#once bitten twice shy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grandwretch · 1 year

Text

chapter 13 of once bitten, twice shy

xiii. why can’t this be love?

read it here on ao3

Eddie was late.

That wasn't the reason Steve's stomach was in knots– Eddie had been late for everything since the moment Steve and Dustin had dragged him out of the Upside Down, and probably before then, too –but it certainly didn't help. Every minute Steve was alone, searching for distraction in his parent's foyer, his anxiety grew sharper. There was nothing for the nerves, really; All of Robin's encouragement and Eddie's reassurances had failed to budge them. Small fears clung to Steve's thoughts like burrs, biting unshakeable worries that had Steve doubting himself time and again.

He hadn't been on a date with someone he'd actually cared about in so long– Hadn't had a real girlfriend in nearly two years and, really, could he consider the last few months with Nancy as dates? Looking back, Steve could only remember the stress, sad dinners with Barb's parents, and frustrated study sessions. Steve wasn't sure he knew what Eddie was expecting, no matter what Steve's reputation said.

Which was another problem all on its own. Steve Harrington was supposed to be the perfect date, charming and attentive. Steve had worked hard to make that part of the gossip his dates circulated. Eddie deserved that, too; Eddie deserved everything.

Steve just didn't know if he could deliver.

The 'Steve Harrington Experience' didn't come as naturally as he liked girls to believe, and lately… Steve just didn't have the energy. He wanted to be that guy, the only part of the old him that had done anyone any good, but he felt too hollow and fragile. Like when he had been excising all the worst parts of him, he'd dug a little too far and hit something vital.

He didn't know if that would ever heal, only that the emptiness was less loud with Eddie's hand in his.

But if that wasn't what Eddie wanted– if he was expecting the Steve he'd crushed on in high school–

Steve swallowed his nausea as the familiar roaring of Eddie's van in the driveway drifted past the door. It was too late to call things off, now. He'd never be able to say no to Eddie's face, not when they both knew how badly Steve wanted this.

Eddie knocked on the door, some wild rhythm Steve didn't recognize, and even as he lunged to open it, he heard Eddie shout, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Harper!"

"It's like you want them to call my parents," Steve said, instead of the romantic hello he'd been deliberating over for hours. Mrs. Harper certainly looked like she was considering it, glaring at them both from her front window. Steve was glad he had started a rumor about her eating kids in middle school. She was certainly looking to start worse, now.

"Nah, Gloria wouldn't do that to me. We're tight," Eddie said, waving cheerfully across the road.

Steve didn't even know where to start with that. "How?"

"MILFs love me, Steve," Eddie said, and before Steve could protest– because, ew, Eddie, really –he was turning to Steve, finally. "Speaking of MILFs," he continued, voice dipping into an appreciative mumble that had Steve going red, "is this all for me?"

Glancing down at his outfit, Steve felt himself flush. The sweater was a little old fashioned, like something his dad would wear on the deck of his uncle's boat when Steve was small, but in a soft pink color that made the soft wool look even cosier. He'd bought it on a whim in a thrift store with Robin, and had never worn it. "I can– You didn't say what I should wear," Steve mumbled, suddenly shy in the face of Eddie's effortlessly cool ripped jeans and slouchy tee. "I can change."

Typical, a voice hissed in the back of Steve's skull. You finally accept that you want this and start showing him all the reasons he shouldn't.

Eddie smiled, and put his hand on Steve's waist, stepping closer. "Don't you dare," he said, sliding his thumb under Steve's sweater to stroke his skin. "I like that you got all pretty for me, sweetheart."

"It's just a sweater," Steve protested softly, his tongue feeling numb and clumsy in his mouth.

"And you're still the prettiest thing in Indiana."

Steve's eyes slid to the right, making harried eye contact with Mrs. Harper. Eddie shouldn't be allowed to say those things where Steve couldn't kiss him, he thought. "Eddie."

"Sorry, I'll stop teasing," Eddie said with a wicked smirk, and stepped back a respectable distance. His hand fell back to his side. Steve missed it instantly. "You ready to go?"

"Been ready, Munson," Steve said, a bit braver without Eddie's hands on him. "I was starting to think I was getting stood up."

It was meant as a joke, a gentle revenge for all the teasing Steve was sure he was in for, but to his surprise, Eddie stumbled on the way down the steps, and his tongue tripped along with his feet. "It took me longer to– I've never– I didn't know–" Eddie huffed, peering up at Steve through his bangs. "I wouldn't do that, you know?"

Steve, having a much easier journey down, bumped their shoulders together as he passed. "Then get it together and prove it, Ed," he tossed over his shoulder. Much bolder than he felt, honestly. His heart thundered hearing Eddie's footsteps follow him to the van.

"So do I get to know where we're going now?" Steve asked as they both climbed into their seats. Eddie had been holding out on him all week, despite several long phone calls where Steve had tried to wheedle it out of him.

"Jesus, for a man as committed to being secretive and mysterious as you are–"

"What?" Steve laughed.

"--You're fucking terrible at surprises."

Steve wasn't sure he'd had a good surprise in years, just the kind that gave him nightmares. Eddie wouldn't hurt him, he knew that, but Steve had developed a distaste for not being in control. Robin bitched at him for it constantly, citing everything from his heart to his hair to try and get him to unclench a little.

From the way Eddie was side-eyeing him, Steve thought Robin would have an ally in that campaign very soon.

"I wanna know," Steve whined.

"I am trying to woo you, asshole," Eddie said, but he was laughing, so Steve didn't think he had ruined things yet. "Just sit there and be wooed."

With a huff, Steve sat back and watched the suburbs fall away in his window. Eventually, he said, with a small pout: "I'd feel a lot more wooed if you were holding my hand right now."

Shaking his head, Eddie obliged.

Steve contented himself with playing with Eddie's rings. Every brush of skin sent his stomach into fits. Even though they'd held hands before, that had been, at least in name, platonic; Now, with the intent of romance between them, the drag of Eddie's callouses against Steve's fingers meant so much more. A promise for tomorrow, the assurance that if Steve asked, Eddie would touch him. Steve raised Eddie's hand to his mouth, placing an open-mouthed kiss to his knuckles.

Eddie shifted in his seat, the edges of Steve's smug grin pressing into his skin. "Can you behave for, like, five minutes? We're almost there."

"I'm being good," Steve mumbled into Eddie's skin as he dragged his lips to Eddie's wrist.

"Stevie."

With a put-upon sigh, Steve dropped their hands back to his lap. He had expected Eddie to put a stop to his teasing– had craved it, even –but he'd hoped it would go on a little longer. This was the most fun flirting had been in years: No routines, no tired lines, just the heat in Eddie's eyes when Steve struck a nerve.

God.

Steve wanted to bathe in Eddie's lust.

He forced himself to look out the window and think simply, happy thoughts. Steve couldn't afford to be so intense when this thing of their was so tenuous. He couldn't ruin it. Luckily, it was easy to focus on the world outside the van as Hawkins gave way to the surrounding woods.

"Are you taking me to Skull Rock?" Steve asked with a laugh.

"I–" Eddie blushed as Steve's laughter faded into giggles. "No. I mean, I thought about it? But yeah, no."

"Kind of a downer, huh?" That made sense. Steve certainly wouldn't want to have their first in the burnt rubble of the Starcourt Mall.

Shrugging, Eddie said, "Sure, but also– Skull Rock has a reputation, you know? Not a first date vibe. I don't– I didn't want to be like, 'and for our first and perhaps only date, we will make out in the woods.' I want to, like, do this right." Eddie's voice was painfully earnest, and Steve–

The part of Steve that belonged totally to Eddie grew a little larger. Maybe it was silly, on both their parts– Steve was the entire reason that Skull Rock had a reputation, after all. No one had ever bothered with treating Steve right, before. His enthusiasm was assumed. Legendary, even. Girls only dated Steve Harrington when they had intentions on Skull Rock. If not on the first date, then the second. His consent was an inevitability.

"Somewhere close, though, right?" There wasn't much else to do out here, besides walk through the woods or wade in the springs that fed into the lake.

Eddie huffed. "Okay, fine, Harrington. We're going on a picnic."

"What, like, with sandwiches and blankets and ants and stuff?"

"Why would you say it like– Stevie, have you never–" Steve blinked at him. "Okay. Uh, yeah. Blankets and ants and stuff."

Steve thought of the movie he and Robin had watched last Christmas, the sad, long one with the woman who reminded him of his mother. The picnic in it had seemed so romantic, warm and hazy and perfect. He grinned in excitement. "That's a pretty good surprise, Munson."

"Yeah, it would have been," Eddie said, pointedly.

Still smiling, though.

Eventually, the van came to a stop in a small clearing just off the road, and Steve had to relinquish his claim on Eddie's hand. As Eddie opened the back to pull out the blanket and the styrofoam cooler hidden underneath, Steve looked around them with a grin. It wasn't exactly the sprawling plains of Africa, but it was quiet, and familiar, and he hadn't almost died here, which was good enough for him.

"Here, help me lay this out," Eddie said, offering one corner of the blanket.

After a brief spat about where would be most comfortable (which Steve ended by telling Eddie he could just sit in Steve's lap, if he was that worried about it), they began to set up. Well, Eddie was setting up. Steve sat and watched Eddie work, delighting in every revealed dish and the nervous little looks Eddie sent his way. The food was sloppy and obviously handmade, simple dishes in stained Tupperware, and Steve couldn't wait to try it.

"Yummy," Steve said, pressing himself into Eddie's side.

Eddie's hands halted over a bowl of truly dismal looking potato salad. "You know," he started, slowly, before continuing his work. "I was kinda nervous you wouldn't be into this kind of thing."

"What, someone I like going out of their way to do something nice for me?" Steve scoffed. "Yeah, who'd be into that?" Eddie wouldn't meet his eyes, but Steve could see the flush rising up the back of his neck. "Look, Eddie, this is what I was–" Steve sighed. He didn't want to make this a giant 'I told you so' moment, or end this so soon, but it was frustrating to constantly fight his past. "I get it, you know? My reputation isn't… It's intimidating. But I really–"

"It's not that," Eddie said, his eyes as round and intense as ever. "It's, like… I don't care about what you did with other people, Steve. I just want this to work. I don't know how to– to be impressive? To prove that I'm good enough?"

Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie's wrist. "No one's cooked for me since I was like twelve." At the flicker of surprise in Eddie's eyes, Steve nodded. "That's when my last nanny quit. My dad told me if I ran that one off, he wasn't going to hire another, and Bradley Harrington never bluffs."

"Yeah, but– but, like, you know other people–"

"No girl I've ever dated has liked me for more than my hair and my name," Steve said, grinning when Eddie's little frown grew deeper.

"That's not true–"

"Pretty sure it is," Steve said, shrugging. "I've managed to dodge everyone who might care enough to feed me. Even poor Mrs. Henderson. The only one who care enough to hunt me down and make me accept it–" Steve brushed his thumb over the curve of Eddie's cheek. "--was this one guy I know. Refused to take no for an answer, really."

"Sounds like an asshole," Eddie said.

"Nah," Steve replied as he leaned in. "My man's sweet as pie." He kissed Eddie's cheek, his bottom lip catching the corner of Eddie's mouth. Before he could pull away, Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve's waist, hand flat against the small of Steve's back.

"Your man, huh?" Eddie's voice had dropped down into an octave that always made Steve shiver.

Fuck, Steve thought, as he pressed kisses to Eddie's jaw. He might have to let this man love him. He hummed, nuzzling into Eddie's warmth, his nose butting into Eddie's cheek. "If he's good," Steve whispered, the ghost of a tease.

Eddie kissed him, then, simple and sweet. Steve sighed into it, his hands flying to Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie was pulling away before he could settle into the embrace.

"Hold that thought, baby," Eddie said, his voice still deliciously rough. "You owe me a date, first."

Steve pouted, even as he nodded in reluctant agreement, leaning back as far as Eddie's embrace would allow. "It would be a shame if we didn't eat all this lovely food," he admitted, to Eddie's disbelieving laughter.

They lapsed into idle conversation as Eddie served them both– A tough job with only one hand, but neither of them were willing to break the half-embrace they'd fallen into.

The fact that Eddie seemed to want to touch Steve just as badly as he wanted to touch Eddie made Steve's chest fill with warmth. In his past relationships, Steve had always been the clingy one, the one who was constantly reaching out to touch and claim. Some girls liked it, some girls detested it– Tommy had threatened to knock common sense back into him. Nancy had put with it the most, never complaining when Steve felt the need to touch no matter where they were, but she never reached back.

But she had enjoyed it, the sick thing inside Steve whispered, until she didn't. And it was right, because while Nancy had never loved him, she had at least enjoyed the way he loved her. But that had faded, and if Nancy could lose patience with his neurotic need to hold after one bad night and a few drinks, what was stopping Eddie?

The sick feeling of panic that lurked in Steve's stomach broke through the rose coloured haze he'd been living in since Eddie had picked him up. What had he been thinking, letting himself believe in this?

Blood roared in Steve's ears as he sat up, shifting away from Eddie. God, he was so fucking stupid. Sure, it felt great now, but what about in two weeks, when Eddie decided he'd had enough of picking up half of Hawkins' sloppy seconds? How would it feel to say goodbye to the kindest, gentlest love he'd ever known? How did someone even survive something like that? He needed to get out of here. He'd walk if he had to. He couldn't do this.

He couldn't fucking do this.

"Stevie, baby, what's wrong?" Eddie said.

"Just keep running, Stevie-boy, just like you always do," Tommy's voice said.

"You're bullshit," said Nancy's.

"When we went camping," Steve said, voice shaking with effort not to gag around the lump in his throat, "you told me I was different because I never ran from anything. Do you– Do you still think that, even after everything?"

Eddie slid closer, his hand tugging Steve close, pressing him against Eddie's chest. "I never should have said that. I'm sorry, honey. I–"

Despite his misgivings, Steve was pliant in Eddie's arms, quietly waiting for judgement.

"You are brave, sweetheart. Being scared or weak doesn't change that. Putting yourself in between danger and the kids a million time has more than proven that. But you're allowed to not be brave, sometimes, Stevie. That's not what makes you good. You're good for a thousand– a million reasons, and most of them boil down to the fact that you, Steve Harrington, love bigger and harder than anyone else I've ever met."

"Sorry I keep ruining our date," Steve mumbled, his face squished up against Eddie's collarbone.

"Stevie, I would tell you how beautiful and special and lovely you are for the next several hours without complaint," Eddie said, smoothing a hand down Steve's back. "You haven't ruined anything."

"Can we just pretend this didn't happen? Like I'm not a huge mess?"

"Of course." Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of Steve's head. "Come on, sit up and have some water before I feed you."

Dutfiully, Steve sat up, his legs still draped over Eddie's, and accepted the thermos of cold water. True to his word, Eddie made no more mention of Steve's brief panic attack, instead launching into a description of Wayne's face when he had come home that morning to find Eddie cooking. But he was gentle in a way he hadn't been earlier, soft voice and softer touches. Steve wasn't sure if he loved or hated it, but he stayed silent and sipped his water.

Eventually, he felt steady enough to join Eddie's one-sided conversation. Small, stilted sentences, at first– but even that made Eddie grin over at him, ecstatic. As they talked about nothing much at all, Steve felt himself slowly settle. He ate in small, tidy bites. He tried the watermelon lemonade Wayne had sent along. He held Eddie's hand. Somewhere along the way, he began to feel like Steve again.

Enough like Steve, anyway, that he was hyper-aware of Eddie's hand on him. It was an innocent touch, much the same as how they touched as friends– Which was probably why Eddie was barely paying attention to the motion of his own hands. But Steve, obsessed as he was with Eddie's fingers, could think of little else. They were holding hands, familiar enough to the both of them to not be the earth-shattering touch it once was. But Eddie had fallen back into the old habit of tracing shapes up and down Steve's arm with his free hand, and it was driving Steve as crazy as it always did. It was almost worse, now, knowing that Eddie wanted him back. The knowledge blared like an alarm in the back of Steve's head, growing louder when fingertips pressed into that spot in his arm that sent shivers down his spine.

He could do something about it, if he wanted. They hadn't talked about it much, but Steve was pretty sure that Eddie wouldn't say no if Steve kissed him. It felt wrong, though, to just lean over and take. Eddie had made it clear he didn't want today to be about making out, but Steve– Steve wanted to kiss Eddie so bad it made his teeth hurt.

Thinking was hard. He would just let Eddie do it.

"Eddie," Steve said, when Eddie paused during a rant about Gareth's inability to take a hint.

"Yeah, Steve?"

Steve did his best to not sound like the desperate virgin he suddenly felt like, dozens of hookups notwithstanding. "Could I have a kiss?"

Eddie blinked as if he didn't understand the question. Steve huffed, leaning in until their shoulders bumped, bunching the hem of Eddie's tee in one hand.

"Please?"

Instantly, Eddie's smile morphed into something Steve didn't recognize, a sharp and knowing thing. A smile that made his teeth seem sharper. His free hand came up to cup Steve's jaw. "Oh, honey," he crooned. "Of course you can."

They'd kissed before. Steve had expected it to be the same as it had been before, either hard and passionate like the one in the club, or the sweet sipping Eddie had indulged in since. It wasn't like those at all. Eddie kissed him like a soldier on a battlefield he had already conquered, like a victory lap, like a man on top of the world. He kissed like he'd heard the voice in Steve's chest, begging to be owned, and was determined to find it. Steve didn't know when their hands had come unclasped, or when he'd clutched at Eddie's jacket. He only knew the broad, flat strokes of Eddie's tongue against his panting mouth– Never delving as deep as Steve wanted him, never staying long enough to play. Steve was falling apart in his hand, and Eddie was still teasing.

And then, horribly, he was pulling away.

"Like that, baby?" Eddie asked, as if he couldn't feel Steve trembling against him.

"More, please," Steve said, and climbed into Eddie's lap.

They were still kissing when the sun began to set. Steve's mouth had gone hot and numb so long ago he'd almost forgotten about it. His jaw ached with every kiss, but when Eddie pulled back, Steve still swayed after him.

"Oh," Eddie said, looking up at the darkening sky. Besides the rasp in his voice and his swollen lips, he looked remarkably put together. He was a rock that Steve wanted to ruin himself on. "I should probably get you home, huh?"

"No." Steve's hand tightened their grip.

"Stevie," Eddie chastised, pressing a kiss between Steve's brows. "Good girls don't put out on the first date."

It was an effort not to squirm in Eddie's lap at the implication. "I'd rather be a slut."

Eddie laughed, slightly hysterical. "I know, I know. Hey." Eddie lifted Steve's chin and met his gaze, suddenly serious. "It's been a wild day. Lots of ups and downs and– fuck, baby, I'd really like to say we could keep it casual, but you already seem pretty out of it."

Well, that was what happened when you let your boyfriend do the thinking, Steve supposed. He was going to be a bitch about it, though, he decided, and slid out of Eddie's lap with a glare. (More of a scowl. A pout, really.)

"I'll just go wait in the van for you to clean up, then?"

Despite his efforts, Eddie groaned. "Sounds good. Take the water with you."

It wasn't until he had stomped halfway to the van that Steve realized he'd thought of Eddie as his boyfriend.

The ride back home felt shorter. Steve didn't want to be alone again. The warmth of Eddie's body was already fading from Steve's skin, and he felt that if he breathed the stale air of his home again, the rest of the night would fade, as well. Like being alone was a momentum Steve couldn't shake, and it would continue forever if he let himself lapse back into it.

The threat of his own mind hovered over him like a fist. Steve wanted to beg Eddie to stay with him a little longer, just so he didn't have to face what his brain would try to convince him of. Nothing could be as horrific as Steve's own imagination.

But when Eddie parked in the driveway, Steve said nothing. He'd already asked for so much he didn't deserve; to ask for more was a level of selfishness that Steve couldn't bring himself to consider.

"I had a good time," Eddie said, such a typical first date goodbye that Steve had to shake himself out of his stupor to laugh.

"Me too," Steve said, squeezing the hand that had made its way back to his during the drive. "I'm looking forward to the next one." Eddie's smile was worth every second of torture that losing him would cause. Steve was sure of it.

"Before that, though, I had an idea." Eddie untangled their fingers, and stared down at his own hand for a moment before pulling a ring– a cross, with four tiny skulls at the corners –off. He flashed it at Steve with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and then slipped it onto Steve's pointer finger.

"I… don't get it." Because his ring finger, sure– Steve had seen a lot of sappy class ring exchanges in his time, and he wouldn't be surprised if Eddie had his own metalhead spin on it. But there was nothing romantic about this, besides the warmth of Eddie's skin on the metal, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to be reacting.

Eddie shrugged, a sheepish smile curling across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I just…" He huffed. "I was thinking, right, about how you would probably start overthinking things again, eventually, and I can't always be there to talk you out of it. So, you know…"

"So you gave me a ring?" Steve's confusion only made Eddie's blush worse.

"I just thought, you know, you could borrow it?"

"You want me to give it back?"

Eddie's eyes snapped to Steve's. "The next date. You can give it back the next date, and then I'll let you borrow another one, and you'll always know I'm gonna show up for the next one, because–"

"Because I'll have your ring."

"Yeah."

Steve's eyes stung. "I love you so fucking much, you know that?"

Eddie brought Steve's hand to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to his own ring. "I know."

#steddie #my fic #once bitten twice shy

47 notes · View notes

driftward · 8 months

Text

Title: FFXIV Write 2023 - 11. Once Bitten Twice Shy Characters: Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Teen Summary: A story of love lost Notes: From around the time of the Calamity

She was arriving in Limsa Lominsa for the first time, a brilliant light shining high in the sky, washing out all that it touched, whites brought beyond bright and the sea glittering anew.

She walked off the pier and into this new world, and right into the hall of the bulwark, where people bustled too and fro, and from there into the Drowning Wench, where first she had approached these shores.

A tight feeling began to well up in her chest, and she held one hand to her breast as she went through the paces anyroad. A moment of banter with Baderon, and then as she turned, her eyes danced over a hole in the world.

Y'shtola woke up unhappily, but not quickly. Sleep fell away from her, a heavy fog rolling away from her mind, as she turned over in her bed and curled in on herself before sitting up, only slowly. She pushed herself up sluggishly, gradually letting her head clear, and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, not yet pulling her legs out from under her. She brushed her hair back over an ear before resting her hand on the empty spot next to her in bed, unfilled.

"Just a dream," she said to herself.

She went back to sleep soon enough, however fitfully, but that mattered little. The realm still had need of her talents, and she still had need of work to see to. So when first light, real light, filtered through the windows, she found herself up and in motion, showered, hair in its customary Miqo'te rings and she in her customary comfortable outfit.

It had been like this the past many moons. The dreams were coming less frequently, now, and time had soothed the initial wound. The scar, however, still yet remained. Most days were fine, and passed without thought or rumination on what once had been.

Moments, of course. Gentle moments that served as less gentle reminder. Passing by a spot where he had preferred to fish. A poster hung, advertising the arrival of a mummer's troupe whose japeries he had invited her to. Some more subtle things, like the time she went digging deep in her clothes and found a sock of his that had decided to stay behind like he had not. Some less subtle things, like the spot in her bed he preferred, that she doubted he would ever warm again.

And always, always, that brightness of his silhouette when she tried to recall his face. The echoing noise that served now as his words when she tried to recall his voice. Crystal clear yet unidentifiable, a warbling swan-song from the time before. And the shadow where his eyes should be.

The days such as today, where she had the dreams, she found that they served as an anchor for memory, a gentle but present weight that dogged her steps and dragged her feet as she made her travels around La Noscea, tending to her many charges and duties.

She went about her work with the exuberance of one who was trying very hard to not consider other matters. Matters had calmed down from the hellish days that quickly followed the calamity, and over a year on, things were perhaps beginning to turn, if not to the way they were, to a new normal that all would must needs endure going forward.

Forward into a future that had been hard won and yet to be secured. A future that she, personally, would ensure that the sacrifices that had been made to secure would not be seen to go to waste.

She stopped at the Bismarck to retrieve her customary tart and honeyed tea to break the fast. Practice for the newer morning cooks, as she was patient and she was known, and so she was not treated as an ordinary customer. An exchange of favors that had been set up by the adventurer. She and he would suffer the new cooks, and in turn, they did not have to endure the usual wait list. The cooks though yet fresh faced were oft cheerful enough as they took her order, and as she waited nearby and sipped her tea, she tried to ignore the space across from her.

And in that space in her mind's eye she could spy the hearty plate the adventurer used to start his days. Piled with meats and eggs, fuel for a mighty warrior who would be bringing that might to bear on behalf of those in need soon enough. But in the morning, he would chatter cheerfully, and she would listen to him idly.

A smile crossed her lips at the memory. Even though that self same memory denied her the right to see the smile on his.

But she remembered that there was brightness to it.

She retrieved her lunch from the cooks and went on her way, and left that memory behind.

Her work took her away from Limsa Lominsa, and away from her thoughts and ruminations which faded away underneath hard work and investigation. She was tireless, for the enemies of the star were tireless, and her and hers would must needs to match their indefatigable endurance if they were to preserve the future of the star.

As the day made its way on, she took her lunch, sitting on a landing underneath a lighthouse on the edge of the shore. The location was of course familiar to her, but only belatedly did she remember that a misadventure had occurred here before. A place where a fisher woman had once shared secrets, as the adventurer told the story. She had sat and listened to his voice as he recalled the tale in his usual manner. Enthusiastic and bright, his voice loud, standing sometimes for a particular point of emphasis before he would sit back down, hands gesticulating with emphasis all the while. And she would laugh, as he made mummery of his misfortune, and she could not remember the sound of his voice.

But she remembered there was a lightness in it.

She finished her lunch in contemplative solitude before moving on.

Dusk found her near the monument to the Navigator, a place where she and he had spent much time together. This time she approached the memory with intention, not wishing to allow another ghost to whisper its way upon her unprepared. The monument had born witness to many moments between them. A discussion of the looming threats her and hers hoped to stymie. A fond moment, of him sharing tales of his comrades, his fellow adventurers, while she told him much the same of the Circle of Knowing, of Louisoix, of home. Of a tender moment, and once more she found her mind's reflection only showing her the blinding light that was the space where he was, robbing her of the time she had allowed herself to become lost in his eyes.

But she remembered there was kindness in them.

She rubbed at hers, wiping away a bit of a tear, and left that place, the day's labors almost done.

Starlight found her perched on stone wall, flipping idly through letters that she had most recently received. Much of it was of only middling interest, the work of those around her updating her on various affairs, or notices of various things needing her attention. As had become a regular matter, she had a letter from Thancred that she would respond to on the morrow, a personal habit they had maintained since they had each found their way to the cities under their respective charge. Another from Urianger, and she looked forward to whatever he thought he should bring to her attention this day.

And a personal, rather than official letter, from Minfilia. She opened it to find a short but thoughtful note, a comment on the date, full of shared sympathy and well wishes.

Two years.

Two years since their friends had slipped into history and went on their way.

The words she and Minfilia exchanged came back to her. Another memory, but this one was as clear as though it were yesterday.

"Y'shtola," Minfilia had said, and her tone had been gentle. "You've done so much for us and for the realm these past sennights, but I worry - I worry about the intensity with which you approach your work, leaving little time for rest."

"I work as I must," she had replied, and despite Minfilia's kindness and wisdom at the time, she had responded with acid in her voice. "I shall not allow their sacrifices to have gone in vain."

Minfilia had looked at her, with those large eyes near lost to her own grief, but her voice was strong, and she held herself straight and tall, not bending to Y'shtola's vehemence. "We all do, Y'shtola. But it will do the realm no good should we work ourselves to a poor end. The immediate work is done. Now we must turn our minds to the horizon."

"Turn your mind to that horizon if you must, and I shall consider it a favor, as you are now our leader as Louisoix once was," said Y'shtola curtly. "Whence you have come up with your stratagem, inform me and I shall see it carried out forthwith. Until then, allow me to my own matters. I tend to my duties, and I shall execute them well."

Minfilia had sighed, and there had not been an argument in the end. Though now that she held the letter in her hands, and the memory in her mind, Y'shtola found herself regretting once more the heat in her words. Minfilia had been right, and she had been wrong, but she had allowed herself to be so blinded by grief that she would refuse to see any wisdom that day.

She laughed to herself, feeling the hollowness of it. She had apologized since, and Minfilia had accepted it gracefully, but she still found her own behavior abhorrent, and what would her own master say.

She tucked the letter away, and turned her gaze out over the waters.

"The pain is gone yet the ache remains," she said conversationally to an empty bay. "Oh, how easier it was to handle when I had convinced myself that it was just a childish infatuation. A young impressionable child, easily impressed by a bold and brave adventurer."

She scoffed at her own words.

"As though I would ever fall to such whim. The ache remains, but around it, a gladness for having known you. For having been there as you stood tall, being beside you as you faltered. I can neither see your face nor hear your voice nor feel your gaze, but I remember the qualities of all that and more.

"Yours was a far better light than this star deserved, and yet even had you known such, you would have shined all the brighter for it."

Y'shtola sighed.

"I miss you, and yet find I must needs let you go. I know not whence you shall return, if at all, but I am better for having known you. Though I may wish it had not been. Even if I find it nigh unbearable to bear the weight of even the memory of you being gone. But it 'twas. I only hope you learned half as much from me, as I from you and your gentle nature, my friend. Your strength saved the realm. Even if your fall shattered my heart."

She was dimly aware of her fingers gripping tightly into the stone atop where she sat, even as tears blurred her sight. She bowed her head.

Well, if it hurt, that was her own foolishness, was it not?

She took a deep breath in, and let it out slow. Well. She was younger, then, and it was the nature of the youth to make mistakes, and it was the nature of wisdom to not dwell on them overmuch. She would remember the adventurer as best as she could, even as she felt herself grow a little cold to it. If she could barely bear the weight of that which she could not remember, would she be able to suffer the weight of one she could?

She decided, then, that she would guard that hollow in her heart, until even the ache was gone.

#ffxivwrite2023 #final fantasy xiv #y'shtola rhul #once bitten twice shy #202309-11 #biot writes

9 notes · View notes

beansismyreligion · 1 year

Text

^-^

#beans #beans.art #character design #jay #jay walker #jay gordon #ninjago #jay ninjago #ninjago fanart #lego ninjago #once bitten twice shy

41 notes · View notes

randomestfandoms-ocs · 5 months

Text

Happy (Belated) Birthday Gemini Black! (November 3rd)

A golden cage is still just a cage

Tag List: want to be added?

#gemini black #ocappreciation #fyeahharrypotterocs #once bitten twice shy #oc birthday #my work #my edits #m #my moodboards #my ocs #harry potter oc

4 notes · View notes

howifeltabouthim · 2 years

Quote

All this called up what seemed to me to be a new love, a hundred times more profound than the old one. I was deeply moved. Yet at the same time I took the thing with a grain of salt. I had often known myself to be moved in the past, and little had come of it.

Iris Murdoch, from Under the Net

106 notes · View notes

tricksterfiction · 8 months

Text

Prompt #11 Once Bitten, Twice Shy...Part Two!

Sen lounged languidly with her leather heels propped up on a table, leaning back on two legs of the chair. She wore an old deep forest green bilaud cinched at her waist with a leather belt. Sleeves rolled up, hands folded over belly. Ruby red earrings hung at her horns, her hair choppily cut by herself. She was hanging her head over the back of the chair making eyes and conversation with the very pretty, well made up and to do seeker bar wench. Full of easy smiles, her grassy greens were inviting but clearly wanting for company and attention. She found herself in Aleport that eve.

Sen was rarely drunk or fuelled with liquid courage, she could and would nurse a single mug of ale or glass of wine for an entire night if need be. An overtly flirty lady like Sen had to keep her wits about her, especially for all the trouble she wanted to get into on any night.

The bar wench giggled, "Stop it, I ain't about to entertain the thought! With every table full, this little lady is about to make her worth in generous patrons and their tips."

Sen pouted playfully, wobbling her lower lip, the seeker batting at her shoulder, Sen was smiling now, "Ahh if you say so S'ilvie, wouldn't dare think for a moment I could."

That earned Sen a peck on her forehead, S'ilvie moved on. She grinned, pleased with herself enough to take a sip of the stout that was her companion for the night. Just as she raised her mug some asshole stepped on the raised legs of her chair bringing her back to the ground, splashing stout all up her nose.

"Pfffbtpt-!" She used her sleeve to wipe her face, readying a nasty remark. A very confident hand resting on the back of the chair beside her head, her sour expression settling on her rival.

"Hey."

Staring down a pair of cool silvery keeper eyes, he flashed a corner of his fang in a shit eating grin. Two scars marking the bridge of his nose, long, silky silvery hair fell over his shoulders. His skin a soft grey. He wore an open collared shirt, a few necklaces hung low enough for someone to snatch and pull him around. A few rings on each hand. Importantly an elm cane on his back. Her redwood cane was laid on the table.

"Qaro'a." Sen managed, civilly, and because he decided to invade her personal space, she used her thumb to lift up his upper lip, tilting her head upside down as if to get a better look. "Still got those baby chompers, what a pity."

He gave her a beat then took a snap at her fingers, and she yanked them back in time. Truthfully she knew his fangs well, made the mistake of sleeping with him one fateful night a couple years ago. After Rosie died, Sen made a promise to herself not to date other soldiers ever again and picked out of the closest pool of horny counterparts within the Stillglade Fane. She was a member of the Conjurer's Guild as well, but her job was primarily serving in the Order of the Twin Adders.

Both of them were aiming to serve under the Hearers.

"Buscarron's quiet so you had to come skulking around here for some tail?"

"And look who's tail I found."

"I'm trying to relax, I'm not in the mood." Sen hissed, then dismissively waving him off, "Fuck off, alright?" Then pushed his face out of hers.

S'ilvie brought a napkin, looking at the scaly flirt with pity before scurrying off again. Sen dabbed herself dry, eyeing Qaro'a warily.

He tsked, conceding some space only to park his ass on the table, making himself comfortable, "What, you don't want company?"

"Not yours at any rate."

"Tis only a happy coincidence that I found you here tonight, Miss Urabe." He said, lifting her mug to steal a swig, promptly spitting it out. "You were going to nurse this swill all night? Gods only know what ruffian company you would find here, only the most rotten of beer bellies and the stupidest of pirates mill about here." He wasn't speaking quietly.

Some patrons were taking notice, throwing their eyebrows up at the pair of snotty Gridanians.

"Gods you are-" She motioned as if to strangle him, "I am serious, piss off before you get us kicked out!"

"I'd be doing you a favour if that were to happen, can't have such a sweet, sheltered girl lost here in a nasty pirate's den?" He cooed and successfully pushed Sen's buttons, as he was want to do. Theirs was always a battle of wits, snark and inconvenient appearances. Qaro'a was winning.

She stood up, the chair clattering down behind her snatching at his collar with both hands about to verbally lay into him when her voice squeaked at the appearance of red coat maelstrom roegadyn officer, arms folded and hrming with displeasure. He thumbed at the door.

"Out. The botha ya."

Deflating, she dug around her pocket for gil leaving an extra tip for S'ilvie on the table. Qaro'a was snickering.

She snatched her cane, they trudged out together with the door slamming behind them.

Qaro'a burst out laughing slapping his knee, cackling a few "you should have seen your face!" or some, "That was so bloody easy!" and a, "Gods, Urabe, you've gotten sensitive!"

She stomped, shouting over his laughing, "Shut up!" Her voiced cracked a little.

His ears perked then flattened, realizing he overstepped, "Look, Urabe, let me make it up to you- we can go to uh..." He looked around then up to a sleepy looking bar, quieter by the looks of it than what Qaro'a had seen of Buscarron's. He squinted, "Once Bitten, Twice Shy?" Then read the board, "Artisan craft beers."

He hooked his elbow round hers and dragged her over, she complained the whole time and quieted as they crossed the threshold. The pair looked about, Qaro'a waved a polite hello dragging her over to the bar.

The bartender, a tall well polished wildwood, gold accessories shining with a certain amount of pride.

"What can I get you two kids?"

"A pale ale for me, and a stout for her - a glowy red amber if you have it." He ordered for her and she glared at him in spite of herself. He knew her order.

"Comin' up."

Pressing her forehead to the polished grains of wood, "Can I go? You've ruined the night for me."

He folded his arms over and got lower, his voice was quiet - apologetic, "Aw c'mon, Sen. Don't say that. One proper drink where you and I finish at relatively the same time."

Sitting up, swiping her bangs up out of her face, she bit off, "Fine."

The beers arrived, she stared down at the head of the beer and Qaro'a tinked their glasses, quietly saying a cheers before taking his first sip. Sen finally took a few large sips herself.

It was much better than the stout she had across the way. She sighed.

"What happened, Sen?" He asked, "It's been ages since we've run into each other and usually you put up a bigger fight than that tantrum back there." He pulled a face, scrunching up, "Ugh, I'm actually worried."

"Do I look like I want to talk about it?"

"No, but I'll listen anyway."

Sen about to turn her miserably frosty gaze onto him expecting to see that shit eating grin, instead she saw a sincere catte smiling gently at her, fist pressed into his cheek. She thawed out.

They talked the night away, finishing their beers and going on a walk under the stars. Sen spilled her guts, Qaro'a related to some degree - they commiserated the pressure of success on their shoulders much in the same way they did the night they shared a bed. He invited her back to his apartment in the Lavender Beds, and shared it once more. Not for sex, no, but for warm company. Wasn't a stranger's bed but... it'd have to do.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #writing prompt #prompt 11 #ANOTHA???#ffxiv oc #Once Bitten Twice Shy

4 notes · View notes

rocknrollflames · 3 months

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

- Ian Hunter

Just in Case You Never Heard the Original! ; )

youtube

I love the way they danced in the 70's. I've seen old T.V. shows from that time period and I get such a kick out of watching them get down. I mean, they really got into it!

I freaking love this song. It tells such an interesting story, you know? I think it was great that Great White covered it in the 80's. I'll post the remake next. They only changed it slightly. I don't think the writer, Ian Hunter - who you see here, singing the tune - was crazy about the remake because he felt it was missing the swing. To him the remake sounded flat. I mean, i get that, lol. They made a modern rock song. He had this hip, 70's, funky, bluesy number. But I love them both. This guy wrote a great song. Ian Hunter is such a cool cat.

(I can't help but think about all those bands on the road and all those groupies and highway honeys they picked up along the way. To all you groupies out there ... born in the wrong decade.)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

- Great White (written by Ian Hunter)

Just in case you never heard the cover! ; )

youtube

#ian hunter #once bitten twice shy #great white band #Youtube #70's #80's #70's music #80's music #rock and roll

4 notes · View notes

chocoblep · 8 months

Text

#11: The Dip

Ah, Camp Bluefog. The name of the settlement was apt; more often than not, an indigo haze hung over Northern Thanalan, at best obscuring vision for a malm or so and at worst feeling like it was blotting out the sun. Today was a mild day, but Lydjana was itching to leave nonetheless. She’d been tasked with picking up a couple containers of ceruleum for the testing phase of an acquaintance’s new bike, and her stipulation for picking it up had been the same as it always was: I’m not going anywhere near the processing plant.

Gods, even just thinking about it had her sweating a little as she waited for her contact to retrieve the containers from a storehouse nearby. Even as far away as Bluefog was enough to give her a nervous twinge. She’d hated working with ceruleum ever since the incident, and now she tried every possible method she could to avoid the stuff. Unfortunately, it was a decent fuel source, so working her way around it wasn’t always something she could do. As she waited, she looked off toward the north, and the memory found her.

“Pressure reading?” Lydi called, digging in her tool belt for her ratchet.

“Seventy,” came a male voice on the other side of the tank, and Lydi swore. “Seventy-one.”

“We’re going to have the pop the lid on this thing while we’re fixing it, aren’t we?” she asked, and a grunt answered her question.

“I’ll bring your mask,” the voice said, and she nodded, even though there was no one to see it. Several of the engineers were fixing a leak in one of the massive pipes above them, balanced on scaffoldings and hanging from the top of the pipe itself, harnessed to the railings on the walkway above. A big storm had driven debris into that, and because they had to seal up other sections of the piping network, that left some of the other engineers–Lydi included–working on the crude ceruleum vats on the ground that fed into the processing plant, which had also taken hits.

When her partner returned with her mask in hand, she sighed and handed him the ratchet. “All right, you ease the valve, I’ll release the hatch, and we’ll work that outer wall back into shape.”

“You got it! Let me know when you’re ready!”

Lydi climbed to the walkway that ran along the lip of the covered ceruleum vat. Without the correct temperature being maintained by the air between the double walls, excessive heat could permeate the thing and cause spontaneous combustion. It was just as well that it was a cool day, because cracking the vat’s lid was dangerous in the heat, but the way the outer wall had caved, they needed to repair the panel so that it didn’t over-pressurize and make the thing explode regardless. She slipped her mask over her face, and then called down to her partner.

“Go ahead!”

“Reducing air flow,” he called up to her. “Pressure dropping to sixty-five… sixty-three… sixty…”

It stopped around fifty, and she knew that wasn’t enough to keep the thing cool. “Releasing the hatch,” she called back, and then punched a couple commands into the panel. The thing opened, mercifully–she’d have hated to have to manually lift it–and she turned to call down, “Hatch is open, you can start popping off that panel now!”

A loud, booming noise sounded above her, and she abruptly stumbled on the walkway with the resulting force that pushed its way outward, grabbing for the rail. Multiple people were shouting up in the vicinity of the pipes, but Lydi couldn’t hear them. She’d flipped over the rail and plunged into the vat of crude liquid ceruleum before she could close her fingers around anything to haul herself upright.

The first thing her partner had told her when she’d woken was that she was lucky she’d been wearing a mask; otherwise, she probably would have died. They’d hauled her out of the vat, gotten her into a shower and cleaned her off as fast as they could. From there she’d been shoved into a clean air chamber and treated–well, as much as they could. Her vital signs had been stable, she’d been breathing, but she just wouldn’t wake up. So after the day was over, they’d decided to leave her in the clean air chamber and observe.

It had taken four days for her to come back to the world, and several months to heal all of the ceruleum burns on her skin. There were some scars that would likely never heal, she’d been told, like the spots on her back that had been scraped on her way into the vat, where the substance had seeped into the flesh and burned it deeper than other places. And despite never once having been bothered by anyone’s indiscriminate use of aether after that incident, she also wasn’t sure what long-lasting negative effects it had had on her–

“--Eorzea to Lydi.” The brunette hyur woman who stood before her had two small drums of ceruleum, which she was holding out toward her. Lydi blinked, and then smiled at the woman.

“Thanks, Imelda.”

“Anytime. Tell Silver she owes me a visit herself, though; I miss that wench.”

Lydi snickered. “I’ll be sure to tell her,” she promised, and then chewed on her bottom lip a moment. “Thanks for sending the drums here first.”

“I get it,” Imelda said. “You haven’t been the same since you took the dip. Wouldn’t want to stir up memories for ya that’re less than pleasant, aye?” She reached out and clapped a gentle hand on Lydi’s shoulder. “Heard one other person did it a few months ago. They weren’t so lucky as you. Weren’t wearin’ a mask, and swallowed it.”

Lydi winced. “Oh,” she managed, and her leaf-green eyes lowered. “Man, that… that’s shitty.” But then she screwed her face up in determination. “They need a metal grid over the top of that thing for when they have to open the hatch to resup or repair.”

“Good luck gettin’ the ceruleum barons to spend more money on th’ facility, love.”

“Maybe I’ll use my ceruleum superpowers and make them listen,” she shot back, grinning at the woman, and laughing when Imelda gasped.

“You got superpowers!?”

Lydi set the drums down and flexed, her smile brilliant, before she suddenly deflated. “No… I think I lost some superpowers, actually.”

Imelda started laughing. “Well, let ‘em sweat anyway.”

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #Lydjana Silvaret #Prompt 11 #Once Bitten Twice Shy

5 notes · View notes