone.

"Ah, is that the time?!" He practically yells as the screen lights up, his carefree smile replaced with panic. "Shit, I gotta go!" He offers you an apologetic smile before hurrying away, leaving you a little startled by his sudden departure but overall happy with the outcome. Your grin down at your phone only to see it light up as it buzzes in your hand.

(02:37pm) Y/N: Hey it's Y/N :)

(02:41pm) Tendou: You Free tomorrow?

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #tendou x reader #tendou fluff #tendou #tendou satori

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monsterfloofs · 3 years

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The Ghost in the Parlor (Sfw and anonymous protagonist!)

It was one in the morning when you rose from bed, sliding on a pair of slippers and feeling your way through the dark to exit your room. The sound was faint, barely audible, but you knew. . .

He was playing tonight.

As you weave your way towards the stairs, you could hear the chords beneath you, the stirring voice of a piano pulling you through dark corridors. As you stop and peer over the banister. You can see from up above, candles alight with a ghastly blue fire. Their light casting eerie wisps of shadows to dance upon the floor. In the middle of this spectral scene was a luminous form sitting at the old grand piano. His spindly fingers like spiders upon the keys, procuring the tune that wafted up the stairs. The sound is sweet and melancholic, mourning things that have been lost, and the ever present march of time. Always moving, never relenting.

You knew all this because you had asked him, it was his favorite tune to play. He played it often and there were times where you could almost feel his deep rooted bittersweet sadness. Tears would spring to your eyes and you would have to mop your face with your sleeve. Tonight the song felt especially lonely and with careful footing you crept down the stairs, your shadow timidly trailing after.

"Have I disturbed you?" His melodic voice intones as you sit down beside him. "No, I came to hear you play, if you would have me as company mister Sterling." "Sleep is for the living" he sighs wistfully, "You should be asleep, dreaming sweet dreams of tomorrow."

He talks to you but his hands, ah his quick and nimble hands keep playing. You watch them sweeping across the keys, mesmerized until he stops. You blink and look up at him. His face is turned towards yours, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively. "A little distracted, were we?" You smile sheepishly, "Ah, yes, I'm sorry, but your hands do work magic. What had you been saying?"

He gives an embarrassed huff, "It's late is it not?" They pale eyes staring at you unblinkingly from beneath round vintage glasses. "Well yes," you reluctantly agree, "But I have missed your nightly performances. And I was hoping you could give me another lesson tonight." You say softly as he flexes his long spindly fingers. "Ooh. . . perhaps. You have always been kind to me. Letting me keep you up at odd hours of night with my prattling."

"You know I would stay even if you didn't give me a lesson. Your music is beautiful." He turns his head away from you, but you can see a hazy pink color introduce itself onto his countenance. When he turns back the color has all but bled out, except for some swirling traces. "I have had nothing but time to perfect it. Though as despairing as it may be, to watch seasons pass without being able to participate in the world, I still have my music. I wonder, is it what holds me here? Is my comfort my cage? Alas-- Dear, aren't you going to put your hands to the piano? You did ask for a lesson you know."

You look up at him before doing as he asks. Aligning your fingers to the keys, "I thought you were still deciding. . ." "Oh," they respond absentmindedly, "Don't mind me, I'm particularly lost in my thoughts tonight, death, life, it's all just one big mess. . ." Sterling rambles on talking about music as you sit together playing chords and sections of songs. As you are still learning the basics he keeps things simple, most of the time you are echoing his voice on the piano or remembering notes and chords. But he has seems to have become happier with having someone he can talk to, rather than to stew lost in his own thoughts.

"You are doing quite well," A pleased smile tugging on his lips, his crinkled eyes twinkling. "Have you been practicing?" "A little. . . Not as much as I would like though." You slid your hands onto your lap and smile. "Thank you for the lesson, I appreciate you taking the time to sit with me and do that. I hope I'm not inconveniencing you."

"Of course not," he sniffs, "I. . . am very fond of your company." There was something with the way he said it, that stirred your heart. You can feel your own face grow a little warm, "I'm glad. . . haha." He glances at you, his hands poised to begin playing again. You swallow hard and press on, "Though I h-have to admit, I am more than a little fond of you."

--BADOOM His hands slip hitting the keys too hard and causes a loud blunder of noise. Practically falling off his chair, Sterling’s hands shielding his face in embarrassment. "I-I. . .WHAT?" He stammers, your eyes widen that he reacted so dramatically. "I just meant that, I c-care about you a lot--" The candles snuff out around and you are suddenly plunged in darkness. The ghost has left the building.

Your head flops into the piano, a few keys playing as your face presses into them. You give a groan of defeat Dammit! Way to go, you probably just killed him. . . AGAIN. Despite his usual stuffy demeanor he can get easily flustered. He tries to hide it under a punctual and proper air, but was a much shier person than he let on. You liked that about him though, there were little things that he did that just enchanted you. He was a deep thinker, and he always took the time to explain things and be patient with you. So of course, you had to go and fall in love with a ghost. You had been trying to gather the courage to tell him your feelings for about a week now. Slowly working your way towards the right words you say. But like music, timing was just as important as the notes. To be honest you had gotten so nervous you are sure you had fumbled in both regards. You sigh heavily, best head to bed, perhaps you can try and talk to him tomorrow.

You slink away in defeat, retiring to your chamber until sunlight streams through your window. Leaving a dappled trail of light and warmth inside your room. You grumpily turn over in bed, refusing to move until you have properly sulked for just a little while longer. Trying to wrack your brain how you were going to approach the ghostly pianist now. With Sterling being so shy, you weren’t sure if his reaction was bad or good. Only time will tell, but in the meantime you're up and making breakfast. Then busying yourself with doing chores around the house and trying not to let your mind settle too much into last night. You go about whiling away the hours until sunset. That's when Sterling becomes active inside the house. You don’t exactly know where he goes during the daytime. You have attempted in the past to nonchalantly snoop around in the basement but to no avail.

Before you know it, the sun is setting in the sky. Golden light filtering across the floor, flooding the rooms with dying light. You peer into the parlor, and step inside. Running your hands over the black and white keys. You can feel a faint prick on the back of your neck, you turn around and You startle, coming face to face with the musically inclined ghoul. You put a hand on your heart. "Oh my goodness!-- Sterling!" you sigh weakly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “Hello,” He murmurs faintly, you look up at him, feeling suddenly shy. All this time you had been waiting to talk to him, and now only an awkward silence fills the room. Both of you starting to speak at the same time.

“I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

“N-no that’s alright, please, continue”

“Aaah-- why don’t you go first, I was the person who upset you last night”

A hand flutters anxiously to the glasses upon his crooked nose. "You didn’t upset me. You, w-well surprised me. I was flattered, but I don’t think you truely want anything to do with this old goat." "H-huh? What do yo--" He cuts you off with a flourish of his hand. "I'm an old man dear, not just old, decrepit. I died in 1839, my bones are buried outside, wouldn't that bother you?" His face flushes an eerie pink and he splutters in embarrassment. "I mean, it should bother you. . . " A light bulb blinks on in your head and you stare at him with new found insight. "Y-you, like me too, don't you. . ." "I beg your pa--" "It was you, wasn’t it?" With a rush of feeling, you practically jump a foot off the ground from excitement. "I was always wondering about those poems left on the door step-" your mouth goes agape. "And those flowers!" His eyes dart back and forth in a panic, his mouth wobbling. "W-what??? Me? I don't know anything about that!" You can tell he's wanting to bolt and you make a grab at one of his translucent hands. Surprisingly your fingers successfully curl around it and his shoulders jerk up. Trying to calm yourself down before trying to talk to him. You were spooking him, a novel thought, but not what you had been intending to do. So you take a different approach, "Why. . . didn't you ever tell me?" The specter is sweating bullets now, he mops his brow with a wispy handkerchief. "I-I” he groans in defeat, “A ghost cannot do romance! A ghost cannot do much of-- of anything! No matter how I felt, I couldn't keep you here, you deserve to be free, to experience life to the fullest. Not to be shackled to me and this house." You flush, truly surprised by his answer. "But, I don't want anyone else, I like you. . ." Tentatively you take his hands and hold them gently in your own. His expression quivers, looking down before he gently pulls away. His fingers wisping through your skin before reconstructing themselves back together. He puts a hand into his breast pocket before he pulls out an envelope with a flowery wax seal. He looks away from you but hands you the letter, his expression flushing as that same red color is introduced into his normal pale blue complexation. You look up at him searchingly before you gently take the letter. The smooth paper has a fragrance like all the rest of the notes you recieved, like roses and vanilla. You carefully peel back the floral seal, opening the envelope.

You watch Sterling lights the candles at the table in the parlor. It has been a week since the two of you had become a couple, and you cannot remember a happier time, then the hours you have spent together. “Didn't you say, a ghost cannot do romance?” You tease him with a smile, your eyes crinkling as you watch him with a loving gaze. He huffs softly, "That I did, and I wish more than anything I could take you to a fine dinner out of this house. . . " He pinches the wick of one last candle, and when he removes his hand, an enchanting blue fire flickers to life. “I think a candlelit dinner at home is just as lovely.” He looks at you for a moment, before he gives a little smile, “If you say so darling.” “I do.” He bends down to give you a chilly peck on the forehead before he sits down at his piano, flexing his fingers before he begins to play. The blue lights of the candles flickering to the sound of his haunting melody. But the tone has changed, no longer lachrymose. You can hear something happy stirring in the song that projects itself out of the house, and into the starlit sky.

#monster x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #sfw #ghost x human

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granolabird · 3 years

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Hope for Better Days

Post 2x09. I figured we didn’t get much Hournite content this EP so I made my own :) This follows Beth going to visit Rick at the jail just before the storm starts after she gets off the phone with Courtney. Just some good ol Angst/Fluff content. Sure Rick is in jail but I can still make him kinda-sorta happy. Ish.

Warnings: N/A

Taglist: @hournites @bethchapelsbonnet

If you’d like to be added to my weekly Hournite fic tag list feel free to ask :) .

“Has Rick called?” Beth finds herself asking as soon as she gets the chance.

Courtney called her to help devise a plan on what to do about Eclipso. It’s a valid mindset, one that Beth is trying very hard to reciprocate but she just can’t. She can’t stop thinking about Rick, alone and cold in his jail cell. The storm that’s hitting today is supposed to be really bad, there might even be a tornado. And sure Beth’s safe at home. So is Courtney, and Yolanda too, but Rick? He’s in a jail cell, which is probably one of the least safe places he could be.

“No, he hasn’t called. Yolanda still hasn’t answered my calls either.” Courtney snaps Beth from her train of thought.

“Oh. Okay.”

Beth isn’t sure what else to say. Courtney seems to ignore her disappointment and continues to prattle on about how to use the staff and the goggles together to beat Eclipso. Beth tries to listen, she really does. What Courtney is saying is important, but Rick keeps flitting across her mind. She can’t help but worry about him. She looks out her window at the storm, wondering how long until it unleashed itself. Would there be enough time to go visit Rick? The police station wasn’t that far, and he should still have his twenty minutes of visitation time, nobody had gone to see him today. Beth could go see him.

“Beth?” Courtney seems to have asked a question that Beth has absolutely not heard.

“Sorry, can you say that again?”

Courtney sighs, but repeats her question; “You said Eclipso presented himself as a child?” “A child version of Bruce Gordon, yeah.”

“Well then it’ll be…”

Courtney’s voice fades into obscurity as Beth spots her Dad’s car pulling into the driveway. He’s home early, this is too perfect. If she can convince him to drive her to go see Rick, then she’ll be good to go. It’s a foolproof plan, probably.

“Sorry Courtney, my dad just got home. I have to go.” Beth manages to get her words in between Courtney’s seemingly endless rambling.

“Oh, yeah of course. I’ll call you later, okay?” There’s a hint of disappointment to Courtney’s voice that makes Beth feel a little bad about the whole situation, but she really has to go see Rick.

“Yeah! For sure!” And with that she hangs up, sliding her phone into her bag.

She’s still wearing her goggles, and spends a moment debating whether it’s safe to take them off or not. She resolves to put them in her bag just in case, not wanting to endure another questioning from her father regarding her wearing her ‘swimming goggles’ everywhere. Then she grabs her bag, pulls on a sweater and races down the stairs to see her Father.

“Dad! You’re home early!” Beth tries to put as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible, and judging on the smile her dad flashes her way her tactics are working.

“Yeah, work was worried about the weather so they sent everyone home early.” He’s already taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

Once he gets his shoes off and sits down on the couch Beth knows he won't be moving. She has to act quickly. She steadies herself, shaking off any worries before she asks to go visit Rick. The worst he can say is no is all she keeps telling herself in a (failing) attempt to keep herself calm.

“So, dad.”

“What is it sweetie?” He’s halfway through unlacing one of his dress shoes.

“I was wondering if we could go visit Rick? You know, before the storm starts. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” She’s rushing her words, but her Dad seems to understand what she says perfectly well as he gets up and looks at her with some concern.

“Beth, it’s about to start raining any minute now. Don’t you think he can wait?”

“His hearing got cancelled today. I just think he could use someone to talk to, you know? The station isn’t that far away, I could walk there if you don’t feel like driving me-”

“Absolutely not. You’ll get soaked. I’ll drive you, but we have to be quick.”

Beth mentally jumps for joy, but she doesn’t vocalize her excitement, just offers her Father a smile.

“Thanks Dad!”

Beth leans against the window as the car rolls down the street, her eyes scanning the dark clouds in the sky as they go. The drive to the police station seems to stretch on forever, especially with her Dad asking questions near-constantly. They’re just around the corner when her Dad asks,

“What is it with you and Rick anyway?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I mean, you two just seem close… You’d tell me if you had a boyfriend right? Your Mother and I would be so happy to hear that you-”

“Dad! No, it’s not like that! We… We're best friends, that’s it. He doesn’t really have anyone else, so I have to be there for him.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

The rest of the ride is silent.

Beth doesn’t tell her dad that she wishes her and Rick were more than best friends. It doesn’t feel like the right time to admit it. She doubts there ever will be a right time to admit it, but this would definitely be one of the absolute worst times. Her dad would never shut up about it. Not that that was a bad thing, Beth could talk about Rick and how much she cared about him for hours. But with her Dad? It doesn’t feel right. She continues scanning the clouds and fiddling with one of the straps on her bag while dwelling on thoughts of her relationship to Rick all the way to the police station parking lot.

Rick is slumped in his cell, leaning against the wall as he sits on his cot. This place is hell, but at least he doesn’t have to deal with Matt. That’s an upside. The downside is the fact that he rarely gets to see his friends, especially Beth. Beth. His mind lingers on her name a moment too long, and he has to shake his head in an attempt to dispel any thoughts of her. He’s found it best not to think about her unless she’s visiting him. Every time he does it feels like his soul is ripping in two, a deep ache in his chest that he can’t dispel, so he finds it better to not think about her altogether. As he sits now, staring at the blank ceiling of his cell, Rick hears footsteps approaching down the hall. Probably just a guard going for an hourly checkup. The steps however, stop in front of his cell, and Rick turns his head to see an Officer waiting at the door.

“There’s a visitor here for you Mr. Harris”

Rick cringes at the name, but forces himself not to say anything about it. He’d rather not start any kerfuffle.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a bad storm out there? Why the hell is someone visiting me?” Rick wonders aloud and the Officer shrugs.

“Not my business. I just gotta get you to the phones, the faster the better. I have a break in ten.” The Officer sounds exhausted, and Rick can’t help but feel himself sympathizing.

He really just wishes he could fall asleep, and wake up to find all of this was a dream. It won’t happen of course, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. Sometimes he wonders if all this is one giant illusion done by Eclipso, if he’s still stuck in that hellish landscape. But nobody would visit him if he were still in Eclipso’s hellscape. He’s not sure if it’s reassuring to know he’s not still there, or awful to know he’s actually trapped in jail. It’s a lose-lose situation, really.

When Rick sees Beth waiting on the other side of the glass to see him, his heart does a flip. He spots her Dad standing awkwardly in the corner, and makes a mental note not to say anything too personal, and not to mention the JSA. All inhibitions leave his mind as soon as he sits across from Beth and picks up the phone, however.

“Beth, what are you doing here?” He tries to keep his voice steady but he can't help the relief that he feels encompassing his entire body.

“Visiting you, obviously!” Beth smiles, and Rick swears he’s going to melt on the spot. Nothing but a puddle of love-struck Rick Tyler left on the chair. The Officer would have to mop him up to get him back to his cell.

“I thought there was a storm out there? Shouldn’t you be at home preparing?”

Beth shrugs as if that’s the least of her worries, which it really shouldn’t be, but she doesn’t seem to share that sentiment.

“It hasn’t started yet. I figured I’d come check on you before it got too bad.” As if on cue the police station is shaken by a peel of thunder that makes Rick wince and the lights flicker.

“You don’t need to check on me Beth, I’m doing fine.”

“I don’t care if I don’t need to check on you Rick. I want to. I want to make sure you’re okay, and not freezing, and well fed, and as happy as you can be given the conditions. I just… I just want you to be okay.”

Rick can’t help but smile at this, wishing more than anything to reach through the barrier separating him and Beth so that he could hug her. She’s too kind. Too good for Rick. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve her. Frankly, he probably doesn’t deserve her. And yet here she is. Making sure he’s okay.

“Thanks, Beth. I’m doing okay. I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll be alright.” This doesn’t seem to reassure Beth at all, but it’s all he can offer.

“You’re in jail, Rick. Of course I’m going to worry about you. There’s not really much else I can do.” Beth looks so serious, so distraught, and Rick hates himself for causing her so much stress.

“I guess you’re right. But try not to worry too much, okay? I don’t want to stress you out. The thought of me stressing you out stresses me out.” He half-laughs, and butterflies fill his stomach as he sees Beth laugh with him.

It’s a small laugh but it’s enough.

“Alright, I’ll try, I promise.” Beth agrees.

The conversation lulls into small talk about Courtney and how she’s doing, and how Yolanda still hasn’t called back. Nothing too consequential, but Rick likes it that way. Makes his life seem more normal if only for a moment. It reminds him of all the days spent with Beth in her living room or in the Pit Stop just rambling about nothing and everything. Enjoying each other’s company, because they had nobody else to talk to. Because they were made to talk to one another. Those are the days Rick misses the most. He just wants to go back in time to tell himself to enjoy those moments more, to take in everything Beth is saying, to tell Beth everything he’s feeling. Because right now it’s looking like he may never get the chance again. He wants more than anything to have that chance again.

The lights flicker once more, and that seems to spook the Officer enough that he puts a hand on Rick’s shoulder, gesturing for him to get up.

“It’s only been ten minutes.” Rick growls, and the Officer taps his watch idly in response.

“Twelve minutes actually. I’m sorry, really, I just want to get you back to your cell before things get worse. It’d be best your friend here goes home too, I don’t think anyone should be driving in this weather. Car accidents kill so many people every year, you wouldn’t believe it!”

Both Rick and Beth wince at that statement, and Beth shoots him a sympathetic look. Rick swallows down any malicious retort, knowing the Officer only has good intentions, deciding to respond with a nod.

“I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.” Beth reassures him as Rick starts preparing to leave, and he smiles at her softly. “Yeah, of course. Get home safely, okay?” “Of course I will. Sit in your cell safely, okay?”

Rick can’t help but laugh at that as he nods, blinking tears from his eyes.

“I always do.”

And then he’s hanging up the phone and being escorted down the hallway. He throws one last glance back at Beth as he goes, but she’s already talking to her Dad, so she doesn’t notice his longing stare as he’s carted away.

The walk back to Rick’s cell is relatively silent. Most of the other cells are empty, save for a few sleeping drunks in some of the holding cells. Blue Valley isn’t particularly known for it’s non-supervillain related crime. It is a small town after all, so Rick’s incident was quite the exception. As they reach his cell, and Rick steps inside, the Officer finally speaks up.

“You know, that girl really must care a lot about you to come all the way out here to see you in this weather. You’ve caught yourself a good one there Mr. Harris.”

Rick gives a breathy laugh as he walks into the cell, sitting down on his cot. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” And he does. Beth is like no other girl he’s ever met, and for that he will forever be grateful. She’ll always be there for him, and he knows that as long as he’s alive he will always be there for her.

He hopes it will stay that way forever.

And a few blocks away, driving home in the pouring rain, she hopes for the same thing.

#I'm pretty happy with this one #Cute with just a dash of angst #Hournite #Stargirl #cw stargirl #stargirl spoilers #beth chapel #Rick tyler #beth x rick #Hourman #dr. mid nite

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?” You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught! “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it.

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!” Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!” Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...” The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.” Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.” The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream.

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?” The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.” He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off.

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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★Masterlist★

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Persephone's Symphony | Night One | Persephone

Hey lovelies, here's the next part. It's a little longer-- I got carried which, if you know me and my work, tends to happen frequently. I do hope you all enjoy and thank you so much to everyone who has sent me kind words and thoughts and ahhhh thank you!! I am forever grateful. Now, without further adieu...

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: meh some angst, some talk of death-- the normal for this series

Word count: 5.2k (omg)

Previous | Next

Master List

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Well, as smoothly as a day can go when there’s someone out there trying to kill you. Maybe smooth is the wrong word. For dinner she pops a frozen pizza in the oven— she’s already used up her quota for homestyle cooking on the grilled cheese and, besides, Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. If he does then he doesn’t say anything about it, at least. He pounds back five slices— she really doubts he hates it that much. She eats three. Had it just been her she would have eaten one— maybe. She doesn’t have the energy these days to eat more than that. It’s a paradox, one that has her going to bed tired and waking up exhausted most days.

Something is different with him though. She wants to eat more because it means that she gets to sit a little longer at the creaky wooden table and pretend to be normal. She never thought feeling normal would mean eating cheap pizza with her bodyguard in a safe house but, well, they say normal is relative, right? Usually she eats in the dark, under the glow of whatever movie she deems fit to fill the silence that night. Sitting across from him makes her feel like she has some semblance of her old life back. Like she has a life at all— even if he’s being paid to sit there and listen to her prattle on about nothing.

After dinner is a little more awkward. She spends the next two hours milling about, pretending to read this book of dogs she had found earlier on the coffee table. She had always wanted a dog when she was younger, one of those huge great danes, charcoal black and big enough to snuggle with. The kind that would keep her safe and follow her everywhere she goes. There’s one just like she had always imagined on page one hundred and nine. Sleek and beautiful and huge. That’s probably why she keeps going back to the book.

All she really does is look at the pictures, not that she would tell him that. She can see him glancing at her every so often and she would like to keep her guise of being smart up for as long as possible. She wasn’t lying when she told him that she was the top of her class— she was, and valedictorian too. She is smart. Well, smart when it comes to technology at least. The rest is debatable. Her mother used to tell her that she’s book smart— that if she were kidnapped and dropped off in the middle of nowhere she would be screwed.

If only her mother could see her now— could see that she’s holding up.

You know, if holding up means wanting to scream and cry and throw this stupid Big Book of Dogs against the wall because she can’t scream and cry. She’s holding up on the outside— that’s what matters. If everyday is as bearable as this one then she’ll be able to do all three before she knows it. She’ll be able to sit in the dark, spoon in one hand, Chunky Monkey in the other, and throw whatever the fuck she wants at the wall. For now, though, she just has to look at the pictures of the great dane and swallow her screams like they’re ice cream.

Eventually she stands, shifting on her feet, trying not to cringe when the boards squeak under her. It doesn’t make his head turn and look at her— how can it when his stare has been burning into her since before she stood up? She doesn’t really know what to say— it’s nine-thirty and she could sit there for another two hours— two or three or seven, what’s the difference?— but there’s no point in pushing the inevitable. Eventually she is going to have to get ready for bed and then, by default, actually go to bed.

How is that going to work?

A picture of her laying next to him pops into her mind, one where her limbs are curled tight against her chest, her legs ramrod straight, afraid to even do so much as breathe. Not out of fear that he’d hurt her or anything like that, though. Out of fear that she’d embarrass herself is more accurate. That she would wake up— if she even slept at all— with her body sprawled on top of his like the protagonists in one of her cheesy, unrealistic rom-coms. This isn’t a movie— she doesn’t want it to be. If this is her life’s movie then she wants to have a word with the director. She wants out. This isn’t the script she agreed to.

She doesn’t know what to say so she doesn’t say anything, only gathers her bag from where she stashed it next to the couch. A threadbare messenger bag big enough for a few pairs of leggings, her older brother’s Dodgers t-shirt, and some toiletries. She slings it over her shoulder, acutely aware of the fact that his gaze never leaves her, watching as she straightens and turns, meeting his icy blue eyes without so much as a hint of shame forming in them. Why should he be ashamed? It’s his job— he’s being paid to stare. That’s what she tells herself. It doesn’t make her feel any less exposed— any less seen.

For a moment she just looks at him— like really, truly looks at him. Sure, she’s been with him for roughly twelve hours now. Theoretically she’s had plenty of time to look at him. And of course she has— there’s no way she could have avoided it even if she wanted to. She has looked at him just not like this. Not the details. The facts. That’s what this is— a fact finding mission. Yeah, that sounds right— that’s what she’ll say if he asks, at least.

She takes in his face first, craning her neck slightly to do so. Slightly means far enough that your head touches your shoulders now. She ticks things off in her head as goes— bronzed skin, strong jaw, straight nose. She finds it hard to believe that his nose has never been broken. She drops lower— pink lips, the bottom one fuller. She doesn’t linger there despite the ache that grows in her throat. When was the last time she kissed a man? Too long ago.

She continues on her mission before she has time to stop and think about what it means to stare at her bodyguard’s lips and think about kissing. Absolutely nothing good, that’s what. She tries to distract herself with his broad shoulders and the way his henley stretches at the seams, scrounging for any and every ounce of space. For a moment it works. She starts thinking about the kind of regime one would have to undergo in order to get to his size, then about where he has to buy his clothes, before finally landing on what it would feel like to slip her arms into his shirt and to be totally engulfed—

Nope— she flicks her eyes even further down, skimming over something that, though she’s been looking at it for the better half of all day, she still can’t wrap her head around. His hand. His metal hand. She can feel his stare turn to lead on her forehead— feel him waiting for her to ask.

She’s not going to.

Not because she doesn’t want to know the story. Of course she wants to know! Her whole life is— or at least was— technology. She wants to know why he needs it, who made it, what it’s made of, if it’s connected to his nervous system, if it’s— the idea is there. She’s curious— she’s a scientist. Just like it’s his job to keep her alive, it’s her job to be enthralled by innovation.

That doesn’t mean she’s going to ask though. She likes him too much to do that. He’s nice enough to her and he doesn’t treat her like the little orphan girl that everyone else does. He doesn’t tiptoe around her— not that he could. He’s too big for that. He just doesn’t treat her like a freak, so she won’t treat him like an experiment.

And, of course, he’s a human being not a machine. That’s probably more important. She likes him and he’s a human. Priorities or whatever.

She meets his gaze again, watching him watch her, her face setting on fire. “Bedtime?”

What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n?

He presses his lips together, holding her stare for a beat before shrugging his shoulders, giving the henley a run for its money. “Bedtime.”

She turns at that, scampering up the stairs, listening to the thumping of his boots against the hardwood. It’s not a race but it’s also not not a race— she wants to get to the bathroom before he can so she can lock the door. She needs five minutes. That’s it. Just five minutes. Maybe it is a race.

“Hey— shit— wait!” She doesn’t, she only pumps her legs harder, almost slipping as she bolts into the bathroom, slamming the door and clicking the lock shut.

He really thought she wasn’t going to try that, huh? She learned her lesson this afternoon— the man takes his job very seriously.

The knob jiggles and she sticks her tongue out at it, finally in a space where she can let her bones relax. For the first time all day it feels like her skin isn’t on fire. It’s weird— she almost misses it. The door handle jiggles harder. Almost.

Five minutes, that’s all she needs.

His voice cuts through the door and she almost groans out loud. “You know I’m supposed to—”

“I know—” she starts pulling things out of her bag, hastily dropping what she doesn’t need and gathering what she does onto the vinyl countertop, very much aware of the ticking clock— “but the window in here isn’t even big enough for me to crawl out of so I think I can brush my teeth, yeah?”

She can practically feel the stress rolling off him, seeping under the crack between the door and the tiled floor. Half of her feels guilty but the other half couldn’t care less— she’s a grown ass woman and she will use the toilet without help.

She hears him let out a loud sigh and practically jumps in excitement— she won. “Fine— you get ten minutes, got it? Ten minutes and then I break this door down.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Thank gods he can’t see her right now or she would most definitely melt through the ground.

“You’re down to seven now.”

She shakes her head at her reflection, scrunching her nose and rolling her eyes at herself— “That’s fair.”

She hurries to slather some toothpaste on her brush, plopping it into her mouth as she shimmies out of her daytime leggings and into her nighttime ones. A fashion icon. She somehow also manages to take her dad’s hoodie off, avoiding the toothbrush and replacing the tank top underneath with a fresh one from her bag. Take that, Barnes.

She scrubs at her teeth, simultaneously digging through her pile of things for the deodorant she knows is in there. She finds it after a moment, rinsing her mouth and running the bar one too many times over her armpits— there’s absolutely no way she’s about to go into that bedroom with even the slight possibility of smelling bad. Especially when she still doesn’t know the sleeping arrangements.

She swipes her things back into her bag, shoving them in roughly, not noticing the hairbrush teetering precariously on the edge of the counter. It’s like it’s taunting her, just waiting to get her in trouble. That’s exactly what it does, too— just as her eyes meet the sinister blue plastic it’s too late, the brush already hurtling off the edge and crashing against the floor. Of course it has to hit the tiles head on and miss the hoodie by an inch. Time freezes for a moment when she hears the clang— well, there go the last three minutes of solitude.

She scrambles back just as the door slams open, fully expecting it but not any less startled, the area where the lock would be splintering into a million tiny pieces of wood— of dust— he pulverized the door! Her heart pounds furiously as Bucky surges forward, his jean clad legs pressing against her exposed shoulder, his body rigid as he does a full circle of the tiny bathroom, yanking back the shower curtain as if an assassin would really think that is the best hiding place. God she’s so fucking mortified.

He doesn’t move away from her when he finally looks down, his dark eyebrows drawn into a tight line, chest heaving so hard she wonders if the material is going to split right down the middle. His leg against her is hot, even through the material. Almost as hot as her face— face, neck, shoulders, toes.

“What happened?”

She meekly holds up the blue plastic brush, squeezing her eyes shut. “He just snuck up on me Bucky— I thought I was a goner.”

She cracks an eye open to his clenched jaw, his still heaving chest now much lower— closer. He takes the brush from her hand, setting it on the counter before offering his own hand— the flesh hand— out to her. She takes it, letting him effortlessly pull her body from the ground without so much as even a grunt. Before she knows it she’s eye level with the buttons on his shirt, leaning all the way back in order to meet his simmering crystal eyes.

“We’re not doing that again.” We’re. As in both of them�� a team.

She tries to keep from trembling at his deep voice. It doesn’t work. He notices— of course he notices— and takes a step back. She doesn’t have the heart— or the gall— to tell him that she’s not shaking because she’s afraid of him.

“It was a hairbrush.” She sighs, curling her arms around her chest, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever under the surprisingly bright fluorescents.

Of course now, when she’s standing in a flimsy tank top, is the one time the lights aren’t dimmed.

He doesn’t back down, seething his words between his teeth. “This time— this time it was a hairbrush.”

She shakes her head, dropping her eyes and bending to scoop up her hoodie— she doesn’t want to see him angry at her. It makes her feel guilty; like her her chest is caving in on itself. She doesn’t need that on top of everything else.

“Fine, whatever.” She grabs her bag, brushing by him.

She knows that she’s being childish. She isn’t an idiot, contrary to what her mind likes to tell her. She’s just exhausted. Exhausted of having to always look over her shoulder, exhausted of wondering who’s going to die next— if she’s going to die next, exhausted of having to actively try to stay alive. She’s just exhausted in general. She doesn’t want to die but, gods, if she isn’t so damn tired of having to think about it. Aren’t you supposed to just live? Not think about living?

She pushes open the door to the bedroom, dumping her bag next to the cedar chest at the end of the bed, refusing to turn around when she hears his footsteps— much quieter than she’s yet to hear them— enter behind her. She crosses her arms again, digging her fingers into the flesh hard enough to give herself something to focus on other than how much she wants to rip every strand of hair from her head. Her eyes wander over the olive duvet, noting how the color makes the black iron frame pop in contrast. Maybe she should change up her bedroom back home.

She bites her lip— she’s stalling. It’s a queen sized bed, more than big enough for both of them. Maybe she should offer it to him. There’s barely any room on the floor to sprawl out, only a small space either next to the dresser beside the bed or in front of the chest. Either way he would probably have to lay as stiff as possible to avoid bumping his limbs. The right thing to do would be to offer it to him— to take the floor.

She listens as he takes a step, the air behind her shifting, and she tenses. “Look, I think we should talk—”

“Do you want the bed?” She tries to keep her tone balanced— to keep from hurling the words at him like daggers. Or like hair brushes.

“I’m serious, I’m sor—”

She whirls around, her hair flying around her face, features schooled but tone edging closer towards being unhinged— she just needs to sleep. “Do you want the bed?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes— she’s tired of that game, it's time to start a new one. This one’s called how long can y/n stare at the buttons on his henley until before she sets them on fire out of sheer willpower. His chest deflates, his hands twitching at his sides before curling and slipping behind his back. He’s looking at her— of course he is. It’s all he does. It’s his job.

“You take it.” He says it so quietly she barely hears it, his tone the picture of resignation. It doesn’t make her feel good— she didn’t think it would though.

His stare never leaves her. She’s still not looking at him but she can tell. It makes her skin burn from her ears all the way down to her chest, her skin prickling like she's being prodded by a thousand mini suns. She feels like she’s in the desert and she forgot to put sunscreen on. Is this what flowers feel like? Does the sun beat down so relentlessly on them that they feel like they’re being set on fire? As relentlessly as he watches her?

It’s his job, it’s his job, it’s his job.

“Okay.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She lays in bed for three hours, eyes wide open and body pin straight. The room is pitch black, spare a hint of light pouring in from under the door. It shines a stripe onto the olive duvet, one that she just barely flicks her wrist back and forth through. Not enough to ruffle the loud blanket— which for the record crinkles louder than a chip bag when she moves even an inch underneath it— but enough to watch the light dance over her skin and keep her from going completely mad. She feels like a cat chasing a laser— entirely moronic but strangely entertained. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

By the time the fourth hour rolls around she is beyond restless. The strip of light got old a half hour ago— which, granted, kept her entertained for far longer than she would be willing to admit but still. Now she wants to move. She needs to move. If she were home she would still be awake. The digital clock beside the bed flashes one-thirty, scarlet red and glaring at her. It’s not even close to the ungodly hour in which she usually crawls into her bed, pulling the blanket over her head and praying for the sun to magically disappear. Not even close.

She can practically hear Lindsy Lohan calling her name— it’s Wednesday, y/n. On Wednesdays we wear pink. Yeah, she knows Lindsy! Unfortunately the big man on the floor doesn’t know that. Usually her Wednesday's aren’t so blocked— is it even Wednesday? It doesn’t matter. She just wants to watch Mean Girls now— with or without the Chunky Monkey.

She waits another ten minutes, mulling the idea over as the anticipation steadily grows in her stomach, churning her organs into soup over the idea of having to tiptoe past her sleeping bodyguard. She holds her breath a few times, making sure his breathing is even and calm. Making sure that he’s asleep. Each time his breaths are the same, gentle, even hiss of air. In, out, pause. In, out, pause. Over and over and over again. For a moment she debates staying and just listening to him breathe for the rest of the night. But no— that’s creepy and she’s sure that she can be in and out without him waking up in the hour and thirty-seven minutes it takes to watch the movie.

Yes she counted and every minute is worth the risk— she’s doing it!

She takes a deep breath, sliding as silently as she can under the covers. Each movement feels magnified— like someone is holding a microphone to her limbs. She just prays that the microphone isn’t connected to his ears. What are the odds that he’s a heavy sleeper? Nevermind, she doesn’t want to know.

After what feels like an eternity of inching her way to the edge of the bed her foot finally shoots over the edge, greeting the chilly air and sending a jolt racing up her spine. She’s really doing it. She slips the other out next, rising onto her elbows and holding the position. She can’t see her legs— hell, she can’t see her hand two feet in front of her face— but she can feel the space depleting as she slips off the mattress. Biting back a hiss as her toes brace against the hardwood, she just barely stops herself from hopping up and down. If she were home she would amp up the theatrics, maybe throw in a squeal for good measure— forget technology, being a drama queen is her true calling.

Just not when there’s a man who she needs to stay asleep laying a few feet away from her.

She shuffles blindly forward, trying to remember where she saw him lay down before she turned off the lamp. That was four hours ago though and she’s starting to think that all that time playing with the crack of light has fried her brain. She thinks he’s near the chest but she can’t be sure.

She could swear—she could drop the loudest f-bomb this planet has ever known. She would, too, if she knew it wouldn’t wake him up. All she wants to do is watch some petty, pretty girls fight over a mediocre brunette. Is that really too much to ask for?

No— the answer is no. So she does what any self respecting woman would do in that situation and she wings it. She guesses. That’s respectable, right? Right. She takes each step with care, searching for any warm spots that might give her a hint as to where he is, all the while chasing after that little crack of light like it’s heaven. Because that’s what it is— a haven from having to lay alone with her thoughts all night.

As was to be expected sooner rather than later, her toes brush against a rather hot patch of wood and she freezes. He’s here— somewhere— she just has no idea where here is. She squints, searching for even a hint of the man. When she comes away with nothing, the scream— the one that’s never quite gone, always just simmering in the back of her throat— surges. She has to swallow— swallow, gag, same thing— in order to keep from foiling her own plan.

She brushes her foot forward. Slowly. Painfully, excruciatingly slowly. When her toes brush against the folds of a blanket she gasps. It slips out before she can stop it and she plasters a hand over her mouth as soon as it happens, praying that it isn’t too late— that there’s still a chance she can make it.

She hears Bucky shift on the ground, holding her breath, her toes a mere foot away from the soldier. She counts in her head— one, two, three, oh fuck is he moving, four— before taking another step. Repeating the process, it takes four rounds of this little tip toe game until her hands finally land against the door frame, searching through the darkness until her fingers curl around the knob. Mean Girls here she comes.

“Where ya’ going?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the night easily, rich and deep and cruel.

There isn’t even a hint of sleep in his tone— he was awake the entire time. Her face flushes, her neck searing hot. She can almost hear her skin crackling where the straps of her tank top touch her. She should have known he wouldn’t be a deep sleeper— or sleeping at all, apparently. Damnit.

“I, ah, was just going to the bathroom?” Really? The bathroom?

She has never been so thankful for the dark than she is in this moment, if only because he can’t see the way she rolls her eyes at her own stupidity and scrunches her entire face up. She can’t scream— that idea’s already been scrapped— so it’s the next best thing. That doesn’t stop her throat from bubbling though, the frustration knocking on her windpipe like the friendly neighbour back for even more sugar.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” She swears for a moment she can hear a hint of laughter in his voice, just enough to make the accusation bearable.

She whirls around, hands glued to her hips and trying not to slam her foot down like an insolent toddler. Something hot flares up in her chest— something which she hasn’t felt in ages. Anger. It makes her want to smack him. She wouldn’t, of course, but she wants to— she wants to wipe the smirk out of his words. She wants to more than she’s wanted to do anything in a very long time.

“What do you want me to say then, hmm?”

She can just make out the way Bucky pushes himself up, his shadowy figure now taking up more space. Taking up space in general— of course now she can see him. If she were closer to him she is sure his head would sit above her belly button, right under her brea— stop that, y/n!

“How ‘bout the truth?” God she can still hear that insufferable smirk.

“That was the truth.”

“It wasn’t.”

His breath comes in hot puffs against her stomach— he’s closer than she thought. She doesn’t realize her tank top has ridden up until his face is inches away from her exposed skin. She tries not to shudder as she yanks the material back down her abdomen. Traitorous body!

She wants to rip her hair out— again. “Yes, it was—”

He’s standing now, pushing his way towards her in the dark until she can feel the heat rolling off his body, face to face with a hulking chest. “Just tell me what you want so we can do it, alright?”

There it is again— we.

She can’t breathe. This seems to be becoming a trend— her not being able to breathe when he’s around her. This time it’s her fault though. She squishes her eyes closed, taking a moment to pull in some much needed air. It does little to help her— it smells like nutmeg and cinnamon. She has no idea how he manages to smell like a bakery— or how she hasn’t noticed until now, when she needs more than anything to pull away from the warmth and not fall deeper into it. Unprofessional, y/n— you’re supposed to be the grieving daughter.

She takes another moment, ignoring how he shifts on his feet, clearly becoming impatient, before finally whispering— “I wanted to watch a movie.”

A pause— a long one— before a soft ‘okay’.

For a moment she thinks she hears him wrong— no way the giant soldier is down for movie night with her. Shouldn’t he be telling her to go back to bed? Telling her that it isn’t in his job description to babysit her— to keep her entertained? Surely he doesn’t actually want to watch a movie.

“You don’t have to—”

“Actually, I do.” Oh yeah. He has to follow her wherever she goes. She almost forgot that she might die.

Die for what— wanting to watch a god damn movie?

“Forget it— it was stupid.”

She goes to brush past him, tucking her shoulders up and into her neck, trying to put some space between them as she tucks tail and slips back towards the bed. Talk about a busted ego.

A hand curls around her forearm, halting her retreat. “Let’s watch a movie— can’t sleep anyway.”

She swallows thickly. If she were to turn her cheek a few inches she is sure it would brush against his shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course I am.”

She nods— she knows he can’t see her but she doesn’t trust her voice— and that’s how she ends up watching Mean Girls with a man large enough to rip her in half with his bare hands. A few times she glances over at him, searching through the glow of the TV to the other side of the supple leather couch where his gaze remains locked on the screen. She’s even sure she hears a few breathy laughs— like he’s trying not to laugh but he can’t help it.

The big bad bodyguard likes chick flicks.

About halfway through something unexpected happens— her eyelids begin to heavy. It’s stange, the clock on the wall reads only slightly past two in the morning. She never sleeps before six. Regardless, though, she curls her legs into her body, tucking them under the hoodie she had replaced before leaving the room. Her head slopes against the arm of the couch, eyes fluttering a few times before dropping shut. She’s not going to sleep, obviously— just resting her eyes.

She feels something heavy pool on her lap and the faintest wisps of fingers— some warm and some cold— adjusting the new weight. It brushes against her shin— a blanket. He put a blanket on her. She pulls it closer, dragging it over her cheek, trying her best to stave off the sleep tugging at her limbs. Maybe a conversation will help. There are a few things she’s been meaning to tell him.

“I didn’t mind it.” She whispers it but she’s sure he can hear her over the all but muted TV.

The couch cushions shift, sinking for a moment before stilling. She can picture him facing her now, his head tilted, blue eyes serious. Always on alert, always ready to defend.

“What?” He even sounds defensive— like he’s waiting for her to drop a bomb on him.

Silly man, can’t you see that she can barely even force the last word out of her mouth with how tired she is?

“Doll. I—” she yawns, pulling her limbs closer to her, tucking a hand under her head— “I didn’t mind it.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. If it were daytime she’s sure she would have cared but for now she’s okay not feeling any of the prescribed embarrassment.

“Oh.”

She doesn’t say anything else, only snuggles deeper into the arm of the couch. It must be the exhaustion talking— that’s what she’ll tell herself tomorrow anyway when she’s forced to confront this conversation again. For now she just gives in, letting herself fall into the darkness without fear for what feels like the first time in months.

_________________

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ice-assiest · 4 years

Text

wing-ferret (korra x reader) pt. 1 of 2

hello hello! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Authors note: this is my first korra x reader and I plan to do many more because currently she is the love of my life. But also I’ll do like any character from lok so let me know!! i would love requests and would try to do as many as I can that will fit into my schedule at uni. anyways this is the first part out of two! the second part might get a little steamy heh heh heh.

Pairing: Korra x Reader

Warnings: none for part one

✧ Childhood best friend typa deal (but it shall evolve muhahaha)

“Naga, what am I going to do?” You asked helplessly, looking deep into her polar bear dog eyes for any semblance of guidance or wisdom. Instead you saw a profound blackness that seemed devoid of thought. As she gave you a happy lick on the cheek you sighed and gave her a pat, moving on to the next confidant you had chosen.

“Okay. No help from you today. How about you Oogi?”

Oogi gave you the very telling response of the slow blink of his eyes.

“Very insightful Oogi, but not exactly what I need.” You now turned to the fire ferret, hoping the look in your eyes would indicate your need of a companion. “Pabu, please! Give me anything. Our other friends don’t want to listen today.” His ears perked up in attention as he shuffled his way over before taking a seat in front of you.

“I knew you would help!” You exclaimed, giving him soft scratch behind his ear. “Here’s the issue,” You began, taking a seat in front of him. “You know Korra? She’s the avatar, it’s kind of a big deal. Anyways. She’s leaving soon and if she leaves now I might never get the chance to tell her again!”

While your statement was a bit dramatic, it did hold a semblance of truth. You were one of the new air benders, and a pretty good one at that. After a long and arduous station in a recovering Earth kingdom city you had returned to Air Temple Island for a bit. You returned to Air Temple Island at an opportune time it seemed given that the Avatar and her friends were all gathering.

“Now why is that a problem you might ask, and what do you have to tell her you also might ask.” You said, getting up to pace around the fire ferret. “One, I think she’s really amazing.” At your words Pabu seemed to nod. “Two, uh.” You started, although your face began to grow hot. “I’ve known her a long time, we basically grew up together. It took me a while to realize it but whenever I was around her things felt different.”

Your father was one of the men Tenzin had entrusted to keep Korra safe as she mastered the elements, and he was quite proud of it. You were one of the only friends Korra had growing up besides Naga, and despite annoying you occasionally she was still your favorite of them all.

You remembered sparring with her the most, you were a non-bender at the time and prided yourself in being able to keep up with the avatar in combat. You always begged her not to go easy on you and for the most part she didn’t, she wasn’t that type of person. She was the type of person to get hyper-invested in the penguin sledding race you were having and either become extremely giddy when she won or excessively annoyed and challenge you again when she lost, and you loved that.

There’s that word again, love. You gulped as you looked towards Pabu with soft eyes. “When she left the Southern Water Tribe it hurt. A lot. That’s not her fault, it would have hurt anyways and it was best for her to leave. I just can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had went with her.”

The day that Korra passed her fire bending exam and was permitted to begin training in air bending was momentous for the both of you.

“(Y/N)! I get to start my air bending training! Tenzin’s coming today.” She exclaimed as she slammed the door open to your uncle’s steamed dumpling shop. The power of her slam and the door against the wall caused the dumplings to fly right off of the old man in the shop’s plate.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” She said as she awkwardly scratched the back of her head and gave her signature avatar slanted smile.

“You’re the Avatar!” He said in surprise, only slightly disappointed by the lack of dumplings in front of him.

“Congratulations!” You ran towards her from behind the counter engulfing her in a big hug. She hugged back passionately, gripping you as tightly as she could. You began to get lost in her presence, her scent, the feeling of her frame against yours. Blush began to spread across your face as you felt her firm muscles against you, but also the softness of her chest.

You both pulled back slightly, looking each other in the eyes. Your heart felt as if it were going to burst out of your chest and you wondered if she felt it too. There was something so sweet about her face, about the way she looked at you with her blue eyes. It made your chest feel tight.

“How did you even get here? You shouldn’t be sneaking out so much!” You whispered with a smile, your love struck eyes still holding her gaze.

Despite your words you knew fairly well that she could handle the guards as you thought back to the time she had gotten in trouble for fighting a group of them – and winning might you add – although she would never tell you why.

“Don’t worry about that.” She said, pausing before looking you over. Embarrassed you averted your gaze to look downwards. “You’re my best friend. I love you, you know that right? I always will.”

There it went. You were pretty sure you watched your heart soar out of your chest and into the heavens. Instead of responding you just hugged her harder, nuzzling yourself in the crook of her neck.

I could stay here forever. You thought to yourself, although it seemed fate had other plans

“Uh. Not to interrupt, but could I get the check?” The old man asked as he looked at the two of you with questioning eyes.

“Yes, yes. Of course, I’m sorry! I’ll throw some extra dumplings in for the road.”

After that day, well she was pretty much gone. You desperately wanted to go with her but you had responsibilities in the water tribe. She had them elsewhere, it pained you but it seemed like fate just didn’t want the two of you together. You saw her once a year later while visiting your aunt in Republic City, before her battle against Vaatu. She was with someone who was seemingly her boyfriend and a very pretty woman who appeared to be her friend.

In that moment your heart froze wondering what to do. You hadn’t spoken to her in so long and didn’t want to intrude but at the same time the Korra that you knew would have been happy if you did.

The fire nation boy leaned closer to her and grabbed her hand as they walked. You looked at Korra and the two people surrounding her, they were definitely cooler than you. Your heart fell as you watched them at the table across from you and your aunt in the park, they seemed to be getting ready to go.

Maybe she’d be embarrassed to see me with her new friends. You thought, still contemplating whether you were going to say something. Then she looked up, Korra had locked eyes with you. The same warm eyes that looked at you as she told you she loved you, although now she was looking at you with confusion splayed across her face.

Her friends were already up and about to leave. When she noticed you were looking back she quickly got up to join them as well, her boyfriend giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. You saw her mouth move to tell him something and then both their eyes were on you again while attempting to be indiscreet. Keyword being attempted. You noticed and it haunted you for the longest time, maybe she really was embarrassed to see you in public.

“Anyways, the next time I saw her was here. I haven’t said anything yet and I don’t think she’s seen me but I need to air my grievances Pabu.” The ferret moved to nuzzle up besides you and you thanked him by petting him softly. “Also, I think the biggest problem is. I still have feeling for her.”

“You like Korra!?” You jumped in surprise, looking at Pabu with your mouth agape before realizing it was not the fire ferret that spoke but instead a wide-eyed earth bender. Gasping you stumbled backwards as you instinctively air bended at Bolin. His eyes widened as the gust of air had thrust him backwards causing him to land on his behind. Feeling bad you rushed over, inspecting him as he rubbed the back of his head.

“You shouldn’t spy on people like that!”

“(Y/N)! No, no, no, no! It wasn’t anything like that I swear! I was just looking for Pabu and then I heard you speaking and-” He prattled on. You looked at him and sighed knowing he wouldn’t be the type of person to do something like that. The two of you had gotten to know each other very well when your paths had collided in the Earth Kingdom.

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” You asked hesitantly, scanning the man who now held a deep deep secret of yours.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), my lips are sealed.” He said as he made a motion of zipping up his mouth with his hands. For some reason you didn’t fully trust him. “Some call me Bolin, the master of keeping secrets.” He continued.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, just please Bolin promise me.” His eyes softened as he heard your voice waver.

“I promise. Plus, this might be the best accident to ever happen to you.” Your eyebrows shot up at his response.

“How so?”

“Because you now have the best wing-man and wing-ferret on your case, and I’ve got a plan.”

You watched as Bolin smiled excitedly, ready to tell you his plan. You knew it might not be the wisest to go with it but as you thought of Korra you sighed. What other option did you have?

“Okay. I’m in.”

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