#BUT I NEVER THROW ANYTHING OUT SO ITS JUST BEEN SITTING ON MY SHELF EVER SINCE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skyebounded · 2 years

Text

Tapes For My Lover

.main masterlist. .stranger things masterlist.

premise: You left some tapes for Eddie to have after you’re gone, and now he is finally listening to them…

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, blood sweat and tears. (tell me if their is more)

WC: 6.8k

A/N: So this idea came to me and I instantly fell in love with it. There is just something about it that leaves me with a feeling of comfort knowing that its Eddie. Anyway, I hope you guys like this one, I sure as hell did.

IMPORTANT: the italics portions are flashbacks. bolded italics are Readers comments, and just plain text is good old Eddie.

(you can listen to the songs, I did, but I also listened to Stargirl Interlude by the weeknd and lana del rey to make it hurt more)

The box had been sitting on his shelf for months now, taunting him, a constant reminder that you were gone, and were never coming back. He couldn’t lie, he had tried to get rid of the box several times, just throw it in the dumpster, and forget everything, even forget you, but he couldn’t. You would never forgive him for it, and he knew that, but that's not why he kept it, no he kept it because it was the last parts of you that he had. The last thing you gave him, and no matter how much it hurt him to gaze at the box every waking moment, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.

He couldn’t stop beating himself up for all of it, your death, the fight. You had died before they had figured out a way to save you, to keep you out of Vecna’s grasp, and it killed him. Killed him to know that he had the ability to do it, he just didn’t know it soon enough, and worst of all he hadn’t forgiven himself for it, for not trying harder to save you. And he wondered if he ever would.

You had left the box lying on his bed, the day you died, no note, no warning, just the box. He refused to open it, fear of what was inside, consuming his very being. A part of him thought that if he did, that If he opened it, he would finally be admitting to himself that you had died and that he would never see you again, and he couldn’t accept that. So he did what he did best, shelved it, and pretended like it didn't haunt him. Walking past it every day, ignoring the sizable amount of guilt that filled him as he did.

Today he couldn’t, not anymore. Eddie walked over to his bookcase, gently pulling the old Vans shoebox off the shelf, as he made his way to the living room. He set it down in the center of the coffee table and stared at it. Wondering if by some chance it would explode and claim him, bringing him to you once again. He closed his eyes, stopping the tears before they had even begun. It was time. Taking a deep breath he pushes back the top, revealing the contents inside.

It wasn’t what he expected, cassette tapes, and on top, your very own walkman. He recognized it immediately, It had always been glued to your hip every waking moment. He couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t have it on, the headphones framing your perfect face. A folded piece of paper sat underneath the walkman that had his name written perfectly on it.

He closes the box, running his hands over his face and through his hair, ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. Getting up and walking to the fridge, grabbing out the first beer he finds, he cracks it open, glaring at the box from the comfort of the kitchen, anxiously tapping his ring against the glass bottle.

Despite thinking that he had the strength, the will to do it, it started to dawn on him that maybe he didn’t. He still wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

After a few hours of pacing, trying to do anything but think of you, he decides to give it another go, making his way back to the cursed spot on the couch, and opening the box once more.

Grabbing the piece of paper with shaky hands, he takes a deep breath, unfolding it to see your neat handwriting. With another deep breath, he begins to read,

Hey Cutie,

I give it about four months before you open this box, maybe even more until you read this letter. So, listen, In this box, there are a few tapes, each one labeled with a date, and I know you’re at least smart enough to put them in order before giving them a listen, however, I have already cued up the first one for you, so you’re welcome. I’m not going to tell you what's on them, that's for you to figure out, but I hope that you do. Anyway, tiger, I’ll let you get to it.

He’s not sure how long he's been staring at the note, memorizing the way your curl your ‘y’ in every sentence, or the way each ‘i’ has a heart over it instead of a dot, but it’s long enough for his legs to get sore, and his eyes to burn. He sets the note down, picking up your walkman and running his fingers over all the stickers, tracing the buttons with his thumb. With another deep breath, he placed the headphones over his ears and pressed play. Closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch. At first, nothing, and then it plays, Everybody Wants to Rule The World. His pulse quickens and he feels like he’s sinking into the couch when he hears your melodic voice over the music.

“Everybody Wants to Rule The Word….didn’t we Eddie? Hey handsome, do you remember this song, I guess I mean more importantly do you remember what the song signifies?” You chuckle, and his heart wrenches at the sound. “September 16th, 1985, the day I met you,” Eddie fights the urge to pull the headphones off and chuck them across the room. “Do you remember that? That day?” Of course, he remembered, how could he not. It was the day he met you, the love of his life. Sitting in a booth at Andy’s Frozen Custard, all alone.

“Andy’s, booth four, 1:35 pm. I had been stood up by Colin Jacobson and was fighting back the urge to cry. I had forgotten my walkman, my only saving grace, and was contemplating on what I did wrong..”

“Nothing, you did nothing wrong,” Eddie mumbles out loud as if you could somehow hear him, and perhaps you could.

“I often thought it was a miracle that I was so desperately waiting for Colin to show because when that bell above the door went off, I probably wouldn’t have looked up, and then who knows if you would have even noticed me.” he scoffs, knowing damn well that he would have seen you, how could he not have, you were the prettiest girl, sitting all alone in a booth, you were an attention grabber. “It’s still crazy to me that you did what you did..” you trail off, humming along to the beat.

Eddie had spotted you, tracing the checkered pattern of the table with your finger. No ice cream in hand, nothing but a sullen look on your face, and he wondered to himself how on earth someone so beautiful could be so sad. When you looked up at him, he could swear his heart skipped several beats, your eyes meeting his and the corners of your lips turning up in a smile before your cheeks turned rosy and you looked away. It would have been a lie to say that he hadn’t tried to get your attention again, doing whatever he could think of to grab your attention just once more. It wasn’t until he nearly tripped over a child running by that he caught your gaze again, and by that time his surprise had been ruined.

“You just slid into my booth, with a strawberry milkshake and two straws, bold of you. You didn’t even have to say anything…God my heart melted. You just handed me the straw and winked.” Eddie can't help but smile, feeling the tears slowly trickling down his cheeks. “Somehow you always knew how to make things better, how to make me feel better…god I wish-” You stop mid-sentence, sniffling trying your best to hide the pain you were in, and yet Eddie knew what you were going to say. You were going to tell him that you wished that he was there with you, by your side as you made these tapes. Holding you close telling you that everything was going to be okay, that you didn’t need to make these at all, because you wouldn’t have a reason to, or at least that's what he hoped you would have said.

Eddie handed you the straw, followed by a wink that sent butterflies erupting throughout you. “Sorry I’m late sweetheart,” he smiled. He doesn’t know what compelled him to say it, but seeing you, sitting here, he felt like he had been saying it to you his whole life. You fight to suppress the smile that inevitably took over your lips.

“It’s okay, handsome.” You had never been so bold, but much like him, it felt right..comfortable. You plucked the straw from his hand, and plopped it straight into the shake, taking a long sip before he could do anything. As if on cue the music changed, and ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ started playing.

“Oh I love this song,” you exclaimed as you being to hum along to it, blissfully unaware of just how hard he was falling for you in that moment. He just sat back, watching the way you found a way to dance in that small booth, with a smile on his face. He never asked you why you were alone, looking so down, and that was perhaps because it changed as soon as he sat down, but to him, all that mattered was that he was able to make you smile. Once you noticed the way he was looking at you, your cheeks flushed, and you hid your face behind a napkin.

“Wow, even hiding behind a napkin, you are still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” he chuckles, sliding the milkshake over to his side of the table. Taking a long-drawn-out sip as he waited for you to show your face again, and once you did, he couldn't help the smile.

“I will never understand why you sat down with me, smiling as you’d known me, but I’m glad you did because that was all it took Eddie, your cute smile, the strange way that you knew just what to say, the strawberry shake… just you. You had me immediately, there was no way I could fight it, I was yours...and you didn’t even have to ask.”

The song ends and the tape clicks off. Eddie’s eyes shoot open, overwhelmed, numb, and yet desperate for more. He leans forward, searching through the box, and grabbing out the next tape:

He puts it in the walkman and presses play instantly, waiting to hear your voice once more. Leaning back again, letting his eyes fall closed.

“I see you’ve made it to the next tape, I’m proud of you.” Only You starts to play, and it takes him slightly by surprise, he wasn’t entirely sure what this song correlated to. “I know you are probably wondering what the hell this song has to do with anything, and truth be told I don’t imagine that you would know, considering I only ever listened to it by myself.” you take a deep breath, “September 24th, 1985, a few days after our first encounter. The date better sound familiar to you now, because if it doesn't, we have some problems, Eddie.” You chuckle softly, and it breaks his heart, hearing you imply that if he had forgotten the date, things would end badly for him. Lucky him he remembered it, fondly. “Our first date, which also just so happens to be the first time we kissed too. God, I swear if you forgot…” Your tone held a sense of warning, but he could hear the way you were breaking.

“We’re not supposed to be here Eddie, this is private property!” you teased him as you climbed over the gate, he wasn’t sure at first if you were being serious but seeing you making it to the other side of the fence, smile growing on your lips, he had a growing suspicion that you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he climbs over the gate after you, nearly losing his footing as he lands. You would have sworn he did it on purpose, just so he could stumble into you and have you catch him. If it was the case, you didn’t mind it, in fact, a part of you preferred that story. Eddie on the other hand was just clumsy. Eddie grabbed your hand, pulling you along with him as you made your way past the security station, climbing over the turnstiles. “Should I be concerned that you are a natural at this?” he asks, gesturing around you. You had never done something like this, at least not on a larger scale. Breaking and entering wasn’t a frequent recurrence of yours. Silently, you just shrug, your brows shooting up and a cheeky grin forming on your lips, the very lips that he hadn’t been able to stop staring at. “I think if anyone should be concerned it's me, this was your idea, and for a first date nonetheless.” You chuckle. “Yeah well I had to go big or go home,” he smiles wildly.

“You probably didn’t know this but that was the first date I had gone on in a while, I mean unless you count the one where I got stood up. Anyway, I was so unbelievably nervous, in fact, my palms were so sweaty I was mortified,”

Eddie smiles, wondering if you knew how nervous he had been because he imagined it was nothing compared to what he was feeling that day. Having to constantly fight the urge to kiss you every time you looked at him, or every time you laughed, or to be honest, after every time you did anything.

Eddie pulled you into full view of the baseball stadium in all its glory, standing at the very back looking down at the desolate field, the whole thing just for you. Heat crept to your cheeks, and your lips did their best to hide the smile. Eyes wide, mesmerized by it all. It wasn’t the fact that it was done up in any way, but more the fact that he had brought you somewhere that you two could claim as your spot, somewhere no one would think to look for you, a perfect spot for you and him. Little did you know it would become just that, your spot. Too entranced by it all to notice that Eddie wasn’t taking in the same view as you, but rather admiring you, your smile, the way your hair frames your face, the way your mouth hung open just slightly drawing attention to your perfect lips. He was gawking at you.

“It's beautiful..” you murmured, “Indeed.” You pull your gaze away to look at him, who instantly pretended, poorly might you add, that he hadn’t been staring at you the entire time.

“The entire night was just..” you pause, “magical.” you sigh.

“No, that's the big dipper,” you argue. Eddie shakes his head dramatically, “Absolutely not, I have never seen someone be so confident in such a wrong answer.” You prop yourself up on your elbow, staring down at him, wondering if somehow you were in fact wrong and had just made a fool out of yourself, only to see that his eyes were closed. “You’re not even looking!” you giggle, playfully slap his chest, leaving your hand to linger there. Eddie, being the eccentric person that he is, grunts, tongue resting out the side of his mouth as if you had just killed him, and you can’t help but laugh. He opens his eyes at hearing the sweet sound of your laughter. His tongue runs across his bottom lip as he grins at you.

“Gahhh, you had me thinking I was dumb,” you remark, eyes narrowing on him. “Oh well we can’t have that I’m afraid, it simply will not do, madam.”

His hand slowly comes to meet yours, resting on his chest. He wraps his hand around your, his thumb grazing the top of it gently. It was taking every fiber in his being not to grab you and kiss you. Perhaps that's what you wanted, but his head was spinning, he couldn’t think straight, and there was no way for him to know for sure. Luckily, you knew exactly what you wanted, him. Without hesitation you lower your face down to him, your lips grazing his, as your eyes fall closed. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” you ask, your soft lips pressing to the corner of his mouth. His hand comes up and cradles the back of your neck, pulling you down as his lips lock with yours. Gentle, slow, and perfect. There was no denying the butterflies that erupted in your stomach, as his tongue skimmed your bottom lip, begging for entrance, that you would undoubtedly give. Tongues swirling around each other, head spinning, faces flushed, you were in heaven. Eddie pulls away from you, resting his forehead against yours, both of you smiling against each other's lips. Perfect and yet not enough. Eddie draws you back in, his lips catching yours once more but this time with more hunger, more passion. Tilting his head, he adds more pressure, deepening the kiss. As his arm wraps around you, flipping you onto your back, a moan leaves you. Eddie can’t help but smile into the kiss. His hand grips tightly to your hip, and your legs intertwine as he cages you. His tongue meets yours once more, dancing with your own. Needy hands start to roam your body, dipping under the thin fabric of your shirt, hungrily moving up your sides. The rings adorning his fingers, cold against your heated skin as they move further up your body. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, urging him to continue with it all. You feel his hand hesitate just under your breast, and you encourage him by a tug of his hair, and a nip at his bottom lip.

His hand cups your breast, thumb running over your hardened nipple. Your body shutters at the touch, shivers jutting up your spine. You had never felt so desperate, so needy for someone, but for Eddie, you were both.

“I still can’t believe that I panicked and pushed you off! God, I wanted to go further that night, I know I never told you that, but it’s the truth…I’m sorry..”

Eddie chuckles to himself. To this day he had wondered if he had made the wrong move, touched you too quickly, or grabbed you in the wrong place. He never minded it though, he enjoyed every moment of that night and wouldn’t have changed any of it.

“Anyway, this song was what I played for months after that night.. constantly repeating: Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do, and fill my heart with love for only you:” you sing the lyrics. “Baby, it's you, and it will always be you.”

The tape clicks off and Eddie doesn’t move. He sits in silence too afraid to play the next one. He hates that it's come to this, having to hear your voice in such a way instead of hearing it in person. Hates that he can’t hold you in his arms and just talk, just feel you close to him. The numbness starts to set in as he starts to picture you there with him. Cuddled up against him on the couch, your hand on his chest, like you, always used to do. God, he missed you. Missed every little thing about you.

After a few moments, he moves on to the next tape, pulling it out of the box and putting it in, pressing play instantly.

As soon as the music starts he knows. Groaning at the song that he often claimed he hated, only to tease you, but truth be told he loved it.

“I can't fight this feeling any longer….And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow…What started out as friendship has grown stronger. You can claim all you want Eddie, that you hate this song but I know the truth! This will forever be your favorite song all thanks to me!”

“Never!” he calls out into the empty trailer. No matter what you said, he would never willingly admit the love he had for this song.

“I mean why shouldn’t it be, I only listened to it all the fucking time…I have to admit that I kinda did it to annoy the shit out of you, but I could tell it was getting to you..” you pause, clearly reminiscing about it. “Do you remember that time…” you tone holding a sense of suggestion to it, one that Eddie picked up on immediately.

There was no forgetting it, not when you played the damn song the whole entire day. It would forever be ingrained in his very being.

You had been walking around Eddie’s trailer, your trustee walkman glued to your hip, music far too loud to hear anything other than the same song on repeat. Each lyric fell from your lips as you danced around in his room. Eddie had been on the couch, studying for a test in Miss. O’Donnell’s. He had already shut you out for the hour, dead set on acing the test, well more like barely passing. He insisted you not bug him any further. He wouldn’t admit it, but you knew that the constant repetition of that song had him in a sore mood, so you had decided to give him a little bit of space, but not for long. Noticing Eddie’s hellfire club shirt resting on his dresser, you grab it, replacing your own clothes with the shirt. It rested nicely against your bare thighs, a sentiment you wondered if he’d enjoy.

Wandering out of his room, you spot him, hard at work. Your lips press into a thin line as you suppress your grin, an idea forming, one sure to rile him up. You start your song over, blasting it at full volume, as you begin to sing the lyrics. You watch his eyes fall closed, heaving a heavy sigh, as he looks up at you. The look of annoyance quickly fades to be one of surprise, and intrigue, one that he tries to hide. Except there was no way to hide the growing evidence in the confines of his jeans, luckily you couldn’t see it.

“I can't fight this feeling any longer….And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow…What started out as friendship has grown stronger….” You begin to sing, very pitchy and very off-key. It was enough to drive Eddie insane. He fights the urge to pay you any attention, as he turns back to his textbook. You laugh to yourself at the sight of his eyes wide, and his lips in a downturn. As you get closer to him, you begin to dance along to the music, swaying your hips along to the beat.

“Sweetheart, I swear to god…” he warns, but you can’t hear him, too intent on annoying the hell out of him.

“You know that my favorite thing to do to you is to annoy every fiber in your body, It’s honestly an obsession of mine.” you chuckle. Eddie sighs, a soft smile forming on his lips as he recollects all the times that you did just that, there were far too many to count.

As you continue your dance, you notice him, stealing glances at you, his eyes drinking in every curve of your body, admiring the way his shirt fit you, the way it sat on your bare thighs, riding up with every step you took. You grab the bottom of the shirt, drawing it up your body and revealing your panties, watching the way he shamelessly licks his lips. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to finish studying, not when you were tempting him so, especially not if you kept singing that dumb song. Eddie throws his textbook aside, and leans back, this time giving you his full attention. “And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door...Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore!” you sing. He doesn’t know how you do it, manage to annoy him so, and yet at the same time make him fall for you even harder. Reaching out, Eddie grabs your arm, pulling you down onto his lap, taking your headphones off, and setting them on the coffee table. You can’t help the fit of laughter that hits you as you look into his dark brown eyes.

“You are driving me crazy,” he chuckles. You open your mouth to offer a rebuttal but you’re met with lips and tongue, silencing you immediately.

You don’t recollect moaning his name until your back meets the couch, Eddie on top of you, and your clothes gone. Your hands tangled in his hair as he worships every inch of you with his mouth. Claiming you in the ways that only he can. His fingers cling to the soft skin of your hips, holding you in place as he makes his descent down your body, his lips and uneven breath fanning across your burning skin sending shivers up your spine.

Your back bows at the feeling of his mouth, whimpers as his tongue glides along you, and sweet shocks of pleasure course through your veins. As you focused on the lapping of his tongue, the movements of his fingers, he was focused on the rise and fall of your chest, the breathy moans leaving your lips, the sudden jolts of your body. Nothing was as beautiful as you were at that moment. No amount of art or even music could bring him as much joy as you could.

“I should have done it more. If I would have known that's how you would react…god I would have done it all the damn time. I mean for crying out loud, that tongue of yours is truly magic.”

Truth be told, Eddie wished you had, wished that you still would. He would give anything for it now. To see you prance around in his clothes, completely engulfed in your own little world and blissfully unaware of everything around you. Even to hear you sing this song terribly, just to get at him. You were his breath of fresh air, and he needed you desperately, just like he did then.

Indescribable, the way he felt having you wrapped so tightly around him, your fingers gripping to him as if in a moment he would slip through them. Your head foggy as you move together in sync, sharing labored breaths as your lips graze each others. The coarseness; of his voice like music to your ears as he whispers words of encouragement, everything that you need to hear as he coaxes sinful sounds from you. His hand finds yours in the chaos, fingers intertwining with yours as he holds your hand above your head.

Crying out as the ache inside of you subsides and your release hits you, only to be swallowed by his lips, as he pushes you through it. Nothing but pure bliss as you feel him follow after you, filling you completely. He collapses on top of you, only to rest his head against yours, and pull you into an innocent kiss.

“I will say this, Eddie…I do believe this song is magic...I really do. I swear anytime I listen to it I'm instantly taken back to that exact moment; one I will never forget.”

The song fizzles out to a stop and Eddie’s eyes open. As he leans forward he notices one more tape and his heart wrenches. He’s not sure if he has the strength to listen to the last one, knowing that once he does, it’s done, you’re gone. He knows he can’t wait forever, not when he needs to hear your voice again. With a shaky breath, and trembling hands he puts in the last tape. Finger hovering over the play button.

“Come on Eddie,” he mutters. He runs his hand over his face, wishing that somehow it would wipe away every semblance of pain and dread from him. Finding the courage once more, he presses play and closes his eyes.

“March tenth, 1986, I got my acceptance letter to Columbia and told no one, I wasn’t going to tell anyone but you found out, ” you struggle, your voice soft and melancholy. Despite wanting to sound happy, alive, and well, you knew that it was just wishful thinking. “My father had no right to tell you, to make you feel like it was your fault because it wasn’t”

Eddie’s jaw tenses at the mention of your father. He had never liked Eddie, and he understood why, it was for this very reason, Eddie stood in the way of your dreams. He didn’t know it, not until your father told him, however.

Eddie stood in the doorframe of your parent's home, anxiously waiting for you to save him from the silence that your parents were giving him. They had never liked Eddie, and for what reason, he had no idea. He had never done anything to give them a reason to dislike him so, and yet they had found one of their own.

“Have you congratulated y/n yet?” your father asks, his eyes boring straight through Eddie. With a nervous chuckle and a faulty smile, Eddie’s left to ask what he means.

“Columbia, she got her acceptance letter…Did she not tell you?”

He could feel the color draining from his face at the words. He’d had no idea that you had even applied anywhere other than the University of Indiana.

“She told us she wasn’t going to accept,” your mother chimes in.

Eddie had a strong feeling that they were implying that it was his fault, that because of him you weren’t going to go to Columbia. At one point Eddie might have fought them on it, told them that it was your choice and that he had no weight in the matter, but something told him that was wrong. Something told him he was the exact reason you weren’t going. His jaw tenses, as he stares at the staircase, waiting for you to come down, and if on cue, you do. Rushing down with a smile on your face.

“Hey, babe!” you say, rushing over to kiss his cheek. He doesn’t know why but he can't seem to find the words to say anything to you, but you were far too happy to notice. You say your goodbyes, kissing your father's cheek and blowing a kiss to your mother before you drag Eddie out of the house.

“It has been haunting me, the fact that we haven’t talked about it…not sure that we will ever get the chance, but..” You mumble the last bit and it's like daggers in his heart. It had been one of the very reasons he had been beating himself up since you died. You had never fought, never disagreed on anything meaningfully. It killed him knowing that he had been so cold to you, angry that you could keep something from him. What hurt more was that he never wanted to talk about it, you both just let it hang in the air acting as though it wasn’t there, as it silently tore you both apart.

“I guess now is my chance..”

“Columbia! When were you going to tell me? Or better yet, were you even going to tell me?” Eddie asks, his tone harsh as he paces back and forth in the trailer.

“No, I wasn’t going to tell you, because it doesn’t matter, Eddie! I’m not going..” you shout at him. You were fuming, you had wondered why the entire drive he had been so quiet, so distant. And now you knew. “You know what, Eddie, I really don’t see the problem here?”

He stops in his tracks, turning to look at you, eyes narrowed and cold, something you had never seen from him before. “The problem is you are throwing away everything you have worked for, every dream that you’ve had to stay here in this shithole with me! If you fucking think that I would ever let that happen, you’re delusional. I could never live with myself knowing that the only reason you’d stay is because of me. I’m not worth all of that.”

You stand up, tears burning in your eyes as you approach him. “You don’t get to say that. I’m not just staying for you, I’m staying for me,” you argue. Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly unable to meet your eyes.

“No you’re not, because if you were you would never have had applied, nor would you be keeping it from me! Did you think that I want this for you, want you to be stuck in a town with no opportunities, a town that's cursed and sick? Do you really think that I would ever allow that?” He retorts.

You scoff, taking a step back, “Allow!? Eddie, you don’t control me, I make my own choices same as you, It is my choice on whether or not I stay. You don’t get to take that away from me, you don’t get to push me away.”

You sniffle, crossing your arms over your chest as a sense of security. You’d be lying to say that anxiety wasn’t building inside you, worrying about where this conversation would inevitably end.

“Sweetheart, I can’t let you throw away everything you’ve ever cared about for me, not when there is so much more out there for you. You have to go, you have to go and live your life without me,” he says sternly.

The tears break free from your eyes as you ball up your fist and hit it against his chest. “Don’t say that! You’re the one making me give up the only thing I care about. You.”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn't look at you, because somewhere in his mind he knew it was the truth. You would never achieve anything in this dumpy old town, and especially not with him. He also knew that if he looked at you, crying into his chest, desperately clinging to him for comfort, he would give in, and he couldn’t.

“You have to.” was all he said.

That had been the only discussion that you’d had about it. Leaving you both broken and unsure of the future. You had told him that you would go, both of you knowing it wasn’t the truth. It had come to the point where you both danced around the whole thing in general, neither one of you bringing it up again. It pushed you apart, leaving a void in both of you.

“The truth is Eddie, nothing you were ever going to say was going to make me change my mind. I had it made up from the very beginning. I only applied to please my parents, and sure a part of me wondered if I would get in, but in the end, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to leave you. You are my future,” you choke. He could hear the way you were trying to silence the sobs that were leaving you. The way your voice quivered as you said future. Tears stream down his cheeks at the thought. To him, you had always been his future, his everything. He wanted to build a life with you, a family, an adventure just for the two of you. He wanted to spend his days making you happy. It had always been the plan, and in his own twisted way, pushing you away was his way of doing that. He thought that if it was meant to be, you would always come back to him, but in your mind, you would never leave him, because it was meant to be.

“You are my everything, Eddie. I hate that we fought, we never did until then and it killed me. It killed me to know that you thought that I could just leave you, I would never leave you by choice, never…”

You take a deep breath, doing your best to collect yourself. “I hate that I never got the chance to say it, but I love you, Eddie Munson. I don’t know why it took me so damn long to say it, especially not since I knew it from the moment you slid into my booth, but I am saying it now. I love you, and I will always love you. No matter what you do, or how hard you try to push me away, Always.”

Eddie didn’t think his heart could break anymore until he heard you say it. It had always been an unspoken thing between the two of you, you knew he loved you and he knew you loved him, but hearing you say it meant so much more. He gasps, releasing the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, his heart racing and his head reeling as he tries to calm himself. His hand clutched his chest, desperately trying to cease the pain he was feeling.

“I’m sorry I never told you about Columbia. I never thought that I’d have to, as selfish as that sounds. Also, I’m sorry if these tapes are causing you pain, I didn’t want that, but I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to tell you this in person. I don’t blame you for anything, and I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything either, I know you will and I need you to promise me that you won’t. “Promise me, Eddie…say it..”

“I promise sweetheart.” he breaths, wiping the tears away with his hand.

“Eddie, baby, I need you to do something for me, and I know you are going to object, but I need you too,” you pause, letting out a small chuckle. “I need you to live your life, don’t throw it away. I need you to graduate and continue to make music and do whatever else it is that your heart desires. I need you to open yourself up to someone else, to fall in love, and to let someone fall in love with you the way I did. I can’t have you missing me always and missing out on all the great opportunities that I know are going to come your way. “So here it is, I chose these songs because they’re my favorites. They remind me of you, of all the moments we shared, all the laughs, kisses, tears…To me, they are the perfect narrative of our story.. I chose them because no matter where you are, I will always have them, and therefore I will always have a part of you. ”You stole my heart from day one, with your bold comments and eccentric attitude, your inability to ever stop talking about the things you love, or in general. You made my life so much better than what it would have been if you had never walked through Andy’s door, and for that, I have to say thank you. Promise me you won’t miss me too much, just be happy, god, please just be happy.”

There’s a long pause and Eddie wonders if it's the end of the tape if those were your last words until he hears it once more. That damn song falling from your lips once again, but this time it’s not pitchy, it's not annoying, it’s bittersweet.

“My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you…I've been running round in circles in my mind...And it always seems that I'm following you, girl…'Cause you take me to the places that, alone, I'd never find..And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight…You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night...And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..And I can't fight this feeling anymore…”

The tape stops, and a tear falls down his cheek as he stares at the box before him. There was never a doubt in his mind that you were the one for him, his soulmate, and even though you were gone, he’d always have a part of you left. He pulls off the headset, places it gently in the box once more, and closes the lid. Even though it still hurt to say goodbye to you, he felt he would be okay, knowing he still had you by his side, always.

a/n: I cried like a damn baby writing this shit, I hope you did too! Also, I would love to hear your feedback!

Yep, just reread it and cried even more. 😒

6K notes · View notes

hearts4hughes · 9 months

Text

hits different | trevor zegras

(trevor zegras x fem! reader)

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my notes forever, and i’ve just managed to finish it😭 it took wayyyy too long, but i’m proud of this!

warnings: intoxication, alcohol, angst, light swearing

the pulsating bass reverberates through your body as you stand at the bar, drink in hand, trying to wash your hands of the memories of a love gone wrong. your mind drifts to the mess that trevor made of you and the hurtful images that linger in your thoughts.

you wondered if he had already moved on. if he was cooking for another girl at his apartment, or if he had strolled through the streets of anaheim with her hand in hand. had he forgotten about you? three years of love washed down the drain like dirt and filth as he confided in another woman with his love. just the mere thought sends waves of nausea through your body.

it didn’t make sense. you thought breaking up with him was the right decision, but since then, all you’ve felt was pure heartbreak.

it all started with the duck’s bad season. he was frustrated and stressed. he thought he was the problem- even though he wasn’t- and he went into an emotional hole. at the time, you didn’t understand what was happening. you thought he fell out of love with you, so as hard as it was, you broke up with him. the second the words flew off your tongue, he broke down- sobbing, yelling, begging, anything that would help you stay.

you can't help but reflect on how you used to move on so easily, like switching out partners and escaping town, but everything feels different now. the bars you visit play songs that remind you of what once was, and it hurts like nothing you've experienced before.

“y/n,” julia calls out, snapping you back into reality, “you have to stop thinking of him, it’s not going to help.” her hand rubs comfortingly up and down your back. you look at her, your face completely blank of emotion. it’s easier said than done to forget about someone who preoccupied so much of your time, and the alcohol in your system isn’t helping.

“i know, i just,” you stammer, “i just can’t escape him. it’s like he’s haunting me. everywhere i look i’m reminded of the memories we made.” she looks at you with pity.

“love is a lie, babe. you know this already.” she says- the same thing she’s been telling you since forever. “remember when you broke up with aaron?” she asks and you nod in response. “you thought he was the one and that you’d never ever move on, but after a little bit you did. you just need to give it time and you’ll get over him.”

whining, you grab your shot, throwing your head back and downing it. your nose scrunched as the alcohol burned down your throat. “but what if i don’t want to get over him, jul? i don’t want to forget about him. i just want to be with him, i just want trevor.” your words were slurred- almost incoherent.

people around you began to stare and watch the unfolding scene. protectively, julia brought you into a hug, shielding your face from everyone before they saw your tears. “let’s get you home, honey.” she cooed, wrapping her arm around your waist and helping you out of your seat.

julia brought you home, making sure you got into your house safely before driving away. you swung the front door open and stumbled into your apartment. the digital clock on the wall read 2:20am. you ripped off your heels, discarding them somewhere in your living room, and walking into your bedroom. your hair was a frizzy mess, lipstick smudged, mascara smeared everywhere, but you could care less.

you find yourself alone in your room, surrounded by memories of the past, with one particular item catching your eye- trevor’s hat. it sits on a shelf, seemingly untouched since the day you parted ways. the sight of it evokes a rush of bittersweet emotions, and you can't help but pick it up, feeling its fabric against your fingertips. the hat holds a piece of him, a piece of the love you once shared, and the weight of the memories is overwhelming.

as you hold the hat in your hands, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. memories of your time together flood your mind – the laughter, the inside jokes, the intimate moments shared under that very hat. you miss him, and the feeling intensifies with each passing day. the warmth and comfort that his presence once brought into your life are now a distant memory.

you bring the hat close to your chest, hugging it tightly as if it was him. the scent of his cologne, faint but still lingering, brings you back to those tender moments when he would embrace you, and your heart aches.

with each tear that falls, you let yourself feel the grief, the longing, and the emptiness that comes with a wound that hasn’t completely healed. you find yourself whispering his name into the fabric, wishing he were there, holding you.

suddenly, you hear a key turning in the door down the hallway. is it him? is it trevor? or has julia come to take you away from your apartment and the suffocating reminders of him?

the door closes and you hear footsteps approaching your room. the footsteps become louder as the mystery person gets closer. you close your eyes, not bothered to know who it is; however, a small part of you hopes, even wishes that it’s him.

“love?” he calls out, causing your eyes to shoot open. you see him standing in the doorway- a blurry version of him due to the alcohol and crying. a frown adorns his lips as he looks down at you. your tear stained face and bloodshot eyes give him a hint of what you were just doing. “oh y/n,” he coos, making his way over to you and repositioning you into his lap.

his arms snake around your body, pulling you close to his chest. you open your mouth to say something, but the words get caught in your throat. he presses reassuring kisses to the top of your head as you cry into his embrace.

"i’m so sorry, y/n," he whispers, his voice filled with remorse. "i messed up, and i’ve been a mess ever since you left." you try to find the right words to say, but your emotions are too overwhelming, your heart too raw. instead, you bury your face in his chest, holding on to him as if he might slip away again.

"fuck, i thought you moved on," you manage to say through your tears, your voice shaking. "all i could imagine was you with another girl, trev.”

he sights, gently rubbing your back. "no, love, there hasn't been anyone else. i’ve been miserable without you. you were always the one."

“i thought you had fallen out of love with me, that’s why i broke up with you.” your voice trembles with hurt as he feels a pang of guilt in his heart.

his expression softens, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "i was going through a rough time, and I didn't know how to handle it. i thought i was the problem, and i didn't want to bother you with my struggles. i never meant to hurt you." you move your head away from his body, staring deeply into his eyes. he’s been crying too. in that moment, you realize that he's hurting too, and maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for healing and forgiveness.

"i miss you, trevor," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "my friends try to take me out to have fun and get drunk, but i always end up slurring your name until someone puts me in a car. they’re going to stop inviting me soon.” you joke- a coping mechanism you’ve had since you were young.

he lets out a small laugh, bringing his hand up to wipe away stray tears, “i’m here now," he replies, "and i want to try again, to make things right. i love you, and my life is a fucking wreck without you."

“i love you too,” your voice is soft and sincere. a smile graces his lips and for the first time since forever, your lips connect with his, reviving what you thought was gone.

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#anaheim ducks #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras imagine #hockey blurb #nhl imagine #hockey boys #nhl imagines

565 notes · View notes

kapposuch · 1 year

Text

Domestic!Bad Batch x reader (headcannons)

Warnings: Absolutely none! just utter fluff!

I love these kids, I've adored them since I laid eyes on them and god I want the best for these sweethearts. It's been a long time since I've done anything like this, so if you have constructive criticism for me, please lay it on me! I'd really appreciate it!

Here's the bad batch! hope you enjoy

Hunter

He's very much not used to a domestic setting, especially not one he's sharing with you

but god he wants to do right by you and make sure he doesn't mess things up

constantly cleaning up tiny messes he makes, even if it's not a mess. it's as if he doesn't want anyone to know he's even staying with you. it's not like that, he swears! just military habits

"What's with the state of the Marauder then?"

"You think Wrecker can keep things tidy for ten minutes?"

He's an early bird due to his military routine, so he's often up long before you. expect to be tucked in tight with a cup of caf or tea on its way to you when he hears you stir

but sometimes, he just likes to sit in the absolute bliss of freedom. even if it's for a short time before he has another mission with his brothers, he'll relish the contact and hold you close, cradling you like a babe.

moments like this make him feel alive. and it's all he ever wants.

on the rare occasion you wake up first, seeing him sprawled out on one side of the bed, barely covered by your sheets with unkempt hair and a missing bandana makes you melt. an absolute sight to behold, so you'll lay there and take it all in while you have the chance before those unflattering blacks are back on

no matter whats happening, where you are, or what you're doing around your apartment, he will make it his mission to be in your personal space. he wants to make sure nothing happens, and fears the loss if he steps away for just a moment

constant kisses. Hunter relishes in physical touch, and will always place a kiss on your temples, forehead, hands, cheeks, nose, lips, whatever he can reach the fastest. you'll never forget how devoted this man is to you.

even if he's wearing his whole gear and hasn't taken his head piece off yet, he'll delicately bump it to the top of your head if he's got a good enough angle.

he'll melt if you kiss his helmet. maybe he'd consider asking you to put on some lipstick and throw a big ole smooch onto the filter by his cheek so he can take your love with him to battle

"mark my helmet, would you mesh'la? I want to take you with me while I can"

oh no, your heart is missing, where in the galaxies could it have gone?

sweet angel

Wrecker

Where do I even begin?

it won't be the tidiest arrangement by far, but he will always do his best to pick up after himself, even if it's not very often.

arrange a day where you both tidy, with music in the background, and he'll be so gung-ho about helping you clean up! with the occasional dance number during, of course

he'll give you a spin and a dip, and a big ole smooch! very very smily man, god take care of his heart

words of affirmation turn this sweet giant into a puddle of mush, please compliment him

you'll pick up on a few mandoan terms, and will throw them around here and there while you're busy

"Hand me a towel would you, cyar'ika"

"can you grab me that mug from the top shelf, ner cyare?"

his face will light up, eyes well with tears, and he'll scoop you up into a bone-crushing hug, waddle to the couch, and sit with his face buried in your neck, simply repeating the phrases you say in his head. he'd do anything for you to continue getting these sweet words

he's a little bit of an idiot, so sometimes you have to reassure him if you make a joke that he doesn't quite get. you find it endearing, but he worries you think he's not that smart

you can cup his cheek, stare into his eyes, and praise his wonderful mind

movie nights with mantell mix are a staple for this man's date nights. you'll never escape his embrace while watching movies, but you don't mind. he keeps you warm and safe

sleeping arrangements are as such: you're a little spoon. deal with it. he finds it most comfortable, though some nights he'll roll over and will wake up feeling your forehead on his back, and arms wrapping as far across his body as possible. he finds it utterly adorable, and loves it just as much as sleeping with you on his chest

as long as you're by his side, so that when you wake, you can share kisses and make a cup of caf together for the day ahead

"Don't know what I did t' deserve ya... But I ain't lettin' go. Don't even think 'bout it, cyare."

Tech

clean. freak.

everything should be where it belongs after its used, and even you yourself have to get used to it if you're going to be accommodating his stay for a little while

of course, you accommodate willingly, to which he will always attempt to thank you for it, in his Tech ways

anything broken? not anymore

acts of service make his wizard brain hum with glee, so whenever you have an issue you'd like help with, he's already chomping at the bit and listing all the things he'll need to fix whatever ailes your mind

sleeping beside this man could not be more of a rollercoaster

sometimes he wants to cuddle up close, but other times he does indeed need his space. you've made a promise to always ask and find out what he's looking for, and this man practically melts like putty in your hands. god you're an angel in disguise for this troubled soul

with cuddle time, he'll place his hands where they're most comfortable. if they land somewhere spicy, it's simply because of his arm positioning. he's definitely a big spoon and absolutely relishes in the fact that he can make you feel safe. he doesn't mind if you're the only person in the galaxy that depends on him for safety, because he wouldn't have it any other way.

other nights when he needs his space, he'll lay beside you, fingers laced with yours, and wait for you to fall asleep comfortably. if you're talking for a little while, he pushes eye contact. it's his way of apologising for the lack of snuggles, which is equally taxing, but he wants to remind you that you are his world

absolutely a tea lover, and would just about pass away if you brought him a mug of leaf juice on a morning

always sneaking peeks at you, out of pure adoration. he thinks he hasn't been caught, but you caught him long ago, oogling at you fresh out of the shower wrapped in a towel

nice try Hun, maybe next time

hes leaving for a mission? he will break his internal rules and make a mess of your bed, filling it with blankets, pillows, and any soft items he can find. if he has a spare set of blacks, or even some clothes you bought for him as a casual wardrobe, he will make sure it smells like him so you've got extra comfort until he gets back

always telling you that he'll be back in -insert approximate date- but will forever promise to do his best to get back earlier

he won't call you call you petnames, but the way he says your name is so endearing. he says it with passion, and it melts your heart

"It won't take long. Around two weeks if all goes to plan, which is extremely unlikely due to the nature of the mission. But I do insist, I'll come back to you soon, y/n."

Echo

this absolute darling boy has been through the lot

Echo is a tough one, considering he isn't to big on making himself at home anywhere. he's pretty cut and run nowadays but for you? god he'll do his best

he keeps relatively tidy, making sure to help out with the dishes if you ask, or if you're looking pretty tired. he doesn't want you to push yourself when he could easily do it himself

he absolutely shoves a sponge on his scomp. do not @ me about this, imagine the glass cleaning efficiency of this man, god

he's a vivid enjoyer of quality time. while he can't exactly 100% convince himself that you find him comfortable enough to lay with or cuddle, he will always do his best to let you sit where you wish

he'll often ask that you sit on his right side, so he can hold you in his arm and rub gentle circles into your hip or waist as he gets comfy

he is a sleep avoider. you know he's got a lot in his head, and always wants to keep busy, which you're usually fine with, but when it's time to sleep, you'll always do your best to ramble him to sleep. god, this sweet man needs someone to consume his thoughts to ward off the nightmares

you're a big spoon most nights. not because Echo doesn't like spooning you, because he does, he absolutely adores it, but most often, Echo needs that sort of safety net. having familiar arms and weight around him will help him doze, and it'll chase away the bad thoughts clouding his sleep

when you're lil spoon, he will always nuzzle his face into your hair. the smell of your shampoo, and just you in general, is so comforting.

whenever he wakes up in a cold sweat, he feels bad for dampening the sheets, but as you've learned to wake with him in these situations, you always shush him and suggest he take a warm shower while you switch the sheets out for lovely warm ones

echo in a towel. you insist he makes you hot and bothered, and he does believe you every time you say it. he's starting to believe it, and by god you're helping his self esteem more and more each time he stays with you

before he deploys with the batch on a mission, he sits and stares at you, hand cupping your cheek, eyes flickering back and forth between your own

he likes to drink all of you in while he has the chance, and if ever he's thirsty, all he has to do is remember you

you're the last thing he wants to remember if ever he's faced with something anywhere close to Skako again.

"Ner mesh'la... I'll come back for your eyes alone. wait for me, please"

Crosshair

Where to begin?

Nightmare. he can be like having a teen in your home sometimes. snarky comments and sarcasm up the wazoo, but each one of them threatens to get you riled up

he's not the cleanest, but he will keep things in order a majority of the time, helping out with moving things and taking the bins out whenever you need, just so he can keep tabs on you

sharp shooters have sharp eyes, and his are trained like a hawk on you

he isn't the most affectionate, mostly expressing his love to you through teasing and sarcasm.

he likes commenting on your height, or making remarks on your handiwork with whatever you might be doing, though he never intends to be rude about it

sometimes when he's had an iffy day, or he's out of sorts, he'll wander up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, before he nose dives into your neck

he never does much without your explicit consent, but does cast glances often

let's face it. he does not care about what he's wearing around you. including nothing

"Cross- can you please at least put your briefs on?"

"Can you please keep your eyes off me? Cyar'ika, I thought you knew better."

sleeping goes as follows; if you want to spoon, he'll spoon, and hug you close in his sleep

if you want to lay on your back, your chest becomes free real estate.

oh, those are some comfy looking pillows you have there. big, small, or nothing at all, it's a pillow, and it's his

head on chest, hand on waist, absolute KO. he is not waking up

Cross, on the odd occasion, can feel vulnerable around you. when he's away from his work, he'll talk to you about some of the things that happened, and he knows you'll listen to every word, which he can't express his appreciation for

while you're not allowed to touch his rifle, he'll let you sit by him while he cleans it. in fact, he'll appreciate the company. he always does

"I'm off, cyare. Behave while I'm gone, and we won't have problems."

What a tease

#the bad batch #tbb x reader #bad batch x you #the clone wars #fluff #headcannons #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader #crosshair x reader

505 notes · View notes

desafinado · 1 year

Text

(don't tell me) she needs him

kaeya only ever wants to see you happy

°｡⋆ kaeya x gn!reader (brief diluc x reader)

°｡⋆ friends to lovers, angst to fluff, rejection, kaeya calls you dear a LOT, heartbreaker diluc, happy ending, 2.2k words why.

notes: hmm, just the idea of the charming cavalry captain (who has no cavalry /lh) pining over someone who cannot even imagine him falling for them… yes, yes i concur… ik its such a cliche trope but ive been feeling angsty (but wanted comfort rip) also the title is inspired by she needs him by hers (rip i love them sm ;-;)

THUD

the slam of the door catches kaeya slightly off guard and interrupts his conversation with lisa. lisa’s eyes follow the figure hurriedly passing behind kaeya as kaeya sighs tiredly; lisa smirks looking back at kaeya once she’s sure the figure is out of earshot.

“it seems that someone needs your advice more than me, right now” she chuckles softly. kaeya closes his eyes and sighs, pausing for a moment before speaking up.

“easy for you to say… i feel like throwing up whenever i advise them on how to approach their little crush.”

lisa giggles as she pats kaeya’s back and nudges him in the direction you went. “oh come on, maybe it’ll be different this time? and i know you want to help them.” kaeya slowly nods and reluctantly walks towards you. you're in front of the romance section, intently looking through each and every book; you're so preoccupied you don't even realize kaeya's quiet footsteps.

"what's gotten you in such a frenzy?" you can hear the kind concern in his voice as he gently lays a hand on your shoulder. you sigh, closing your eyes and turning to face him.

"i was talking to him, and he told me he borrowed a book from the library ages ago. A romantic novel…" you trail off and kaeya sits down at a nearby table.

"he chuckled because he remembered he had left a bookmark in it. he had rushed to return it on time, thus he never actually finished it and the bookmark was left behind." you continue browsing through the books' spines for any sign of the title. kaeya's lips curve upward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"and you want to borrow it for him? tell him how it ends? is that it?"

you pause, pulling a book out of the shelf. you place it onto the table with a small thump, some dust particles floating off. you sit from across kaeya and roll your eyes.

"no… on the contrary, i wanted to see it for myself since he spoke so highly of it."

you flip through the pages, landing on the one that has a bookmark signed with diluc's initials. kaeya rolls his eyes at your response.

"please, you would do anything to see him smile, much more a chuckle."

you look up at him for a second; he has a knowing look on his face, one you're all too familiar with. you purse your lips into a straight line, regaining your composure. "okay, maybe so… but what are going to do? stop me from reading a book?"

kaeya shakes his head and slowly takes my hand away from the book, gently closing it. "no, no, however…" he gets up and stands behind you. "what-"

he rests his hands on your shoulder, gently massaging you. "would you not rather tell him you like him? instead of beating around the bush? following him like a lost puppy?" silence washes over the both of you as you pause to think. he does have a point, but maybe you're a masochist that enjoys the slow burn. you gently shake your head and look up at him, his soft smile and longing gaze greeting you.

"no, i don't think i would" you frown, knowing he's right. you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

"i know he doesn't like me that way, kaeya. i don't want to ruin whatever it is we have right now, even if it means that i-"

"that you'll continue being lovesick over him?" kaeya tsks continuing to work on the knot on your shoulder. "you need to get some closure, dear. it might hurt but at least it won't last forever." you look back down, fiddling with your fingers.

"i know you're right"

"mhm."

"but…"

"no buts."

kaeya smirks cheekily, finally taking his hands off your shoulders. you take a deep breath before looking back up at him. you know you can trust him with anything, you can always rely on him to accept you for all that you are, so you just tell him straight-up. "i've just never been so scared in my life, kaeya. it makes me feel so… he makes me feel so…"

kaeya raises an eyebrow, standing by your side. "and that, my dear, is precisely why barbatos gave us the gift of alcohol." you hit him playfully, your mind still swirling with all the ways a confession could go wrong. “i hate you.” he shakes his head, chuckling quietly.

“look at this way, you can't change anyone’s fate, but your own…” he pauses, looking deep into your eyes, as though he was sincerely speaking from his own heart and soul. “your regrets will only be yours to carry, so you might as well take aim.”

you can’t help but blush under his intense gaze and wise words; you swallow thickly, sharply inhaling. “i..i’ll think about it. i’m meeting him tonight anyway… weekly meetup… a-and such..” you stutter out and stand up. safe to say, kaeya’s words left a heavy impact, making you feel a sense of dread looming over. kaeya takes his hand in yours and squeezes it gently, snapping out of your trance-like state. you let your eyes gaze deep into his, allowing a moment of sincerity.

“i just want to see you happy, you know that right?” he beams at you, though a hidden sadness lurks behind it, something you can only faintly see.

“and… my doors will be always open for you, whether for celebration or consolation.”

“i’m sorry. i hope you can understand.”

you feel as though the life has been taken out of your soul, the walls closing in and your vision blurring. you knew it was coming, you were ninety percent sure of it, yet nothing could prepare you for the pounding in your head and knife twisting in your heart.

“i do… i really do.”

you try to hold in the tears threatening to spill, not wanting diluc to see you in such a state. he looks so apologetic, so sorry, as if you were a stray kitten he found on a rainy day. you close your eyes and take a deep breathe, feeling the night’s cool breeze against your skin.

“i’d rather you be honest than pity me after all, right?” you laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood. he continues staring at you silently, and you really can’t make out what emotion it is. pity? disgust? disappointment? whatever it is, you can’t stand it. he sharply inhales before shaking his head.

“i think we should… you should get home.” he sighs softly, moving to place a hand on your shoulder, but before he can touch your skin you flinch away from him.

“d-don’t touch me, p-please.” you slowly back away from him.

“i don’t mean to-”

“i know. you never do.” you let out a shaky breath, realizing you had been holding it this whole time. “you don’t have any bad intentions, i know this much, diluc. just… i can handle myself.” you continue backing away from him.

“i don’t think that’s safe… you’re really emotional right now, you might do something you regret.”

“you don’t know me.” i announce sternly, hiding the shakiness in my voice. your hand trembles ever so slightly, your emotions starting to get the best of you.

“you’re making stupid decision after stupid decision, you really must-”

“yes, because loving you was a stupid decision, diluc, i get it.” you can practically feel the venom in your words, as though it was seeping into your bloodstream. you stomp away from him, not looking back even when he calls out for you.

your head fuzzy and throbbing, you’re surprised you can make it all the way home in one piece. you try to gather yourself, before twisting the key and stepping inside. you’re back in the familiar warmth of your own home, except for the blueberry haired man sitting on your couch, reading the book you had borrowed from the library. he instantaneously notices your presences and looks up at your face, cheeks littered with tears stains and eyes strained and puffy.

“oh dear..”

he puts the book down and gets up to be by your side. once you feel his arms around you, you let yourself fall and melt into his embrace. he helps you onto the couch, letting your head lay sideways on his lap as he strokes your hair.

“i..” he pauses for a moment, not wanting to risk you feeling any worse. “i figured, whatever happened, you’d forget about me… so it wouldn’t hurt to wait for you here.” he speaks over your faint sobs that cause you to shake ever so slightly.

“you know me far too well.” a small smile makes its way onto your face, yet the tears don’t stop flowing down your face. “why, kaeya? why does it hurt so much?” you ask staring back up into his concerned eyes.

“it happens, dear. we’re only human.”

you continue sobbing, its the only sound in the living room. kaeya calmly continues stroking your hair, and moves on to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“just like ripping off a bandage, dear. let it all out.”

and so let it out you do, you spend the next hour or so letting your misery spill out in the form of floods of tears and heartfelt words. kaeya is by your side the whole time, caressing your skin, trying his best to make you feel the warmth of his affection. by the end of it, you're straddling him as he hugs you close to his chest, still stroking your hair all this time.

“i don’t know why i couldn’t steel myself, kaeya..” you bury your face into his shoulder, taking in his scent. you can’t help but feel so safe and snug under his touch, as though it was where you were always meant to be.

“feelings are irrational, they aren’t something you can just prepare for, dear.” he rubs circles on your back as your cries finally start to subside. “if it’s any consolation, i’m very proud of you.”

you pause to look up at him curiously, your eyes are still sore and your face messy, but its clear he has piqued your interest. “oh? and why is that?”

“it’s simple, you've got closure, you’ve made your feelings clear. it’s something even i struggle with.”

“i doubt that… how could you give me such fearless advice then?”

“i gave you the advice i only wish i could follow, what i wish i had the courage to do.” his lips curve upwards, as he moves to caress your cheek. his touch is soft and cold against your warm skin.

“what if… i told you to do the same?” you stare deep into his eyes, waiting for a response. kaeya pauses, and puts his hands around your waist.

“what ever do you mean, dear?”

“i’ve followed your advice… and though, yes i felt its sting through and through, but i do agree i think my heart feels a lot less heavier thanks to you” you gently cup his cheek entranced by the way he looks at you with so much care. “as you have, i will also be there for you in celebration and/or consolation” i chuckle softly, repeating his words from earlier in the day.

kaeya lets out a shaky breath, seeing how you have turned the tables on him. “i… are you sure about that?” he confirms with you, trying to find any hint of insincerity or hypocrisy in your voice, any excuse for him not to face his feelings. you nod slowly, not trusting your words.

“then… it’s you. i love you, dear.”

you gasp for a moment feeling a flood of tears threaten to burst out. you didn’t realize this whole time that kaeya had cared that deeply for you, but much like your previous affections, you should’ve seen it coming.

“oh my god, kaeya, i…”

“i know, it’s not the best time and you still aren’t completely o-”

you capture his lips in yours, pressing softly. he’s taken aback, but he certainly isn’t going to let this moment go to waste. you both stay like that for a moment more, just taking comfort in one another’s desires, and moment later, you’re the first to pull away.

“i-i’m so sorry, kaeya. i’m an absolute dunce for not noticing sooner.” once again, tears begin to flow down your cheeks, but this time you feel like you can breathe easier. kaeya chuckles, wiping your tears away, tracing circles on your skin. “it’s quite alright, dear. i’m a coward for not admitting it sooner; however, you’re not just pitying me are you?” he pulls you closer, feeling like you might just disappear if he lets you go.

“no, no… i just… it just occurred to me that you were the only one i needed all along.” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “i… shouldn’t have ever taken you for granted, you’re the one i can’t live without… i…” kaeya lightly presses a finger against your lips, giving you that same knowing look he always has.

“semantics tomorrow, love. can we just stay like this for now?”

you feel ever warmer at his new nickname, you could definitely get used to it. you settle your hands around his neck and lean close nodding.

“i would like that… yes, please.” your lips form a small, but genuine smile as he presses his lips onto yours once more.

feedback/comments are appreciated!!

though, genshin impact and it's characters don't belong to me, please do not repost.

#kaeya imagines #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin x reader #fluff #angst #genshin imagines #genshin impact #kaeya fluff #blue

100 notes · View notes

projecthipster · 1 year

Text

A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway

"A Moveable Feast" by Valerie Suter, from her authors series. Left to right are Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, James Joyce, and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” - Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

"Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin / Ils donnent de la joie ou bien du chagrin" - Camille, "Le Festin" (Ratatouille Original Soundtrack)

Technically this wasn’t the first Hemingway I ever read. There’s been a few short stories, decent ones, out of a collection that’s still sitting on my shelf that I haven’t finished. But this was the first Hemingway book I’ve read cover to cover, and maybe it was a strange one to to start with. A Movable Feast could be thought of as both the beginning and the end of Hemingway’s story. Written at the end of his life in the 1960s and published posthumously, this is a memoir that nonetheless throws back to the beginnings of his career, living in Paris in the 1920s and struggling to be recognized as a writer, even among a community of some of the greatest literary and artistic names of the 20th century. James Joyce was in Paris at the same time. Ezra Pound, who was only just starting to be a complete fascist, was among the circle that met at Gertrude Stein’s house salon. And perhaps most notably of all, F. Scott Fitzgerald was just then publishing a little book of no acclaim, written in Paris but set in and all about New York, called The Great Gatsby.

For all the weight of the literary figures that fill its pages though, and that fill the left bank cafés and weary old streets of Hemingway’s nostalgic recollections, A Movable Feast isn’t a weighty read. It’s light, romantic in the archaic sense of the word, airy, almost cozy. It hums with saudade like a trumpet in a Montmarte jazz club. Certainly Hemingway’s consciously minimalist style, the most well-known hallmark of his writing, plays a part. As if to remind the reader of this, the first story tells simply of Hemingway’s daily quest to write a few good pages in a good café, and here he delivers some really great writing motivation: “write one true sentence.” And then do it again, because there will always come another sentence that the discerning writer can know is simple and true. But the lightness comes too from the fact that these years of bohemian bonhomie seem filled, through the filter of pen and page, with goings-on of little consequence but great value. The reader wants more than anything to be living the life portrayed in this book, to drink well and eat well and live in small apartments and share brilliant writing among a group of friends who are all brilliant writers, to be poor but happy in a world that stands apart from hustle and stress. Because isn’t that the hipster ideal? Of course, one has to question how true all of this was, being recollected through la-vie-en-rose-coloured glasses decades later. Or one doesn’t, if one prefers to simply take the chocolate as it rolls.

It’s been a couple of years since I read A Moveable Feast, and to be honest, a lot of the actual plot and happenings, or rather, hippenings, of Hemingway’s vignettes and short stories have faded. I know it started in that café, and then there were trips to salons and restaurants. I recall that there was a trip to a racetrack over the course of which Hemingway and his wife realized that what either of them can say and what they mean to convey can never be fully reconciled, and they worried about that fact until they came home, drank some wine, and concluded that that’s simply the human condition, and it renders everyone a fascinating mystery, so why worry about it? This all took place during a false spring when goat milk peddlers drove their herds through the streets of Paris, which makes the reader think, is any understanding we can gain of each other merely a false spring that we cling to because in the moment it's as good as the real thing? And if it is ephemeral, does that matter, when in the end everything is? And I remember that the book ended in the Alps, on one of the very original ski holidays, which as a skier a hundred years later, I loved. In between scenes of wide-open slopes and warm chalets, there’s a mention of a man killed from his neck being worn right through by the friction of an avalanche, as if to say, don’t forget, the dream exists among death. Just years before this recollection, this halcyon city of light was a place of war and fire, of the same war and fire that unmoored us all from the steady paths of violent industrial civilization and led us to seek this quiet life of secret glamour instead. And the hipster reading today, or in the glory days of the 21st-century hipster that’ve just barely passed us by, might feel the same way, and want to seek the same path away from the age of Covid and Trump and the failings of late capitalism, or, if we’re talking retroactively, of falling towers and George Bush and war in the desert and the Great Recession that seems routine now but was such an unmooring in 2008. That’s why the 1920s were an age of one kind of hipster, the 2000s and early 10s another, and we may be due for another. But back to Hemingway.

For all that rambling last paragraph trying to recall what happened in this book, what happened was never really the point. What lingers in memory is the feel of it all and the characters that populate the stories. I remember images conjured in my head of a 1920s convertible driving with a lost top, soaking in the rain through the fields of Champagne, complete with the smell of mud and lavender. I remember Gertrude Stein as the paradox she seems in Hemingway’s recollection: an iron woman of great softness, matron of a house where everyone was welcome, but you’d be on the street in an instant if you called her a mother; an open, almost evangelical lesbian who nonetheless thought that male homosexuality, specifically, was abhorrent. The text doesn’t judge these figures with their odd views. That’s left to the reader. Hemingway’s just observing; a part of what Stein eternally dubs the “lost generation,” but at the same time, its chronicler in a future much changed. As Hemingway’s Lost Generation friend Scotty Fitzgerland would famously write of his own narrator, he was within and without.

I give this hipster book five wine-soaked living room literature conversations out of five

Project Hipster is a futile and disorganized attempt to dive into the world of things that the internet has at some point claimed "are hipster," mostly through ListChallenges search results.

This review comes from the first list, Hipster Lit: If You Haven't Read 'em, Pretend You Have.

Stay deck.

#a moveable feast #hemingway #ernest hemingway #paris #1920s #books #literature #hipster

3 notes · View notes

the-wardens-torch · 9 months

Text

Daltamar

((Fal’s about 16-17 here, nearing the end of his time living with Alain and his family in Little Ala Mhigo. Here’s that Ao3 link again.))

“We’re almost there.” Alain said, bounding halfway up a sandy, rocky hill.

Falerin followed in sullen silence a few fulms behind, annoyed at the fact that they were still out in the middle of the day. It was past 12 bells now and the sun was at its height. His boots were filled with sand, and the back of his head itched from sweat, dirt and insect bites.

“I’d say you’ve got us lost, but you’re so bloody determined! What in seven hells is out here anyway?” Falerin shouted after his friend.

“Just come up here!” Alain said, continuing to climb. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so out of breath if you stopped talking so much!”

“Godsdammit Al, can you just fucking tell me what we’re doing before I break my ass?” Fal snapped, nearly losing his balance as the sand shifted underneath his feet. “I thought we agreed not to travel during this part of the day anyway. We should have stayed in Ul‘Dah until sundown.”

“No, this is something you‘re going to want to see. Promise.“ Al had stopped on a small shelf of rock near the top of the hill. “Notice anything different here?”

“What, did the sun get bigger?” Fal said dryly.

Alain turned around and held his hand up. Fal held his tongue for a moment, expecting Alain to make some other sort of inane quip, but it never came. What did come was a low, almost thrumming sound, and he couldn’t tell if it was inside of his head or out. It was either the blood rushing behind his ears, or…

Silently, Alain bounded the rest of the way up the hill. When he reached the top, he merely beckoned, remaining silent as a grin spread across his face. Suddenly invigorated by curiosity, Fal followed him. As he crested the hill, he stared blankly into the distance for a moment before shading his eyes with his hand. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his eyes all of a sudden. This wouldn’t have been the first time he’d thought he’d seen a ribbon of blue incongruously hanging on the horizon.

“Is that the godsdamned ocean?!” Fal exclaimed.

“You should know! You’ve spent a lot more time with it than I have! Its just a bunch of water as far as you can see, isn‘t it?” Alain said mischievously, exuberantly throwing his arms in the air. But Fal barely heard him.

How he’d missed it. He walked forward and let its mere presence overtake him; the merciful, amorphous blue-green of it soothing his eyes. Eyes that had been scraped and scorched by the unfamiliar yellows and reds of the desert for far too long. He could have gone blind on this sight and been happy.

“Don‘t get too close though.” Alain said, gently grabbing Fal’s arm.

Briefly returning to reality, Fal realized that this was as far as he could go. As much as he wanted to let this all wash over him, figuratively and literally, he was now standing on a very tall, very sheer cliff. For a moment, his soul seemed to strain against the confines of his body. It wanted so badly to be in that endless blue that Fal half-wondered if he would have blissfully plunged to his death if not for Alain’s timely grip. It must have been a hundred fulms down if it were an ilm.

“Gods…I missed this more than I ever knew.” Fal said as he plopped himself unceremoniously in the sand and continued to stare.

“I haven’t been here in a dog’s age. The view’s the only thing that’s really worth coming for. But it sure is a view, isn’t it?” Alain said, sitting cross-legged next to his friend.

“Definitely not what I was expecting.” Fal raised his head and sniffed.

Obligingly, the wind picked up, delivering the comforting scent of the ocean he’d missed for so long. The air of the desert was empty and dry. It sapped his strength along with his spit, tears and everything else he could think of. He wanted it out of his lungs, at least for a moment, to replace it with the saline tang of seaweed and flotsam. The briny petrichor of sea spray on rocks. It was delicious.

But this was unlike the ocean he knew from back home. He stood up again and went on tiptoe, craning his neck around like a wary shorebird as he tried to spot a ribbon of beach or an inviting little cove. But as far as he could see, its was just those cliffs all around. Even if he could get into the water somehow, the tide was coming in, and the thick sea foam spoke of many large, sharp rocks just below the surface.

“Not even the saltiest old Mhigans can scale those cliffs though.” Alain said, seemingly having read Fal‘s mind.

“No… no… I guess not.” Fal crumpled down to the ground again.

He clutched at handfuls of the sand absent-mindedly, not as conscious of the movement of his hands as he was of the sand itself, abrasive and desiccating, sticking to the sweat on his palms. The ground was hard against his skinny hips, and his feet were already swollen from having walked here in boots he‘d outgrown. Terrestrial life suddenly felt crushingly heavy and obtrusive. He wanted the weightless slickness of water to overtake him, embrace him. To hide him from the horrors of light and heat under a dark, cold blanket. Where he’d never have to pay homage to the tyrannical sun and its followers. His eyes hurt, his feet hurt, his heart hurt, everything hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut against what promised to be a flood of tears.

“I’d like to swim in it someday, even if I have to hike all the way to Vesper Bay. But is that even the same ocean?”

Fal opened his eyes. He’d come to learn that this sort of chatter was just Alain’s way of pulling him out of the self-pitying little reveries he’d been prone to slipping into ever since he stumbled into Little Ala Mhigo… Away from the rejection of his mother and her tribe. Had it been one summer ago? Two? He couldn’t remember. Or didn’t want to. However long it had been, Alain had done this for him since the first day they met. He let a melancholy smile cross his face.

“The same ocean, Al? What kind of question is that? Either you’re dumber than a sunway dodo or you’re the wisest person who ever lived.” Fal said, giving Alain an affectionate shove.

“No, really! How should I know? I can’t even swim. the biggest thing I’ve gotten to swim in is a washtub, and when was the last time you even saw me in one of those?”

Fal scoffed and shook his head flippantly. “Much as I’d love to make a joke about you smell like the south end of a westbound chocobo or how I don‘t think I‘ve ever even seen your real skin color for all the dirt, its no fun if you walk right into it like that.”

“No, really! Da even tells me that the family’s full of sailors. And I can’t swim! How damned stupid is that? That’s even where we got our last name.” Alain raised his hand to eye level, pressing his thumb and forefinger together. “Daltamar. De-alta-mar.” he said, moving his hand a bit with each syllable as if conducting a symphony. “Its supposed to mean ‘of the high seas.’ ”

“Really…? Huh.”

Fal directed his gaze out on the ocean again, thinking about all the sailors that had passed through his home over his childhood years living in the Cieldalaes. He’d forgotten most of them, but one didn’t generally ask the names of the clients at an establishment like the Fox and Shrew anyway. But they did have a few things in common worth mentioning.

“Well, if you wanna be a sailor, you’d better start drinking hard and learning all the curse words you can. I knew one sailor who could down a keg the size of a Lalafell, and then tell you fifty different things you could call your member without even stuttering… and he was one of the nice ones. ”

“Heh, I guess the curse words won’t be hard to learn around the likes of you at least.”

Fal turned back to Alain and took on a serious expression as he raised one finger and looked down it as if accusing Alain of some terrible crime.

“You’re damn fucking right they won’t, and you can bet your wedding tackle on it.”

For just a moment, the sound of their uproarious laughter was even louder than the sea.

((File this one under “not quite happy with it and it might have some errors, but if I look at it anymore I’m gonna go blind.” This whole story was inspired by this song, which is one of the most joyful things I’ve ever heard. I also like to think that the southwest coast of Thanalan looks a bit like the south american cliffs in the video too… I grew up on the coast and have more than a few sailors in my family tree, and I can attest to the fact that missing the ocean is a whole body sensation unlike any other. ))

#my writing #Falerin Arcita #Alain Daltamar #final fantasy XIV fanfiction

1 note · View note

shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

946 notes · View notes

chimielie · 3 years

Text

champagne

summary: Kuroo x Reader. He proposes. You say no.

word count: 3.6k

cw: engagement, angst with a happy ending, reader is kind of a hot mess, drinking, throwing up, swearing, self-deprecating thoughts.

a/n: this blog is where i project all my commitment issues onto y/n and their fake volleyboy husband. as always, pls lmk if there’s a mistake bc i genuinely cannot bear to read this

You’re not stupid.

You would have to be to miss the signs, honestly. Tetsurō has been tiptoeing around you for weeks, insisting on watching rom-coms that have hardly been an institution in your relationship up till now. He squeezes your hand a little harder than usual at the end, when one lead bends down on one knee and the other nods yes, a million times, yes. You’ve noticed your father’s contact popping up on Tetsu’s phone screen a lot more often than ever before. You’ve definitely noticed the blue velvet box sitting on the highest shelf in the kitchen, ordinarily obscured by a grocery bag that happens to have turned very, very translucent in the lamplight when you were hunting for a late-night snack at two A.M.

You’re not stupid, so the way your heart drops— you can hear the organ splashing into your stomach acid— when Tetsurō gets down on one knee shocks you as much as the proposal doesn’t.

He’s talking, reminiscing with misty eyes and crooked smile on your relationship, on what have been some of the best days of your life, of what today should be. You can hardly hear him through the blood pounding in your ears, the hot sting in your eyes, the emptiness of your lungs. Your breathing is coming faster and faster, and you blink, images dancing on the back of your eyelids— every heartbreak you’ve ever witnessed, every marriage you know didn’t work out, every fear you’ve carried like weights just beneath your skin since you were small. When you open your eyes he’s staring at you expectantly, his nervous hyena laughter dying out, echoing around the venue.

The setting is perfect, the speech, you’re sure, was perfect, he’s perfect. You stand, clothed in finery that suddenly feels far too constrictive despite how often you’ve worn the very same design as a proud significant other on Tetsurō’s arm, in the center of a dome that opens up to the sky, only glass separating you and the velvet-dark sky studded with stars. Greenery crowds out of the walls, the riot of flora interrupted occasionally with statues and ornate mirrors. The food, or what little you ate as your nerves increased gradually during dinner, was excellent. It’s gorgeous and scenic and so expensive, a display of how much Tetsurō can provide for you, even if it’s only symbolic. It’s perfect.

But you’re broken.

That’s all you can think as you stare down at your boyfriend, at the ring sparkling in its box, a flush creeping over his face. I thought I was ready, but— but— and then your brain floods you with visions of him, angry, of you, crying, of you, split up. You’ve never wanted anything less.

“Love?” Tetsurō is looking up at you with the soft adoration and trust he’s always looked at you with, but you can see fear in the corners of his eyes, of a persistent pull upward of his eyebrows. You can’t do it. You can’t say yes— you’re broken— but you can’t say no. You can’t bring yourself to break him into bits the way you know it will. You know not saying anything is tantamount to a refusal, but your panicked brain isn’t supplying you with anything better. “Say something, please, you’re making me nervous.”

You stare at him, and there’s electricity racing over your skin and a piercing pain in your chest. You love him so much it hurts.

“I don’t feel well,” you choke, and then you run, dashing for the exit and praying that you’ll bump into a bathroom so you can bring yourself down from the edge of a panic attack before you see him again.

When you walk out, face damp from the cool water you splashed over it, gait wobbly, he’s waiting for you with the car, ready to take you home. The drive is short and long, silent and tense. You fiddle with your fingers, peel at your fingernails. He reaches out and grabs your hand to stop you. He hasn’t looked at you, but he knows you so well. You feel sick again.

When you get home, you shuck off your shoes without incident, hang up your coat. Normally, your shared home with Tetsurō is full of noise, the sound of pans clattering, the echo of your mixed laughter, the low buzz of the movies you fall asleep on top of him during. It’s a home.

Right now, it’s a house, with two strangers occupying it.

“Y/N,” he says, and he’s trying to make it sound as sensitive and quiet as possible. The gentleness is too much for you, the tenderness breaking you open and spilling your guts on the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Tetsu,” you sob, and fall into his open arms. “I,” and you can’t get past that. There’s no air in your lungs, or maybe it’s because your face is buried in his shirt.

“Sh,” he says, brushing a large hand over your hair. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay, honey, it’s okay.”

You fall asleep quickly, half-clothed because you’re just too tired to do it right, but it’s restless. You notice when you wake up, groggy and much earlier than usual, that he’s clinging to you, his grip almost bruising, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. You turn in his hold, and he pulls you impossibly closer. You pet his hair and rub his back in soothing circles with your thumb until you drift off again.

The next few days are— strange, to say the least. On the surface everything is normal. You pack him lunch in the morning and kiss him goodbye as he leaves for work; you come home from your own job to him cooking dinner on the stove. You make small talk; talk too small for a relationship of many years. You can’t get it off your mind, and you assume he can’t either. Being rejected must feel a thousand times worse than rejecting him was, and that already sucked shit. Every time you try to talk to him about it, to explain yourself, he puts you off with a warm hug and a murmured “We don’t have to talk yet, don’t worry.” But his work days get longer, and you can’t watch rom-coms anymore, and you still wake up to his desperate touch, like he’s unconsciously trying to keep you as close as he’s trying to distance himself during the day.

The first time he calls you to tell you he’ll be sleeping at Bokuto’s, you’re nervous. You can understand that it’s closer to the office, that he needs that edge, and that he likely needs space, but you can’t help the voice whispering in the back of your mind that he’s not at Bo’s, he’s with someone else, he wants someone more whole and unafraid and loving than you can be. You try to tamp it down, but it’s still there, wriggling and writhing at the edge of your consciousness.

He comes home the next day, bearing the baked goods Akaashi always insists on giving visitors, and you relax. Two days later, he calls again, and again you worry. The third time, he stays away for a couple days, and you pray he ignores the dark circles beneath your eyes when he returns. The fourth time, you convince yourself that you’re used to it.

The fifth time, Bokuto calls you.

“Hi, Y/N!” He says, and your lips turn up in a smile at the sound of your friend’s voice, always cheerful and uplifting.

“Hey, Bo,” you respond. “Everything okay over there?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. There’s frantic whispering you can’t quite make out. “Your boyfriend’s drunk, come pick him up.”

“I don’t know if he wants that,” you laugh nervously. It’s a Wednesday. Tetsu never drinks on weekdays, and he rarely drinks enough to get drunk.

“Then explain why he’s been asking for you,” Bokuto says, and it’s a little jolt of warmth to know that Tetsurō still thinks of you. You think of how, a mere couple of weeks ago, you had considered your relationship strong and healthy and full of life, and now the two of you just seem to keep getting sadder and sadder and calling it love.

“How bad is it?” You’re a little afraid, again, and you slap yourself mentally, embarrassed at how cowardly you feel.

“Please,” and it’s Akaashi’s voice now, mellow and steady. “He’s being such a little bitch.”

You giggle, knowing that Akaashi almost always only swears casually after a couple glasses of alcohol, and grab your keys.

“I’ll be there soon.”

During the drive over, you manage to psych yourself out yet again. You think of drunken outbursts and the liquid courage needed to break up with you, and your back hunches like you’re trying to hide even though there’s nobody in the car with you.

You knock meekly on Bokuto’s door and listen for the telltale loud thumping as he smacks into walls and trips over lamps on his way to the door. True to form, he answers the door in seconds, out of breath and loud, a huge smile on his face.

“Long time no see!” You let yourself be folded into his big arms, warm and comforting, always open.

“Nice to see you,” you smile at him. “Where’s Tetsurō?”

“Oh, about that,” he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. Your stomach turns violently. “He fell asleep already.”

“Oh, that’s no worry,” you say. “I guess I’ll head back, then.” A soft laugh. You don’t want to go, back to your empty house and cold bed.

“No, no, stay for a little, come in,” Bokuto says, and Bokuto rarely ever asks for things. You walk in, and it’s been a little while since you truly felt like you were in a home. There’s a comfortable order to the chaos of Bokuto’s belongings, a sense of lived-in, loved-in wear to the rooms. You accept a glass of juice and a seat at his kitchen table.

“So you turned down his proposal,” Bokuto says, and you choke on your sip. “He’s been pretty bummed about that, I gotta say.” You imagine that Akaashi, probably asleep like Tetsurō, is scolding him for lack of tact in his dreams.

“I didn’t think I would,” you say quietly. You haven’t figured out how to talk about it to anyone yet. Your parents called, but you skirted the topic.

“He still loves you,” Bokuto says, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Bo, I don’t—”

“He does. That’s why he’s here all the time. If you don’t want him, he’s trying to make it easier on you to kick him out.”

“I didn’t know,” you say dumbly. The fan overhead is a soft buzz in the background. Chills race up your arms. “I still want him.”

“I figured,” Bokuto says. “You sound like it.”

“I didn’t say no because of him,” you look down. “I can’t believe he thinks that.”

“Tetsu’s a smart guy. He thinks a lot of things. He’s also kind of a dumbass.”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Your dumbass.” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you laugh, loud and clear. For a moment, the weight on your chest and the flowers in your lungs recede. You remember everything you love about being with Tetsurō, the love that makes things easy.

“I don’t know why I said no.” Bokuto says nothing, only takes a long swig of his drink and waits for you to continue. “I’ve seen a lot of relationships fall apart, and a lot of marriages. I knew he was gonna ask, but when it came to it, I folded.” You bow your head in shame. “I ran away because I thought the anxiety would go away when the moment happened, and it didn’t. He didn’t magically make me unafraid. I don’t think Tetsu would hurt me, but I can’t help asking myself what if, you know?”

“Well, that’s silly,” Bokuto says, and you blink at him in surprise, your hackles rising. “Love can be an at-first-sight-thing, but relationships are work. It’s the love that makes it worth it.”

“That’s… really wise, Bo,” you say in surprise. “Have you been reading couple’s therapy books?”

“I’m just that smart,” he tells you, and you grin.

You’ve just finished your glass when two hands land heavy on your shoulders, and you relax into their familiar feel.

“Y/N,” Tetsurō says, pulling you to your feet and cuddling you to his chest. “Missed ya.” His voice is sleep-rough and slurred, so you can tell the alcohol hasn’t worked its way out of his system.

“Hi,” you say affectionately, reaching up to cup his face.

“Bedtime,” he says firmly.

“Night, Bo!” You call, watching the big man wave at you as you’re dragged out of the kitchen and to the spare bedroom, where your boyfriend collapses on top of you, yawning into your skin.

“Mm, bedtime,” he says. You squirm out from beneath him and arrange yourself in a more comfortable position, still touching him as much as possible. “I missed you so much, but you came to see me!”

“Of course I did,” you say softly. “I’m always here for you, you know that.”

“No,” he shakes his head childishly. “Been scared, beloved, thought you were gonna leave. Don’t go,” he begs. “I love you.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “And I love you more.”

His only response is a soft snore.

As you observe him in the moonlight— your heart, fluttering like a trapped bird, won’t let you sleep— you think about what Bokuto said. Relationships are work. You think about how you’ve chosen to love Tetsu, chosen him again and again and been chosen in return, and how love is a series of steps toward each other. You’ve been walking, you think, and with a gulp of cool air, you feel your heart settle, still beating a little harder whenever your eyes pass over his handsome face. You want to run.

You wake when he does, mostly because he jolts violently and makes a sound of surprise.

“We’re at Bo’s,” you grumble, turning over and trying to return to the best sleep you’ve had since the proposal. “I came to pick you up and ended up staying the night.”

“Oh,” he says, and it’s childish and soft. “I feel unwell.”

Because you love him, you drag yourself out from beneath the sheets and to the bathroom, where you rub his back as he vomits and support him as he sways while rinsing out his mouth.

“You didn’t have to come,” he tells you as you bid Bokuto and Akaashi goodbye.

“Don’t be silly, of course I did. I wanted to.”

“If you’re sure,” he mumbles, and then: “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Tetsurō,” you say. “We should probably talk, though. Is there any chance you can take the day off? You still look a little sick.”

“‘M fine,” he says, looking away from you. “You take your car home and I’ll go to work.”

“Please?” You ask, and looking at your pleading eyes, he caves. “Fine. I’ll go in later.”

That suits your purposes.

Again, the car ride is awkward and devoid of sound beyond clearing of throats and occasional light sniffling. Your own clarity doesn’t extend to his, but you've dragged him into your issues, and you regret it sorely.

You pull into the driveway, parking the car, and before you can exit, Tetsurō reaches out to wrap a hand around your wrist.

“So what did you want to talk about?” In the morning light, he looks like shit, like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he’s been trying to work himself to death. There’s pain and desperation poorly concealed in his brown eyes, and you can freely admit it hurts to know you put it there.

“Uh, Bo told me you thought I wanted to leave you,” you say, and then mentally smack yourself for starting so ominously. “But I don’t! I don’t want to break up, at all.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “That’s good.”

“If you want to,” you say, nervous. “I understand. That is totally on the table.” He tries to interrupt, but you push through, afraid that if you stop you won’t speak again. “I’ve put you through a lot these past couple weeks, and I just want to explain myself before we come to any conclusions. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and a familiar smirk is tugging at his mouth. “I don’t want to break up, by the way.”

“Good,” you breathe, and you knew it but it’s so good to hear him say. “I knew you were going to propose, and I wanted to say yes— I want to say yes. If you proposed now, I would say yes. I just didn’t realize how much I’d idolized this, like, fairytale romance, where everything would magically click into place. When it didn’t, I was so scared, I thought it would break us, and I never want that. I was,” and that familiar anxiety is choking you again. You swallow it down. “I was scared of our relationship falling apart and it only made things worse. That’s— that’s why I said no.”

“Technically,” Tetsurō points out. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, and suddenly it’s like nothing was ever wrong at all.

A week of bliss later (absence makes the heart grow fonder, and how absent you two were from each other), Tetsurō comes home from work, exhausted and ready to be rejuvenated by a night of relaxation with you, to find you already in the kitchen.

“Ow— shit, shit,” you’re yelping as you grab a hot pan from the oven, dropping it with a clatter on the counter.

“Hey, kitten,” he greets you, and you shriek.

“Why are you home! Welcome home, I mean. Go to your room!” As an afterthought, you add: “And wear something nice!”

You open the door a cool twenty minutes later, wearing the same outfit you had worn that night beneath the glass sky, leaning on your bedroom doorframe.

“Sir,” you say, a small, restrained smile playing on your lips.

“Beloved, what’s going on?” He asks you, but you just turn and lead him down the hall to your dining room, where tall taper candles cast flickering golden light over a (mostly) perfectly done meal, bubbly in glasses, your nicest tablecloth.

“Nothing,” you say, and he casts you a disbelieving look. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he raises his hands, taking a seat. “Wow, this looks good; you spoil me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” you wave it off. “Thank you.”

He waits for a moment. You stare back at him. He raises his fork.

“Wait, no, don’t eat yet,” you panic, grabbing his wrist. He looks down at your hand, arches a brow. You make a sweet, embarrassed noise, and pull it back. “I have something to say.”

“Okay,” he says, and he can’t conceal his smile.

“Kuroo Tetsurō,” you start.

“That’s my name,” he says, and you glare at him.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyway, Tetsu, I’m as in love with you now as I was the day I first met you: so much it scares me. I remember that the first thing I thought when I saw you was I want him so bad. I’ve grown a lot since then— I’ve grown a lot in the last few weeks.”

“So have I,” he murmurs. This time, you just smile softly at him before continuing. You sink to one knee slowly, still maintaining eye contact as you tell him about your relationship from your point of view. You tell him about the ways he’s made you better, that he makes you want to be better. You tell him— again— that the hardships have never been hard because of him, that the peaks have been enhanced because of him. You tell him that you’ve never been so sure of your trust in someone, had someone you could rely on like you can on him. You tell him that you love him more than anyone in the world.

“So,” you breathe, drawing a blue velvet box out of your pocket, clicking it open to reveal a ring, matching the one he bought you in a different size. You crawl forward on your knees, laughing a little at the awkward movement, and reach up with your left hand to wipe the tears off his face, a few of your own sliding off your chin. “Even though I might be a little broken, if you’ll have me, I’ll ask: Tetsurō, baby, beloved, will you marry me?”

The moment isn’t perfect, and your breath comes only unevenly. It’s not a night beneath the stars, surrounded by finery and smothered by expectation.

“Yes,” he says, and then he’s got one hand splayed over your back and the other in your hand, spinning you around. You cling to him, laughing, and then you’re pressing kisses all over his face.

“Y/N,” he says when he steadies the both of you, and his face makes the transition to seriousness. “I don’t want to hear you call yourself broken again. You are human, okay? Human and perfect and Iloveyousomuch.”

“Okay,” you say, and he kisses you, long and slow and tasting like bubbly. “Wait, wait,” you push at his chest. “Hand.”

When you slide the ring onto his fourth finger, it fits just right.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurō x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader

687 notes · View notes

reidsnose · 3 years

Text

love letters

overview: spencer has a wonderful idea after finding out that reader had never gone to her senior prom

genre: fluff fluff fluff

a/n: i mixed two ideas that have been sitting in my notes app for this lol but i think its sweet!! i wrote it a little rushed and definitely not bc im not getting a prom this year due to miss rona👀 LMAO but as always please lmk what yall think ab it :)

masterlist

the idea had fully occupied his thoughts the second after the words left your mouth.

it was "the buttcrack of dawn" as you had called it, though spirits were high on the late jet ride home. it was a rare but much needed positive end to the case, and everyone was happily chatting with each other. since the case was involving high schoolers, the subject fell on prom. everyone went around sharing their prom stories one by one, recalling awful dresses and questionable dates til the questions turned to spencer.

"what ab you, pretty boy, what was your prom like?" morgan asked, still smiling widely from recalling his own.

you watched spencer shift uncomfortably for a second.

"i uh..i never went to prom." he stammered, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"no! you just dont wanna tell us!" prentiss cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"i graduated high school when i was 12! why would i have gone to prom?" he reasoned.

"you had to have gone when you were older or something! everyone has!" jj countered.

"thats not true, i never went to prom either," you defended, subconsciously inching closer to spencer.

before anyone could even ask you to explain why, spencer got the idea. he mentally left the conversation after you gave your answer. he spent the whole rest of the ride home and the next couple of weeks brain storming and planning.

and casually after work one day, as he was walking you to your car, he asked you if you wanted to hang out with him that weekend; at his house.

you and Spencer had hung out before, but mostly at your house or at coffee shops; he didn't invite people over very often.

of course you agreed but you grew confused when he told you to dress fancy.

you raced home afterwards to raid your closet, looking for any fancy dresses you may have stuffed in there.

spencer spent the whole day preparing his apartment. he put up streamers and balloons. he made a playlist of all your favorite songs. and then he rushed to get his clothes from the cleaners.

and when you knocked at his door the breath that left your lungs struggled to come back after he opened the door.

he stood in a gorgeous suit, different than he had ever worn to work. he rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the living room, revealing the adorable (albeit poorly made but its the thought that counts) decorations.

"um.. welcome to prom," he said, turning back to you, revealing a blushy smile.

he tried not to stare too much at you, but it was difficult. your eyes sparkled as you stepped inside and looked around. and the dress you were wearing fit you so gorgeously he truly couldnt take his eyes off of you.

"spencer, i..." you trailed off, enchanted by what he had done.

"sorry if it looks bad. or if you think its weird that i did this. i just thought cause neither of us went to prom maybe you wanted to have a little one with me? yeah now that i say it out loud maybe you hate it im sorr-" he rambled behind you.

you turned quickly to him as he got lost in his words, eyes glued to the floor. cutting him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him as tight as you could. you could feel the tension leave his body as he melted into the embrace, returning it gladly. he doesn't like to be touched by anyone really, except for you.

"i love it. thank you," you whispered, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

he has a spread of snacks lying out on the coffee table which he has mooved to the corner of the room to make space for a makeshift dancefloor.

he turns on the music and you two start talking and dancing and laughing. two fools with four left feet completely and obliviously in love. well, oblivious the the other anyway.

a slower song came on, an old one that you had wanted to slow dance to ever since you were a little girl. and somehow naturally you two came together, his hand dropped to your waist, the other delicately cradling your own. your other hand found its way up to his shoulder, feeling as though a magnet was pulling you two closer. and closer.

he looked absolutely stunning. the soft lights he had strung around the apartment sparkled like stars in his eyes; its was...dizzying, in the most incredible way.

unbeknownst to you, as you stared at the stars in his eyes he was looking at his whole world that he had been somehow lucky enough to hold in his arms.

he held his arm out, allowing you to spin and when he pulled you back both of your arms ended up wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist. you were less dancing now and more...hugging. with your head pressed to his chest, he hoped with all his might that you wouldn't be able to hear his hammering heart. you most definitely could, but it was calming to know he was as nervous as you were. you smiled, listening more to his heart than the music he had played for you.

you were both sure that you could burst from pure bliss. the song ended a little too quickly for either of your liking and reluctantly you let go of each other. and suddenly Spencer was hit with the realization that he forgot something.

"oh my gosh," his eyes widened as he looked around the room.

"what?" you asked, mirroring him and looking as well.

"i can't remember where i left your corsage! i was gonna give it to you at the door but i forgot!" he exclaimed, running around the room checking shelves.

you smiled to yourself. he got you a corsage!

"ill help you look" you decided.

"please do," he chuckled.

"i thought you had an eidetic memory, shouldn't you know where you left it?" you joked, shooting him a smug smile.

"y/n, my brain was all jumbled to day and it wasn't just from being around you," he realized what he had said and quickly turned back to the shelf he was looking at, "could you check in my room please?"

his heart was racing at his own stupidity; how could he just say that so nonchalantly? he had been planning to tell you that he liked you for the longest time he cant afford slipping up and having it be anything less than perfect.

you slipped into his room, your cheeks warm from the idea that you make his big brain all jumbled. he probably didn't mean it like that, you were just looking too much into it.

you sighed as you crouched to look under his bed for it. you found a small wooden box that you slid out from underneath. it had your name on it.

is it normal to keep a corsage in a wooden box? you wouldn't know, you never went to prom.

you shrugged your shoulders, "i found it spence!"

with out thinking you opened the box, except instead of a band of flowers you were greeted with letters, all addressed to you. there were annotations written in the margins with purple ink. you furrowed your eyebrows as you scanned the various letters.

dear y/n,

today you complimented my glasses and my heart skipped a beat. thats dumb spencer dont start like that

dear y/n,

im in love with you. too forward

dear y/n,

you make life worth living. shes gonna think youre a creep

you felt a rush of euphoria fill your chest. did he really feel these things for you? your thoughts swirled in the most wonderful way. a wide smile broke across your face, butterflies running rampage through your stomach as you reread his words. his words addressed to you.

"oh thank God i really thought i lost-oh. oh no." spencer started as he walked through the door of his room immediately walking back out. you followed, blinking your watery eyes at him. "i can explain.

"i think youve explained enough, theres like 20 letters in here!" you chuckled, flipping through them.

"i didnt know how to tell you and i dont want to ruin what we already have and i-"

"it wasnt too forward." you stated, grabbing one of the letters.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"in this one," you held up the letter, "you wrote dear y/n, im in love with you. and then you crossed it out and wrote that it was too forward but i dont think it was."

"youre not mad?"

"mad? spencer ive been trying to admit the fact that im in love with you since i realized it myself, why would i be mad?"

"youre..you feel the same way?" he looked back up at you, a hesitant smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

"more so," you beamed, stepping closer.

he wrapped his arms around you, "thats good or else the rest of this prom would have sucked."

you chuckled, pulling him impossibly closer to you as another perfect song played.

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru @sydneekomspacekru

529 notes · View notes

fictionsmooches · 3 years

Text

PORCO X READER X PIECK

Plot: after a small fight with Porco, Pieck helps (y/n) get Porco jealous, while also having fun with her.

Contains: sweating, degradation, Praia, name calling ‘slut’ whore’ ect.ect., oral sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, lesbian sex, 18+ MDNI

Word count; 3k-ish

Classes had already been out for the day, and with a long weekend around the corner, you were more than ready to get this ‘Porco issue” sorted out. Your whole life felt like it was spent between Pieck and Porco. You three had formed a bond unlike any other. You shared secrets, hopes, and protected each other on and off the battlefield.

“Look (y/n), a small fire lit under his ass wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, he’s been awfully rude to me lately. I wouldn’t mind making him a little jealous myself.” Pieck said.

All week he had been acting funny towards you. A little too funny for your comfort. It all started when you and Pieck decided to hang out without Porco. He had been taking extra lesions from Zeke as of lately, so he wouldn’t come home until late. The dorms were too quiet to be alone. Your thoughts had rang too loud to be left alone with quiet ticks of clocks to keep you company.

Pieck had no roommate since Annie left for Paradis, so you decided to have a sleepover. The two of you spent the night swapping stories of the week and laughing over nothing. It was a well needed pleasant night. However, In the morning when you arrived home you could see the hurt all over Porco’s face. He was sitting up on his bed. He faced the door. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, you knew for a fact he didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Where were you? You know you worried me to death!” he yelled standing up. His loud tone took over the whole room. It was as if nothing else existed apart from you two in this room.

“Oh I'm sorry Pock.. I don’t mean to worry you. I just got lonely waiting here for you to come back so I had a sleepover with Pieck.” you spoke softly as if to sooth him. You really didn't mean to make him worry, that was the last thing you wanted.

“Well the least you could have done was left a note.” he said brushing passed you as he walked through the still open door. His voice was cold and numb. You hated seeing this side of Porco, the cold side of him.

You could deal with his anger outbursts, you could manage the yelling or the cursing when he was upset. You could at least talk him down from that, but you can't help him when he was like this. How could you help somebody who didn't feel nothing? This was the first time he ever acted like this towards you, and it felt horrible.

Sure he yelled at Reiner and even got too snappy with Pieck every now and again- but not you. He made a habit of bragging to everyone that you’d be his wife one day and how beautiful you were whenever you weren’t around. You knew Porco was smitten for you but he never acted on it.

You waited all year for Porco to make the first move but feared he never would. Maybe it was because he wanted to live up to Marcel’s legacy. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you and Pieck. But it looked as though he’d never act on those feelings now.

“Pieck.. what if he never talks to me again?” you spoke as you slipped down onto Pieck’s lap. Her skirt was damp with the tears you’d been crying all day.

“I highly doubt that. You just have to show him that if he doesn’t act fast, he’ll lose you.”

You nodded and sat up. You wiped your last tear away and raised your fist.

“Ok. What’s the plan?”

Pieck slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Your thighs now touched one another as she closed in the gap between you two. She cupped her free hand over your ear, she whispered softly.

“You want me to do what?! Pieck, we aren’t little girls anymore! We can’t just ‘practice’ like we did when we were little!” you jumped slightly. She pulled you back into her grasp.

“And why not! Am I not your type?” Pieck teased.

“It’s not that” you looked away. “It’s just.. I don’t know.. Embarrassing?”

Pieck couldn’t help but giggle at your shyness. It is true that you two used to practice kissing each other when you were children. You needed to be sure that when the time came, and you married your future spouse, you’d be ready. But you were not children anymore. You couldn’t just kiss her and act like it meant nothing. After all, you had some morals left.

Sure Porco and Pieck fought about who would be the one to marry you- but you never thought anything of it. Why would you? Wasn't it natural to hold hands with your best friends? Your mind ticked and ticked until finally you could form a coherent thought. Was Pieck in love with you? And was Porco as well? How long had they been? Either way, the idea of kissing Pieck didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

You could hear Porcos boots clomping in the distance, he had always been so brash with his walking. You often felt bad for the poor wood floors he had walked on.

Just as the door knob turned, Pieck cupped your face and pressed her lips against yours. As soon you were connected, you could feel yourself pooling under your skirt. Pieck had begun rubbing on your thigh, and that definitely didn't help the dampness from collecting. The warmth of her mouth took over your whole body. You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, your mouth opened slightly as Pieck shoved her tongue into yours.

You knew Porco could walk in at any moment, and the excitement of him catching you made you want to kiss Pieck even more. It felt so dirty to be like this. To have Pieck’s hand up your skirt, and to have Porco possibly see. you wouldn't dream of pulling away. It felt too good to stop now.

The moment the door actually opened, Porco just stood there- eyes wide as he watched Pieck absolutely degrade the mouth he wanted for himself. He had dreamed about parting those lips countless times. He tried to imagine if your mouth felt as good as it did in his wet dreams. His now half hard cock twitched as he watched Pieck pull away from you, a string of saliva still connecting you two.

“Good evening Pock.” she spoke with a smile as if nothing just happened.

He avoided his gaze from the two of you. “Yeah.. whatever” he said, nearly throwing his books on his desk. He took a seat as he covered his face- hoping it would make his blush less noticeable.

Pieck kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you later my sweet (y/n), i’ll be late to class.” she said walking out of your dorm with a wink. You sat breathless at what had just happened. Pieck had unlocked something so sinister in you, and you feared that simple kissing wouldn't be enough for you anymore.

As time went on you wouldnt understand how Pieck could just go along with you like nothing happened. You walked to class together as usual, ate lunch like you usually would- but in the back of your mind the only thing you could think about was Pieck. You craved her touch on your body. You longed for her hands and for her mouth, but you wanted Porco’s gaze upon you just as much.

“Uhh Earth to (y/n)?” Pieck said waving her hand in front of you. You had spaced out at the table you had been studying at. Porco sat at your left and Pieck across from you.

“I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought!” You rubbed the back of your head In embarrassment.

The stuffy room you sat in, had once been dedicated to strategizing wars and battles but the campus had now converted them into study halls for students. You weren’t sure if the weather made the room feel humid or if you had imagined it to distract yourself from forming tension between you three.

Large windows covered the walls of the room, the sunlight coming in gave you a clear view of everything in the room. The tables were old and worn, chairs wobbled ever so slightly, and the books on the shelf were slowly collecting dust as years went by.

“Is it hot in here?” You ask aloud, fanning yourself with your hand.

“I’m sure it is, and these uniforms don’t help out any.” Pieck smiled was she pulled her book away from her face.

Porco slid his hand on your thigh from under the table, he snickered as he turned the page of his book with his other hand.

You gulped quietly.

“Yeah I’m getting tired of all these layers, I wish I could peel off a few, don’t you Pieck?” Porco said as his hand gilded under your skirt, calloused hands rubbed small circles on your inner thighs. You were being too obvious, you had always been too obvious.

Pieck caught on quickly to the soft movements Porco made under the table and your breath heaving. Her eyes made their way to your warm cheeks with a smirk.

“I understand completely, Porco.” Pieck looked directly in your eyes “It’s almost like I could undress entirely right now.” she began fiddling with the top buttons of her shirt.

You could feel it happening again. The wetness starting to build between your legs was unbearable.

You were practically gasping for air as Porco’s hand slowly started making its way closer and closer to your clothed cunt. Your clit ached with the thought of his touch. All sense of shame was gone at this point. Pieck’s shirt was half way opened at this point. The bits of her lace bra were exposed more and more with every bottom she slowly undid.

You couldn’t tell if your arousal came more from Piecks undressing or from Porcos touch, but at this point it didn't matter, you only knew you needed more. You wished to be laid against Pieck’s chest as Porco bent you over the wooden table, just imagining it made you bucked your hips in desperation for more friction. Porco slowly placed the pad of his middle and ring finger against your clit.

He withdrew his hand entirely as you let out a soft moan.

“It’s almost time for dinner, we gotta get going if we want to beat the crowd.” Porco said, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Right! Best if we leave now.” Pieck said with a devilish smile as she began buttoning up her shirt.

The two left you there panting for air, and longing for hands all over your body. The light of golden hour stained the room with warm hues. Your mind raced with what had just happened, and why you were left hot and bothered. Your legs spread open on the chair you had been sitting it, a small puddle laid under you.

The next day You woke to an empty dorm. Porco had been long gone at training. You knew you would have most of the day to yourself but today your mind raced with thought of Pieck and Porco. At times you shifted your weight to distract yourself from the overwhelming thoughts you craved.

It wasn’t long before a knock at the door sent a shiver up your spine that jolted you to sit up.

“(Y/N)?” Pieck called as she let herself in. “I assume Porcos is training?”

You nodded.

“Ooh so you’re all alone?” Pieck’s tone sounded sultry like she was alluding to something. You felt the heat rising in your face.

She made her way over to your bed. Her foot steps echoed in the room with every step she took. She took a seat on your bed. And leaned over to your ear.

“Have you been thinking of me?”

You avoided looking at her. “Maybe” you answered

“Or have you been thinking of Porco?” She asks nibbling at your ear lobe. Your breath couldn’t help but deepen.

“Maybe” you answer again

Pieck pulled away and repositioned herself. She was now sitting with her back fully against the wall, her legs laid out over the length of the bed.

“Come here (y/n). I want you to show me the way you want to grind on Porcos lap” she lifted her skirt to expose her thighs. She looked so soft from where you sat.

You don’t think twice about straddling her thigh. Your clothed cunt made contact with her soft skin sending a shiver down your spine. Piecks hand found their place on your ass with a squeeze.

“Such a desperate little whore you’ve become. You get one kiss from me and a half assed teasing from Porco, and you’re so eager to do as I say?” She squeezed your ass again only this time more rougher.

You could only moan in response.

Pieck had begun dragging you back and forth on her thigh, pleasure rippled through your body.

“Unbutton your shirt for me”

You hesitated. “What if Porco comes back early?” You whined

“Don’t act like you don’t want him to see you like this. Now unbutton your shirt”

She lifted her leg to make more friction between you and her thigh.

You did as you were told and undid every button to the best of your ability given the circumstances.

“No bra? You really are a whore (y/n)!”

You moaned at her words, your pussy was leaking all over her thigh as you rode her.

Pieck placed your nipple in her mouth and began to suck.

“Fuck-!” You say throwing your head back

She slapped your ass making you moan louder.

Her mouth felt amazing wrapped around the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

She looked up at you through her eyelashes. She looked as though she was smiling as she sucked on your nipple, she knew what she was doing.

The knot in your stomach had started to tighten.

“Pieck! You’re going to make me cum!”

She pulled away. Without saying anything, she pulled your panties to the side, giving your cunt direct contact with her.

“Cum for me then” she said looking in your eyes.

Your hips moved at a rapid pace as you released on her thigh with a scream.

You were so busy with Pieck that you didn’t even notice Porcos boots clomping down the hallway. By the time you noticed he was already opening the door.

He stepped into the most unexpected but beautiful sight. You say still straddling Piecks thigh, gasping with your tits out. Your cum and sweat covered your body and Piecked thigh, your skirt hiked up over your ass and piecks hands holding on the back of your thighs.

Pieck peered her head to the side “hi Pock!”

You couldn’t help but feel so embarrassed and exposed.

Porcos cock twitched with excitement.

“So this is what you do while I’m off working my ass off?” He says while slicking his hair back more.

You were speechless. When you decided to speak all you could manage to say was “I’m sorry- I couldn’t help myself! I just-“

“Just what? Decided to act like a slut and think I wouldn’t find out?” Porco says.

Your clit jumped with excitement.

Pieck shifted her weight so you lay elbows to the bed with your ass in the air. Pieck guided her hands to your panties and slid them off of you. She spread your ass cheeks and pussy lips for Porcos full view.

“Look Porco, she’s just begging to be filled” Pieck smiled up at you.

You could hear Porco’s zipper being undone behind you.

“She sure is. But I want to hear that from her” he grinned, stroking his cock. The tip was wet with precum already. He stroked as your hole fluttered with excitement.

“Please Porco! Please, I need it!” You said.

“Tell me princess, what do you need?”

Pieck reached her hand underneath to rub your clit.

You gasp nearly being able to talk, “I need you to fuck me Porco! Please fuck me!” You choke out.

“Good girl” he said as he slowly pushed the tip of his hard cock inside. “Mmm.. so fucking wet already” he shoved the enteier length inside you.

You moaned against piecks mouth as she kissed you. Her tongue once again shoving its way into your mouth.

While Porco took his time fucking your tight hole, you slid lower to make contact with Pieck’s lower half. She giggled at the sight of you being so eager to please her. “Here, ill help you.” She said lowering her panties.

You wasted no time lapping up every once of Piecks oozing pussy. She collapsed into the this matress as you attacked her clit.

Piecks moaning caught the attention of Porco. “L-Like what you see Pock? Her mouth feels amazing on my pussy.” Pieck said, smirking.

“I always knew (y/n) would be the perfect little slut.” Porco said speeding up his thrust into your sloppy tight cunt. You moaned against Piecks clit, squeezing down on Porco’s cock in response to his degrading words.

Slowly you added two fingers into Piecks slit. “Better do a good job (y/n), or I wont let you cum” Porco said slowing his pace. You wasted no time proving at her g-spot. Pieck moaned in delight.

“Good girl.” Pieck said in between moans.

You couldn’t go on much long like this. You needed release and you needed it bad. Porco could tell you where close by the way you began clamping down on his cock.

Pieck was the first to cum as she held a fist full of your hair “(y/n)! You’re gunna make me cum” she exclaimed. She lay breathless on the bed for a moment as Porco kept thrusting into you.

Pieck seized the opportunity to reach under and rub your clit. Pieck’s soft fingertips where enough to send you over the edge. “Porco! I’m coming!” You screamed.

“I’m close (y/n).. where do you want me to finish?” He choked

“Don’t be shy now (y/n) Answer him” Pieck said.

“Inside!” You yelled feeling over stimulated.

“Fuck!” Porco said as he raised inside of you, your pussy drank up every drop of his cum.

You three laid squished against one another, sweat and cum covering your bodies

#porco x reader #aot smut #Pieck x reader #porco x reader smut #Pieck x reader smut #x reader #jean x reader #erwin smith x reader #reiner x reader #attack on titan #smut #x reader smut #attack on titan smut

201 notes · View notes

geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years

Text

Waffle House AU

It’s never mentioned but for clarification, Jaskier has a beard in this. Anyway, @officerjennie, @all-hail-the-witcher, and myself shouldn’t be left alone together because then things like this happen. I love you both.

Geraskier, rated t, modern au and Geralt's still a witcher

The first time the man showed up, it was nearing three in the morning. The Waffle House Jaskier worked overnights in was as packed as ever, that’s to say there were two regulars sitting at the bar and a hoard of bugs flying around the place.

The man in question was dressed head to toe in some sort of armor that looked like it belonged in a steampunk cosplay and covered in an odd black substance that looked sticky. Even from across the restaurant, Jaskier could already smell the foul odor rolling off the man in waves. It was so strong Jaskier was surprised that he couldn’t see it.

Walking to the other end of the bar, closest to the corner table the man had seated himself it, Jaskier shouted at him, unwilling to get any closer than necessary, “What do you want to drink?”

“Coffee,” the man’s voice was deep, more a growl than anything else.

Wrinkling his nose in displeasure, Jaskier grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and made his way over to the table, singing loudly to himself as he did so. Jaskier’s voice bounced off the shitty interior of the Waffle House, making it echo in a most unpleasant way. Jaskier switched to humming an upbeat tune as he approached the man at the table and began pouring the coffee.

“So, what do you think of my singing?” It was a question Jaskier asked all of his late-night customers. Their answers would determine whether he would keep them as regulars or do his best to run them off. And his best never failed.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier frowned at the non-answer, “Come now, three words or less.”

“Filling-less pie.”

Spluttering, Jaskier pointed at the man angrily, “You know nothing about music. What do you want to order?”

“Hashbrowns. Smothered and covered.”

Spinning on his heal, Jaskier stalked away from the man without responding, instead muttering angrily under his breath, “I’ll show you filling-less, you bastard.”

Dropping the plate in front of the man, Jaskier watched as the rubbery meal bounced uncomfortably off the plate before landing back on it, somehow looking even worse than it already had.

“What is this?” The man’s voice held no inflection and Jaskier had no way of knowing the man’s feelings as he looked at the pathetic plate in front of him.

“Your food.”

“I ordered hashbrowns.”

Jaskier had to hold in his gasp as the man’s eyes, the most unusual golden shade, met his.

“Well, this is what I’ve brought you.”

The man looked back at the plate, flipping open the joke of an omelet, revealing that it was just eggs cooked in a pan and folded over, “There’s nothing inside. What kind of omelet doesn’t have anything in it?”

“Oh? Do you not like filling-less omelets? What a shame.”

Jaskier stalked back to the bar and took a seat by the regsiter, pulling his book back out and pretending to read it while he watched the man from the corner of his eye. He didn’t even look back to Jaskier’s direction, instead staring grumpily at the eggs in front of him before beginning to eat them.

The man ate quickly and before long he was walking over to the register where Jaskier sat, throwing a wad of bills down on the counter, “Keep the change.”

“I will.”

“You’re a shitty waiter.”

“You smell bad.”

And that, Jaskier assumed, would be that and he would never have to see the weird, smelly, strangely attractive man ever again.

The next night when the man arrived again, this time covered in a weird flaky green substance, Jaskier couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously. People didn’t typically return after Jaskier provided intentionally bad service, at least not if they were sober and of a sound mind. Jaskier couldn’t confidently say this man’s mind was sound, although he did seem sober.

Jaskier grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and stalked over to the corner table. He filled the cup halfway.

“More hashbrowns?”

The man wrinkled his brow, a frown on his face “Yes.”

Wandering back to the kitchen, in no rush, Jaskier stuck his head back in to look at the cook, “More eggs like last night. And can you add something weird to them this time?”

The line cook saluted him before reaching up to grab something off the shelf above his head. Jaskier winced, he wasn’t sure what exactly was in the mixtures of spices that were kept up there, but he had never had a good experience with them, that was for certain. This would for sure run off the weird tone-deaf man for good. The cook was done in no time and Jaskier walked the plate over to the man in the corner, throwing it down on the table like he had the night before.

He did no more than blink in surprise when the table collapsed. Jaskier wasn’t sure exactly why the table collapsed, the plate and shitty eggs didn’t weigh very much, and he hadn’t thrown the plate down particularly hard. But, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he has ever seen in the Waffle House, so he simply caught the man’s eye and shrugged, turning and walking back to his seat.

He watched amusedly as the man juggled his plate off the table before propping it up awkwardly and moving seats. That hadn’t been part of Jaskier’s plan, but it would certainly work in his favor.

Jaskier was shocked when the man walked in for a third night in a row. The normally difficult to fluster waiter was very aware that his face was the very picture of surprise. Luckily, the man didn’t even look at him as he walked over to the table in the corner. He shook it a bit before sitting down, presumably making sure it wouldn’t collapse today. To be honest, Jaskier wasn’t overly confident it was any sturdier now, but it did appear that someone on day shift had at least made it look as though it was fixed.

Grabbing the coffee pot and a mug, Jaskier couldn’t help but hope this wouldn’t truly become a ritual. He didn’t want a man in his Waffle House if said man couldn’t tell that Jaskier’s singing was nothing short of marvelous.

“Hashbrowns again?”

The man nodded, staring out of the window rather than looking at Jaskier. He wasn’t in the weird steampunk armor anymore, this time wearing a soft black tee shirt and worn in jeans. It also seemed he had managed to find a bath and was able to get all of the weird grimy things off of him.

He really was quite attractive all cleaned up, Jaskier couldn’t help but notice.

“What’s your name?”

The man turned to look at him, “Geralt.”

Walking over to the kitchen, Jaskier put in the order and sat back down by the register to wait. It wasn’t long before One-Eyed Larry grunted at him from his usual seat at the bar, “Napkin holders on fire, kid.”

Looking over at the table in front of Geralt’s, Jaskier saw that the napkin holder was, indeed, on fire. Sighing and getting a glass of water, Jaskier walked over to the table and poured the glass on it, drenching it thoroughly. Waving away the smoke, Jaskier turned the napkin holder around, making sure the fire was completely out, before putting it back in its place and taking his seat again.

Geralt’s golden eyes followed him curiously the whole time.

If the man was going to be spending his nights here, then he would need to get used to these kinds of things. It was three in the morning in a Waffle House, weirder would happen.

A few minutes more passed before there was a bell ding from the kitchen, signaling that Geralt’s food was ready. Jaskier tossed the plate on the table as was tradition, smirking when he saw the surprise flit across the man’s face. No doubt he hadn’t been expecting to receive hashbrowns, smother and covered as he had first asked for two nights prior.

What could Jaskier say, he was rather weak for a pretty face. Even if was a rude one.

“If you agree that my singing is spectacular, I’ll let you take me out for coffee sometime.”

“Good coffee or this shit?” Geralt gestured to the mug in front of him.

Jaskier scoffed, “You think I would ever eat or drink anything from here?”

“That’s comforting.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” Jaskier sat a notepad and pen on the table, “Leave your number and I’ll call you tomorrow to cash in.”

Later when Jaskier cleared the table, he couldn’t help but smile at the neat handwriting on the notepad.

Looking forward to hearing from you. You should get your napkin holder checked out.

Check out my masterlist!

Tag list: @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @dani-dandelino @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @moonysrz @its-onions @dapandapod @negativenuggetz @feral-jaskier @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @holymotherwolf @officerjennie

#the witcher #the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier

241 notes · View notes

arvandus · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on the big 500 ^-^ I'm so happy for you! Could I get a fluffy #24 with Dabi, pretty please? 🥺👉👈

I’m finally getting to thissss! I’m so, so sorry for the delay. For some reason I struggled with this one for a while, then suddenly something clicked, and inspiration took over. I really enjoyed writing this, it felt very cathartic. It might feel a little heavy/emotional at first but trust me when I say that it ends with fluff.

#24: You're The Only Thing That Matters

Pairing: Dabi x GN!Reader

Word count: 1825

Warnings: light angst(?), fluff

---------

You hadn’t meant for this to happen. Then again, no one ever does. It’s not like anyone ever plans for their apartment to get broken into, their personal items stolen...

Then again, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, not with a neighborhood like this. But it was the neighborhood you could afford. Now here you are, hanging out across the street at the local market, too afraid to return upstairs to your ransacked home. You don’t have a car to drive yourself to a motel to stay the night, you don’t trust nighttime public transportation, and you don’t have enough money for an Uber. But you have to go somewhere. So, you take your phone and called the first person that comes to mind...

Dabi.

You can’t help but laugh that his number is the first one you think to dial. From the surface it makes sense – you two have been seeing each other, so of course he should be someone you can trust enough reach out to. But this is Dabi. Even with your intimate relationship with each other, he is often distant and, more often than not, entirely unavailable. It doesn’t surprise you too much... he’s a villain, after all, and sometimes that villain life requires him to disappear for periods at a time.

Which is why you are honestly surprised when he picks up.

“What?” he says gruffly, like he doesn’t have your number saved in his phone; he knows it’s you on the other end.

You bite your lip before answering. “Um, hey, Dabi. It’s me.”

Already you’re struggling to keep your voice from quivering with unshed tears. If you let yourself cry now, you wouldn’t be able to stop, and this really isn’t the place for it. You watch as an old man pushes a cart past you at a snail’s pace, his gnarled fingers grabbing a bag of rice from the shelf.

Dabi must have heard the emotion in your tone though, because his next words come out slightly softer. “Hey, doll. What’s up? Ain’t it a little late for a phone call?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just...” you take a steady breath through your nose in an attempt to ease your jitters. “My place got robbed, and... I need a place to stay for tonight.”

You hear voices in the background, and Dabi growls at them to ‘shut the hell up.’

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Am I bothering you? I didn’t realize you were working...”

“It’s fine, doll.” Dabi replies. “Yeah, you can crash here.”

More arguing. But a moment later, you hear the click of a door being closed and the background noise disappears.

“I’m headin’ over.” Dabi’s voice comes through clearer than before now that there are no other voices coming through the receiver. His deep tone makes your pulse slow down to a manageable pace, and you take a deep sigh a relief. “Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m at the grocery store across the street.” You reply.

“Stay there.” His words are an order, his voice unusually firm. Is that... concern you hear?

“They close in fifteen minutes.” You say nervously.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You hear the click and the call ends, and you really wish it didn’t. Then again, there was no telling where Dabi was, or what he was in the middle of when you had called.

The minutes tick by slowly as you wait, each minute dragging on longer than the last until you’re certain that you’re in hell, watching time slow to an endless crawl. The ten-minute mark comes and goes, and Dabi is nowhere to be found, and now you’re struggling to keep the panic down. What if he doesn’t come?

But just as the dreaded thought enters your mind, he’s there, appearing next to your shoulder like an apparition, a dark angel disguised in a black hoodie, his mouth covered. You nearly jump out of your skin when he puts an arm around you before you quickly realize it’s him, your protector.

Already you can feel the tears brimming in your lashes, but his words quickly interrupt the flow like a stopper.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispers in your ear. “None of that now.”

He guides you out of the store into the dark night and you stare across the street at your apartment complex. The building is tall and old, looming over you like a bad dream as visions of your ruined home flash in your mind.

“D’ya need to grab anything from your place?” he asks. You shake your head. You don’t want to go in there, even with Dabi present.

“Didja lock the door?” he asks again, and you shake your head again.

“Whoever it was broke it.” You reply. “Please, I just want to go...”

He stares at you for a moment, his blue half-lidded eyes reading the look on your face before he looks away.

“Well, c’mon then.” He says. He guides you to the subway. Once you get on the train, you sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder as the empty train car sways and bumps on the tracks. You can feel the fear begin to fade away with each passing of the flashing lights through the dirty windows, graffiti carved into their acrylic surface. You interlace your fingers in his, and for once he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t recoil his hand to the safety of his pockets.

The ride is silent and so is the walk to his hideout. He leads you in through the rickety door with the dented doorknob where a ragtag group of people lounge on dirty couches. Your body stiffens instantly, your hand tightening around his as if doing so would fill you with courage you didn’t have.

A man with white hair with the slightest tint of blue-grey glared at you with red eyes. “I thought we agreed on no outsiders?” his voice comes through with a growl, carried on a sneer past scarred lips.

“Shut up.” Dabi snaps at him as he leads you past the group to another door that leads to a hallway.

A couple doors down and he pulls you into what you can only assume is his room – after all, it’s your first time being here; Dabi had never let you visit him before.

“It’s not much, but it’s safe.” Dabi comments as he closes the door behind you.

The bed is messy, the mattress old. You don’t care though. The space smells of Dabi, and as soon as your brain registers that you’re no longer in danger, you buckle down onto his bed and begin to cry with your face in your hands as the aftermath of emotions overflows into your palms.

Dabi removes his hoodie and kneels before you. He watches you in silence, the glaze of his eyes never betraying the emotions tucked away in secrecy. He hates seeing you like this, hates watching you fall apart in front of him. It makes him feel useless. Cautiously, he reaches out and takes your hand from your face, holding your fingers in his warm palm. He can feel the wetness of your tears on them, and he fights the urge to increase his body temperature, to evaporate the evidence of your pain from his skin. Your eyes catch his, red and puffy, and before he can react you throw your arms around his neck and fall into his lap. He catches you – how could he not? – and holds you to him as you empty your emotions into his shoulder.

When the well of your tears has finally dried, you wipe your eyes with the heel of your hand and pull away from him slightly. Dabi can see the exhaustion falling over you in real time, your shoulders slumping and your hold on him loosening into a relaxed grip.

“I’m sorry, I... I just... it’s been a really bad day.” You say, your eyes downcast.

Dabi can’t help but give a dry chuckle as he helps you up to your feet. “Yeah, no shit.”

He sits on the bed and pulls you with him until you’re both lying down on his messy sheets, with you curled into his side.

“Thank you for coming to get me...” you whisper as you rest your cheek against his chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he teases, but his smile falters when your breath hitches and you don’t answer.

It cuts him deeper than he expects, but at the same time he’s not surprised... he hasn’t exactly been the best boyfriend – is that even what he is? Is that what he’s been to you? It wasn’t like you two ever discussed it; you two just... were. He’s given you so little...

Dabi swallows before he continues, his voice quieter this time, quieter than he’s ever been with you before. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.” The confession feels weird on his tongue, like a foreign language, but he pushes forward, determined to say what he should have told you sooner. His voice drops even lower to a barely audible whisper. “I’ll always come for you.”

Despite the hush of his words, they feel like a shout. The admission leaves him feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, and a part of him wishes he could take them back, simply because of what they mean. But they don’t come without their own reward - you relax at his words, your body molding against his as your arms tighten around him. It’s the first time he’s been so open with you and the nervousness in his veins gives way to a light euphoria at your acceptance. His arm tightens around you as if he’s afraid you’ll melt away, as if his touch is the only thing keeping you real, his perfect dream come to life. Within minutes, your breaths become deep and even, and Dabi realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on him, your body giving way to its exhaustion after all that had happened. He stares down at you for a long, quiet moment, watching you sleep on him.

Dabi had never put anyone else first before, not even you despite your closeness. But when he answered your call and heard the fear in your voice, it was as if the ground had been pulled out from under him, his entire world thrown into chaos. If anything had happened to you... If you’d gotten hurt in any way...

His grip on you tightens a little more and he brushes his lips against your hair. Maybe it’s the bravery he’s feeling at your acceptance of him. Or maybe it’s the fear of what could have been. But his next words come out in a hushed whisper, a secret confession meant more for himself than you.

“You’re the only thing that matters.”

And even though you’re supposed to be asleep, your soft words hum into his chest, burying themselves like sunflower seeds.

“I love you too.”

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #Dabi #dabi x reader #soft dabi #dabi x gn!reader

226 notes · View notes

calpops · 3 years

Text

forgotten | c.h.

Its not unusual for your birthday to be forgotten by many; it’s never a surprise to receive last minute, half hearted texts from friends or belated cards from family. It’s always been easy to let it roll off your back when you have Calum by your side. But the first year he forgets your special day, it crushes you.

aka it’s my birthday and I’ll post relatable angst if I want to :)

1.8k words

my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

* * *

Calum comes home with a heavy feeling in his chest as he notices all the lights are out. It’s only just past eight; usually there would be at least one glowing window lit up by lamp light with you sat with a book in wait for him. Tonight it’s dark and quiet as he enters the house. Soft music doesn’t spill around the corners. The tv isn’t a muffled call to your bedroom. Duke’s paws don’t even click as they come around the corner to greet him. It’s silent and empty and it all echoes around him as he slips off his shoes and goes in search of you.

The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.

He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.

You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.

“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”

Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.

“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”

Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.

He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.

You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.

“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”

His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.

“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.

He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.

He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.

Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.

“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”

You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.

“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.

“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.

“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”

And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.

“Packing your stuff.”

He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.

“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.

“Vacation?”

“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”

The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.

“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.

Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

If you’d like to be added to my taglist just let me know!

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @malumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @cashtonasfuck @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer @notinthesameguey @lukesfuckingbeard @treatallwithkindness @haikucal @wiildflower-xxx @egyptiangoldhood @drarryetcetera @another-lonely-heart @megz1985 @idk-harry @wildflower-cth @idontneedanyone @everyscarisahealingplace @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @karajaynetoday @333-xx @calumshpod @calumsphile @calumrose @grreatgooglymoogly @calumance @ahoodgirl @chicken-ona-stick @wish-you-were-here-hood @hoodhoran @wiiildflowerrr @saywhatnow07 @lonelyheart5 @fallingforyou123 @youngblood199456 @kingxnichole@wontlastimokwiththat @hemmingslftv @itsagurl @in-superbloom @highstwildflower

#Calum hood #5sos #Calum hood blurbs #5sos blurbs #Calum hood angst #5sos angst #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #chblurb

355 notes · View notes

kittyymew · 3 years

Text

Accidental Surprise

Story Summary- Levi walks in on you pleasuring yourself. You, the Reader, and Levi are not a couple in this scenario, however, both of you like each other romantically without each other's knowledge.

********

You groan as you enter your room after a long stressful day, plopping down on your bed. You were tired, annoyed, angry, and frustrated. Hell! Why wouldn't you be? Another failed mission, and the worst part of it all? You were blamed for the unforeseeable factor which caused the mission to fail. Well, at least there wasn't a single casualty. A rare occurrence.

"Urgh fucking great! Of course, it's my fault! I mean yeah I controlled the titans who made us break our formation!" You let out in an exasperated tone, sitting up on your bed as you start undressing out of that stupid, uncomfortable uniform, tossing it all in a corner.

""Y/N! WhAt aRe yOu dOiNg WhY aRe tHeRe sO mAny tItAns? WhY DiDn'T YoU TeLL uS thErE aRe gOinG To Be sO mAnY aBnoRmALs iN oUr wAy?!"", you mock Levi's words as you get up from your bed and make your way over to the closet to get a change of clothes. He's been like this, blaming you for the most irrelevant things, ever since you were assigned a squad leader yourself. You tried ignoring his condescending remarks, illogical arguments, and wrongfully placed blames in the beginning but it's getting more and more unbearable with every mission you go on.

"Um... I don't know... MAYBE THE FACT THAT THERE WAS NO WAY I WOULD'VE KNOWN!" You yell out in the empty room.

"I can not believe I used to like-like him. Who am I kidding? I still like that stupid ass head! URRRGH WHY DID I HAD TO HAVE FEELINGS FOR HIM OUT OF ALL PEOPLE?!", you shriek out in an irritated tone, opening your closet door with such force that a box tumbles down from the top shelf, spilling its contents on the ground.

You sigh, closing your eyes and massaging your temples in an attempt to calm yourself down. You glance down at the box that had just tumbled out of your closet, seeing a pair of cuffs and a collar that had fallen out of the box. "Oop," you think as you realize it was your sex-toy box that had fallen out of your closet.

"Oh... I forgot I even had these things..." You mumble, bending down to pick up the items and the box, making your way back to your bed and emptying all the contents on the mattress. The collars, handcuffs, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, ropes, etc. You had bought most of these items when you were with your ex.

Amidst the breakup and you gaining more responsibilities in the scouts, it's been a little over a year since you've used any of the items inside the box. Hell, you barely have any time to pleasure yourself with your fingers, let alone have sex with someone or have the luxury of using all these toys on yourself.

You pick up the pretty pink coloured wand-type vibrator, pressing down on the power button, the vibrator buzzing to life. You didn't think it was even charged. Well, at least you hadn't ran out of luck... yet. You turn it back off, biting down on your bottom lip, contemplating whether you should use it on yourself right now or not.

You quickly get up and get rid of your panties, climbing back on your bed as you crawl to the center, propping the pillows against the headboard, turning around and leaning back on it, spreading your legs.

Your mind automatically travels back to the one person you've liked for so long. As creepy or weird as it may feel, you can't help it. How his lips might feel against yours, or his hand wrapped around your throat, his fingers tangled in your hair tugging on it, or how his fingers would feel inside you... or even better his d-

*SIGH*

Taking a deep breath to relax, you trail your fingertips down your chest, stopping at your nipples to gently squeeze and tug on them.

"Maybe this is how his fingers would feel..."

You bite back a small moan at the sensation, it's been a while since the (Y/N/C) buds received any attention.

You take your sweet time to rile yourself up, switching between squeezing your boobs and pinching and tugging on your nipples. Your mind clouding up with all kinds of inappropriate thoughts and you can already feel the heat pooling between your legs by just stimulating your nipples and by the thoughts of how Levi would fuck you...

You keep your left hand on your left boob and trail your right hand down until your fingers touch slick folds, your fingers rubbing up and down, spreading your arousal. A small, almost inaudible whimper falls off your lips as your fingers finally connect with your throbbing clit.

In the blink of an eye, your fingers are moving in a circular motion over your clit, applying just enough pressure to have you squirming and moaning. It's been so long, even the slightest touch has you going crazy.

You begrudgingly disconnect your fingers with your clit, just for a few moments until your fingers were replaced with the head of your wand vibrator, your other hand spreading your folds as you press down the vibrating head against your clit. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as pleasure spreads through your body like wildfire.

"O-oh... fuuck..."

You moan out as you apply more pressure, moving the vibrator up and down your clit slightly, the movement combined with the intense vibration causing your toes to curl and your eyes to roll at the back of your head in pleasure.

Sliding your fingers down towards your entrance, you push a finger inside your wet cunt that slides in with ease, and curl it upwards in a come hither motion, with your walls clenching around your finger as the tip rubs against your g-spot and the vibrator's sweet assault on your clit, it doesn't take long to feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten.

Throwing your head back in pleasure, small moans and whimpers fall off your lips, quickly adding in another finger inside, plunging them as deep as they can go, the tips rubbing against that sweet spot inside your tight pussy, as you draw your orgasm closer and closer with each thrust and movement of your fingers against your g-spot, combined with the intense vibration against your swollen clit.

"Fuck fuck fuck... oh... god... L-Leviii fuck...!"

You scream out in pleasure, applying more pressure on your clit with the vibrator, your fingers halting their thrusting movement as your cunt clenches around them, your lower stomach fluttering, your toes curling and back arching, as the euphoric sensation takes over your mind and body.

Pulling your fingers out of your throbbing pussy and turning the vibrator off, you try to catch your breath, still coming down from the high of the orgasm you just had.

"I- uh... *ahem*..." Your head snaps up towards the direction of the door, the moment you heard someone clear their throat, and there he stood in your doorway, in all his red-faced glory, your soul leaving your body when you see his face.

It takes a moment for your brain to register, but you snap out of it when you see Levi take the tiniest step forward.

"FUCKING SHIT! LEVI WHAT THE HELL?!"

You yell as you jump up to cover yourself with the blanket and hastily trying to hide the multiple sex toys that were splattered all over your bed.

"I- uh...." Levi opens and closes his mouth, failing to realise that he's gawking at your naked figure. He averts his gaze only after you pull the blanket up to your chest and awkwardly try to hide his hard-on. He quickly turns around, his mind finally processes the situation, but not before you catch a glimpse of his situation down there.

"I just... came here to apologise for how I had been acting towards you over the past few weeks Y/N," Levi says, trying to make everything less.. awkward?

You just stare at the back of his head. You're way too embarrassed to even breathe at this point. How long was he standing there? How the hell did you not hear him come in? How did you even forget to lock the door before your genius self decided to masturbate?

Levi breaks the silence when you don't say anything. "Y/N...? I'm sorry the door was open and I-..."

"How long were you standing there for?" You ask.

You'd much rather die of a heart attack or something at this moment instead of having to face him. It'd be much easier than having to go through this.

"A while I guess...." He replies, scratching the back of his head.

*bonk*

You throw the first thing that you could reach. It was a purple dildo.

"Hey, Ow!" He mumbles, rubbing the spot where the dildo just hit him.

"AND YOU JUST STOOD THERE WATCHING ME INSTEAD OF LEAVING OR AT LEAST SAYING SOMETHING?!?!" You yell at him, throwing a pillow at his head this time.

"Well, you did moan my name brat!" Levi sasses in response when the pillow hits him.

"Stop throwing things at me brat!" Levi says, turning around on his feet to face you with a glare until he catches the sight of the purple dildo lying near his feet. He bends down to pick it up and smirks at you.

"Or I can just remind you whose name you were just moaning..." He says as he dangles your purple dildo in front of him

"LEVI!" You yell at him again, moving forward and attacking him by throwing everything that is within range at him.

"OKAY SORRY! SORRY!!!" Levi laughs as he dodges everything that's plunged in his direction and he's on the bed in front of you, holding your wrists down.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity between the two of you and you freeze up.

"I never said I was complaining about it. If anything it's nice to know that you think of me when you touch yourself. Because it just means that I wouldn't have to worry about you liking me back when I ask you out tomorrow" Levi says, letting go of your wrists and booping your nose with his stupid cocky grin before turning around and leaving your room.

"What just... happened..."

You think to yourself as you're left alone in your room, dumbfounded, to say the least.

#levi x you #levi oneshot #levi aot #levi ackerman imagine #levi attack on titan #levi smut #levi x reader #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman #levi heichou #levi x y/n #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot oneshots #aot smut #aot levi

133 notes · View notes

besotted-eros · 3 years

Text

taste of ale and towers

Eren Jaeger x F!Reader (PoC)

Summary: Your favourite patron finally makes a move, and it takes you into the sky.

Content: Unabashed fluff, some jealousy, mentions of alcohol, jealous!Eren. Scouts getting to be stupid.

You liked your job.

Drunkards, vomit, and brawls aside. You enjoyed the warm atmosphere of the tavern, with its brick walls and its crackling fire. You enjoyed sorting through the clinking glasses and bottles, hearing the bar tales from old regulars and new faces. You were meticulous about cleaning, ensuring that this was one of the only taverns in the town that didn't reek of bile and piss. Instead the scent of soft hay, spiced mead and warm bread filled the room, fighting for dominance with the crowing laughs of the patrons. It was pleasant.

Yeah, you liked your job. Especially on nights like these.

"There is NOOOOO way you're taking credit for that one, that's all me." Connie's hand pushed into Sasha's face, his brows furrowed as the tall girl slapped his hand away and shoved a finger into his cheek.

"Yoush need ta shut up, Conster. Ain't a little tyke like you ever gonna get a titan THAT big. It was HUGE!" She burst from her seat, rocking the table and throwing her hands up to the ceiling. "IT WAS THIS BIG!" the table roared with laughter as Mikasa struggled to pull her back down. You smiled along with them as you filled a tankard. You'd have to cut her off soon.

"Stop knocking over drinks Sasha, you're going to give y/n more work."

The voice cut through the thrum of conversation. You could have picked the sound of him out of a storm, or a symphony. And it made your heart race every time.

You could feel him walking towards you through the crowd, and kept your eyes down. There was a deep scratch on the counter, and you dragged the rag over it repeatedly, until a hand entered your vision. His fingers were long, the skin taunt against bone and tendon. They were the hands of a soldier. But when he rested his it over yours, they were gentle.

"Hey, do you mind if I take this for a second?" Eren asked, his mouth twisted into a rueful grin as he nodded his head back towards his friends. "Don't want things to dry up and get sticky."

He was your most faithful patron. You knew that if he wasn't off saving humanity, he would be in your tavern after dinner at the barracks. But he never drank much, nursing a single beer, maybe two over a few hours.

"Oh, I can clean it myself!" You chirped, and his lower lip twitched slightly, head tilting.

"You're busy, it's okay. Let me." He pulled it away firmly, shooting you a small smile as he turned back. You were happy to see it. It seemed as though he smiled less and less these days. But there always seemed to be at least one for you. You regretted that you weren't able to sit with him tonight, have his gaze upon you as you leaned into his heat. He had been away for a few weeks, and you missed him. Even though he wasn't yours to miss.

"God, you might as well work here 'ren" Jean drawled, and the pale haired man's eyes flicked to yours. Eren scowled at him, wiping the table clean. "Would have pretty co-workers at least." You flushed at the compliment, turning on your heel to busy yourself with needlessly sorting bottles in the shelves. You could tell the group was appraising you now.

"Watch it." Eren snapped, flicking the rag quickly to snap against the scout's cheek. Jean grinned, smelling Eren's weakness. He snatched at the rag, tugging it from the green eyed man's grasp.

"I'll return this for you." Jean grinned, sliding out from the booth and padding through the crowded chairs and bodies. Before Eren could even formulate a way to get him to stop, he was at the bar, pushing his hair back and fixating you a handsome grin.

His friends stared with awe, even Sasha hushed by the sight of quiet rage in Eren's face.

"He's just blatantly making moves on your girl huh?" Connie commented, eliciting a glare from Eren.

"Don't have a 'girl', idiot. No clue what you're on about." Eren dropped into his seat, but his eyes were glued on how Jean was leaning over the bar, long arm outstretched to gesture to a jewel coloured bottle on the shelf. He was crowding you, leaning in so close. He could probably smell the scent of vanilla and rose, and see how prettily a lock of hair curled by your jaw.

"Oh puhlease, Errrren." Sasha took a sloppy swing of her ale, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You look at her with those big ol' cow eyes, and you're here, what? Every night?" She looked around the table for validation, only met with an angry green stare as eyes of grey, blue and black averted strategically. "You don't even drink!" She rested the glass against her face, eyes closed and expression pulled into a caricature of mourning. "Oh, how will your love ever withstand this distance of 9 feet? How will you ever cross it?"

"Can you shut up and eat some peanuts or something?" Eren snapped, his face red. Armin's mouth was twitching as he fought back a smile, and Mikasa had pressed her wineglass to her lips for an uncharacteristically long amount of time, eyes twinkling over the rim.

"We're out of peanuts." Sasha was truly mournful now, pulling the bowl towards her with both hands.

"Yeah, maybe we can ask Jean's new girlfriend for a refill." Connie murmured into his hands. Sasha roared with laughter, and even Armin couldn't hold back a chuckle, looking sheepish when his best friend glared at him.

"Sorry, 'ren. But Sasha has a point y'know. You have to make a move eventually." His fingers were knit around the tall glass of mead in front of him. But his eyes were still sharp, and his smile kind.

"I'm not going to "make a move"." He replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You guys are making a big deal of nothing."

"Oh come on, just admit it." Connie exclaimed, rubbing his fingers over his dark buzz. "It's obvious she's crazy about you too. She doesn't sit with anyone else, literally just you. And it's not for the conversation, because you suck at that." Eren glowered as the table nodded solemnly. But he couldn't deny it made his heart beat faster.

"She looks at you the same way you look at her. Have you noticed that?" Armin asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Eren watched as you tucked a raven lock behind your ear, nodding as Jean spoke softly to you, his finger tracing the rim of a glass you had filled for him.

He hadn't noticed the way you look at him. He was too busy noticing how soft your eyes were, how you would always keep a place for children to sit behind the bar in case the room got too rowdy. How you'd stand your ground against men twice your size, sneering up at them in a way that was honestly intimidating. How gentle your hands were when they'd rest on his arm, laughing at some stupid joke or comforting him when he'd appear with bags under his eyes and ghosts on his breath.

"Do it." Came Mikasa's soft encouragement, nudging him from his seat. "Before Jean does."

Right as her voice met his ears, you laughed. It wasn't overly vibrant, or loud. But it was a laugh, Jean was making you laugh.

"He might kill him." Armin mused as they watched Eren elbow his way to the pair. Connie grinned, downing the rest of his drink.

"I always loved a bar fight."

"It's not that hard, when you get used to it." Jean was saying, the caramel of his eyes melting into yours as he attempted to hold your gaze. This wasn't the first time you had spoken to the tall scout, but it was the first time he had flirted so blatantly. "I could even show you sometime, could get on my back, or I could stra-" suddenly Jean's was on the ground, staring up in bewilderment as Eren made himself comfortable in the now empty stool. You blinked with confusion, lips rounded into a little o. It seemed that Eren had violently hipchecked the man off, and stolen his seat.

"You talk too much, Jean boy." He muttered. Jean scrambled up, chest expanded as he leaned in close to Eren's face.

"Say that again, Jaeger." He growled, threateningly.

"No." Eren's eyes refused to break from yours. But you could see that telltale bristling, and practically smell the pent up rage wafting from the men.

"If you boys fight in my bar, I'm going to have to throw both of you out." You warned, earning a sheepish look from both of them.

"Sorry, y/n." They said in chorus before glares snapped to each other again. You watched as Eren held Jean's gaze, and something unsaid passed between them. But finally Jean's face turned to a smile.

"Took you long enough." He scoffed, bumping the dark haired youth's shoulder as he walked back to his seat.

You looked at Eren, confusion making your lower lip press forward in a way that made his heart jump.

"Sorry about that." He mumbled, touching the back of his head. "We just... Fight a lot." You arched an eyebrow, a smiling playing on your lips.

"I can tell. But you're close."

He nodded, staring down at the drink Jean had abandoned.

"Can I get you anything? Tempt you into actually getting drunk tonight?" You removed the old glass and slid a new one into his hands. "You look like you need it."

He smiled, mouth twisting wryly. "I uh, can't get drunk."

"Oh? Why's that?"

He flexed his jaw, eyes refusing to meet yours. "Since I'm... Well a titan shifter. I regenerate too fast. As my body metabolizes it, I'm already healing. That's why Armin doesn't get drunk either." He motioned his shoulder towards the table, and as you looked over all their heads snapped away.

"That's fascinating." You said it sincerely, and met his gaze when his eyes raised. He had seemed timid to tell you. It's not that you didn't know, everyone knew. But not everyone accepted it.

"So, do you just really like the taste of our mead then?"

He chuckled, shrugging. "Yeah." His eyes flicked to yours, regarding you from under his dark lashes. "And the company."

You flushed, dragging your teeth over your lower lip. "Yeah, heard it's good here."

Eren grinned, running a hand through his hair. The fire caught the glossy chestnut of it, and you tried not to imagine what it would feel like under your fingertips.

"I like it, seeing you here." You absent-minded wiped a glass as you spoke, needing to channel the growing energy. "Makes me feel a bit..." You trailed off, biting your lower lip in earnest now. "Safe? Normal? Like things are going to be okay if I see you come through the door. The world hasn't exploded yet."

The youth had fallen silent. You wondered if you had overstepped, and raise your eyes to offer an apology. But his expression silenced you.

He looked at you with shining eyes, lips parted slightly with shock.

"I-" you began and were cut off by his hands slapping down on the counter as he leaned forward, gaze cutting through you. He was red, his cheeks like burning embers in the warm light, pretty mouth scrunched slightly to the side.

"Y/n, go out with me." He said, voice pitched and loud. You felt the tavern hush slightly, the loud drone muting as eyes turned to you. He blinked in surprise as you did, both of you caught off guard by the sudden intensity. He sat back on the stool, smile sheepish. "I uh, sorry. Will you go out with me?"

You let him stew for a moment. It was only fair, he made you wait so long for him to say those words. His smile faltered, eyes searching your face. But your lips curled into a smile.

"I'm off tomorrow."

The rap at your door was firm. You had wondered when it would happen, as you had seen Eren arrive at your door a little over ten minutes ago, staring nervously at the entry way. You had leaned out your window to watch him, the normally perceptive man oblivious to your wandering eyes. He had paced, wrung his hands, adjusted the backpack that weight on his shoulders.

"I'll be down in a second." You called, making him start and stare up at you open mouthed.

"Y/n,how, how long-?" He called up, but you shut the window quickly, holding back your laughter as you ran down the stairs, pausing to take a breath before throwing open the door.

"Hi," you said breathlessly, fixating him with a smile. He looked at you with mouth agape, eyes wracking over your form. He had only ever seen you in your typical work attire, a dingy apron tossed over an old puffed skirt, a modest button up to finish it off. So when you brushed your dark hair back off your shoulders, allowing his eyes to alight upon the soft skin of clavicle and chest. The blouse you had picked laid prettily off your shoulders, gripping onto the flesh of your upper arms. The soft cream complimented your brown skin in a way that would make Eren associate the shade with you forever.

"You... You look really beautiful, Y/n." He said finally, giving you a rougishly handsome half smile.

"You clean up well too." You replied, and he shrugged humbly The white button up was ironed with a soldier's precision, and the jacket he wore over it hugged the muscles in his arms temptingly.

"We match." He commented, gesturing to the dark green of your skirt and how it complimented the fabric of his jacket. You had chosen it because it reminded you of his eyes when the fire had gone down, right before you'd have to ask him to leave. He'd be heavy lidded, hair mussed and smelling like smoke. But would insist on helping you put up the chairs every time.

"So, where are we off to?" You asked, he turned quickly, face excited as he took a step. But then he paused, turning back around sheepishly. He offered you an arm, straightening his back. You held back a laugh at his excitement and containment of it. It was endearing, you thought as you took his arm and he began to guide you towards the outer wall.

"I uh... Made us a picnic." He said, helping you over a puddle. "Well not just me. Sasha, she made the sandwiches. But I helped." It made you flush to think that the whole regiment was probably aware of what you were doing currently. It didn't help that Eren took you over wall Rose, the basket pulley system making you cling to him under the gaze of the soldiers manning it. You stood together at the top for a moment, staring over at your district. He pointed out the barracks, and you pointed out your home. He moved closer to you to follow your pointing, needlessly close. But you liked it.

"We don't usually let civilians over like this." He whispered as he helped you into the basket on the other side. "But I told them you're special." He gave you an easy half smile.

"Trying to squeeze free booze from me, Jaeger?" You teased as he climbed in beside you. His arm was around your waist instantly, bracing as the descent begun.

"Yeah." He responded, and grinned back at him. He made the fear lessen.

You admired him as best as you could, stealing glances as he walked beside you through the forest. The dappled shade touched his high cheekbones, made his green eyes flash like emerald caught under a jeweler's light.

"Here!" He exclaimed finally, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you towards a clearing. In the middle of it was a tall, tall tower, a wooden outpost made for guards to keep an eye out for titans.

"Wait one second, okay?" Eren asked, holding your arms and placing you against the leg of the structure. He draped his jacket over you before climbing up the ladder, at a speed you thought was almost showoffish.

You leaned against the wood, listening as the tower creaked above you. It sounded like the trees that surrounded, a part of the landscape. You hugged Eren's jacket tighter to you, dipping your head to your shoulder to inhale the scent of him from the collar. It was clean, vibrant almost. A sharp smell that made you think of knives and the edge of his jaw. The fabric was coarse against your nose, obviously military grade, utilitarian in its design. But you thought of the way it would hug his slim shoulders, his muscular arms, how it would -

"Having fun?" Eren's voice called and your head snapped up to see him grinning from the entry hole. "I'm ready for you up here."

You pulled yourself up, hoping the exertion would hide the embarrassment. He helped you onto the platform, large hands firm on your body to hoist you up.

"Ta-da." He said, gesturing to the blanket laid out in front of you. On top of it he had arranged sandwiches, two glasses that had been filled with deep red wine, and a loaf you recognized as sweet bread, soldiers "desert" rations for special occasions. He had even bought candles, perched delicately in a spartan holder. "It's not much but..." He guided you over, shrugging slightly. "I hope you like it."

"I love it, Eren." You sunk down onto the blanket, grinning up at him. "Didn't know you were such a romantic."

He shrugged again, but his cocky grin told you he was pleased with himself. It became somber as he sat across from you, reclining back on his hands.

"Just don't get the chance to do this, y'know." He said softly, voice gentle enough to be carried away by the breeze. The walls were low here, and even while sitting you could see over top. The forest seemed to go on forever, a sea of shimmering greens. You felt an intimate fondness for them and with a start realised why, as you looked back towards the man sitting across from you. He held the colour of life in his eyes, verdant and vibrant.

"I'm honoured that you're using it on me, then." You replied, earning yourself a warm smile. Your heart leapt at the sight of it, and you decided that even if this was the only time you'd get him to yourself, you'd make the most of it.

"There's no one else I'd rather." His voice was genuine, and seemed to even catch himself off guard. He blushed, prettily. "Uh, dig in." He grabbed his sandwich, quickly stuffing it into his mouth.

You pretended not to watch him eat, how his tongue would dart out to wet his lips or how you could see his Adams apple bob with every swallow. And he pretended not to watch you drink, how your lips pursed on the rim, how you'd hold the cool glass against your cheek as you listened to him speak. Hours passed like that, the food long reduced to crumbs and fuel to press the conversation forward.

He spoke mostly about his friends. Stories that showcased Armin's smarts or Mikasa's fortitude. You liked how he looked when he slipped into fond memories. Eyes glossy, smile crooked. He spoke with his hands, painting scenes with every movement of his fingers. Sasha grasping Mikasa by the shoulders, Jean being bowled over by an over excited Connie. The wind would wind it's fingers through his hair. It was long, not long enough to pull into a ponytail but long enough that it stroked the nap of his neck. The sun reflected the golden threads in it, and you wondered if there was any part of the forest that wasn't a part of him.

And he listened to you as though you were a preacher saving his soul. Eyes wide, leaned forward and nodding intently. You felt seen in a way you hadn't before. Sure people had looked at you, long and hard and even leering. But no one saw you like Eren did.

"The view is beautiful." You commented after some time, standing to walk over to the ledge. The sky had painted itself an orange peel, with a glowing lemon for a setting sun. You peered over the low wall, swallowing your vertigo. Eren followed you, and after a small pause placed an arm slowly around your waist. You felt his warmth glow through you, and were comforted.

"Yeah," he said, gazing at you as though you had hung the moon. "It is."

You let your head drop, leaning it against his shoulder. Intimacy was a stranger to the soldier, something that had no place in his life. In fact, Eren was almost scared. After titans and gore, after horrors that would rise bile for even the most hardened veterans, it was your soft figure that made him speechless. He didn't know how to hold you, didn't know what to do with the elation that filled his heart at the sensation of you soft and compliant in his arms.

Should he kiss you now? He thought as your face turned towards his. Your eyes were sparkling, smile so sweet it was almost saccharine. He could see peace in your face. A soft rest, head nestled somewhere warm with only the sound of heartbeats. But before he could close the space between you, a loud squak startled you away. Eren's grip on your waist tightened and he stepped you back from the ledge cautiously. In front of you a bird burst through the canopy, rushing towards the sky as another followed hot upon its tail. You watched as they cartwheeled through the sky, shrieks loud and grating.

You placed a hand over your heart, letting out an airy laugh. "Thank you, I would jumped right over."

"Glad you didn't. " He murmured, reflecting your smile. "It would suck to have to jump after you." The look on your face was unreadable, and Eren worried that he said something wrong. He was afraid of that, to love you wrong. What else would be expected of someone like him? He didn't know how to treat a woman, let alone someone like you. What was he thinking of, trying to kiss you. You, with your radiant smile that cut through the subdued warmth of the tavern and straight into his chest.

"Should probably pack this up," Eren began, turning back to the blanket. A soft tap on his shoulder made him turn back to you, eyebrow cock with question. Only to be met by your lips, crashing into his. The force made him step back, catching you by the waist. For a moment he feared you would actually topple over the side.

You kissed him exactly how he had dreamt. Like a stormcloud, soft but full, wetting the desert of him. Your hands cradled his cheeks, tender in how you held them. Eren couldn't remember the last time he had been touched so softly.

When you broke away, he was blushing.

"I... Wow." He managed to get out, chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. "I didn't expect that."

"I'm sorry," you murmured demurely, making to step back. "It's just that..." You chewed on your lower lip, and he thought about how you were most likely tasting him. "You meant it. That you would jump after me. I liked that."

The smile spread like a wildfire across Eren's face. "I did." He said breathlessly, pulling you back towards him. This time he kissed you, fingers sliding their way from your jaw into your hair.

When your lips broke again, you wondered how you were still standing. Your heart felt as though it could break through the canopy itself, and your knees fragile enough to give under the next strong gust. Eren was in a similar state, all red face and gentle hands, feeling their way through the length of your hair. He ran his fingers through it, from root to tip, repeating the motion has the wind fought him for the chance to stroke your locks.

"Been wanting to do this." He whispered, hand going still on the back of your neck. "From the moment I first met you."

You rolled your eyes, trying to quell the fluttering that grew in your stomach. "Use more lines on me, Jaeger."

His dark brow furrowed, and he used his grip on your hair to pull you closer. It embarrassed you how heat ran through your body as he did it. "'ts not a line, y/n. I mean it." He dipped his head to rest his forehead against yours, green eyes boring into you. His hands slid down you, moving like a landslide. You felt the topography of your body would be forever changed by him, born anew by the fact he was touching you. They came to settle on your hips, and he hummed into another kiss.

"You were fighting someone." Eren said finally, and you let out a quick laugh. "No, really. When I first saw you, you were fighting someone." You felt like you were falling when you saw the expression on his face. He recounted seeing you like he recounted his friends, eyes soft and full of adoration for the memories that made him whole. "I had gone for a walk, just needing to clear my head. And all of a sudden in front of me this door swung open, and a man stepped out. Nonchalant, holding it open as he checked his watch. And all I could hear was this... Yelling." He laughed, squeezing you slightly as you leaned into him. A part of you wanted to press your face into his neck, to find how the curves of your body fit. But you needed to see his face as he spoke about you. Commit it to memory. "And then this fucking hulk of a man stumbled out, and he was *blabbering* like a kid. Just apologising, over and over again. And then you," he paused for a moment to press another kiss to your lips. "You come out holding a broom like I've held a blade, just ready to kill. And you had it up against his chin, right here." Eren dipped his head and nudged yours back, exposing the expanse of your throat. His lips found the thin skin of where your neck curved into your chin, and he kissed it. "Your hair was a mess, and the light made it look like you had a halo. No wonder the man ran." He held you by the small of your back now, dipping you slightly. Your eyes had fluttered closed as he clung to him. "And you caught my eye as you turned, God I must have looked like an idiot. But you caught my eye and you smiled. Apologised, and then thanked the man holding the door so sweetly. And I thought..." He pulled away now, blushing.

"You thought what?" You pressed, pressing into him.

"What mouth you'd kiss with. If you'd kiss hard and passionate, or soft and sweet." He gave you a boyishly handsome smile. "It's both. "

You pressed your lips to his again. And again. The sun set against your entwined bodies, and Eren had a feeling the night watch wouldn't be impressed with his request to come back over. But it didn't matter, he thought as you pulled away to smile up at him, brighter than the moon. Because this was worth it.

173 notes · View notes