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mellowsaturns · 10 months

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in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time)

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER

summary: when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

warnings: heavy angst, one sided enemies-to-lovers-ish, hydra!assassin!reader, hurt/comfort, happy ending, brainwashing, trauma, guns & knives, fighting, implied kidnapping of reader when young, all the feels, misunderstandings, poor attempt at writing action

wc: 4.7k

a/n: sorry it’s been forever but i hope my fellow buckyluvrs are still here <3 i actually wrote this a long time ago but never got around to editing until recently so i guess you can say this is (from the vault) ? inspired by the idea: what-if there was another winter soldier and bucky finds himself in steve’s position this time trying to get you back to him. anyways, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Bucky’s life was a never ending montage of gunfire and bloodshed. It didn’t matter if he was under the clutches of someone else, he still lived through the wars—the lingering smell of smoke and tang of metallic forever ingrained in his senses.

And just when he thought it was finally over—a glimmer of peace at last—it comes and steals that dream away from him.

Like deja-vu, he’s looking at faces that were once responsible for his pain.

On the screen, three Hydra officers stare back at him. All faces identified by Tony’s system. Alive. Last seen in the outskirts of some small country in Europe. Irrelevant low ranking officials that had managed to survive the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and have been hiding and secretly continuing Hydra’s mission underground ever since. Low officials or not, it was one too many.

Bucky freezes in his spot when Tony swipes the screen. The billionaire goes on a rant saying this particular face cannot be identified, which was according to Tony, bullshit because his face recognition system is the best in the world. The rest of the team is arguing and flipping through countless files and internet archives. But Bucky knows. He knows that face and those haunting eyes that he still sees in his dreams.

“Buck,” a voice calls out. “You know her, don’t you?”

He looks up at Steve from his spot, his best friend's face worried and all knowing.

One thing about Hydra was that they were always prepared. They had backups and multiple plans ready, or else how would two heads take its place when one was cut off? Unfortunately for the world, Hydra managed to make another deadly assassin, one whose work was so discreet and nimble that even intelligence didn't know they existed.

You were a ghost story that lived in the shadows of the Winter Soldier. You were another one of Hydra’s prize possessions—less known, but just as deadly.

With Steve’s comment, all eyes are now on Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air and he gulps before he confesses, “I wasn’t the only one.”

The room becomes tense. The war that they thought was over suddenly looms over like an unpredicted oncoming storm. “Jesus Christ, Barnes. You couldn’t have informed us about her earlier?” says Tony.

“I thought,” he says, shifting his eyes onto the ground, “I thought she fell with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky couldn’t find you anywhere after he escaped their grasp. After he joined the Avengers, he tried once again secretly using Tony’s technology but it was to no avail—it always ended up being a dead end. And for that, he assumed Hydra had put you out of your misery the day they were caught.

But the face on the screen says otherwise. And suddenly, Bucky feels very guilty.

Steve clears his throat, “Well, they were picked up not too long ago heading north. If we leave now, we might be able to find them and stop them once and for all.”

Everyone looks at each other, debating on his proposal. “What the Captain said. Everybody, suit up. Quinjet leaves in ten,” says Tony.

On the jet, Bucky stares off into space but countless questions run through his mind.

Steve walks over and sits beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, voice quiet.

Bucky sighs, “I just… I thought she was gone.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

He looks up, wondering if he should tell Steve the truth. That he’s not brooding about the fact that he concealed you to them. After a moment, Bucky speaks up. “When we get there, let me handle her. Please.”

Steve didn’t know what kind of history Bucky had with you. But judging from the look his best-friend is giving, it’s more than what Steve could understand or even comprehend but he trusts Bucky and so, he gives him a nod. “She’s all yours.”

After scouting the area and tracing the location to a very hidden underground warehouse in the middle of nowhere, they split up. The warehouse was dark and dusty, surely abandoned, but Bucky knew better—it was their facade behind the most sinister of activities. Through the comms, Natasha announces that she has already taken care of all the troops in the West wing. Moments later, Sam reports that he has eliminated one of the Hydra officers. They wouldn’t last long. Hydra didn’t have much resources or time to rebuild—their current empire was weak, they were no match for the Avengers this time.

The only person Bucky’s truly worried about is you. The fact that he trained you, made you into what you were today already gave him the chills. He’s not the Winter Soldier anymore, but he was certain that you were still in that killer mindset that Hydra forced upon you.

Step by step, Bucky walks through the quiet hallway, the echoes of his footsteps the only noise. It’s cold here, he notices, which gives him flashbacks to those days in his dirty cell and the cryostasis chamber. Down a hallway to the next, round a corner and another, there wasn’t a single soul in the eerily Eastern wing.

But he spoke too soon, because seconds later, a garrote wire was around his neck. The swift invisible steps and the perfect pressure that was being used to quickly cut off his air supply was all too familiar. He knows this move, he taught this move. You’re here, and you’re dragging him backwards.

Before all oxygen gets cut off to his brain, he jabs his elbow backwards and hits you hard on the rib which releases the hold you have on him and sends you stumbling back. Bucky takes a moment to regain his breath but you’re on your feet again. He looks at you and for a moment he freezes, then you let out a sinister grin. “Nice to see you again, Soldat,” you taunt, before running towards him.

Bucky’s deflecting your punches one after another. Maybe he’s glad he was the one who taught you everything you know because your moves were predictable—if it were another person, there is no doubt they would’ve been on the ground with multiple concussions bleeding out already. You’re ruthless when you do a triple roundhouse kick on him. On the fourth one, he manages to catch your leg and twists it, sending you to the ground with a groan.

How familiar this scene was, Bucky thinks.

Some forty-years ago, Hydra brought a woman into the training room. There was no further instruction than to train you and that’s what he did. He could tell you were well trained already—compliant and pliable. You were good. And you were just like him, injected with a serum that made you a hundred times more efficient and stronger. In just under a year, Hydra would start sending you on missions. Sometimes with him, sometimes alone.

During training, the both of you would spar for hours, leaving each other bloody and bruised, but it didn’t matter to the overlookers, the both of you would heal in a few hours anyways.

Once you pick yourself back up, he pulls a gun out on you. “Stop this,” he commands.

You smirk, “You going to shoot me, Soldat? I want to see you try.”

He clenches his jaw. You continue to look at him, a dark look on your face that shows no sign of true recognition.

His thoughts are disrupted when you tackle him onto the ground. You kick his gun away and pin his arms down as you straddle him. “I’m going to kill you,” you declare, “I’m going to put a bullet through your head.”

When he looks up at you, your eyes are full of rage. Bucky doesn’t know whether that’s the brainwashed version of you talking or the actual you talking—maybe both.

“What are you going to do after you kill me?” he says, irritated. C’mon, please recognize me. “This is all that remains of Hydra. Half the troops are already dead. One of your new leaders is dead. In a few hours, Hydra will be no more. What will you do after that? What are you going to do after you kill me?”

“What does it matter? You’re my mission. I’m going to finish it.”

He groans at your stubbornness that was identical to his Soldier persona.

He says your name slowly. “Get off. You can walk away from this.”

You frown, but he continues, “I know how you feel. You’re feeling helpless.” He clears his throat, “There’s someone behind this version of you. I want to talk to her.”

“What are you talking about?” you utter in annoyance. “Stop stalling.”

He says that name again, with calamity and care. You want to rip out his tongue.

“Let me talk to her. Please.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” you shout, grabbing for the gun that’s strapped onto your waist. “Stop talkin–”

“I was in the cell next to yours. You liked the colour green. You were wearing white when we first met. You always wanted to visit Bucharest. You hated the leaky cold showers in the Siberian facility,” he rambles, trying to remember every single thing about you in a desperate attempt to get your attention so this version of you won’t shoot him in the face.

And for a moment, it works because your hand freezes on the grip of your gun. He takes that moment to flip you over, so you’re under him now, hands pinned above your head. He takes your gun and throws it behind him.

You snarl at him while trying to escape his grasp. “I know you’re under there,” he says. “Please, come through. Please talk to me.”

Your face scrunches in pain, not from him—he would never hurt you—but from the mental warfare that’s currently going on in your mind. You close your eyes as he speaks again. “Listen to my voice, you know me, don’t you? мой милая.”

My darling.

For a moment, your entire body tenses up and then you let out a painful breath. When your eyelids start to flutter open, he finally sees the eyes he came to know and rely on—eyes he came to love.

The both of you are looking at each other unblinking. A scene neither of you expected but always dreamt about.

You break the silence with a whisper of, “James?”

Bucky slowly nods at your disbelief. Finally, he thinks. But such respite doesn’t last long, because seconds later, you hook your foot under his and flip him over and escape his grasp.

There's darkness in your eyes and he can tell that the Soldate is back and the fighting resumes.

You’re chasing him down the twisting hallway and when you catch up, you grab his shoulder and throw a punch to his jaw. He stumbles back and then a voice comes through the comms.

“Just took down the second one.” Steve. “Bucky, how are you holding up? You’ve been quiet ever since we split up.”

He’s trying his best to block your hand, which now has a damn pocket knife. Your quick movements are starting to tire him out. Maybe he taught you too well, he thinks.

“Buck? Bucky. Confirm your status, right now.”

Groaning in frustration, he taps his earpiece. “I’m fine,” he grunts. A second later, “Shit!” he huffs out as you nearly slice his face.

“You don’t sound fine. Is she with you? I’m sending back up.”

“No!” he says, “Don’t send anyone. I can handle her.”

In truth, he’s struggling right now—your stamina has always been better than his—but he’s worried that you’re going to accidentally get hurt and even more agitated when people appear. His main priority was keeping you safe. Fuck the mission statement they talked about back on the Quinjet.

You’re angry—no, you’re extremely angry at him. It doesn’t take a genius to tell. It’s a mixture of pure rage from both the brainwashed and actual you.

He supposed he deserved it. You should be angry. Because for the longest time, it was you and him.

Other than turning you into a ruthless assassin just like him, an unexpected companionship also formed during those hazy in-between moments when the two of you weren’t frozen or on the metal chair getting fried by those machines—during the times when he was just Bucky and you were just you, two unfortunate innocent souls that shared the same suffering.

They weren’t pleasant moments. It was dehumanising. It was getting shoved into draughty cells with nothing but a blanket until it was time to train or time to embark on a mission. Luckily, your cells were next to each other and it made the endless nights a little more bearable. He was a little off-putting at first, but when he yelled at you to stop crying because they would torture you even more for it, you knew he meant well.

During your shared time together, glimpses of your true selves would seldom come up and you would tell each other about the little bits and pieces of a life once known. And the both of you would hold onto each other's memories and stories in case the other forgets.

And whenever they prep the two of you for the chamber due to there being no current missions for the time being, the two of you would look at each other—a look of longing with the secret squeezing of each other's hand before going under.

Despite the absolute awful situation the two of you were in at the time, the both of you were hopeful for the next shared moments together. Because even when all hope was gone, you had each other. And that was good enough for the two of you.

He misses you. So damn much.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

He didn’t even realise he said it outloud. “Well, I do,” he admits, his back hitting a wall.

“You talk too much, Soldat,” you say, creeping up on him. “I ought to cut your throat.”

“I’m sorry I left you with them.”

You halt in your steps and your jaw ticks. In a second, you pounce on him, your knife against his throat. He’s gripping your hand to stop you from continuing your job.

He says your name again. You’re pushing but he’s pushing back just as hard. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

The desperation in his voice… You glance up at him slowly and he sees the pink forming in your eyes and your trembling lips. “What are you doing? What are you doing to me?” you whisper.

He sees the internal war behind your eyes once again. Bucky gulps for a moment before letting go of your hand, trusting that you won’t do any actual harm, and moves his hands so he’s cupping your face, firm enough so you’re forced to look at him. You look into his eyes for a second, then a minute, and for a moment, everything stops. Your breath hitches, because those eyes… those arctic blues… you know them. You fell in love with them many years ago.

A realisation washes over your face, one that Bucky doesn’t miss. You’re back.

The first tear falls. Then the second. “Bucky.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You let out a small cry before you press the blade harder against his neck, your grip a vice from his betrayal. He could feel the sharp cold metal pierce through his skin ever so slightly, but he doesn’t try and stop you.

“Give me a reason to not kill you right now,” you grit through tears. “You left me. You left me behind to rot alone. You promised me. You fucking promised,” you say, voice laced with venom and so much hurt.

Bucky’s heart breaks at the sadness of your voice. Because he did promise. There wasn’t much to do in the cells other than throw around false hope. But whenever he told you he was going to escape one day and that he was going to take you with him—it didn’t feel like false promises at all because it wasn’t, and you knew it too.

Until he broke that promise and left you all alone.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to leave you there with them.”

“I waited for you,” you cry. “Day and night I waited for you to come back. Even when they relocated, I waited for you because I knew you’d find me.”

You remember that day clearly. Everyone was in a frenzy when the death of Alexander Pierce broke out and that they could not locate the Soldat. For a moment, you could taste your own freedom because government officials would come anytime now and finally arrest all these criminals. But right when they came, a few Hydra officers managed to escape and took you with them, and when you woke up, you didn’t know where the hell you were. But even then you didn’t lose hope because James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the name you committed to memory, was going to come for you just like he promised.

Until days, months, and eventually, a year came with no sign of him.

You were angry at first, but it slowly turned into worry because what if something bad had happened to him? But what do you know? You were stuck in this building and only went out whenever they spoke those trigger words to you. And you were always under their watchful eyes, giving you no chance to even attempt an escape. Surely he would never break his promise to you so something must’ve happened to him, you told yourself multiple times.

But he was standing here right in front of you. Alive. We’re under attack, your handler said to you moments ago, Kill the Soldat before he kills you.

“You’re a liar. You never cared about me,” you hiss.

Sometimes, it got too much. But whenever reality was a bit too hard to endure, Bucky was there, always reaching his hand out to you through the metal cage, which you took and held tight. And it meant the world to you, that someone cared.

“All those moments, did it even mean anything to you?”

He uses this opportunity to pull your arms down slightly, knife finally away from his neck and his eyes start to sting from his own tears. “They meant everything to me. I care about you.”

You look up at him with a defeated expression and Bucky never wanted to punch himself in the face more. “Then why? Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I did,” he chokes out. “When I escaped, the first thing I did was go back for you, but the facility had already been raided and there was no one there. I checked every inch of the building.”

Bucky had never felt so scared, because what if the government took you too? They would never understand—framing you as a villain even though that was far from the truth. But there was no news of your capture, so with a breath of relief, Bucky continued to look through other known Hydra facilities.

“I tried my best looking for you, but I also had to be careful because I was a wanted man at the time. When months passed by and there were no clues, I thought that maybe you had escaped. I was in Bucharest waiting for you. Remember how you said you always wanted to go there? I knew that if you escaped, you’d find me there. Even when you didn’t show, I never gave up. Steve… I think I told you about him once—he found me, he helped me and cleared my name. After that, I still searched for you but it all ended up being dead ends. And…” he pauses for a moment, “and so I thought you were dead. I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

He had mourned you and blamed himself endlessly for it.

He knows he should’ve asked for help, but instead, he took this task upon himself until it got too much—because that was the one thing he struggled with the most, asking for help.

When his side of the story finally comes to light, you break into a sob. “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, “but please, drop the weapon and let me help you.”

You swallow hard at his confession. He never stopped looking for you. You didn’t even consider how hard it must’ve been for him after everything and yet you’re lashing out on him.

“How are you going to help me?” you say. “I’m a mess. All you have to do is say those words and I turn into a weapon.”

Twelve. Ember. Fragment. Nine. Academy. Order. Frigid. Yearning. Blue.

Those were your trigger words.

“I got you out of your trance, didn’t I?” he says with a gentle smile.

Hydra needed you to rebuild their empire and they relied on those nine words to do so. To them, those nine words were your greatest weakness but one of them, the last one, the one they liked to spit out in vexation, was also your greatest strength—your salvation.

Blue.

You think back, moments prior, when all he had to do was use his voice and all you had to do was look into the blues of his eyes. Hydra can repeat those words all they want, but Bucky would always be able to bring you back.

At that, your grip relaxes and the knife finally drops onto the floor, it’s noise ricocheting off the walls.

“There’s a place called Wakanda and I know someone there who can help you. Her name’s Ayo and she’s amazing. She helped me overcome my words.”

He brings his hands back up to cradle your face and you shutter at the familiar touch—at the calluses on his palms. “And I think you’ll like it there. It’s quiet and there’s so much… green.”

You let out a small laugh through your tears but doubt still fills your mind. “But… all the things I did,” you whimper, “I did such terrible unforgivable things. There’s… there’s so much blood on my hands.”

Sadness flares around his heart. It was all so familiar. He knows the feeling.

“It’s not going to be easy. God knows how long it took for me to believe that none of it was my fault. But let me be the first one to tell you,” he says, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “None of what you did was your fault. You were a victim.” He swallows a deep breath, “There are going to be days where it’ll be too much too bear and there are going to be nights where all those casualties will haunt you,” he admits. “But… but you’ll get there. Someday, you’ll learn to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”

And he vows that he’ll help you every step of the way.

You breathe out slowly, digesting all his words. “You can trust me,” he tells you, “I won’t let you down this time. I’ll be here.”

Blinking up at him, the small hesitant part of you so desperately wanted to say, “How can I trust you?” but his eyes were telling you everything you needed to know. Because it was filled with nothing but honour and truth.

He breaks away from you and reaches out his hand. An invitation. You stare at it for a while, then you slowly lift yours and brush your fingers amongst his before grabbing it tightly—a truce of sorts, a promise. He squeezes back in return, a loving smile on his face, just like all those nights many moonlights ago.

Your breath hitches when he pulls you into his embrace, your face burying perfectly into the valley of his chest. He wraps his arms around you in urgency, in fear, almost afraid you’ll slip out if he doesn’t.

“It’s over,” he mumbles into your hair.

Because two floors down an explosion erupts, finishing off the last remaining garrison of troops. Three hallways down, Natasha sets fire to a room that contained the other small red leather book that held those nine suffocating words written in Russian. Outside, the last Hydra officer attempting to flee falls to his knees from an arrow to the chest. And the only hope they had left to rebuild their regime was safely in Bucky’s arms.

He pulls away and uses his thumb to rub gently across your cheek, “It’s over. The war is finally over.”

Now that the worst is over, Bucky’s hopeful. There will be other conflicts to come, that was just how it worked, but this one, the one that held you and him underwater for years was finally over. War always took too much, but this time, it gave something back. Because among the ashes and ruins you came back to him, no more oceans in between.

“What do we do now?” you press nervously. You were taken at a young age and spent years in the Red Room before you were sold off to Hydra. Like Bucky, you’re in the wrong time period, there’s no one to go back to.

There’s so many things you could do, Bucky thinks. You can finally start living the life you deserved, the life that was taken from you too early. He’ll have to explain all this to his teammates but he knows they’ll understand. They treated him so well, there’s no doubt they’ll show the same kindness for you. Then, he’ll go with you to Wakanda, get rid of the words, maybe stay there for a while so you could heal—maybe show you the goats he took care of during his time there.

You’ll probably adjust to the 21st century better than him—you won’t need to start off with a flip phone, that’s for sure. He’ll make you listen to all the great records and watch all the movies you missed out on. There’s so many things he wanted to do with you. He knows you have no memories, no recollection. It didn’t matter, Bucky thinks, he would make new memories with you, ones worth cherishing and remembering. If you’ll have him, of course.

But first and most importantly, “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Then we can talk about it,” he says, rubbing the grime off your nose.

He grabs your hand and heads for the exit. But before he does, you pick up your knife from the floor and in one quick motion, you spin around and throw it. The knife embeds itself into the wall a few metres away, right next to a prying face. You stand in front of Bucky and stare at the intruder with a murderous gaze and Bucky’s heart races at the thought of you still wanting to protect him after everything.

The blond raises his arms up in surrender.

“Steve,” Bucky says from behind and you briefly recognize that name. You turn around to look at him and he meets your eyes, nodding. You relax your stance.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice slightly hoarse. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Bucky scoffs at him, as if he wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.

Steve looks at the both of you, then a gentle smile adorns his face. “C’mon, the rest are waiting outside for you both.”

You step forward. This is it. Freedom. A new life. Bucky notices your hesitation as you suddenly stop in your tracks. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes with reassurance. You take a deep breath, then the two of you follow Steve to the exit, leaving behind the smoke and memories of your old life.

Outside, the sun comes up slowly but surely on the horizon, painting the awakening sky a gentle warm hue of oranges and pinks.

A new beginning awaits.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #bucky barnes

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munson-blurbs · 10 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Summary: A baby shower has you reuniting with Eddie (and Harris). Unbeknownst to Eddie, it's right when he'll need you most--but is he ready to forgive?

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, small allusion to sex, mentions of Grandma Sweetheart's death, mentions of learning disability

WC: 7.4k

Chapter 11/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Mid-January in Hawkins is cold, with temperatures in the mid-30s, but a bundled-up Harris Munson is unfazed. Eddie happily watches as his son practically flies across the empty playground and heads straight for the swingset. In the warmer weather, it’s a coveted spot amongst the kids and usually ends in a battle, but the chill in the air means that Harris doesn’t have to fight for a turn.

“Daddy! Uncle Jeff!” he calls out, voice muffled by the blue scarf securely wrapped around the lower half of his face, “come push me!”

Jeff laughs with a shake of his head as he and Eddie trudge across the frost-covered grass. “You heard the man.”

“Ready to have a little gremlin of your own?” Eddie teases, hoisting Harris onto the swing, making sure his bottom is squared on the rubber surface. He catches a glimpse of the baby swing to his right, and his heart pangs at the memory of Harris being tiny enough to fit in there. “Lemme tell ya, it goes by quick. The days are long but the years are short.”

Jeff just gives a little nod, and Eddie can tell that he doesn’t quite believe him. “I’m serious, man. And all that stuff they say about not knowing what love is until you have kids? Man, I thought that was the biggest crock of shit. Like, of course I know what love is! I love my music, my uncle, even you guys,” he adds with a gleam in his eyes, referring to his former bandmates. “And then Harris was born, and I was like, ‘holy shit, this is what it means to love someone.’” He positions himself behind the swing, giving Harris another big push before stepping aside to let Jeff have a turn.

Jeff looks at him incredulously. Eddie Munson is no stranger to a good rant, but never one this vulnerable. He’s speechless for a moment before clearing his throat. “Th-Thanks, Ed,” he manages, offering the white paper bag he’d picked up on the way to the playground. “Y’still like peanut butter creme donuts, right?”

“Hell yes!” Eddie cheers, pumping his fist in excitement. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the chocolate frosted confection, taking a huge bite triumphantly. “‘M tellin’ ya: Em and Abi’s Gourmet Donuts is the best thing about this town,” he exclaims with a mouthful of peanutty filling.

“Really?” Jeff chuckles, taking a honeycomb donut from the bag. “Better than a certain preschool teacher you may or may not be infatuated with?”

A blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks, and he hopes he can pass it off as a reaction to the winter winds. “Not in front of…” he trails off, jerking his head in the direction of his son.

“Got it, got it,” Jeff smoothly agrees, but he still presses the topic in a roundabout way. “But, uh, any luck with that?”

“Nope,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’ve just been giving her space like you said, but she hasn’t reached out or asked about tutoring again.” He shrugs as though it doesn’t bother him, but both he and Jeff know that that can’t be further from the truth.

Jeff gives Harris a big push, smiling when he hears the boy’s giggle. “You haven’t called or anything?” he asks.

“Once, after I saw her during drop-off.” Eddie admits, twisting the ring on his pinky finger. “Left a message but she never called back.”

He plays it back in his head, a constant loop that he’d practically memorized before relaying it to your answering machine. As much as he wanted to resolve everything sooner rather than later, he was embarrassingly relieved when he’d heard your outgoing message. Still, the sweetness of your recorded voice was honeyed tea on a dreary day, and he didn’t anticipate his breath to hitch when it played.

“H-Hey, Sweetheart. Shit, can I call you that? Um, anyway, give me a call when you can. I think we should talk.”

The two men take turns pushing Harris and chasing him around the playground. At one point, Harris makes his way to the pole, painted school bus yellow. He reaches out with two chubby hands, but his feet stay grounded on the platform. “‘M scared,” he whimpers, still clinging to the pole.

“You got this, Mini Munson!” Jeff cheers, frowning when Harris remains in place. “Tell ya what: if you slide down the pole, I’ll make your dad do it, too.” He grins mischievously, and Eddie would discreetly flip him the bird if he didn’t have a better alternative.

“Yeah, bud, and then Uncle Jeff will go after me.” He mouths a silent ha at his friend, but neither seem to mind.

And after a few seconds of deliberation, Harris flings his body forward and slowly makes his way down, hands squeaking along the metal.

“I did it!” he announces triumphantly, turning to Eddie. “Your turn, Daddy!”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, but a smile dances on his lips. He darts up the jungle gym steps and hangs onto the pole. He could simply put his feet down and touch the ground, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, he lets out a high-pitched, “wheeeee!” as Harris cackles loudly.

He claps Jeff on the back once his shoes touch the rubber turf. “You’re up, big boy.”

Jeff follows suit, mimicking Eddie and making Harris laugh even harder.

“Uncle Jeff, you’re so silly!” he exclaims, using hands and feet to clamber back up to the top and slide down the pole; this time, there’s no hesitation.

Harris repeats the routine again and again until Eddie catches a glimpse of the digital watch around his wrist. “We gotta leave in five minutes, Har Bear,” he reports matter-of-factly, hoping his lack of emotion will ward off any impending tantrums.

Harris’s lower lip juts out as his pupils dart back and forth between Eddie and Jeff. “Aw, why?”

Eddie crouches down to match his son’s height, pressing palms to his knees for stability. “We’re gonna help Uncle Jeff pack up the presents from the baby shower, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pauses, pursing his lips in concentration. “How did the baby get in Auntie Viv’s tummy?”

Jeff’s eyes widen at the question, and he glances at Eddie, silently willing him to say something. Eddie clears his throat, wracking his brain for a response that will placate his son’s curiosity without giving away too much information. “Um, well,” he begins, biting the inside of his cheek to buy himself more time before settling on: “when a man and a woman love each other, that love can make a baby.”

Fortunately, Harris seems satisfied with that answer, and Jeff hands him a chocolate donut to distract him from asking anything else. The boy plunks down in the grass a few paces ahead of them and takes a big bite.

“How is it?” Jeff calls to him, chuckling when Harris responds with a chocolate crumb-covered thumbs up and turns his attention back to the dessert. “Nice save,” he says to Eddie, clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “But what are you gonna say when he asks about his mom?”

“Jesus H; he’s gonna have to give me a few years to come up with an answer for that one.”

Despite every cell in your body urging you to stay away, you’re back in Hawkins. More specifically, you’re in Viv and Jess’s parents’ house, cleaning up after an overall successful baby shower. You’re spooning the leftover food into Tupperware while Jess washes dishes and her girlfriend, Robin, dries and puts them in their respective cabinets.

You’d returned to Grandma’s apartment last night after Jess begged you to come to the shower, lamenting that the party was going to be all of her sister’s lame friends and she needed someone actually fun to hang out with her and Robin. Her insistence, coupled with your desire to finish out the remainder of the school year, is why you’d tossed your suitcases into your sedan and made the trek. Yup, those were the only reasons; certainly nothing to do with–

“Have you talked to Eddie since you got back?”

His name alone brings a surge of emotions, none of which you have the energy to identify. “No,” you mumble, a heat blooming in your cheeks, “he left a message a week ago saying ‘we should talk,’ but I didn’t return it.”

Jess snaps off the faucet, hands still dripping with soapy water as she places them on her hips with an exasperated sigh. “What? Why not?”

“Because.” You try to leave it at that, but her defiant glare obligates you to elaborate. “Because I’m embarrassed!” you admit to Jess and Robin–and to yourself. “The guy practically chased me down the night we met, and now that he got to know me, he doesn’t want to sleep with me? Is my personality that much of a turn-off?” You snap the lid on a plastic container, desperate to end the conversation with your rhetorical question, but your friend keeps going.

“Look, I don’t know him that well–only what I’ve heard from you and Jeff–but he seems to really care about you. Jeff says he hasn’t seen Eddie down this bad, like, ever.” She lowers her voice. “Apparently, some old hookup was coming onto him, and he turned her down because he's, quote, involved with someone.” She raises her eyebrows inquisitively, though you both know that the someone in question is you.

“Wait, hold on–Eddie Munson?” Robin breaks in, nearly dropping the serving spoon in her hand when she makes the connection. “Metalhead, senior year three-peat, alleged Satan-worshiper Eddie Munson?”

“Well, the jury’s out on whether I worship Satan or I actually am Satan, but, yep, that’s me.” The familiar voice from the kitchen doorway startles the three of you; this time, Robin does let the oversized utensil fall to the floor with a clang.

Nerves send your heartbeat into a frenzy, and you have to rest your open palm on the countertop to steady yourself. Eddie stands before you, tip of his nose tinged red from the cold, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Wh-What are you doing here?” You whisper the words, but you might as well be shouting with the level of anxiety steadily rising in your chest.

Eddie rocks back and forth from the soles of his feet to his toes. “Jeff asked us to help him load the gifts into the car.”

“Us?”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris flings himself into your embrace, and as soon as you stoop down to reciprocate his hug, he’s wrapping his arms and legs around your torso. “I miss you! When are we gonna do the alphabet and eat pizza again?”

Eddie looks over at Jeff; you hadn’t even noticed the other man behind him until Eddie’s gaze drifted over. You watch as the two men exchange a knowing glance, and Jeff quickly speaks up. “Hey, Har,” he motions the boy over to him, “why don’t you use your super strong arms to bring stuff out to the car? I bet you have bigger muscles than me.”

Harris begrudgingly lets go of you, sliding to the floor and dragging his feet to Jeff. He heaves a dramatic sigh and grumbles, “fiiiiiine,” and you and Eddie have to hold back your laughter at his theatrics.

“He is definitely my kid,” Eddie says once Harris has left the room and is out of earshot. He walks closer to you as you turn back to packing up the food. “You, um, never called me back,” he murmurs, placing one hand on either side of you, his chest almost touching your back. Robin and Jess creep out of the kitchen as quietly as possible, leaving you and Eddie alone.

You clear your throat and swallow your fear. “I didn’t have anything to say.” That’s a lie; there was so much you wanted to confide in him, but the thought of him rejecting you again, or getting another glimpse of the hurt you caused reflected in his deep brown eyes, kept you from returning his call.

“Well, I did.” His tone is calm but firm. “I just need to know one thing, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” He pauses, gathering up his own courage before speaking again. “That day…why did you ask me to sleep with you?”

“I told you,” you say, desperately trying to keep your voice from wobbling, “because I needed to feel something.”

Eddie shakes his head, stepping back and crossing his leather jacket-clad arms over his chest. “No, but why did you ask me? Why didn’t you go to the Hideout and pick up some random dude?” His volume starts to rise, and he clenches his fist and drags it back down as if reminding himself to be quieter. “Was it, like, a convenience thing, or did you really think I’d be okay having sex with you while you were so upset?”

Your heart pangs at his question. It had never even occurred to you that he’d perceive it that way. Were you being selfish? Taking what you felt you needed? Admittedly, yes. But were you asking Eddie specifically because he happened to be there? Absolutely not. “No, Eddie,” you say, forcing yourself to face him, “it’s because…because I knew you’d take care of me. If I wanted to stop or slow down, I knew you’d listen. I trust you.” Speaking the truth aloud is like letting the air out of an overfilled balloon on the cusp of popping. Both you and Eddie visibly relax, easing a tension you hadn’t realized he was also holding.

The room is quiet for a moment. Eddie’s knee softly bumps against your thigh as he wills himself to close the gap he’d created. “You said something in your message about it never being meaningless. Not even the night we…we met.”

The reminder of your confession floods you with humiliation. You—unsuccessfully—threw yourself at him for sex and then left a message saying that you’ve been clinging to the hope of a relationship since your alcohol-laden first hook-up. How humiliating.

“I’m sorry if that was weird, but I told Jess that I’ve never been good at one-night stands. I always get too attached.” And it doesn’t help when I have to see the guy and his adorable son twice a day, you think wryly, but you store that anecdote inside.

Eddie shakes his head, lacing his ringed fingers with your bare ones. The pad of his thumb brushes against the knuckle of yours, both comforting you and zapping electricity through your body. “No, ‘s not weird,” he reassures you, giving your hands a squeeze. “I felt the same way, even if I didn’t realize it. I think that’s why I asked you to stay, why I held you…I’ve never done that before.” He’s sheepish but not ashamed; if he’s being honest, he’s pretty damn proud of himself for admitting it aloud.

You tilt your chin up knowingly. “Yeah, I heard you shut down a sure thing because of your involvement with someone.”

Your emphasis of that one word has Eddie dropping his head, letting go of one of your hands and covering his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Damn, word spreads around here like it’s the five o’clock news. But, uh, yeah, I did. Turn her down.” His tongue darts out to coat his dry lips. “Not that it’s any of my business, but did you, um, see anyone over the holidays?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, bracing yourself for what you’re about to tell him. Even though he’s the one holding you, allowing your bodies to intertwine, it’s nerve-wracking to be so vulnerable. You forge ahead, allowing the words to tumble out of your mouth. “I…I only want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s breath gets caught in his throat. Want want want. Present tense, not past. “Want, like, present tense? Like you still feel that way?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t reek of desperation for a millisecond before realizing that he doesn’t care, as long as you still want him.

“Is that okay?” Your voice is small, an almost comic contrast from the bravado you used during your last in-person encounter.

“It’s more than okay, Sweetheart.” Eddie’s whisper matches yours. His thumb ghosts over the plush of your lips as his hand slips to your cheek, bringing his remaining four fingers behind your ears and to the nape of your neck. He leans in, drawing you closer with his tantalizing smoky scent and raw desire. One step in, noses nudging together–

“Daddy, look at me!”

Eddie whips his head around at the sound of Harris’s voice, nearly crashing against yours, and you stumble backwards into the counter, wincing as you make contact with the linoleum. You bite back the string of swear words on your tongue, both at the pain and the missed kiss.

Jeff is panting as he chases after him, bending forward at the waist and resting his palms on his thighs. “I tried to keep him entertained, but I was not prepared for this level of energy,” he huffs, chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. His eyes dart between you and Eddie, easily picking up on the guilty looks on your faces. He mouths “sorry” and shrugs, but the moment is already over.

Harris, oblivious to the burgeoning tension in the room, tugs on his dad’s sleeve in a demand for attention. “Daddy, wanna see me lift stuff?” He jumps up and down as he asks, making his words vibrate. “Uncle Jeff says I’m the strongest kid in the world!” He opens his arms the entire length of his wingspan to emphasize his point.

“Uh, y-yeah; sure, bud.” Eddie stammers. He looks over at you and you follow his lead, watching as Harris lifts a box of diapers with a dramatic grunt. When Eddie is sure that his son has fully turned around, he grabs your hand once more and gives it a little squeeze. “We’ll pick up where we left off later,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Ms. Sweetheart, you watch, too!” Harris insists; so you do, trailing after him all the way to Jeff’s car. Unable to see over the box, he walks it right into the back bumper, and Eddie has to step in and help him.

Once the diapers have been tetris'd into the trunk, Jeff closes the door and slaps it for good measure. “Well, I think that’s everything. Thanks again, Munson…Mini Munson.” He ruffles Harris’s mop of curls with a grin.

Eddie holds out his hand, pulling Jeff in for a hug when he takes it. “Congratulations again, man. I’m really happy for you guys.” And he genuinely is. He can’t wait to see one of his oldest and closest friends experience fatherhood.

He turns to you as Jeff heads back into the house to help Viv to the car. “Did you have anything to eat?” he asks. “I mean, we can go to Benny’s if you want. I was gonna take Harris.” The kid hasn’t had anything since breakfast except the donut, and he’s bound to get cranky sooner rather than later.

You shake your head. “No, I wasn’t really hungry. But I’m down to split a stack of pancakes with you, if you want?”

“Like you used to do with Grandma?” He remembers you mentioning the tradition during her eulogy. The corners of his lips turn up slightly, though his smile quickly falters when he notices the misty film glazing your eyes. “Sorry, I—”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, dabbing at your lash line with the heel of your hand. “Someone really special once told me that it’s okay to be sad, so I’m kind of giving that a shot.”

This time, Eddie’s grin remains. “Is that a ‘yes’ to the pancakes?”

“Yeah. It’s a yes.” You giggle when Eddie makes a fist and pumps it in celebration. “We usually got blueberry, but I’m down for chocolate chip,” you say, remembering his food preference from your first date.

“Nah, I can get behind blueberry,” he says. What he doesn’t say is that he would eat anchovy pancakes if it meant making you happy.

“But I want chicken fingers!” Harris scrunches up his nose, and both you and Eddie know that a hungry four-year-old is not to be challenged.

Eddie scoops Harris up into his arms, smacking a wet kiss to his chubby cheek. One day, his son will wipe them off, but Eddie’s glad that today is not that day. “Then the boy shall have the finest chicken fingers in all of Hawkins!” He declares in a deep voice before winking at you. “More pancakes for me and the pretty lady.”

Harris’s eyes widen. “So you do think she’s pretty–”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” Eddie cuts him off. You duck your head as though that will ward off further questioning from Harris, but not before catching a glimpse of Eddie mouthing, “like a princess.”

You can smell the aroma of the deep fryer as soon as you pull into Benny’s parking lot. Since you drove yourself to the shower, you and Eddie take separate cars and meet there. The small diner isn’t overly crowded, and the three of you squeeze into a booth in the back corner. Eddie sits on one side and you on the other; you assume Harris will slide in next to his dad, but he chooses you instead.

Your waiter introduces himself as Ryan and places three sets of silverware on the table. He starts to hand you the menus, but Eddie politely shakes his head and tells him, “‘S all good, man. We know what we want.” He orders a plate of chicken fingers and fries for Harris and a short stack of blueberry pancakes for you and him. “Y’want anything to drink?” he asks you, and you contemplate for a moment before ordering a hot coffee, and Eddie gets the same.

“I want a coffee, too,” Harris pipes up, flashing his million-watt grin at Ryan, who holds back a laugh and promises that the food will be right out.

“So, Harris,” you start, taking a small sip from the glass of ice water in front of you, “how was your Christmas? Get anything good?”

“Mhm!” he chirps, swiveling his body to face yours. “I got a bunch of new Hot Wheels and some cool markers for drawing. They smell like fruits!”

“Very different from when I used to sniff markers back in my day,” Eddie jokes, and you kick his foot lightly in an attempt to silently tell him to behave. His eyes twinkle mischievously when you playfully roll yours.

“That sounds awesome!” you exclaim, bringing your attention back to Harris and adding, “I bet Mr. Will would want to see your new markers if you want to swing by my classroom on Monday.”

Harris’s face lights up, and he claps his hands together in jubilance. “Maybe I can draw something for him!”

“He’d love that,” you tell him, and the little boy squeezes his hands into tiny fists and lets out an excited squeal.

Ryan returns a few moments later balancing a plate of chicken fingers in one hand and the pancakes in the other. Your stomach rumbles; you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were presented with food. Eddie peels back the film of one of the small plastic syrup containers, positioning it over the pancakes and cocking his eyebrow to get your approval. You nod, and he tilts and swirls it as you watch it drip down the sugary stack.

“How was your visit with your family?” He doesn’t refer to it as your visit home, because he hopes that you consider Hawkins your home now. He unfurls his napkin and pulls out the fork and knife, cutting into the stack, and you mirror his actions.

Harris stretches his arm out across you, and you realize he’s reaching for the glass ketchup bottle, so you twist off the cap and plop some onto his plate. He dips a fry into it happily. “About as good as it could be,” you answer Eddie. “Everyone kind of tried to act normal, but it was like they were trying too hard, y’know?”

“Was Grandma there?” Harris asks through a mouthful of fried potato.

You bite your lip, not quite sure what he knows and what Eddie wants him to know. Death is a tricky subject to broach with young kids, and you don’t want to say anything that will confuse or scare him. Luckily, Eddie jumps in and comes to your rescue. “Har Bear, remember I told you that Grandma went to Heaven?” He gently reminds his son. “That’s why you made that nice card for Ms. Sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harris’s expression morphs from inquisitive to concern, even as he chows down on a chicken finger. “Are you still sad?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, more to yourself than to him, “but it gets a little better every day. And being around my favorite guys helps put me in a good mood.”

Eddie presses a syrupy hand to his chest in mock astonishment. “Who, us?” He smiles and spears another cut of pancake with his fork. “How did you know flattery works with me?”

Before you can formulate a response–something teasing but not overly flirtatious–Harris poses a new question: “Ms. Sweetheart, do you have any babies?”

“Harris!” His son’s name comes out sharper than he intends, but Eddie’s too flustered to think twice. He looks at you apologetically, practically crimson from his cheeks to his ears. “Sorry, he hasn’t stopped talking about babies since I told him about the baby shower.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, giving his hand a small squeeze to show that you truly don’t mind Harris’s curiosity. You look at the boy and tell him, “I don’t have any babies, but I consider all of my students to be my babies.”

“Me, too?”

You chuckle and take a sip of coffee. “Of course, you, too!”

There’s a brief silence as you all eat–Eddie steals a fry from Harris’s plate and shoves it in his mouth before he can get caught. While hilarious, his timing couldn’t be worse, because he has no way of stopping Harris’s next statement:

“You and my daddy could have a baby. Because you’re a woman and he’s a man.” It’s matter-of-fact, said while dunking his food in the ketchup pile, as though this is something everyone drops into normal conversation. “That’s how you get a baby in your tummy like Aunt Viv.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter, not wanting to reinforce his inadvertently entertaining assertion.

Eddie is far less amused than you are, nearly choking on his swiped French fry. “Chrissakes…” he hisses, ducking and bringing his fist to his forehead, “Harris, eat your chicken fingers, quietly.” He breathes out with a puff of his cheeks as Harris obliges, completely oblivious to the meaning behind his suggestion.

A beat of awkward silence ensues as you eat a hunk of pancake, warm blueberry juice seeping into your tongue. Grandma used to joke around and say that the blueberries made it a healthy food. “Practically a fruit salad,” she’d tease with a glint of happiness dancing in her eyes.

Eddie, meanwhile, is desperate for a subject change. His palms are slick from what he’s like to think is merely embarrassment, but it’s multifaceted. The idea of the three of you sitting in Benny’s just as you are now, only you’re eating for two, has his stomach in knots. And if he even dares to dream about what getting you pregnant entails? He’s a goner.

“Harris has a birthday coming up,” he blurts out a bit too loudly, unable to control his volume. “He’s turning the big, uh, five.”

You can feel Harris eagerly kicking his legs next to you, so you match his enthusiasm. “Wow, Har! That’s a whole hand!” You hold up five fingers and Harris does the same, bringing his palm to yours.

“Are you gonna come to my birthday party?” He peers up at you with hopeful eyes, and you’re left scrambling for a response that doesn’t give away that you haven’t exactly been invited.

“Oh, I, um…”

“She’s going to check her calendar and see,” Eddie offers, and you exhale at his quick save. Turns his attention to you. “His birthday is February 6, but that’s a Thursday, so we’re gonna do his party that Saturday at the bowling alley. Just me, Wayne, and a couple of the kids from school. And you, if you can make it.” Shit, is he rambling? Was that too much information? You spend every day with kids; would you really want to spend a Saturday afternoon at a birthday party surrounded by them?

He’s not overanalyzing for long before you speak. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do grown-ups get to bowl, too?” You perch your chin on your hand, blinking to emphasize your curiosity. Bowling has never been your forte, but you imagine you’ll fare quite well compared to a group of five-year-olds.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs kindly, letting his arm cross the table so that the back of his fingers can graze your forearm, “that’s a given.”

The three of you head out to your cars—not before you and Eddie argue over who’s going to pay the bill, with you eventually winning the battle. He takes Harris’s right hand as you step off of the sidewalk and into the parking lot, and Harris instinctively slips his left into yours. He walks between you and his dad naturally, as though it’s always been this way. Like you all were a little family that made regular outings for pancakes and chicken fingers.

“Har, go get in your car seat, and I’ll be there in a sec to buckle you in,” Eddie says gently, opening the door for him.

Harris climbs in clumsily, calling back, “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” His farewell ends with a yawn, suggesting that there will be a nap in the near future.

Eddie closes the door, shoving his hands in his pockets bashfully. It’s one of his nervous quirks, you’ve noticed, and you’re immediately inclined to reassure him about whatever’s on his mind. “Hey, um, could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I talked to the people at the school,” he starts, kicking at the gravel under his feet, “and Harris has that evaluation thing on Monday. Would you…”

You don’t even let him finish his request before confirming, “I’ll be there.”

Eddie’s body instantly relaxes, relief flooding through him at your words. “You’re amazing.” He looks around to make sure Harris can’t see before kissing you, lips quickly melding together. He has to pull back before he wants to, before either of you want to, to avoid getting caught. He tastes like coffee and syrup with a hint of berries, though the kiss is too brief to pick up on anything else. A stirring inside you informs you that he could kiss you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough. “See you, Sweetheart.”

Mondays are characteristically exhausting; kids are home for two days on the weekends and return behaving like they’ve never seen a classroom before. Today is no exception, but the coffee Eddie left on your desk this morning certainly helps. He’d tried to sneak in, but you’d caught him, and it took everything in your power not to plant a kiss on his cheek right then and there. Scrawled on the side of the to-go cup in his messy handwriting were three simple words that made your heart soar: For my Sweetheart.

What you didn’t know was that Eddie had thought about what he’d wanted to write for the entire car ride. Nothing too clingy, but nothing too distant. Not sappy but not brusque. Even the word my between “for” and “Sweetheart” was daunting; how would you feel about being his?

By the time the afternoon rolls around, neither of you are too concerned with romantic gestures. You and Eddie sit in the hard plastic chairs outside the school psychiatrist’s office. He’s already answered all of her questions, so now it’s simply a matter of waiting for the observation to end.

You can hear Harris giggling from the other side of the door, and you look over to smile at Eddie, but he either didn’t hear it or his nerves have built up an impenetrable barrier.

He exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks and leaning his head back against the brick wall. It’s a sigh of defeat, not relief, and you lean over and squeeze his hand without a second thought. The edges of his skull ring dig into your palm, but you couldn’t care less. Your only priority is keeping him calm.

“Hey,” you murmur, crossing one leg over the other. He looks through you, not at you, and you brush a stray lock of hair from his face to ground him. Once he’s settled, you continue talking. “Everything will be alright. Either he doesn’t have a disability, or we’ll be one step closer to getting him the accommodations he needs.”

Eddie nods. “I know. I just…” He pauses for a beat, struggling to find words that accurately convey his myriad emotions. Besides anxiety about the unknown path that lays before him and Harris, guilt gnaws at him for his past misgivings. The careless sex with Harris’s mom, the stupid fucking tour that he just had to go on while she was pregnant, the blissful ignorance that he could have his cake and eat it, too. “I hate that he can’t learn, like, normally. Like the other kids.”

Your instinct is to tell him that Harris doesn’t need to be like the other kids, that he’s perfectly and unequivocally himself, but that’s not what Eddie needs right now.

“It’s tough,” you agree, “but Harris is a great kid with big dreams, and he’s not going to let anything stop him. All we have to do is support him along the way.”

Eddie ponders that for a moment, slightly amused at the accuracy of your statement, given what you don’t know. Beyond reading and math–both of which he’s shown improvements in since you’ve begun your tutoring sessions–Harris refuses to give up on his quest to get you and Eddie together. The hand-holding drawing was only the tip of the iceberg; Wayne’s since reported that the boy has asked multiple times about when “Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart will fall in love.” And, of course, he hasn’t stopped talking about your Saturday afternoon diner date, constantly badgering Eddie about whether or not you two were married yet.

Eddie rests his head on your shoulder, curly tendrils tickling your collarbones. All you want is to let him stay there as long as he needs, even if your legs fall asleep, but the nagging thoughts of passersby’s perceptions triumph over your desires.

“Eddie, I…” you trail off, gently lifting your shoulder so he’ll get the hint without you having to say it aloud. Self-consciousness pinkens his cheeks as he sits up, adjusting his posture and mumbling a soft “sorry” under his breath.

“S’fine,” you rush to reassure him, praying that he doesn’t misconstrue your professionalism with shame of being seen with him. You would comfort any of your students’ parents in times of distress, but let’s face it–you would never snuggle up to Jason Carver or Carol Perkins. “Just don’t wanna be accused of canoodling on the job,”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Canoodling?”

“It’s a word!”

“You’re the one with the fancy college degree, so I guess I gotta believe you.”

You giggle softly, brushing his Reeboks with your flats. “Seriously, it’s gonna be okay. Whatever happens, I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. The words replay like an enchanting melody. You’ve got him. You’ve got him, and you’ll have him as long as he vows to hold on.

“Mr. Munson?”

Eddie’s attention snaps to Ms. Cassie, the school psychologist. Harris darts from her office, a giant smile on his face as he leaps into his father’s arms. “Daddy, we played games! It was lotsa fun!”

“That’s great, Har Bear,” Eddie murmurs into Harris’s scalp. He looks up at Ms. Cassie expectantly. “How did everything go?” Is my son okay? Is there something wrong with him? Is it my fault? He doesn’t dare pose those questions.

The psychologist offers a smile, lacing her fingers together in front of her stomach. “Like Harris said, we had a great time. I’d like to speak with you briefly…” her gaze flits over to the hallway. “Is there someone who could keep an eye on Harris while we talk?”

Eddie’s heart sinks; privately, perhaps naively, he’d been wishing that there wouldn’t be anything else to discuss. Maybe a chipper, everything’s fine; he’ll catch up to the other kids on his own! But nothing so serious that it required an additional meeting.

“My TA can,” you pipe up, remembering that Will had stayed back to prepare an art project for tomorrow morning. Eddie puts Harris down, watching as you take his chubby hand in yours and make your way to your classroom.

Ms. Cassie starts to wave Eddie into his office, but he shakes his head. “Wanna wait for her to get back,” he tells her, and she nods understandingly. As soon as you return, the two of you take a seat in front of her desk. Paperwork is stacked neatly in piles across the top of it, and framed diplomas line the walls. Board games sit on the shelves, and Eddie can’t help but wonder which ones Harris played this afternoon.

“I want to start off by saying that Harris is one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” Ms. Cassie says. Her tone is even and patient, which makes Eddie more anxious. He wants to jump up and demand that she spill the bad news already, but he bites his thumbnail to calm his nerves. You notice the gesture immediately and inconspicuously grab the hand closest to yours, hiding your display of affection below the desk. Eddie grips so tightly that you have to actively suppress a grimace.

“The evaluation indicates that Harris meets the requirements to be classified as a ‘preschooler with a disability,’” she continues, “and as a result, he qualifies for special education services–”

“What the hell does that mean?” You wince at the vitriol in Eddie’s voice, and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. It brings him back down enough for him to clear his throat and apologize, but you can sense that he’s still on-edge.

“That’s alright, Mr. Munson. You’re not the first parent to react that way, and I’m positive you won’t be the last.” She taps a small pile of papers on her desk to even them out before handing them to him. “The classification means that he will get an Individualized Education Program–IEP for short–that will help us target goals for Harris to make progress alongside his peers.”

Ms. Cassie drones on about short-term and long-term objectives, but Eddie can’t focus on what she’s saying. Preschooler with a disability. My son has a disability because I left, because I wasn’t there, because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It’s all my fault. My fault my fault my fault–

“Eddie,” you whisper, but it’s no use. You watch as his ribcage expands and contracts faster with manic breaths, on the verge of hyperventilation. You shoot the psychologist an apologetic glance and pull Eddie from the office before he can launch into a full-blown panic attack. His body is like a ragdoll, and he trails behind you mechanically; if you let go of his hand, he’d probably stop dead in his tracks.

“Baby,” you say, bringing him to an empty classroom. The nickname rolls off your tongue easily despite technically being in your place of work. “Baby, it’s just you and me right now. You’re okay–”

“Harris–disability–my fault.” His words are low and gravelly, but you hear them without having to strain. They’re similar to the sentiments he’d uttered that day at parent-teacher conferences when he’d unexpectedly showed up at your door.

There’s no use trying to convince him otherwise, not when he’s like this, so you try a different approach. “I can talk to Ms. Cassie about rescheduling the meeting. We don’t have to figure everything out right away.” He nods, just a miniscule bob of his head, but it tells you that he’s cognizant enough to comprehend what you’re telling him. “In the meantime, why don’t you go see Harris? I bet he’s drawing something for you.”

That gets a smile out of him. “Y-Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t move; instead, he brings you closer to him and holds you to his chest so close that you can hear his heart beating. His body shakes, but it’s not until you feel a warm teardrop fall from his face onto the top of your head that you realize he’s crying. You wrap your arms around his lithe waist until you feel him begin to steady, staggered breaths becoming fuller.

Wiping the tear trails from his cheeks carefully, you press a tiny kiss to his nose. “Wash your face and go to my classroom. I’ll meet you there.”

“‘Kay,” he manages, wishing he had the means to express his gratitude for your words, your presence, you.

When he gets to your classroom, Harris is furiously scribbling on a piece of construction paper with his new markers. Eddie smiles, leaning against the door until Will spots him.

“Harris, your dad’s here!” he announces, and Harris looks up excitedly.

“Daddy!” he exclaims. “I’m almost done with my picture, hold on!” He grabs a blue marker and uncaps it, marking the paper with concentrated dots. He replaces the cover and slides the marker back into the yellow-and-green box.

He’s always so diligent with his art supplies, Eddie notes.

“Ta-da!” Harris spins the drawing so his dad can see. There’s three people–you, Eddie, and Harris. You’re standing around a large purple rectangle with a line coming out of each corner, which Eddie recognizes as a table. There’s a circle representing the plate of chicken fingers in front of Drawing Harris, and a circle between Drawing You and Drawing Eddie with blueberry pancakes. Just like on Halloween, he’s drawn a smile on everyone’s faces.

“He’s really good,” Will says, and Eddie looks at him in amusement. “Seriously, he is. He’s got great spatial awareness when he draws, which most kids don’t develop until later. And he’s got an eye for detail,” he adds, pointing to the blue dots on the pancakes. “Looks like you’ve got a little artist.”

An artist. Not a failure, not incapable, but an artist. A boy who could grow up and inspire the world with his creativity.

“I love it,” Eddie says finally, reaching out to take the drawing. He frowns when Harris snatches it back.

“This one is for Ms. Sweetheart,” he explains exasperatedly, as though this is something he’s had to repeat multiple times. “We already have one at home, Daddy. Renember?” His pout quickly becomes a grin when he sees you enter the room. “Ms. Sweetheart, I drawed this for you!”

“I love it!” You inadvertently echo Eddie’s statement as you hold the paper to your heart. “This is gonna go on the kitchen wall so you can see it when you come over for tutoring.” You turn to Eddie, eyes warm with understanding. “How are you feeling?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly. “Kinda sad, kinda mad, kinda relieved that there’s an answer.” He scratches at the stubble on his cheeks. “‘M just…really glad I don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I’m always here for you, Eds. You and Harris.”

Eddie’s curls bob up and down as he slowly nods. “Speaking of which, um, you said something about tutoring him? Are you feeling up to it? I can bring pizza—o-or not, if it makes you sad. We could do Chinese or something—”

“Eddie?”

“Ya?”

You look down at the drawing of your little chosen family at Benny’s. It’s certainly different from the times you went with Grandma, but you’re filled with the same feeling of belonging that you’d felt then.

“Extra olives for me, please.”

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transmascaraa · 2 months

Note

Hi! I've currently been into Ga ming recently since he's released and your works for him are really cute 💗💗 so I was wondering if I can maybe request him, Bennett, tighnari, cyno, and Scaramouche (if you write for them ofc!) with a always nauseous and overheating reader?

I've been going through that for a long while now and it kinda adds onto not really eating all the time because of being afraid to throw up when it happens, sometimes feeling like a burden for having a different body temperature than most and feeling like it's just a problem, not being able to wear clothes I really want to because of how hot I may get, the possibility of passing out whenever and the embarrassment I get from that, ect 😭

I hope your day is well, and that hopefully you have a fun time writing this if you decide to 💗🫶

multiple characters headcannons!

how are they with overheating!reader?

characters: gaming, bennett, tighnari, cyno, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: i love this idea so much😭 i'm not somebody that's overheating easily, but i still get hot faster than others, it's the main reason i hate summer and love winter👍 but i think i can understand people who suffer from overheating. i once almost passed out a few months ago and it's either that i felt sorry for this one dog, or because of sunstroke. either way, i'm glad to do this request, because i really like it<3

Gaming

-he would be prepared ALL THE TIME. it's true. it's canon, i'm the mole on his neck.

-anyways, he would always have one of your t-shirts in his bag. he learnt how to do cpr and what to do IF you pass you. he reassured you that it was okay. that you having a warmer body temperature wasn't something you should be embarrassed of.

-in his eyes, he found the good in that whole problem.

-winter, you're not all the cold in winter, while he... freezes, despite being pyro.

-he's there with you, always ready for anything, encouraging you to eat.

-he also always has a cold drink in his bag, it might come in handy for you...

-either way, he wouldn't mind it. he just wants to help you. he sees nothing wrong with you.

-but he avoids teasing you that much, what if you get too hot and feel nauseous?

-he doesn't want that. instead, he knows when to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bennett

-he's clumsy, and everyone knows that. but he does try his best to help. he WANTS to help.

-when you feel nauseous, he starts panicking a bit but tries to keep a more calm composure to not make it even harder for you.

-he knows how to treat you. he's trying his best, please, thank him.

-he asked lisa about how to help a nauseous person, and he listened closely.

-sometimes, he rants to razor about you, but not about your overheating problem, but about how strong you were. how brave you were.

-how he admired you.

-and when with you, he tries to tell you all of those same things, but he ends up blushing too much, and just telling you to "paint it over".

-but at rare times, when he makes you feel hotter by telling you such sweet praises, he apologizes immediately, and tries to cool you down.

-he's trying, he really is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tighnari

-he has everything with him. if gaming had everything you needed, tighnari has 2 times more of them. what if you run out of cold water? what if the first shirt he brought with him was still making you hot? he even has an ice pack with him.

-he's like a mom. anything you need, he has it. he would take great care of you, making sure you're alright.

-if you're nauseous, don't worry! he has the medicide. you're allergic to something? you'll never see it again.

-if you're ever close to passing out, he knows exactly what to do, so you shouldn't worry all that much, because you have him.

-others, and even maybe you, might see him as overprotective, or overreacting, but he just says that "it's for your own good" and carries on with taking your mind off of things by talking to you about aranaras.

-he may be a bit strict, but it really is jsut because he cares for you. he wants the best for you, and hopes that he can be the one to help you get to there.

-i could talk about him for ages but i think you get the point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cyno

-i'm virtually sighing right now. he would care for you, yes, do anything for you, do anything you want him to.

-he'll bring you anything and everything you need.

-he had anything you need with him, but if you run out of anything, he's thinking of a solution to stop that.

-in all seriousness, he'll skip anything and everything for you.

-yes, he does bore you with his horrible jokes no matter what, but if he sees that he's too annoying, he'll stop.

-if you're about to pass out, he's either gonna keep his composure and help you or just...

-call tighnari because he's panicking a bit too much.

-he avoids bringing you to the desert with him, completely, at all costs.

-he wants to to be okay, and reassures you when you have trouble eating.

-he's like a dad, the opposite of tighnari. he may not have anything you need at ALL times, but he always comes up with a solution.

-and he loves choosing outfits for you, and he gets hot easily too, that's why he doesn't wear much clothing himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanderer

-uhhh he's complicated. he'll never show any interest in helping you, but deep down he so fucking worried about you. he would take your body heat if he could. he would splash you with ice-cold water if you wanted to.

-but he'd mask it with saying "weak."

-you know him good enough tho, he cares about you more than anyone else.

-you know he'd sacrifice anything and everything to help you.

-he literally forces you to eat.

-he has everything you need with him, and does his best to help you. if he runs out of something, he'll call nahida.

-nahida plays a huge part in this too, but you don't know.

-he secretly talks to nahida to teach him about overheating more. so he knows how to help. he asks her any question he has, and the almost immediately memorizes it. he needs to know how to help you. so, if you ever almost pass out, he'd just be telling you to shut up while trying to help, but on the inside, it's a mess, really.

-he doesn't want you in pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i actually really like this one

HELP MY LAST MULTI-CHARACTER ONE GOT ALMOST 400 NOTES I'M GOING CRAZY

either way, i hope you like this one, anon! and that you i potrayed overheating good enough😭

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shimishimii · 29 days

Text

everybody’s falling in love but me

⟿ wc; 2k+

⟿ Sakusa Kiyoomi x gn reader ; dramatic fluff, for me this is really a cute fic, hope you like it

⟿ have you ever felt like everyone’s been experiencing love and relationships as if it was a trend and you’re getting left behind? I wrote this fic because of that

He hears another rant from Atsumu. Hinata rushes to guess, and Sakusa doesn’t need to listen further to determine what this is all about.

Love. Again.

How long did Atsumu’s previous partner lasted? Two weeks? 6 days? A night?

He sat at the gym floor and sees Bokuto smiling cheekily despite his girlfriend coming over to scold him for overexerting given his shoulder injury. Hinata is on a call with Kageyama, grinning and jumping, as if practice was not tiring enough.

He passes on Atsumu’s request, heavily declining to stay up until midnight taking care of wobbly legs and liquor drowned cognition. And for a well-built set of athletes, it sure is a heavy work.

Besides, the topic will be the same. Atsumu vents, hogs all the drama, Bokuto and Hinata would comfort him while Meian tries to give a man-to-man advice. And when the night breeze grows heavy and their hazy eyes starts to cloud with brimming tears with a weird mixture of laughter, only tales of love would escape their lips.

Sakusa shakes his head and hurries packing up knowing the blonde setter would drag everyone out for a drink. And no matter what kind of opinion he says, his teammates would point out his own demise. Right, he is not even in a relationship.

All his friends seem to feel warm and giddy talking about the important people in their life. Sure, their partners had flaws, but all those details seem to fit the puzzle. Drawn back by time again and again, as if tethered by invisible threads of affinity, through complains and smiles, they keep coming back.

Like it was meant to be.

Even if it meant his heart would always be at the edge of heaven and hell all the time?

He likes his comfort zone as it is even if it means he is alone. Alone but not lonely, well, most of the time.

Sakusa can’t fathom the idea of how they can be willing to gamble on the table, hoping that their partner would show a card of heart.

Of all computed probabilities, love must be a question of chance.

Dumb luck. Fate. Destiny.

Whatever it is, his walls are tall enough for love to even take a peek.

Sometimes, confusion spreads over him, was he being left out? Is his heart just half a piece and there’s actually a need for someone to complete it?

Actually, he never liked putting much effort in liking someone. Simply, the time and attention to spend, he thinks it is not worth it.

He assumes several points, mostly illogical, but he thinks otherwise.

First, to get used to someone’s warmth and the eternal winter that would follow once it’s gone. Second, he doesn't want to be a memory in someone's past, archived and forgotten as though once upon a time, he was just a side character in a story.

Lastly, but of course you will never hear him admit it.

He feels scared. Once he ends up alone, back to how he always was, he does not know how to cope with such loss.

With that, he prefers not feeling anything, getting attached, or falling in love at all.

There’s the constant fear of being left alone and hurt. For a heart to get used to a rhythm and then long a melody of what your heartbeat used to dance to.

But of course, he knows it is more complicated than that. And it was never easy admitting it. It’s hard to express this feeling. Of hoping to love and be loved, at the same time still enjoying the peace of solitude.

It seems to be an ignorant bliss, when you don’t know love drawn along the lines of commitment. Sure, he can admire someone but not in a way there’ll be a ring on his finger someday and vows will be exchanged.

His feelings were often intellectualized, and the words just never materialize.

There’s another fear that lingers, that admitting his feelings means a promise. That he will never leave them too.

What if his feelings change along the way?

He admires the concept of affection and intimacy but not when it is about someone’s name to be carved in his heart.

It seems fun. No, fun is not the word for it. It’s difficult to describe, but loving and being loved must be something special.

‘Who am I to find joy in such experience?’ He often asks himself.

So, he will simply think about this for a few nights, or days, or during showers, in-between tv shows, just enough to acknowledge this feeling and let it go.

See, there’s a lot of issues he is still working on. And may it be a decade or a century, he wishes to be well prepared before he falls in love.

Because he knows when he falls, it will be like gravity had him on a chokehold.

“You’re meeting again?” Bokuto asks. Suddenly, everyone’s attention is on him.

It’s an early end for their practice today. It barely warmed him up. Although Sakusa protests, he plays anyway. He grumbles but still plays volleyball all too well. Hinata complains how he can hate and love a thing, and still be good at it.

“Right Omi, I wonder why’s that” Atsumu sneaks a remark, with a hand placed on his shoulder, eyebrows wiggling. His teammates are too good at jumping, often at conclusions.

“It’s for that case settlement” Sakusa replies.

“The house ownership?” Everyone pauses to listen as Atsumu speaks. “Wonder how someone did manage to scam you” Atsumu’s right. He thinks of himself as ahead of analyzing people, turns out he’s vulnerable when someone offers something with the label ‘sale’.

“Why not let it go? You’re rich, unless you want to keep going on those ‘case meetings’ huh”

Sakusa simply sighs. The scammer was caught months ago, but there wasn’t any progress on who gets the house. Sakusa Kiyoomi, who finally decided to buy a house, somehow ended up tangled with you.

Both of you paid the full amount for the house, caught off guard by the ‘sale’. Said it was 50% off (it never was). Truly, the scammer knows capitalism by its roots, selling the house to both Sakusa and you, presented as a bargain but gained twice the amount. And unfortunately, the money was gone in thin air. The positive side was, it was named after you and Sakusa but both of you have to decide how to settle the ownership.

The judge suggested two options:

a) one gets the house, the other compensated with money

b) sell the house, both gets compensated with money

However, both of you refuses to give away the house. It’s a perfect deal, both near your workplaces, spacious, newly renovated, completely furnished, and has that perfect aesthetic of the interior you both dreamed of.

Sakusa already told this dilemma to his teammates. He has no choice, it’s been months, and both of you kept meeting but ends up arguing. No wins, no losses. A perfect stagnant problem.

“Let Kiyoomi enjoy his dates—”

“It’s a meeting” Sakusa retorts.

“Right, and the sun’s a star” Atsumu rolls his eyes.

“It’s a star?” Hinata quickly replies, with furrowed brows.

“Well, whatever you call it, seems like you’re enjoying anyways” Atsumu shrugs. Bokuto and Hinata nods.

“They’re annoying at best” Sakusa replies, massaging his forehead thinking what chaos it will be again later.

“If you don’t like each other so much, why bother meet all the time?” Hinata asks.

“Specifically, at least twice a week” Bokuto agrees.

And Sakusa’s left defenseless. His walls came crashing down.

He ignores everything they say after, as he usually does. He finishes packing up and proceeds to check your message. He searches the location where your date will be—discussion, he smiles at his silly mistake.

On the other hand, you are getting uneasy how today will turn out although you are sure an argument will be present. It’s quite a joke you kept meeting someone despite your desire to avoid things that are a waste of time.

Meeting Sakusa is not a waste of time, isn’t it?

You deny the excitement building up waiting on him as he shows up in gym clothes compared to your academia themed outfit. It was like someone on a fitness journey was meeting up with a crumbling postgrad student.

With black sweatpants, an inch higher than his ankle, and his regular fitted black shirt, you spot Kiyoomi. As marvelous and nonchalant as ever.

Kiyoomi looks from outside the cafe’s window and pauses for almost a minute, thinking of something nice to say.

You also prepared a few phrases on your mind, something about the weather. How cloudy skies compliments the hue of his hair and eyes, captivating his features so well.

But the moment you meet, and words come out from your mouths, he was baffled how something about the weather turned into an argument about ecological footprints. Maybe because Kiyoomi kept on using his car despite the training venue being streets away. You point it out and Kiyoomi would never admit his purpose of hoping to drive you home sometime. So, he contradicts your words by the number of items you kept on purchasing and why consumerism keeps on depleting the earth’s resources.

After some lengthy banter, silence precedes.

But Sakusa wonders what remains loud, no one’s talking but something remains loud.

Then he realizes, there’s the beat on his chest.

He begins to get baffled by how many paradoxes can exist all at once.

Like how he can hate your guts but keeps making his days available just to see you.

How can he be so selfish of not wanting to give up the house just so he can hear you ramble about your life, why it was your dream house, how can it benefit your working hours, and how you hate pets are not allowed in your current apartment complex.

He hates this. How his practice tires him out but ends up coming back to meet you. Like it was meant to be.

You could also list your reasons to hate him.

You hate how he becomes silent suddenly. But his nonverbal gestures tell a lot and more than what you need to know. Like how his lips slowly lift when your reasoning was actually right. Or the way he orders for the both of you and never misses any detail, he gets it right without even asking you. Even the way he leans forward slightly just so he can hear you clearly and remind you he is listening whenever you share anything.

You begin to remind yourself, think with your head not that thing in your chest.

Of all computed probabilities, love may not be a question of chance…but a choice.

Dumb luck. Fate. Destiny.

Whatever it was, he might be slowly getting it.

You are not there to complete him. Neither he does. But simply sitting in front of him, with his pretty hair, and cute grunts. And all his snide remarks, the comments how your outfit suits you, remembering what your favorite coat is, his random sarcasm, how he remembers all the stories you told him.

His mandatory habit of collecting the receipt with your doodles, how he informs you ahead of his schedule making sure you are a part of it, and simply being with each other.

It is not just a question what this situation is. It is an enigma.

You hate him.

And damn right, he hates you too.

But you both say goodbye with smiles on your face.

Another meeting is set on a shared online calendar you previously both agreed on.

Also, the house still belongs to both of you.

a/n: I admit I get jealous of the "love experience" and I admit I never tried a relationship. Because like what I wrote, it was not the fear of love, it's the fear of losing someone you love.

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x gn reader #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff #haikyuu imagines #sakusa x gn!reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #keybored

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kisakis-boyfriend · 3 months

Note

I've been waiting for your requests to open back up! Hopefully I've made it in time lmao. I've been dying to request something with Mitusya.

I've always imagined Mitusya being a romantic person and I can totally see him setting up a date or a surprise for the reader after not seeing each other for a while because of their work schedules not lining up correctly, due to the holidays making him busier than normal. Like him making the readers favorite dinner and just taking care of them before they end up making love in front of the fire place.

Hopefully that fits the winter theme well enough, if not I do apologize

Pairings: Mitsuya x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, soft dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Mitsuya, soft sex, blowjob, riding

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

“–and then the manager went ballistic on like three people today...it was stressful just to overhear...”

“Wow. That's crazy. I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that, sweetheart.” Mitsuya's voice came through your phone speaker, sounding sincere as always while you ranted about work on your walk home.

“Thanks, babe. It's so stupid– the holiday shifts, I mean. I can't wait to get home and forget about it all.” You laughed, digging through your bag for your keys. A sigh escaped as you lamented, “I just wish you were here with me too...I hate that neither of us have time off during holidays...”

“Mm. Me too.” Your partner hummed in agreement. As much as you loved hearing his voice almost every night, it wasn't enough. Winter was the busiest season for both of you, and there was never any time to visit each other during. It had been nearly a whole month since you had a physical date! A month! Eating takeout together on a video call was fun, but you missed in-person dates dearly...

The keys clinked against each other as you fumbled with pushing your house key into the lock, turning the doorknob and entering your toasty home a second later. “I really miss you, Taka...” the sadness layered under your breath was not lost to Mitsuya, nor was it lost to yourself, cursing yourself mentally for sounding so depressed.

His soft, reassuring voice came through again, “I miss you too. I'm sure we'll get to see each other real soon, y/n. I guarantee that.” The love weaved into his words brought a small smile to your lips, already daydreaming about your next date. But... something quickly caught your attention. When Mitsuya spoke, it sounded as though his voice also came from your kitchen? Like some sort of echo effect.

“Taka? Can you say that again?” You asked, a bit concerned and confused.

“Uh, sure– I guarantee that, y/n.”

In complete disbelief, your eyes widened and you ran straight towards your kitchen, rounding the corner and just barely preventing yourself from slamming into the wall. Standing next to the counter was none other than–

“TAKAAAA!!” You exclaimed, running directly into your partner's arms, nearly dropping your phone and knocking Mitsuya over at the same time.

Laughter filled the room, along with your happy sobbing, while you bear hugged your poor lover to death. “M-missed you too, y/n. Haha...ah, your hands are freezing...”

“Sorry–!!” you immediately removed your bare hands from his skin, trying to warm them up a bit by rubbing them together. “I just can't– How?! When?!”

“I asked to go home early today. Thought I might surprise you,” Mitsuya explained while cupping your face, warming up your cheeks in the process, “consider this an early Christmas present.”

“I love you so fucking much, Taka...” You whispered before catching your partner by surprise with a hungry kiss.

No longer sulking from the awful stress of work, the two of you sat down and had a lovely dinner; Mitsuya had prepared your favorite meal and set up the dining table with a few candles and a nice bottle of wine to share.

Afterwards, while he was taking care of the dishes, you walk up behind him...

“You're too sweet...I can help with these, you know?” your arms wrapped around Mitsuya's waist. He can be such a housewife most of the time, but it was very appreciated.

“Nope. I told you, I'll take care of everything. Food, dishes, putting the leftovers away. You, my darling, can just relax.” His words were enough to make you cry sometimes. What did you do to deserve someone this thoughtful and kind?

A chuckle left him as you nuzzled into his neck, breath tickling his skin slightly. “-love you...you're too good to me...” For a split second, it seemed as though you were going to cry. Tears welled up in the inner corners of your eyes, and a familiar heat rose underneath the skin of your face, but you choked it down quickly. Instead kissing Mitsuya's neck, exposed by his open collar.

“Whoa- Take it easy, babe.” Mitsuya laughed, bracing himself against the counter when you pressed forward, kissing lower, kissing harder, “We, aah... We have all night for that–” He trailed off, succumbing to his growing desire. Ah fuck it

Neck kisses turned into shoulder kisses, turned into unbuttoning Mitsuya's shirt, turned into stumbling over towards the couch, turned into sloppy kissing while your shirt was discarded, turned into grinding against each other, turned into stripping down to nothing, turned into Mitsuya flipping you so that you were on your back now–

“I did all this to you, huh?” He teased, with eyes fixed on your leaking cock. Your lover's lips were on your dick within seconds; kissing the base and working up to the head. Shiny precum smeared on his lips as he worshipped your cock, finally taking it into his warm mouth, humming with just the tip in his mouth.

Your only light source was the glow of embers from the fireplace, lovingly lit by your partner before you came home so that the house would be warm and cozy. The flickering orange lighting suited Mitsuya wonderfully. Casting just enough light onto his face so that you can make out his features, yet still dark enough to reflect in his eyes — causing his gaze to appear more piercing. Your partner kept eye contact with you as he bobbed his head up and down, hollowing his cheeks. The feeling had you throwing your head back against the couch cushion, so close to an orgasm already, thanks to Mitsuya's skills.

Before you could cum though, Mitsuya popped off of your cock and sat up, lining his hole — that he had casually been fingering while he sucked your dick — up with it. Steadying himself against your chest, he slowly eased himself lower and lower; you had to bite your lip to prevent a flurry of curses from coming out. The way your partner's insides molded to your shape — it was an indescribably pleasurable sensation.

“Takashi...f-feels good- Need you c-closer...” You moaned, pulling him down and into a passionate kiss. As Mitsuya ground his hips against yours the room seemed to spin. Between his groans of pleasure, the mumbled words in between kisses, and the feeling of his body pressed oh so close against yours–

Mitsuya tightened around you, his moans grew louder, and finally... “G-going to...ah! Cum...y/n- ” With your hasty encouragement, your lover came and white globs painted your stomachs — you'll clean up later though.

“Fuck I'm gonna–!! Hnngh—!! ” Moments after his, your own release followed, pumping a load of cum into Mitsuya's ass. After clenching for a few seconds your muscles finally went slack, followed by a deep sigh of content.

The two of you laid there for a while, tangled together and bathed in warmth. You remained like this for some time; together. With Mitsuya's head laying on top of your chest and your fingers brushing through his hair, lightly tickling his skin as you trailed along his back. You couldn't have asked for a better night than this

#my writing #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya smut #mitsuya x reader #sub mitsuya #male reader #dom reader #top reader #oneshot #winter specials ❄️#requested #mitsuya x you #tokyo rev x male reader #mitsuya x male reader

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nelkcats · 1 year

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Cyrus & Boreas

Spirits of the elements

The earth has been in a very delicate balance for a couple of years now, despite constant reminders of extinction, only magic users know what is really going on with temperatures, sometimes too hot or too cold.

It had been years since Amity Park ceased to exist, years since the land where the old town was located was inhabited, now it was just a wasteland, the city practically moved into the Infinite Realms, it turns out that its inhabitants were so exposed to ectoplasm that when they died almost everyone became a ghost.

For years Vlad and Danny had come to an agreement, just watching the earth, seeing new heroes come and go, but they were both getting bored of it, missing their old rivalry, the thrill of chasing each other, they also missed visiting their dimension. It was, after all, half of their home.

Seeing the problem of global warming and how damaged the earth was, Clockwork presented them a solution. It turns out that when you were properly connected to your core you could take an animal form, and expand your element where you stepped, or around you. Frostbite and the yetis taught Danny more about it, Pandora and the greeks ended up teaching Vlad.

It was the beginning of their competition, apparently Acropolis of Athens and Far Frozen had an old rivalry too, so they were more than happy to teach them how to deal in a friendly way (still a dangerous fighting but apparently that was the most friendly possible without killing each other)

This power wasn't something ghosts would practice very often, because it would expend too much energy and ectoplasm, it wasn't like Dora's amulet or Amorpho special talent at all, ¿the good part? The halfas were characterized by having energy to spare.

With that resolved, Clockwork tasked them with taking care of the earth's temperatures, so a few times a year (mostly on winter and summer solstice days), Vlad and Danny would choose a specific animal and run across the earth, the places where Vlad stepped warmed up in an instant, the places Danny walked were filled with snowflakes and cold.

The animal forms they liked to take the most were extinct or mythological creatures, sometimes they changed to be opposite species, at other times they were the same.

The magic users named it "The Cyrus & Boreas Phenomenon", when Danny heard about it he was excited by his name being so similar to the Northern Lights, while Vlad sulked for having a Persian name while being trained by Greeks.

This continued without being a problem, until Danny found the Wachtower station in space, immediately he changed his path and ran towards it; Vlad, knowing this could become a problem, followed him from afar.

The Justice League and Justice League Dark were having a meeting when the temperature dropped, Constantine cursed as the rest of the league tensed "Bats, what day is it?"

"December 21" upon hearing his response, Constantine cursed again as he ranted about the winter solstice.

"Damn it, damn it ¿why did he deviate from his route? He doesn't go of his way, especially not in this time of the year, ¡this is a disaster!" Constantine paced back and forth "Look, I know you guys like to poke your nose into everything that happens, but this is strictly magical, so no matter what's about to come, keep quiet, do absolutely nothing ¿Do you understand?" The hellbazer's hands trembled as he speaked.

"You can't just say that, ¡we have a right to know! This is nonsense" Diana frowned, she didn't much like the wizard's attitude right now.

"Sorry Wonder Woman, but this is strictly tied to the Justice League Dark, trust us for now, it's for your safety" Fate spoke, he knew nothing bad would happen if the league just kept quiet.

As soon as the lord of order stopped speaking, the entire room began to freeze, pieces of ice hanging on the walls as a Giant wolf ran through the wall.

In the first instance, the wolf looked dangerous, the places where its paws were placed had frozen, pure pieces of ice, the wolf turned its attention to the League, approaching curiously.

"Boreas" Zatanna exhaled in amazement, the entire magical community knew how the animal's presence felt no matter how much it changed its shape, it was the closest thing to a myth that existed, leveling the planet's temperatures, staying a few days and disappearing, impossible to find, record or locate no matter how hard you tried.

"However, where is Cyrus?" Constantine murmured to his partner, if Boreas was near his counterpart shouldn't be far away.

Danny looked at the wizards, interested in the names they had given him, he was about to ask about it when a ball of fire hit him in the shoulder.

He growled in complete frustration as he turned to look at his assailant, behind him the League tensed at the sound as Fate signaled for them to keep quiet.

Behind the animal appeared a Tasmanian tiger the same size as the Giant wolf, Barry was about to question if they weren't supposed to be extinct when the wolf snarled and lunged at the tiger, who ran back to earth.

The entire league watched as the ice brought by the wolf was extinguished by the appearance of the tiger, returning to normal as both creatures moved away.

"Constantine, situation report" Batman was clearly the first to snap out of the trance he had been left in.

"Look Bats, I know how much you want your precious information but this is out of your league, ¿those guys? Cyrus & Boreas, they are as close to benign Gods as you can find, they keep the earth's temperature stable with their games" Constantine lit his cigarette, trying to ignore the surreal situation.

"¿Games?" Superman was next to speak, a concerned note in his voice.

"Games" Fate confirmed "We theorize they are opposing elements, maybe spirits, we think they pursue each other as some kind of challenge, and the balance on earth is just a lucky accident, we don't know where they live or where they come from, but they're not someone you want to play with." Fate commented, remembering the fact that most of the time the creatures try to hurt each other but never give the final hit, always waiting for the other to heal.

"Are you telling me that if these beings decide to stop coming here, will we simply ¿disappear? ¿Because they just decided to stop playing?"

"Something similar, but far more complicated than that" Zatanna entered the conversation "they keep the consequences of global warming stable, if they stop coming, well...the earth will definitely go extinct quickly, I'd give it a couple of years" is not like humanity was taking proper care of earth, these "gods" were basically a miracle for humans to correct their own errors.

"¿Why were we not informed?" Batman was at a crossroad, these beings were definitely dangerous, but if they faced them it could cause catastrophic consequences.

"The same reason you are struggling Bats" Constantine snorted "You want to solve all the problems, but you don't understand that magic is not meant to be solved or a problem, some things are better left as they are, without interfering, or it could happen something worse" and they are far older than all of us he didn't mention out loud.

"Then ¿what do you suggest? ¿We stand here doing nothing while two would-be Gods use our planet as a playground?" Oliver frowned, disgusted.

"Yes" for the first time Shazam spoke in the conversation "because if we don't let them we will become extinct" Billy knew much more than the magicians, books on the rock of eternity that detailed human spirits, about the infinite Realms and the deities that inhabited them. The delicate balance existing in life and death, but he was not allowed to divulge it.

-----------------------

Back on earth, in Paris, Vlad and Danny were enjoying a cup of coffee and hot chocolate respectively.

"So, ¿did you want to meet the heroes or see their cool station in space?" Vlad questioned in amusement as Danny choked on his chocolate "The station ¿huh?" Vlad spoke again while Danny looked at him with a frown "It's okay Daniel, I know you can't help it"

"Yeah, I know, it was a bit stupid to change the route, and reveal myself to sorcerers, but the heroes, the aliens, the space, I needed to see it" the boy grimaced, feeling guilty "thanks for getting me out of there, I was about to do something stupid"

"¿Something stupid like speak?" Vlad questioned knowingly, he was aware that humanity now considered them myths or even gods, they shouldn't be revealing themselves freely, their games were mostly harmless but they had a purpose.

"Yeah, sorry" Danny sighed "although I love the new name, Boreas commands a lot more respect than Danny, ¿right? I do miss when they called me Phantom though..."

Seeing that the boy was lost in his memories again, Vlad sighed, he also missed the old times, their battles, Phantom and Plasmius fighting to the death, but their grudges were resolved long ago, they had no reason to fight, Boreas & Cyrus was an escape from boredom and a reunion with the old days more than anything else.

"It's okay little badger, we can stop by their space station next year, I don't think the fledgling heroes will care" Vlad took a sip from his mug, considering, obviously they would care, but he really didn't care about their feelings, let them freak out a little more.

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booksandabeer · 4 months

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Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny

So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.

What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply scroll on by.

First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.

In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.

You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.

As to the “standing in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can stand in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.

So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.

The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.

I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.

(Never. The answer is never.)

And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.

So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.

But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes it at its own word.

--------

¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.

² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.

#*drops post & runs away* i may regret this but it's my blog and i rant if i want to #i know some people will roll their eyes & i debated posting this at all but i simply had to get it off my chest once and for all.#so there. now i can be free. or something.#also i have no idea what to tag this & i personally find 'anti' tags silly bc why is critical discussion automatically labeled as 'anti'?#but whatever i'll play nice. so i guess:#anti peggy carter #anti steggy #anti endgame #hope that covers it #wading into the dIsCoUrsE

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doll3tt33 · 1 month

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୨ৎ Kai Anderson SFW headcanons

Gonna start doing headcanons for the evans in between making bots cuz I’m bored lol. If you ever wonder how I perceive these characters while I make bots, then here you go!

A handful of these are just plain observations and maybe to some these are clear as day, but idk imma still include them either way

Warnings: misogyny.. duh, loaaads of Reddit mentions

• This might be indisputably obvious, but I feel like some ppl think of Kai as someone who always plans 10 steps ahead, which I personally don’t think so

Yes, he does have a goal in mind, but a lot of his “next moves” are just ideas that came to him in a fleeting moment. Of course, he’ll act as if he totally knew what he was doing this whole time, even though he was def freestyling 💀

I feel like calling him out on his lack of meticulous planning would be an absolute jab to his ego, and he’ll deny it big time

• Kai is the embodiment of what it means to be a pseudo-intellectual 😭😭. Like he isn’t stupid at all, no doubt about that (mans manipulated crowds). But his arrogant attitude, his shameless use of fallacies, AND the fact he’s a walking contradiction - all while trying to act like he’s the smartest guy in the room?? Bye-

Again, I think he’s smart but don’t tell me he doesn’t act like your average pseudo-intellectual guy who’d mansplain 24/7

• His tolerance to spicy food is actually weak, but he pretends like it isn’t. He could be coughing his lungs out from the tiniest hint of spice in his food, but he would refuse to drink a glass of milk to cool down. HES A MAN

• This is already kinda a given, but mans speech mannerisms is literally like the average Reddit comment section ((iykyk

I also feel like a rant he posted online has been made into a copypasta at some point lol

• Speaking of Reddit.. whenever he gets into an argument with another user on there (most likely a politically charged one), he’ll downvote every existing comment from that user and will proceed to do it to any of their future comments by keeping tabs on their account, all out of sheer spite

• He likes weird porn genres. Idk which ones exactly, but I just know they be really specific

• Says he likes submissive, obedient women whose sole existence is to serve him. But at the same time, he can’t stand people he deems as vapid, and would dispose of them once he begins to see them as more of a liability than an asset (especially if they’re just THAT annoying). He definitely would rather keep someone around who has more substance

• Kai would play devil’s advocate for any corrupt figure you could think of. He’s like… that guy

• This is also a given, but I’d like to stress that people don’t know how r/theredpill was his holy bible. The Kai we know today has applied all the must-know tips to his entire character and mastered the arts of misogyny 101

Oh and he has a bunch of motivational posts saved from there, and he rereads the crap out of them each time a “fEmAle” would piss him off

• If you knew Kai prior to his cult and were genuinely nice to him, he’d definitely have a teensy-weensy soft spot for you and would avoid killing you ((unless you end up in a situation like winter’s, cuz then…💀

You’d be like the Jean to his Patrick Bateman! 😭

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4am-enha · 1 year

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enha when: they find you crying.

genre: fluff, enha scenarios, fem reader, she/her pronouns used.

pairing: enha member! x reader!

warnings: “kys” phrase used once!!, mentions of blood and injury, bullying, anxiety, breakdown, swearing, suggested romantic relationships (if you’re not comfortable w that).

description/tags: each enha member finding you upset, hurt, or crying, and doing their best to make it better like they always do. short scenarios/imagines, ot7 enhypen (but specific member for each scene), comforting, gentleness, tooth rotting fluff, pet names, hand holding, hugging, etc.

Heeseung - overwhelmed from school work.

The noise that echoed throughout the house from the excessive force you had used slamming your laptop and yelling was concerning- concerning enough to cause Heeseung to rush into the room and look at you with his confused, darting “Bambi” eyes.

“What was that?” He asked worriedly, scanning over the area quickly for anything that might’ve broken, or even worse, harmed you.

You deflated in your chair with an intense frown that would most likely cause you future wrinkles. You put your head down into your arms and sighed followed by an angry grunt. Honestly, you felt like bursting into tears, and that’s exactly what happened next. The tears began to escape, and you were the most obvious crier ever.

Heeseung immediately bent down to your level and rubbed your back slowly for a minute before getting the courage to ask something, “did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“I hate this fucking professor,” the frustration was very evident in your voice, “they just keep piling up assignments like it’s some sick joke and I’m just done with it!”

Heeseung flinched at your tone but let you rant, listening very carefully to what you were upset about, and trying to figure out how to help you out just a bit.

You felt like pulling the hair from your scalp, “I can’t keep doing this Hee, it feels like just when I finish one, I get a new one. I don’t even get the chance to feel accomplished for just a minute because I just have more and more to do. It never ends.”

Heeseung nodded, “how much time do you have left for this one?” he pointed at the paper all crumpled up (from your mini breakdown) beside your laptop.

“This one is new so I have a few days.”

“So you have time to take a little break then?” He put out his hands for you to grab.

“Just a little I suppose,” you took his offer of hands and he pulled you up softly into a hug.

“Come on let’s go on a walk, the fresh air will do you good my little maniac,” he snorted, and you slapped him harshly on the arm, not finding it funny- yet not being able to stop yourself from letting a little smile slip.

You got your jackets and shoes on and started to walk down the street together; Heeseung sulked a little bit when you had not held his hand again right away.

It wasn’t too dark outside yet, but it was getting there. As winter was coming to an end it started to stay lighter outside for longer, and a lot of people were spotted walking their dogs in the evenings more often now. It wasn’t warm enough yet, but it wasn’t too cold either. It was refreshing.

Heeseung kept looking over at you, staring, and smiling. You pretended not to notice at first because you didn’t want to embarrass him, but it was painfully obvious.

“What is it?” You finally whined out, smiling at his almost sickly bashfulness.

“I love you smart girl” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear, while pulling out a singular flower from behind his back for you.

Jay - injury.

The pain was agonising, and it felt as if your knees and palms were violently throbbing.

You were innocently roller skating around the block like you usually did on the weekends when you had abruptly tripped on a small dent in the pavement, causing you to be flung unpreparedly forward and your hands and knees had gotten the worst of it all as you tried to stop yourself from facepalming the ground completely.

You cried involuntarily from the deep pain, but you cried harder when you had dared look at your injuries which looked like something out of a zombie movie- all scraped up and leaking a worrying amount of blood. God knows if some of the pavement and rocks had gotten into it as well. You could only imagine the infection you were about to face.

Jay came flashing around the corner like his life depended on it. He had come with you today (and thankfully so), but he didn’t really like skating so he decided to just walk behind you. He had let you get ahead out of his sight for just a minute, but of course that is when you had to fall, when he wasn’t there beside you.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Jay sat down on the pavement beside you, carefully bringing you closer toward him in order to hold you.

“It hurts really bad Jay,” you sobbed, wincing each time you tried to move.

“Stop moving. Is it okay if I lift you?”

You shook your head, “you don’t need to,” you tried to get up yourself to prove a point, but you wailed more as your knees trembled in pain.

“Please let me help you,” Jay pleaded with sympathetic eyes.

Jay wiped his thumbs under your eyes softly, wiping away your tears and analyzing your face. His mouth slightly lopsided, not finding your fall amusing for a mere second because of the pain you were feeling from it- even if your clumsiness was adorable to him, and he loved being this close to you

“Fine,” you said under your breath, feeling guilty that you were so helpless to yourself right now, brushing Jay away from your burning face before it became obvious you were flustered by his actions.

As soon as he got the okay, Jay propped you upwards gently and lifted you slowly into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the streets back to your house, where he planned to nurse and spoil you like a princess.

Jay was extremely concerned at the nastiness of your wounds. He always promised himself he would never let you get hurt as long as he could help it. He mentally slapped himself for not being there to stop you from falling- even if it wasn’t really something he could’ve helped.

“This is embarrassing, everyone is looking at us right now,” you mumbled.

“You should get used to it, this won’t be the only time I carry you like this,” Jay winked, smirk on his face.

Jake - bad week.

As you arrived home, you dropped your bags and things onto the floor a little less organized and with less care than usual.

“Jake?” you called out, wondering if he was home yet.

There was no answer. You must have gotten home before him today, which usually happened when he got busy.

You made your way to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, turning it on, and prepping things to make a hot tea for yourself. You really needed it today.

This whole week had gone to shit. It started off with some major mistakes, bad sleep, and had ended with a Friday full of your boss scolding you.

You were pretty sensitive, so it wasn’t easy to take on, and hiding your upset and disappointment was getting harder.

You zoned out into your thoughts as you stared blankly at the wall, patiently waiting for the kettle to finish boiling.

A pair of familiar arms suddenly snaked around your waist from the back, making you jump.

“Sorry,” Jake giggled, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I thought you weren’t home?” you questioned his lack of response to your call out of his name not too long ago.

The loud ass noise the old kettle produced must have covered up the sound of Jake approaching behind you.

“I heard you, I just couldn’t answer because I was taking a phone call from work,” he apologized.

You nodded with understanding, continuing to make your tea silently.

“You know, you’ve been awfully quiet recently,” Jake rested his chin over your shoulder sensing something was off, hugging you from behind.

(an: in the words of sunghoon- “how romantic”)

You let out a long sigh and fought back tears from the thought of it all, but you lost that battle.

Jake immediately sprung up a bit at the sound, pulling you into a hug, “bad week?”

All you could do was nod.

“It’s the weekend now my love, let’s do something fun,” Jake whispered and ran his palm over the back of your head in a way of comforting you.

“How about we get dressed up and go out to eat?”

Jake knew you loved doing that, because you were always doing it with your besties. You put so much effort and time into your appearance and took pride in it- and Jake admired it. You always looked so beautiful in every way to him.

“That sounds good,” you perked up a little.

“Let’s do it then. Come help me pick out an outfit,” Jake smiled and grabbed your hand eagerly.

“Wait- I need to finish my tea first,” you pulled back.

“Okay then, after your precious tea,” he chuckled, “can you maybe make me one as well?” he clasped his hands together in anticipation, hoping for a yes.

“Of course,” you laughed, finding it cute.

Sunghoon - someone else upsetting you. (TW!!)

“You’re so unfunny,” your ‘friend’ rolled their eyes at you.

You were admittedly a little hurt by that, but you tried not to take it so personally. They were always like that with you, and it was probably just some harmless joke.

You had met up with a friend to hang out for a bit while you waited for Sunghoon to come pick you up a little later.

You never really hung out with this friend often, probably because you always felt uncomfortable around them when it was just you two.

When you were out in your whole friend group, they never acted like this.

Though technically, it wasn’t just you two today. They had invited their crush, who they obviously liked, but wouldn’t admit it. Your friend insisted that they were just friends too.

Bored, you picked up the last brownie from the plate and began to eat it when you felt a pair of eyes stuck on you annoyed.

“I was about to eat that one” the crush of your friend hissed.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know-“

“Whatever. Literally kill yourself,” he blurted at you suddenly.

“What?” you glanced over to your friend, half expecting them to stick up for you and say something, but instead they just giggled along and encouraged it.

You put down the brownie, feeling guilty and now very hurt and a little intimidated. Those kind of ‘jokes’ weren’t something you took lightly for personal reasons.

“In what place do you think you stand to say that to her?” an angry voice came from behind you.

It was Sunghoon, he was early, and had heard everything.

“No go ahead and say it again,” he snapped at the pair sat in front of you sarcastically.

“I said-“ the guy began again, not phased by him yet.

Sunghoon swiftly grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt, causing panic.

“What?” sunghoon spat, “you said what?”

The guy just shook his head in fear, begging to be let go.

Almost not wanting to, Sunghoon finally let go, “go home to your disappointed mothers, you sad fucking lowlifes,” he turned to you and grabbed your hand, walking away, “come on, we got better things to do.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly as you walked beside him back to the car, not sure how to process it all.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to you, “don’t you ever apologise for shitty people like that.”

“Thank you,” a few tears fell from your eyes.

“You don’t need them. You have me,” he hushed you, “let’s get ice cream on the way, I’ve been dying to get that coffee one again, especially with you,” he smiled at you sweetly.

Sunoo - too anxious to order.

Golden, crispy fries. That’s what you had a sudden craving for, and you could have it- if you would just order it.

But right now, it felt like your feet were glued to the ground and that the counter was miles away. You felt yourself freeze up at the thought of going to order it, repeating the script over and over that you had made up in your head that you were going to use when you ordered.

Ordering sounded like such a simple task, but your anxiety made it feel like a punishment. This happened way too often, and it was such a problem, you often missed out on the things you wanted.

Sunoo looked over to you glancing at the stall, your hands tugging at the hem your own shirt, obviously holding back from something.

“You want some fries don’t you?” Sunoo spoke up, startling you.

“Is it that obvious?” you mumbled.

“It’s okay if you want some, I’ll pay if you don’t have the money,” he smiled, suddenly feeling through his pockets for cash.

“No money isn’t the problem,” you sighed, “it’s fine let’s just keep going.”

Sunoo looked you up and down, you didn’t look like you really wanted to continue on, in fact it looked as if you were mentally beating yourself up about it (which you were), “are you sure?”

“Do you think they have a self service thing? Like at the mcdonald’s?” you kept your eyes on the stall.

Sunoo laughed, “no silly it’s not some food chain, I don’t think a local food stall is that advanced. Come on I can tell you want some,” he dragged you with him up to the stall.

When it was your turn to order, you suddenly froze up.

Then, it made sense. It hit Sunoo exactly why you were so hesitant to go and buy it. You were too anxious, and Sunoo not only felt like a fool for not noticing sooner, but also guilty for forcing you into the situation by accident.

“Do you want the ones with cheese?” he asked you, reaching for your hand secretly, and squeezing it comfortingly to remind you he’s there.

“Huh?”

“Cheese or no cheese?”

“No cheese-“ you answered him with a very confused tone.

“She’ll have the original fries please” Sunoo started ordering for you. It made you smile when you realised that he was aware and understood you.

Shortly after, he collected your fries and you felt yourself almost drooling you were so hungry for them.

“Uh-“ Sunoo cut you off and swung them away from your reach, “taxes”

“What?”

“Since I bought them, I get to eat the first one- it’s a tax” he giggled.

“Okay okay fine.”

Sunoo selected a fry and held it up to your mouth, indicating for you to eat it.

“What about the tax?”

“I’m giving it to you” he smiled, “eat!”

You ate it happily with a wide smile plastered on your face that lingered for the rest of the day.

Jungwon - mental breakdown. ( !! TW !! )

Jungwon was peacefully finishing the episode of the show you had both started watching together. It was just him watching it now, because you had gone upstairs moments ago saying that you weren’t feeling too well. He had asked if you needed anything, but you insisted you just needed to go to sleep- so he let you.

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel like he kept hearing a noise that wasn’t coming from the TV though. It made him pause it a few times and listen out for it.

At first, he convinced himself he was just mishearing it, so he would continue the show- until he finally caught it with the show paused while he was going to make himself a snack in the kitchen.

It was coming from upstairs, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He was sure you’d be asleep by now, so he didn’t think it was you making any noise. Maybe it was though, so he decided to check. Just to make sure you hadn’t fell or anything like that.

“y/n?” he called out as he slowly made his way up the stairs.

The noise got louder as he approached the top, and that’s when he heard a bone chilling scream come right from your room.

In a slight panic, he quickly walked over to your room and knocked lightly, “y/n? are you hurt?”

There was no clear answer, so he hesitantly walked in. He didn’t want to intrude but he also didn’t want to just leave encase something serious had really happened. Always better to be safe than sorry right?

Luckily, you weren’t hurt- at least not physically from what Jungwon could tell. There you were sitting on the floor, fingers tangled in your hair, sobbing. It wasn’t a normal cry though, Jungwon could tell you were feeling something deeper right now.

“What’s going on?” he made his way over to you, sitting beside you, gently prompting you to stop tugging on your hair.

You sobbed harder and said some things that weren’t very audibly clear. You were in a messy state of breakdown. That was now obvious to Jungwon, so he was careful with his actions. He didn’t want to upset you any further and was trying to respect any boundaries you might have right now.

He let you cry out what you needed to, and simply just listened and stuck beside you until you became calmer, rubbing his thumb on your hand as he eventually held it (when he thought it was appropriate to do so).

There was no specific reason behind your breakdown, it had just come on suddenly- and it wasn’t something you could help. Jungwon knew that, so asking you what was wrong wasn’t the best thing to ask right now. He knew you probably weren’t willing to talk about it yet.

Instead, Jungwon explored around your room, looking and grabbing things. You watched him curiously, a lot more tranquil as you focused on him, just wondering what he was up to now.

After a few minutes, Jungwon came back over to you, laying a blanket over your shoulders and making sure it covered you up. Then, he arranged your plushies around you and handed you a few of your favorites.

“We’re here,” he smiled, looking at you and moving your hair away from your wet face, “it’s going to be okay now.”

‘We’ must have meant the group of teddies accompanying you both.

He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight, “I love you sweet.”

“I know” you teased, making him smile again with a small scoff.

Niki - misunderstanding.

As you stormed past him, Niki instantly knew you were mad.

“Hey, what happened?” he chased after you.

“YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED,” you yelled back at him, deliberately trying not to look at him.

“I really don’t, I promise!” Niki was more confused than ever right now. He couldn’t think of anything that he could have done to upset you like this.

“The fucking audacity you have,” you pointed at him aggressively.

“y/n. I want to listen to you, I do,” Niki began, making you stop yelling for a second, “but first I need you to calm down-“

“CALM DOWN?” you hated being told that.

“Okay maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, that’s my fault, but please hear me out,” he pleaded, a little scared and worried he had just blown his only chance.

You stopped, folded your arms, and stared at him with a pissed expression, “go on then. Explain.”

“When I said calm down, I meant that I just wanted you to talk to me, in a way I can fully understand you without starting arguments,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

You took a breath in, “Okay.”

Niki nodded, “let’s go sit down and talk.”

You agreed and followed him to the chairs.

“I understand you’re angry with me, and I know it must be frustrating that I’m asking you why, when I should be aware of doing something like that, but I am being completely honest when I tell you I am misunderstanding you. So please, explain to me, so I can correct it,” Niki stated calmly.

He was now surprising you with his communication skills. You felt a bit stupid now, like you’d been very childish. It made you feel a little guilty, so you worked with him now.

“I saw a notification on your phone, from a girl, telling you she loves you with a bunch of hearts. I don’t recognize the name,” you admitted, still bitter.

“Okay, let me see,” Niki pulled out his phone and clicked it on, displaying the notification. He held back a laugh.

You noticed, and it blew your short temper again, “THIS IS ENTERTAINING FOR YOU?”

“No love, it’s just, that’s my grandma..” he snorted a little.

“Let me see,” you snatched it from him- feeling like he didn’t see it properly.

“I don’t believe you,” you stated unconvinced.

“That’s okay, I can show you,” Niki opened up his phone and pulled up the messages. He scooted a little closer to you so you could see it clearly.

He was right. Now you felt even more stupid.

“Here,” he handed you the phone, “you can have it as long as you need to. I don’t mind what you do- just please don’t harass my grandma,” he joked.

You handed it back to him, “no it’s fine. I trust you.”

“Listen y/n I know you might not trust me fully yet because of the way you’ve been mistreated by others in the past, but hopefully I can prove myself to you soon,” he smiled innocently, “in the meantime, please talk to me first?” he held out his pinkie.

You linked yours with his, making a promise that you’d communicate like this from now on.

“Thank you for giving your trust to me though, I won’t take it for granted,” he pecked your cheek swiftly.

“It’s not that funny,” you mumbled at his giggles.

“No it’s not, it’s just you’re so cute when you’re angry,” he laughed a little more, causing you two to wrestle each other.

feedback and notes are always appreciated ! let me know what you thought of this. :) if you read them all- which one is your favorite?

note: ello ello! if there’s any mistakes i apologize. i decided to write something in this kind of format again after it came close to first on the poll i did not too long ago. thank you all for your constant support and a special thank u to the followers that i now recognise because i constantly see their username pop up in my notifications <3 i love you!! i hope to be more active but i am starting a new course soon so that might get in the way. muah muah have a great night/day! xoxo

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raainberry · 4 months

Text

Wish Upon A Star

« silly series - 7 »

Sana x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - an idea of a perfect end to a birthday getaway

wordcount - 837

A/N - IM LATE BUT IM HERE happy birthday to my beloved Sana, hopefully she never sees this but I love her! also not proofread bc im in a rush and its simply not a priority but enjoy!

Leaving a comfortable, heated restaurant to meet the ruthless winter cold outside would never put a smile on your face, but the sight of your girlfriend ahead of you sure did.

Sana sighed at the sky above your heads, waiting for you to adjust your coat but soon felt your hand sneaking to grab hers.

Her giggles resonated in the silent night, and her eyes met yours, making you forget all about the weather around you.

“What were you looking at?” You asked, leading the walk back to the cabin.

For her special day, you’d brought Sana on a small trip out of town, in the mountains away from her routine and familiar sights. That way she could relax, take a much needed break to enjoy herself along with the snow and refreshing views only nature could offer.

If only it had cooperated with her wishes, maybe she could have gotten more out of the night sky she loved so much.

“The stars, but there’s not much to look at.” She pouted, glancing back above her.

Your eyes indeed found only a few, faintly glowing through the clouds. It was a pretty sight that made you smile, and you liked to think they were trying just for her.

“At least there’s some.” You said, hoping to cheer her up. That’s when an idea popped in your brain. “Make a wish.”

Sana’s steps slowed down before her eyes found you again. Eyebrows furrowed, she wondered what could possibly have prompted you to say that. “Why?”

“You didn’t get to wish on candles yet.” You pointed out, reminiscing about the lack of them on her cake just moments ago. “Wish upon a star instead.”

“Doesn’t that only work on shooting stars?” She chuckled, feeling her heart swell in her chest. You were so ridiculously thoughtful.

“Urban legend.” You waved off, leading the walk again. “You can wish on whatever you want, it’s your birthday. Besides, it’s getting just as rare to see normal stars as it is to catch shooting ones. I like to think it makes them the same.”

Your small rant was followed by an unusual silence, making you look at her. You had to make sure she was okay, you weren’t used to her lacking words. Relief washed over you when you caught her already looking at you, a soft smile paired with eyes shining as much as she wished the sky would.

“What?” You asked, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

“I love you.” She simply said before squeezing your hand in hers, hugging your arm to have you even closer. “Thank you for everything, today and everyday.”

The sudden heartfelt words pushed you to look down at your feet, finding the need to ground yourself from how high she managed to make you feel.

“You’re welcome, but you don’t have to thank me.” You mumbled, bringing your hands to your pockets and dragging hers with you.

It was accidental, her effect made you forget about your intertwined hands but she didn’t mind. It was cute, and at least this way her love for you wouldn’t turn into a sacrifice as the cold wind would eventually have frozen it beyond.

“I know, but I want to. Everything you do for me, you’ve never had to. I’m thankful that you do them anyway.”

“That’s because I want to.” You smiled, leaning in to catch her lips. You made sure to make your kisses extra soft, hoping she’d get everything you couldn’t put into words. “I love you too.”

Those three little words pushed her to lay one last kiss on your lips, appreciating the warmth that spread in her veins.

“So are you gonna make a wish or not?” You asked, making her smile.

“You want me to wish something that bad?”

“I’m just trying to have a wholesome moment. Make you love me a bit more. Is that a crime?” You defended, and she giggled before snuggling closer.

Her arms suddenly wrapped around your waist, making you stop in your tracks. “I love you,” she said once more, laying a soft kiss on your cheek. “So much.”

“I know. I can feel it.” You smiled. “Do you want to wish for more of me?”

“I don’t think I could handle that.” She grimaced, making you laugh. “But I do have something in mind. Can I?”

You nodded and watched with a smile on your face as she closed her eyes, wondering what she could possibly be thinking up in that head of hers.

Sana struggled to keep her own smile to herself as she grew excited at the thought of her wishes coming true.

More of this. Of you kissing her cheeks, her lips, of you spoiling her, of feeling your arms around her, holding her close enough to feel your heartbeat and hoping it would do so only for her until its last one.

More birthdays and happy memories to share with you.

That’s all Sana wished for when her eyes laid on the one glowing the most.

#sana x reader #twice x reader #twice sana #kpop x reader #twice imagines #minatozaki sana

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eikaroulily · 10 days

Text

Pure Devotion

Alastor x Reader

(FLUFF with a sprinkle of angst)

` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ °

There's always always this nagging feeling in your gut when you have a tiny crush on someone, a feeling where you'd think that maybe one day you'll both have kids together regardless of the situation your both in. That maybe one day you'll both end up in a cozy room, in front of the fireplace holding hot coco while cuddling close together in a cold winter night.

"Y/n!!! Alastor was just looking for you! Come come" before y/n could even answer, charlie pushed y/n into the small library where alastor would hang out in, sipping his tea while he reads a book he likes or the newspaper to keep him entertained, sitting by the comfy warmth of the fireplace.

There would always be a feeling when we see the person we liked, this sort of feeling where you'd smile and feel excited to see them. But, there would always be a different feeling when you see someone you didn't know you've fallen for harder than you expected.

"Ahh! There you are dear, come and sit here besides my chair, I would like to discuss something with you." Alastor said, looking at y/n's eyes, still having his signiture smile. Y/n's eyes widened, and her heart suddenly pumped fast. She felt a slight ache in her heart, and she quickly looked away aand nods, she walks closer and sat in the chair next to his.

The feeling of looking at someone you unexpectedly love and adored more than you hoped for, the feeling in your heart as if cupid had shot his arrow on your chest, the world slowing down as you stared at the person you loved, your heart beating fast as if it was running into a race. The feeling you simply can not explain, because that person to you looked so beautiful.

"W-what would you like to talk about?" Y/n asked alastor with her shakey voice, alastor chuckles at y/n as he shakes his head a little and puts down the newspaper. "I have heard that you have a little admiration on me, dear." Y/n widens her eyes, her heart suddenly beating fast as alastor confronts her feelings for her.

The feeling where a rush would come in our heart, mind and vain, excitement whenever we would finally talk to the person we love, in our delusion, they were ours to keep, yet in reality, our heart breaks.

"I am sorry my dear, but I cannot return the affection you hold for me." Alastor said in a low tone, but friendly manner, he truly thought that the girl was a beautiful companion, a smart, lovely, well dressed, beautiful lady- wait, what? "Oh, I understand, but I hope to be friends still" y/n said with her half hearted smile, it was obvious she was holding back her tears. "Hmmhmm" alastor nods and resumes reading his newspaper. 'Hmmhmm? That's all I'll say?' He thought.

Rejection, even when our mind says it's enough, the hesrt continues to yearn and hope for the future, the future where two souls would reunite and love each other once again, and for eternity. The battle of the mind and heart was always a tricky one, mind always winning and the heart always losing.

But we'll say;

"I don't love him anymore! It's enough!" Y/n exclaimed, "love him?" Angel dust asked, to which, y/n widened her eyes, she stopped and think.

We'll say we don't, but in the end, we'll slowly realize, all those tears that befallen our cheeks, all those sad thoughts, all those rants to our friends we'll sloely realized those feelings we felt was different. The feeling of cupid shooting an arrow on our chest, the day we laid eyes on them, was something no one can ever feel, a rare feeling, but a beautiful scene.

"I love you." alastor widened his eyes as y/n said those sacred words to him. "Look, I know you rejected me, but I just can't shake this shitty feeling on my chest! It feels too much, and I didn't have the chance to say it the first time and just said that I'd stop, but then I realized that I loved you more than I realized.." y/n quickly explained.

And when we showed devotion to the person, even when rejection already hit us;

"I didn't quite get the meaning of "love", but ever since I've met you and gave me this weird feeling, it's quite.. nice." Alastor said, giving y/n a genuine smile. Y/n widened her eyes with happiness flowing through her heart. "I love you too, dear."

But even so, a soul can take the risk even when they face rejection before. The ending of the story can be beautiful or a beautiful tragedy. Regardless, at least we took the chance.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #x reader

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onsunnyside · 1 year

Text

🍁≬ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | photographer!Ari Levinson x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | glimpses of fluff, angst, old flames, childhood friends-to-loves aftermath, ex-boyfriend!Ari, size difference: 6’8!Ari.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Even the most beautiful love stories are bound to end in tragedy, but you thought you and Ari would be an exception.

𝗪/𝗖 | 3.64K

𝗔/𝗡 | currently in my sad autumn girl era but i know it won’t last long so i wanted to share this with you all. sort of poured my heart into it and wrote most of this in a teary haze last night. Inspired by Taylor Swift’s songs: Sad Beautiful Tragic, Exile, All Too Well, The Last Time. [𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 | all asks]. All mistakes are my own.

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Don’t look, don’t look, you force your eyes on the television mounted above the table, half listening to the chatter of your friends and the hushed music playing from the speakers.

A nudge brings your attention to your redheaded friend, “How have you been? You haven’t answered my texts.”

“Sorry, I’ve been working a lot.” The music shop didn’t get very busy, but Natasha didn’t need to know that you spent the past weeks buried in turmoil, revisiting every decision you’ve ever made that brought you here. “I also applied to the dance studio as an instructor, I’m still waiting for them to get back to me.”

Her green gaze pools with worry. Of course, you’d answer a question about how you were with what you were doing. She hated to pry, but she cared for you like a sister. If you were hurting, she wanted to put a stop to it, or talk about it and try to understand. She couldn’t do that if you refused to open up.

“If you want to leave, that’s fine, I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m okay, Nat. I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle seeing him again.”

The both of you know that’s a bald-faced lie. Especially because you’ve done everything to not peek in his direction.

Natasha is drawn away by one of your other close friends, and they fall into an easy conversation with laughs and bright smiles. Their voices fade into each other, a blissful hum filling the loneliness that has clung to you.

I wouldn’t have come if I couldn’t handle seeing him again.

You spoke too soon.

Ever so slightly, you glance at the bar. Over the heads of the other patrons, his gaze meets yours. Deep blue, unreadable and sharp, piercing heavily through your face.

Seeing him now, he’s different. His hair is longer, his beard is thicker, and he’s dressed in clothes you’ve never seen before—apart from his signature leather jacket that he wore for most of the year.

You wonder if the way he carries himself all the same, with quiet grace and self-assurance, too often falling victim to his insecurities.

You missed him.

You missed his stupidly loud alarm clock, his cute bedhead and how he never failed to keep you warm on winter nights. You missed his endless rants about society, space and the world, past, present and future. His mind stretched into infinity, and you never always understood what he was saying, but you listened nonetheless. Listening was the best thing someone could do.

Your eyes fall on the loose and shaggy fabric around his neck. The cream knit was your first little home project, evident with the frayed threads and stubborn coffee stains. That single scarf took you a week because of your lack of experience. You worked on it everywhere, on the train, at work and the park. Your favourite place to knit was next to him as he hunched over his computer desk and went through hundreds of photographs with his glasses on the tip of his nose.

That was the one thing he didn’t mail back.

He goes around the table, handing out everyone’s selected drinks with greetings. “Sorry, I’m late. I got stuck at the studio with this last-minute family portrait session.”

“At least it wasn’t another self-proclaimed influencer.” Curtis snorts.

“Fuck no, thank goodness for that.” He laughs, almost too gleeful. When he gets to you, he simply sets the drink on the wooden countertop and flashes a tense smile.

It either took one or ten minutes for you to sip the drink before you rushed out the back door with an excuse about fresh air.

The cool, November air welcomes you with open arms as if it knew you wouldn’t last very long. You lean on the railing, distracting yourself with the red, orange and yellow trees across the way. The music and chatter fade into whispers, and the crickets and gentle wind take their place. Down below, the water ripples against the rocks, the wooden poles dark and green from the lake, another victim to time, just like everything else.

The fall season itself was a tale of death. The days got shorter because the sun comes and goes all too quickly and the leaves turn into different shades before falling to the ground. Bidding farewell in warm colour pallets and leave the trees bare, mere skeletons of life, dormant and dull.

Then, they’re reincarnated by spring. Brought back by more sunshine and warmth, blooming hues the world has longed for.

You wondered when your spring would come, or if you’d be trapped in perpetual autumn. Be forced to feel every part of you change into red, yellow or orange and fall until there is nothing left and you're in a barren comatose.

You stare down at your dress, the very one he said was his favourite. The soft blue silk is highlighted by the dim fairy lights hung up on the fence. Memories are woven into the fabric and they’re all good because you stopped wearing this dress when things got worse. With a brush of the lace hem, you’re reminded of him.

“I knew you’d look beautiful in this.”

“You have to stop buying me things, we have bills to pay.”

He scoffs, “bills aren’t going to help my girl realize how beautiful she is.” He takes your hand, pressing his plump lips on your knuckles, “I know it, the world knows it, but she doesn’t. And that isn’t okay with me.”

The door swings open and slams into the wall, making you jump.

“Oh shit, sorry!” His voice rings out, “Didn’t mean to scare you, I thought the door was heavier.”

You quickly wipe your eyes, not caring about your makeup anymore. You tried hard to look your best tonight and embody that healed person you’ve pretended to be for the past few weeks. But he couldn’t say hi or your name. Why couldn’t he say your name?

He tucks away his cigarettes, “You stay, I’ll go out front. You probably want to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to call a cab.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Natasha knows I have an early morning.” You keep it simple and duck away from his gaze, hugging your purse close as some sort of lifesaver that was keeping you from floating into the sky. Truthfully, you wouldn’t mind that abrupt escape after hearing his next words.

“Wait—I mean, I’ll wait with you. It’s too late for you to be outside by yourself.”

Your stride doesn’t slow, you hope he’ll get the hint and just go back inside, but with his mile-long legs, he easily catches up to you. His boots land heavily on the boardwalk and the buckles of his leather jacket chime, filling the strained silence.

“So, did you see that new cinema downtown?”

“Please don’t.”

He raises his arms in defence, a smile audible in his voice, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you hated movies.”

“Ari.” Your shoulders slump and the sorrow gets heavier. You swear the world could cave under your feet. “Don’t try to—” You cut yourself off, knowing if you didn’t get away now, you’d regret it, “I want to be alone right now.”

The pine trees sway in the breeze, surrounding you with their natural scent.

He takes one hesitant step back, nodding slowly. “Right, I’m probably the last person you want to see.”

He couldn’t be more wrong and that only worsened the pain. How could he think that when he was the only person you wanted to see every day for over a decade?

It stretches far back to when you were children and living down the street from each other.

How could he think that when you used to wait out on the porch for him to pass by so you could walk to school together? How could he think that when you’ve spent hundreds of hours writing about his face in your diaries, about how his smile could light up a stadium and how his eyes were endless pools of stories and wishes?

How could he?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Ari’s features grow concerned as the hot tears stream down your cheeks. “It’s okay—” He reaches for you, gently grasping your hand.

“No, it’s not.” You try to shrug him off, not bothering to wipe your face. He knew you were crying out here anyway. He knew you more than he knew himself, so it wouldn’t surprise you if he also knew what you were thinking right now—where did he find the audacity to say it’s okay? “I’m sad—I’m still so sad. And you aren’t.”

Ari stiffens and releases your hand as if he’d been burned. His cerulean eyes are shaded by the night, and darkness bleeds onto his solemn face, “You think I’m not sad?”

You tearily blink, waving towards the bar by the lake. “You seemed pretty happy in there—and you acted like you didn’t even know me.”

Sure, you probably would’ve cried if he spoke to you, but at least he would have acknowledged you. You’d take that glimmer of attention over his silence any day.

“I was—I am heartbroken.” He confesses, his long hair falling over his forehead as he stares down at you, “I didn’t know if you wanted me to talk to you—”

“Yet you followed me out here anyway.”

Even in the moonlight, you can see his cheeks turn cherry red.

“Okay, but I was checking on you. I didn’t mean for this to happen and to make you cry.” He protests, “Am I not allowed to worry about you?”

You close your eyes and shake your head, turning on your heel to continue down the boardwalk. The main street mocks you in the distance, beckoning you with yellow streetlights and the chance to escape, but his fingers wrap around your wrist, holding tightly.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry.”

His touch is warm and familiar, the other end of the double-edged sword. On one end is the busy street, the carefree people living their lives on this fall evening, the cars driving by, and your bittersweet freedom—but also your lonely apartment with your cold, empty bed. The other end, the one entwining with your trembling fingers, is suffocatingly soft and inviting. Enticing you to stay and listen, but at what cost? Would it only bring more suffering draped in so-called closure or more confusion that your heart couldn’t take?

“Muse—”

“Don’t.”

He inhales deeply and you feel his breath on the back of your head. “I’m devastated, I’m alone, I’m stuck in this disordered loop that I don’t know how to get out of.” His grip constricts, once then twice but you force yourself to stay as unresponsive as a corpse. “You were my first for everything, I-I wanted you to be my last.”

You knew that and you wanted the same thing. You’ve discussed it countless nights in your shared bed, whispering about the possibilities that the great big world offered, from tamed to outlandish. Picking up a strange hobby, or travelling the globe, he even mentioned moving to a new country altogether, “think about it. A fresh start, just the two of us and unlimited options.”

“I wouldn’t say unlimited, unfamiliar sounds more accurate.”

“Pick a place, any place and I’ll make it happen.”

“What if I don’t tell you and just take off alone? Soak up all that freshness by myself.”

“Oh, then I’ll find you. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Experiencing things for the first time together was a big part of your relationship. You were both painstakingly sentimental, which only made it harder to pack your things. Everything reminded you of what was or what could’ve been, you eventually decided to keep what you needed and throw out what carried tender nostalgia.

You never followed through with that, but you do avoid the many boxes stacked in your closet. Full of pictures, gifts, and anything that reminded you of him. That was where you found this dress.

From the seedlings of memorable firsts, it was inevitable that you two gave each other your first heartbreaks too.

The tears come back with vengeance, spilling down your heated cheeks, “You ended things.”

“You walked out!” He rushes to apologize, swerving in front of you before you could take another step. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just please, listen to me.”

Why? He never listened to you in the end.

Whenever you brought up concerns about weird tension or the growing emptiness, he never listened. He was all about work and brushed off dates for last-minute gigs. You knew he wanted a greater future for the two of you, something better than your crowded apartment with your roommates (now the close friends in the bar), and something brighter than the stars combined.

You tried to understand and a part of you did, but the other part couldn’t take it anymore. The part that missed your boyfriend, missed your mindless conversations and quiet nights at home, and when he picked up that camera and photographed you like a piece of art.

That part of you won. You laid down your weapons and went defenceless into his line of fire, with only your heart in your hands and a rehearsed speech in your head.

You never made it all the way through because you two started arguing, right in front of your friends, spitting accusations fueled by rage and doubt, making each other into the bigger villain when it was always clear who was the culprit.

Even now, although you know it’s him, you wonder if you were an accomplice.

Childhood sweethearts turned college lovers, plenty of people have made it all the way—to whatever was their ideal. Many people have also given up, gotten tired, or fallen out of love.

You thought you and Ari were stronger than that, and you wouldn’t let the pressures of life, work, and school weigh onto your relationship. But in the end, those voices were always right, and your shared dreams were crushed at the hands of breakdowns, lost time, and agonizing lulls.

It was ironic how you’re haunted by voices while Ari rarely used his.

Ari wasn’t loud or interruptive. He was quiet and timid, and as he grew up, he slowly came out of his shell and matured into the tall, confident, and gentle giant in front of you.

When you were kids, he wrote adorably misspelled sentences on sticky notes to drop into your lunchbox, and then in high school, he wrote love letters to slip into your locker. The sweetest part was that he never signed them, yet you always suspected it was him. He pretended to be curious about your newest note from your secret admirer and asked about the contents, all the itty bitty details of the proclamation in black pen.

He was after your heart, and he surely got it.

He showed his love through touch, gestures and gifts, through photographs and love letters that were kept in a special box.

It was beautiful in a way that only broken poets, starved artists and silenced lovers could understand. And you and Ari were all three. The tragedy was in colours no one else could see, the script in an undiscovered language, but to you and all the rest of the heartbroken, it was so vivid and clear. You dipped your fingers into that magic shade and poured your heart onto the white walls of the lonely tower, mourning your knight who would never return.

You made the tragedy your home, wallowed in it, and pitied yourself over every missed opportunity—the fleeted moments where things could have changed, leading you somewhere different from where you were. But you tried to get better, to get clean of him and those noisy, unhelpful thoughts. You wanted to save yourself, to gather the guts to leave that tower and climb down to the lush grass and sparkling rivers below.

In delusions, you are happy and satisfied, sober from the destruction. But right now, that false comfort was cracking beneath your feet. You wished to board up the windows and hide away from the world, from him.

“Will you please listen to me?” He pleads, his voice thick, “just listen, you don’t have to say anything or even stay afterward.”

“Why?” You turn to him, gritting your teeth to keep from sobbing. “Why should I listen to you when you never listened to me? When I told you that were growing apart, you just pushed me further away. Does—” Your voice cracks, “Does that not seem unfair to you?” Did you not deserve the same mercy he was begging for?

It was too late if he wanted to listen this time. It was gone, flatlined, buried under the dirt with overgrown weeds and ivy climbing on the gravestone. Your names were etched into the stone, just another miserable end in the cemetery of the heartbroken, the battered and bruised, the forgotten and silenced.

You’ve been a ghost ever since he mailed back the things you thought he wanted. Transparent and floating through the graveyard, weeping in wonder, and feebly searching for that scarf—the one thing he kept.

“I won’t ask again. This is the last time, Ari. You won’t get another chance.”

He opens and closes his mouth multiple times, rethinking every thought racing in his head, but then he finally settles on shutting his mouth. Those plump lips pressed firmly together, a barrier for everything he should say—and everything you had the right to hear.

Defeated, you release his hand. You didn’t realize you were holding him too, it was all just automatic at this point, unlike this moment which is only a rerun of a film you’ve already seen.

Your gaze traces his face one last time, locking everything to memory from the curve of his dark eyebrows, the shade of his blue eyes, the point of his nose, the blush pink of his lips, and every freckle like they were constellations.

In a flash, you’re staring at him from across the classroom, watching him slowly write on a yellow sticky note, his tongue poking from between his teeth in concentration.

Another flash, and you’re watching him bolt down the hallway, passing lockers and other students with his azure eyes set on you. In his hand is an old polaroid camera and he’s wearing the widest grin, “Let’s go to the park.” He almost crashes into you but grasps your shoulder in excitement, illuminating the dull hallway with his glow.

You laugh, “I have class… and so do you.”

“Yeah, but the weather is so nice today.” He pouts, already tugging you towards one of the exits. “Plus, you look really pretty. Wouldn’t you rather be my model, than sit in some dusty old classroom?”

He kissed you that day, under the biggest willow tree in the park with his hand on your cheek. He blushed a nervous red and asked so sweetly, “Can I—May I please…” He trailed off, profusely blinking at your parted lips, “Will you let me b-be your first kiss? And will you be mine?”

And finally, you’re back in the present. His looming shadow as he towers over your lifeless frame, executed by the quiet and unspoken words. You’d take anything at this point, from shuddering pleas to choked apologies—you’d grovel for a single syllable.

“That’s it.” You scoff in disbelief, “all you can do is look at me?”

Again, silence. His eyes pool with tears, seconds away from streaming down his cheeks and matching your wet trails and ruined makeup. He doesn’t speak, but he’s breaking, cracking at the surface like delicate porcelain holding back a flood.

“You deserve better than me.”

No, he doesn’t get to decide that. He doesn’t get to use that stale statement to dig his own grave, right alongside yours before the final self-deprecating eulogy. It didn’t matter if he thought you deserved better than him, all that should matter was that you wanted him, that you still wanted him even after all of this.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go? After all we’ve been through?” After you’ve given him everything, and showed him every part of you and let him in.

The first tear falls, dripping down his beard and onto the worn knit. Then another, and another until they’re streaming down his cheeks and soaked up by the scarf. “You’re already gone.”

There it is, the last nail in the coffin.

Ari has never been aggressive or forceful, but you wished he’d be brave. You wished he’d fight for you, step into the battlefield with an unrelenting resolve to make things right—to get you back. But he doesn’t, he just looks down at you, chewing on his lip with clenched fists.

He’s surrendered to the war, abandoning you in the tower of tragedy, but joining you in the cemetery of the heartbroken. He’s signing his name on the death certificate and damning you and your wistful dreams, erasing every ‘what if’ that has plagued the both of you since you were children.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and fight the weakness in your knees, but you refuse to do this to yourself again, to give him a chance he won’t take. You turn around and continue down the dock, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself in a form of self-soothing.

Autumn was a story of demise, but it had to be better than the earsplitting silence. You’d take the cruel cold and neverending abyss over the lack of effort. Right now, there was no spring in sight, no rebirth to raise you from the dead but you’d find your own life someday and somehow without him. You had to save yourself, be your own hero and come out victorious—alone, but triumphant.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i’ve already started a part two for those of us who want a happy ending, so if you’re an angsty person, feel free to just leave it at this part. i’ll let you all know when i have a date. this is also my second time writing angst on here, and i had a few good cry sessions. i know this isn't the usual filth but i hope you all enjoyed this nonetheless.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! i love you all very much. pls take this kith 😚🫶

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! [my inbox] <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

Note

So about this hypothetical new couple… what would their next encounter look like… you know… hypothetically 👀

PURELY hypothetically.. 👀

"Oh hey!" Jungkook gasps, trying to reach out and catch you from tripping as you fall right through his hologram, barely being caught by hoseok who pulls you up before your knees can hit the floor.

"Jungkookie isn't here, he's just calling." Hoseok chuckles a bit, while Jimin watches with interest how his alien friend watches you stand up and wave your hand through his body to test if hobi isn't lying. "He's back home."

"Oh." You just say, whispering it out, barely enough for Jungkook to catch. He can't hear your thoughts like this at all, making it hard to figure out what you're thinking- but it's pretty obvious that you're disappointed.

"I'll come back next month!" Jungkook tries to lift the mood, and for a second your tail wags- but then it stops.

"Ah, she'll be transferred by then." Hoseok sighs, running a hand through your hair to sort it out. "HC decision, I couldn't really do anything about it."

"Oh.." jungkook deflates, watching you shrug before you leave the room again, going out of sight. "Can't I foster her instead?" He asks, and Hobi shakes his head.

"No, she'd have to have three months between fostering appointments. It's to avoid hybrids being 'rented' instead of adopted." He explains in a somber tone, and Jungkook can't help but stare at the open doorway you left through.

"If I'd known that, I would've stayed at least until the end of the week.." jungkook mumbles, sitting down somewhere hoseok and Jimin can't see. "Does she at least have good chances at finding a home?" He wonders.

"She's an exotic hybrid, so no." Jimin sighs, opening his soda can. "They're pretty strict with the guidelines- from proper home and environment to checking if the new owner has enough knowledge about the hybrid breeds needs- its a little complicated." He shrugs.

"But she's a fennec right? Wouldn't I get extra points or something since my planet is like, almost the perfect environment?" He asks. "It's hot here, dusty as hell, we have a lot of deserts- its only a few months of winter and I'd make sure she has all the blankets and the warmest coats and sweaters-" he starts to rant, when Hoseok interrupts.

"-You want to adopt her?" He wonders, and Jungkook shrugs, before nodding.

"Yeah? I mean, you told me yesterday how easy to handle she is, basically. Give me like, three months and I'll know all I have to, to make it work!" He answers determined, and Jimin laughs.

"I don't think it's a bad idea, really." He jokes. "Jungkook's a good guy, he's got lots of time, and isn't some old millionaire creep or something." He offers.

And yeah, everyone has to agree-

Jungkook could be your best chance at a, relatively, normal and happy life.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

Beneath: Jason Todd x fem!reader

request/summary: @jasontoddsthickbabe asked me for a story: Jason doesn’t think he worthy of love until he meets y/n and she also thinks the same bc she’s a thick and chubby girl. Sorry it took me so long, hope you'll enjoy. I took liberty of making Jason and Y/N friends (of some sort :) )

Warning: insecurites, description of body type (no hate here!), cussing and Jason being a walkign warning, oh and angst with happy ending.

I recommend listening to "Beneath you're beautiful" by Labrinth and Emeli Sande while reading.

REMEMBER YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL THE WAY YOU ARE!

Looking in the mirror was painful. Sometimes. Often. Usually.

At first glance everything was all right with her. She had two eyes (one of the very few attributes she liked about herself), a nose, two ears and a mouth.

Yes. That was good.

But then.

Everything below the neck was just…. big. Her breast, her belly, her legs and hips. Her butt. All outsized no matter how much she was trying to hide it or fight it. It was good during winter months were she was wearing sweaters and coats, but she dread every spring and summer, wishing for it to end instead of enjoying the warmth and joy. Going out with friends, especially her girlfriends who were always dressed in tiny sundresses with their perfect lean legs exposed and their perfect, slim bodies brought out by the clothes was literal torture. She never found enough courage to wear anything shorter than ankle-length. Shorts? Mini dress? Nope. Never. Forget it.

And it did not make her feel good. At all.

It was like that for a long, long time. She was working in the newspaper, covering the matter of technology news, but in such workplace she was always watching her perfect, pretty, slender female coworkers, smiling and charming and being chased and adored by bunches and bunches of men. Too often she found bouquets of flowers on their desks, leaving all the girls wondering who was the secret admirer. It never happened to her and as much as she was trying to cover it and suck it up it was slowly killing her inside.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t stress about it. Your day will come.”

“Mhm. Sure it will” she flashed a smile, but her inside just clenched. It would never happen. No one will love her while she looked like that – chubby. So how could she even hope for being the object of someone’s love when everywhere she turned, in magazines, workplace, photos, all the girls were just … skinny. Even in her beloved books the heroines were always tiny, petite, fragile and delicate. God!

At some point she just couldn’t take it any longer and started to avoid integrations and meetings that became too painful. But of course, her boss noticed that and made her join, using the most cliché arguments about coworkers bonding and being a part of the team. Sure, she was a valuable and competent and needed as a coworker. Not so much as a girl or woman. To anyone. But she came to this evening party, once again observing the happy couples flirting and teasing and holding each other, dancing and just being there together.

“I’m gonna be sick” she thought to herself “I’m gonna be sick if I don’t leave right now.” Suddenly, the feeling of being fat, ugly, unattractive and pathetic came running and she had to hold back the tears. She wanted to be in her apartment, in her own bed, with some TV show on, feeling safe and warm and not exposed and judged on the way she looked like. Even if it was barely 9 p.m. Without any word of explanation to anyone she just busted out the door onto the street, not really looking where …..

“HEY! Watch where you going!” clearly angered man on the motorcycle harshly applied the brakes in front of her. The tires screeched and he barely managed to stop before crashing into her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” he yelled taking the helmet of showing his rant and raving eyes and disheveled black hair with a single white strand on the front.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she yelled back at him “I’m so sorry this fucking of a Gotham city sucks! I’m freaking sorry that you were speeding without any thought of pedestrians in that pretty head of yours!”

“Pretty, huh?” the man on the bike looked at the raging girl in front of him raising an eyebrow at her choice of words, but she couldn’t care less.

“Besides!” she continued “It’s not like you couldn’t see me! I take quite a lot of place! I bet you would act all nice and charming if I was pretty, slim and model-like! Isn’t that what all the boys are about?! A hot girl?! Especially the Waynes!”

“Auch, Y/N. That really did hurt!” Jason put a hand on his heart in pretended pain “you are truly breaking my heart.”

Y/N and Jason met by some crazy accident. Not like the one with the motorbike. A year ago, she found herself doing some journalist work on the tech the criminals in Gotham were using and that was how she ended up working with his detective brother Dick. Long hours at the office swiftly shifted into friendship and soon she met his entire family since Grayson really lived up to his opinion as “a family man.” Alfred and Tom loved her from the very second she stepped into the manor. Damian accepted her without any questions which meant a world in his case. Bruce never complained and never engaged which was pretty much and indication of the same. The only rocky relationship she had was with Jason. They were just a bit too similar in too many cases and that was why their relationship was more of a teasing one than rainbow an roses. But on the other side, they would jump into the fire for each other.

Soon enough, due to her nosiness and insight she figured out all of their secret identities as bats and everyone though she would be in grave danger and tried their best to keep her out of trouble. A month later she kicked the ass of some assaulters who came at her when she was walking home late and from that moment she was never again seen as little, naïve and harmless. (What? I know how to use my assets - she said, obviously referring to her figure. Yes, sometimes it was useful, but not tonight. Tonight she had enough and Jason Todd with his snarky attitude was the last thing she needed.)

“SHUT UP, Jason! I’m done with all the man in this fucking city! I’m done with all the man in the planet and shit, in the entire universe! You only judge with your eyes. Nothing more matters to you…..” her anger was finally out and the last words were barely audible as all the pent up energy deflated “I’m sorry. I was out of line. You were right I should have watched were I was going.” She looked down apologetically.

“Bad day?” he smiled lightly looking at the girl in front of him, leaning on the handlebars and observing her closer. Maybe it was because of all the emotions she just let out but it sparked something in him. Apparently, she had similar anger issues as he did. Besides she was pretty. She had big, honest, glistening eyes, red lips, flushed cheeks and thick messy hair. And she looked so small and vulnerable even if she really was a bit bigger than the girls he was usually into.

“Just regular one.”

“You step in front of motorcycles on your regular days. I don’t think you will get to hate Gotham for long when it turns out deadly for you.”

“Haha. Very funny, Todd. Anyway, have a safe drive home. Try not to drive into anyone of anything.” She turned on her heel ready to walk away but he stepped in front of her stopping her “get out of my way.”

“Believe me, I want to, but as much as I hate Bruce, he taught me to respect woman. So, all those fucking lesson force me to ask, ugh, are you all right?”

“Guilt calling much?” she tilted her head looking up at him. Shit, she was so cute.

“Not at all. You practically admitted it was your fault. “ her eyes grew wide at his scoffing words “I would hate to add the job to the vigilantes in this freaking city if you pass out on the street.”

“Nightwing? I heard he was out of town.”

“You know he is not the only one.” He hissed clenching his teeth. Of course every girl in this freaking city was dreaming about his older brother.

“Oh, you meant Robin. Like the Red Robin? He seems like a nice guy wouldn’t mind meeting him, even in some radical circumstances.

“You really do have a death wish, don’t you little one?”

“Little one?” she mocked “have you seen me? I’m ….. you know what, never mind. Like I said, have a safe trip to the Wayne Manor. Say hi to your father for me and remember to mention that his newest technology have a flaw. I give it a week, tops, before it goes to shit.”

“Wait! Y/N! ”

“See you around, Jace!"

*** A week later, all the press in Gotham was writing about the failure at Wayne Enterprises and Bruce alongside with Tim had to do some damage control and PR action. One of them involved a meeting with the journalists and surprisingly, Jason tagged along.

“Why on Earth are you interested in Wayne Enterprises matters now?” Tim looked at him suspiciously

“Interested? Oh, hell no! I just want to see you two making fools out of yourself and try to explain it all. This will be a load of fun.”

“I hate you, Todd.”

“Sure. I’ll remember it next time you need my help in saving your ass during mission."

The truth was, something was telling him his favorite hysterical girl would be on the meeting and even if he wouldn’t admit it to anyone (himself included) he really wished to see her.

***

“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Here! How would you describe what happened in the enterprises? Was there anyone who got hurt? Is Gotham in danger?” the journalist were screaming and flashing photos, but Bruce had his signature stone cold look on. Slowly, all the press got intimidated and quieted.

“This was a controlled trial. A standard procedure to assess the possible damage of our new product….” Bruce started to explain

“Controlled trial, my ass.” Jason scoffed behind the curtain “She was right, as usual.”

“As usual, hm?” she appeared out of nowhere, sneaking behind his back and startling him

“FUCK! Y/N!”

“Hello, Todd.”

“How the fuck did you get here?!”

“Golden pass. Courtesy of your father. Guess he got a bit worried my words to be published would harm him and his company.” She smirked

“Worried. Bruce Wayne. Worried about you? You overestimate yourself, honey.”

“You underestimate me Jason. At least when it comes to my mind. “

“What are you…..?”

“Nothing. Forget it. I got job to do, so if you excuse me…. “ she winked and joined the once again screaming press “Mr.Wayne! Mr.Wayne!” she turned around and smirked at him once again with that irony in her eyes before disappearing for good. Her wider hips and bottom worked quite well in making some space for her.

It was this exact moment, Jason’s heart skipped a bit watching her indulge in the work with all her enthusiasm and sarcastic attitude. Fuck. He was in deep shit.

***

To say the truth, his reactions at the press conference scared him beyond recognition. He didn’t want to fall for her. It was not planned and definitely not wanted. So he did the only thing he knew how to. He cut all the contact with her. Stupid, freaking idiot. But that was all he knew how to do. Besides, it wasn’t like she was trying to reach to him. Running away from the emotions was the only option for him. A safe one. So he iced her. For three weeks. He was leaving every single time she came visit boys at the manor. He took a detour from his favorite places to avoid passing her work and accidental meeting. He stopped buying coffee at his preferable café, instead threatening Tim to grab one for him wherever he was going there. Everyone knew something was off.

“You are a coward, Jason, you do know that?” Dick said to him one time

“What did you just say to me?!”

“You. Are. A. Coward.” His older brother punctuated every single word like it was a separate sentence.

“I have no fucking idea what you are talking about!”

“Sure, you don’t.” Dick shrugged “I’ll leave you to it then. Won’t give you any hints in the matter. With your thick thinking it might take you ages though. ”

“GRAYSON!”

“What? I said nothing wrong and I stand by this. By the way, do you have a date to the gala next week?”

“No.” Jason scoffed “First of all I’m not going and even if I did I would just go solo.”

“Hm.”

“What now?”

“Jason Peter Todd.” Ladies and gentlemen Bruce Wayne blessed us with his presence.

“Oh, fuck no!”

“You are going to attend the gala next week. This is not a matter of yes or no. This is an order. “

“I’m not taking any orders from you, Bruce!”

“I’m not asking you to take it. I’m commanding you to attend the gala.”

“Screw you all! You can’t make me…..”

***

They made him.

***

At least he bargained this much that he could go alone. No date. No girl on his arm. He thought it would be so much easier this way. But now, as he was watching Dick and Barbara swaying on the floor some sting of pain shot through his heart.

He missed her.

Fuck.

He didn’t need that. He didn’t want that. A month without her should have done the work but it was only worse and worse. This party was a disaster for him even before it started but slowly it was becoming a living nightmare. He started to sweat underneath that freaking suit he was wearing and decided it was the best if he just disappear.

And then he saw her.

The most cliché moment ever, recreation od the every freaking rom-com he knew (which was not many) and it made him feel like an complete idiot when he just froze, rooted to the spot not able to look anywhere but on her. She was so freaking beautiful in the simple, classic dress that stressed her figure. So freaking beautiful his heart started racing uncontrollably.

“Stop staring at me. I know I look like a freaking sausage.” She muttered passing him and heading straight towards the drinks, ready to numb all the feelings.

“Sausage?”

“Yes, Todd. Sausage. I don’t …..” she sighed pulling at her hair nervously “I don’t look like all those girls here…. I am not like Barbara or all those elegant females.”

“You look beautiful” he blurted and instantly regretted that when she looked at him with pain in her eyes.

“Stop making fun out of me.”

“I am not…..”

“Do you have any idea how much time it took me to find a dress that would fit me?” single tear fell from her eyes and he clenched his fists to stop himself from wiping it away “what torture it is looking for any clothes, really? The sizes ends at some crazy small numbers and…..” a ragged breath escaped her

“Y/N….” his heart was breaking with her every word.

“I’m sorry. I’m being boring.” She quickly regained herself “How is your evening, Mr. Todd? How is this possible that you are here all alone? Don’t you know all the single ladies here are eyeing you like you are a prey?”

“If only they knew they are after Red Hood.” He smirked

“Are you crazy? Stop mentioning your alter ego!”

“No one’s listening either way and …..” before he could finish the sentence gunshots came from outside. “Shit!”

“Perfect timing, Jason. Perfect timing.”

“Will you just shut up! I need to get you to safety and take care of whatever scumbag decided to destroy this freaking party!” he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the windows that just blew off.

“Go!” she pushed him towards the exit instead “Go! I’ll be fine, I know how to take care of myself. Not my first rodeo” she smirked “Go help your brothers.”

“Promise me, you’ll be safe.” He grabbed her waist and looked straight into her eyes.

“I will. “ she spoke calmly “I promise. Now go!” he took off running but stopped when she called back at him “Jay!?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you are internally happy that this party was crashed!”

“Cut the internally part and you’re just about right!” he laughed and moved to the eye of the fight.

***

“Is everyone ok?” when the threat was taken care of and she was sure the bats were back at the cave she came running straight to the tunnels under the manor.

“We’re good.” Dick smiled despite the bruise on his face “That was not even the worst event I’ve been to.”

“ I bet. What was this all about?”

“Some big fish at the party and some debts from what I put together in the short amount of time I had. And no.”

“What?” she frowned acting all innocent even if she knew what was on Dick's mind.

“You are not going to investigate it further.”

“Of course I will.”

“I forbid you.”

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“You and Jason are so alike at times.” Dick sighed deeply

“Are we? Really? And by the way, where is everyone? Why are you alone?"

"Bruce is taking care of Tim and Damian….”

“You mean he’s scoffing them?” she knew what Batman care meant.

“Yeah, not the first not the last time. They’ll be good. And Jace….. Jace is on the rooftop. He’s fine too. If you want to know.”

“That’s worth noting.”

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“Go talk to him.”

“Orders again?”

“Nope. Just a suggestion. I have quite the observational skills, you know. You two should talk.”

“I don’t see the reason why. But if I were to take a walk now….”

“then I would have no idea where you went.”

“All things considered I think I could use some fresh air. After all, I’ve been through a traumatic events. Gunshots!”

“Good luck finding fresh air in Gotham!”

“I’ll take my chances. And…. Dick? Thank you.”

***

“Jason?” no reaction from the silhouette sitting on the roof watching the stars. “Jason!” now he heard her and turned around.

“Please go away, Y/N.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Come one, we are friends , I guess? All this teasing and fighting is just for fun, right? You are not mad at me or anything?”

“Mad at you? Damn it Y/N. How could you even think so?”

“You went radio silence for quite some time. What was I supposed to think?” she moved forward and sat down next to him making him jump away instantly almost like her presence was toxic.

“I’m … I don’t bite you know.” she joked but her voice was so, so sad at his action.

“Please, go away. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Like what?” she shifted her position to face him “Like what, Jay? I’ve patched you up multiple times. I’ve seen you cut, bleeding , bruised. I know all the scars on your chest and abs and face. What is there that you don’t want me to see?”

“That is fucking it!” he yelled and stood up, the lights from the manor illuminating the blood on his face and some swelling. “You said we are friends and I don’t want to be friends!”

“Oh… ok. I get it. I really do. I mean, how could you ever want to be friends with someone like…. like me. The chubby one. I’m not really anyone’s type. Even as a friend. It’s understandable. I’ll… I’ll just go and leave you. I bet some pretty girl will give you all her attention.” She lifted herself ready to walk away from his life and it terrified him. He couldn’t lost her again.

“NO!” he yelled in frustration

“YES! NO! STAY! GO! What the hell is your problem Jason!?” oh, he pushed her. “I’m done! I’m tired! You keep playing with my mind! I know I’m not worthy of anyone’s love all right! Thanks for the reminder! I’m not,….. right! My body is not right!”

“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!” with one stride he was next to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest. “Just shut the fuck up!” he whispered against her hair feeling her tense “can’t you see? Can’t you see how I feel about you?”

“Jace? I don’t …..” she tried to pull away and look at him but he didn’t let her afraid that her eyes would make him halt the confession he was making.

“You keep talking about your body and how you don’t think you are worth loving because of it. I get that feeling. I fucking get that feeling. You keep repeating that all the ladies want me, but all I see are eyes on Dick. He’s freaking perfect. Mister Grayson.” He hissed and she was now truly afraid to move a single muscle “As for me? All those scars? I think I am monster. If you think you are not worthy of love then…. Than what can I say?”

“Stop it! Stop it immediately!” finally she freed herself from his hands “You are an imbecile! You are not your scars! You are not the way you look! You are …. You. The smart, handsome boy. The nerd. The literature lover. I see nothing more than that.”

“How can you be such a hypocrite? You praise me and hate yourself?”

“Cause I see you differently than you see yourself.”

“Why?”

“You know why. You are smart. “

“You want to tell me something?” he smirked getting closer and hugging her once again, only this time she hugged him back.

“Now you are getting cocky, huh? A second ago you were about to cry your heart out….”

“I hate you.” his grip grew tighter on her hips and she shifted not feeling good with him feeling all her surplus "stop fidgeting!"

"I'm not comfortable with ....."

"You will learn to be. I'll make sure of it. But for now, I still hate you."

“Mhm, right. And that is exactly why I have nothing to say to you, Todd.”

“Maybe not now. We can work on it though.“ he let out a single laugh and she joined him.

And just like that, the air seemed clearer for both of them as they stood on the roof of Wayne Manor simply holding each other with no words needed.

If only they knew all the family were watching them, checking out who won the bet……

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