‧˚₊ Smitten to the stars (ch.2/3)
pairing: (adult) midoriya izuku/female reader
summary: If merely having you in his life means enduring heartache and concealing his true feelings, then so be it. At least, that's Izuku's grand plan until life forces him into the one thing he dreads the most—confessing.
word count: 6.5k
chapter contains (check ao3 for all tags): slight emotional infidelity, alcohol, jealousy, possessiveness, a pinch of steaminess, power dynamics, love confession, angst (veering on the heavier side)
• ao3 link
ch. 1
a/n: written in Izuku's pov
Preview
“In case you didn’t notice, I like polka dots,” the woman in front of him said, pointing at the polka-dotted summer dress she wore. “What about you, Deku?”
Izuku smiled politely at her, unsure whether she was echoing his earlier request about telling him a random thing about herself, or was asking if he was into polka dots too. “Polka dots are great,” he settled on saying, turning his head to look for the waiter responsible for their table. He needed that glass of red wine if he were to go through with this.
The woman smiled brightly, her pearly white teeth glinting in the warm light of the expensive restaurant as she continued to stare at him, tracking his every movement. It was the first thing he noticed about her, not the reddish hair with split ends or the mascara clumping her lashes. She ogled him, confirmed by her bold comment about how his white denim jeans “hugged him so right.”
Years ago, this sort of comment would’ve been the right setup to end up having someone keeping his side of the bed warm for a night, or better said, sweaty. But not in the present time. No way. Izuku was too smitten with you. One mere mention of your name sent his heart into a frenzy of dizzying pitter-patter.
So what the hell was he doing here with a woman whose name he couldn’t even remember?
“Your freckles kinda look like tiny polka dots,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
His swift retort caught her off guard for a moment, brown eyes widening a fraction before giving him a coy look.
“Then what do you think they look like?”
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Find The Word Tag Game
Tagged by: @spacetimewraithwrites over here, thank you!
My Words: soak, salt, sour, sing, sink, smile
Tagging: @winterandwords, @thatprolificauthor, @zmwrites, @thegreatobsesso, @adie-dee, and anyone else who would like to join (As always, please don't feel pressured or rushed!)
Your Words: Snack, Plaster, Real, Death, & Repeat
Soak(ing)
“I doubt that. You were targeted and injured in the line of duty for something you care about. They wouldn’t do that. I’m part of your team.”
“The committee is over me. They call the shots. You don’t belong to me.” Ryker paused sharply, breath picking up, voice lowering and cracking faintly. He gave himself another moment before lifting watering eyes to Ives. “You know that, don’t you? You don’t belong to me.” Tears spilled down the sides of his face, soaking into gauze, running for his chin. Ives hesitated, unsure what to do but found it absolutely horrible. Seeing Ryker like this, battered and broken more than physically. Ives failed to find a word to describe it.
Salt
“With your help, there may be a chance we can find where that sector is. IV5’s software is replaceable, but his data is not.”
“You mean him,” Ryker said but didn’t entirely know what he was trying to say. His brain? His personality? His soul?
“Exactly. Him. He isn’t. But if we can find where he is, we can extract him from the virus. Separate the salt from the water, so to speak. Then we could easily wipe everything without endangering losing him. And I believe you can help us with that.”
“You, uh, you do?”
Sour
“…I feel strange,” Beau admitted. “Not in the sense of malfunction or malicious coding. It’s…” he paused there, stare drifting away as if having to search for what he wanted to say. Ryker had seen it several times in people, struggling to describe what they experienced. Cognitive rummaging for pieces in order to share an entire picture. More common in people, short-lived in AI’s who had a global network of information in a synapse.
Beau continued searching, face beginning to sour. Light of the screen shimmered in his eyes, moisture brimming and spilling to roll down his face.
His eyes blew wide, hands shaking as he touched his cheeks discovering tears. Lines emerged in his skin, distressed seams of mechanical facets that structured his face; crescent ridges around eye sockets, the crest of his cheeks, outlining his mandible and chin. His irises darted about the room as if searching for a place to hide, mouth quivering with a whirring whine.
Ryker slid off the couch, gently catching Beau by the arm before he could spring up. “It’s okay,” he promised, pulling him into a hug. “You’re okay.”
Sing(er)
Avoiding his glare, again, Beau scanned the lounge over. The music had changed from the live band to prerecorded filler, slower with fewer dancers. They held each other closer, more drifting side to side compared to the earlier scramble. Beau liked it better, the ethereal sound of guitar and drums, singer almost a whisper. Already knowing the answer, he turned back to Garnet.
“Do you want to dance?”
His glare popped with raised brows, cutting his sip short, “Wh-what? Dance? You wanna dance?” Beau nodded.
Sink(ing)
Garnet rushed him grabbing [Beau] by the front of his jacket, heaving him off balance, and slamming him to the ground. Beau’s HUD warned too late of equilibrium instability. “You don’t know shit about what happened. You weren’t there!” Garnet kept him pinned to the ground, crunching through weeds, sinking into soft dirt. Beau shoved a hand in Garnet’s face, pressing him away, fingers digging into his cheek.
Garnet wrenched his face out of his grip, bringing a fist up and swinging for his head. Beau knocked it away with his new arm, wedging a foot on Garnet’s belly and shoving him off.
“We weren't! But we are now and all we're trying to do is help, but you keep being an ass!”
“Don’t pretend you even feel anything.” The swelling sensation began again, constricting in his chest and shoving him to his feet. Garnet scrambled up to meet him, swinging for his face, missing as Beau ducked. He tackled Garnet around the middle and charged. Garnet attempted to hold his ground, skating over the soft ground without traction. He grabbed Beau by his belt, throwing his weight and sending them both tumbling onto a grave.
Beau swung, knocking him across the face, earning a yell.
Smile
Ryker couldn’t help but stare, obvious enough it made Beau pause. “You’re not riding with me?”
“No,” Beau smiled, pocketing the keys, “Ives is.” Patting Ryker’s shoulder, he scampered out the door. “Shotgun!”
“No, Jevito, shotgun is front passenger. You’re driving.” Garnet grumbled, pausing in the doorway when he noticed Ryker. He glanced at something down the hall before leaning in, “good to have you back, Boss.”
“Thanks,” Ryker whispered, dazed in his thoughts. He couldn’t help but feel as if Ives being partnered with him was done on purpose. That this was Garnet’s work. Before he completely turned away from the door, Ryker called to him, “hey.” Garnet leaned back in the doorway. “Thank you.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” he grinned, sipping at his tumbler. “You deserve it.” With a wink, he continued down the hall. “Alright, alright, jeez-o! I’m coming. You depend on caffeine in the mornings and see how gung-ho you are.”
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