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fallow-hollow · 5 months

Note

haiii :D anon who requested courting rituals with kabru here !! i meant to imply somewhere like southeast asia , ( although i could totally see kabru being from an area near the himalayas or something , like nepal , since he shares a name with one of the mountains ) but i intentionally tried to specify it reallyy vague so anyone could relate ! (๑>◡<๑)

but to be fair , i dont really think dungeon meshi really mentions the southeast much or even at all ?? (｀_´)ゞother than the mention of toshiro being from the eastern archipelago , so i'd imagine reader would be from one of the various scattered islands there towards the south ? :0

( also if you need an example , some traditional courting where i'm from is something like meeting the parents and asking for permission to pursue , handwritten letters , meaningful conversations , various gifts like flowers , and serenading ! plus just genuine respect and a willingness to wait ^_^ even though im pretty sure kabru would get a bit impatient sometimes ehehe )

i know it sounds like something pretty simple but even the little things can go a long way ٩(^‿^)۶ !!

suitor

…ft! kabru x male! reader

…tags! courting, mentions of marriage, meeting reader’s family, reader is from an unspecified place outside the island, dancing, mentions of having kids

…word count! 2025

…notes! tried to make these imagines broad but not extremely so, and some of these courting gestures do have a little kabru flare to them because he’s like that. feedback is greatly appreciated, because i want to make sure my writing is accurate to each request!

Kabru isn’t someone I’d see dating casually. Sure, he frequently uses his charm to sway people’s opinions and get them on his side, but I don’t think he’s really been in a proper relationship before at all. So if Kabru’s pursuing you, it’s for keeps.

Family is a really important thing in courting/marriage culture all around the world, so trust and believe that one of the first things he does is try to get on good terms with your family members.

Don’t underestimate the man, he will somehow deduce the mailing addresses of your immediate and extended family and immediately started getting in contact, saying he was a friend of yours and telling them about the time spent with you. Pretty quickly after that, your family starts sending you letters telling you that you should’ve told them about that lovely young gentleman you’d met sooner.

“Kabru?”

Arms crossed, you did your best to remain steadfast even as your companion looked at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile.

“Yes?” His response was laced with false innocence, but you knew he knew. He just got a kick out of hearing you say it yourself.

With a sigh, you would slump your shoulders and ask, “how did you find out the mailing address of several of my family members?”

“Oh, that was just a coincidence,” the man lied. “Remember when one of your packages got misdelivered to the tavern? The return address happened to stick in my memory, and I got curious to learn more about your family. After all, they contact you quite a bit, and I was curious about your relationship.”

Despite your lack of a headache, you rubbed your temples with your index and middle fingers to express your exasperation with the man. Kabru was great, he really was, but sometimes he confused you greatly….

“You could’ve just asked, you know that?”

The close-eyed smile he gave you in return let you know that you probably hadn’t gotten through to him much.

“I just thought it would be a nice surprise, don’t you agree?”

He might not express it much outwardly, but deep down, Kabru is really worried about being good enough to obtain the blessing to pursue you. That’s why he tries to cover as many bases as possible to be the best possible suitor for you.

When he does get to meet your family in person, he does as much preparation as humanly possible to make it all go perfectly. He studies up on local politics, sports, and cuisine in order to be able to make good conversation with your family.

I think Kabru also rather likes kids, so he’s extremely good with any younger family members you may have, which is likely to score points with your parents and other adults in the family. Kabru loves hearing the funny things kids say and seeing what sort of things their vibrant minds come up with, so he’d do things like play pretend with them. He’s also pretty physically fit, so he could play a sport or outdoor game with them too.

Even if he appears perfectly calm on the inside, he was absolutely scared shitless when he asked your family for permission to pursue you. He would assure them that he’s very much prepared to be with you in the long term, and even came prepared with things like savings for marriage or even a dowry if that’s something that is typical in your region.

Overall, Kabru is a polite, poised, and extremely well educated young man, so he’s someone that pretty much any parent would want as a son-in-law. Hearing their words of approval was like lifting the weight of an entire city off his shoulders.

“I was so worried,” your partner would admit after the fact. Completely unable to wrap your head around such a thing, you said the first thing that came to your mind.

“How could you be? You’re perfect, Kabru. If anything, I was worried you’d have something better to do than settle down with me.”

Those piercing blue eyes bored into your skull, looking at you as if you were the most insane man in the world for having said such a thing.

“How could that be when you’re perfect too?”

The question left you in such a shocked and flustered state that you hardly noticed him move into you felt both his hands holding one of your own, thumbs resting almost reverently on top of your ring finger.

“It’s almost embarrassing now to admit that at one point in time, I didn’t see a future for myself. I guess that was because I hadn’t seen you yet?”

A ‘pfft’ sound escaped your mouth almost instantly. “Oh, no need to use your smooth lines on me.”

Both thumbs pressed down on your finger ever so slightly, in the place where perhaps a ring might go.

“I mean it, I really do.”

Whether it be providing for you or taking care of a home, Kabru does his best to learn anything he needs to no one order to be a good partner. The man actually isn’t very good at taking care of himself, so him learning housework and cooking for your sake really goes to show just how devoted he is.

In fact, on one of your dates, he surprises you by presenting you with a dish he cooked himself — one from your homeland. Even if it’s not perfect, you can tell he put so much love into it.

“The arrangement of it is kind of messy, I know….” Seeing Kabru of all people acting sheepish was certainly a rare sight. As strange as it was, thinking about the implications of such a thing made you feel all warm inside. He really cared for you that much, huh……

“It’s not the appearance of it that matters, it’s the taste.” You were quick to reassure him, smiling as you took the necessary utensils in one hand. “Besides, knowing that you tried so hard for me is more than enough. I mean, I hardly ever see you cook for yourself.”

There was no way Kabru could deny your statement, so he could only nod and look to the side. Instead of directly addressing your correct assessment of his skills, he pivoted into an adjacent topic. “Cooking has always been a gesture people perform for the people they care about. All over the world, it’s something that connects families and couples… it’s only natural I should try it, regardless of my skill level.”

Your partner’s explanations of his acts of service, despite sounding like they came right out of some textbook, never failed to charm you. At its core, it was yet another reminder of how hard Kabru worked to understand how to be a good partner for you.

“It means a lot to me,” you reassured him, lifting the food to your lips, not quite eating it yet. Kabru did his best to keep his expression stone still to hide his anticipation as you inhaled the scent of the dish, making a small humming noise in reaction that he couldn’t help but overthink on the inside. Was it good? Bad? Did he not use enough spices? Too many spices? He knew he should have triple checked the recipe…

While the tallman was overthinking, you readily accepted the labor of love into your mouth, deliberating on its texture and flavor as you chewed. A sharp exhale escaped you immediately after swallowing, after which you would chirp with delight,

“It’s really nice!”

Kabru’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in the date. Mission accomplished.

I imagine Kabru keeps a journal not only about daily events, but also about people, so sometimes as a gift you might get one of the pages of his journal that has an entry about you. Sometimes the page may also contain little doodles or sketches of you, many of which were when he was admiring you without you noticing.

Kabru’s got a pretty nice singing voice, actually, and he seems to speak multiple languages, so he may try learning songs in your language to sing to you. It’s as smooth and romantic as you’d imagine, but if you start singing along with him, you can see him start to melt the second he hears your voice. You really are his weakness.

Another thing — dancing! Kabru has likely had ballroom dance lessons, but other types of dance are ones he’s more unfamiliar with. If you ever know a regional dance you want to teach him, he’ll be happy to learn, albeit super embarrassed at his own clumsiness. Being able to romance you with honeyed words and picture perfect gestures is something he prides himself on, but you reassure him that he’s just as charming even now.

A chorus of ‘sorry’s followed almost in time with the rhythm of your own feet. The man responsible for said chorus, however, didn’t seem to have much rhythm of his own yet, and was feeling rather bashful as a result.

“It’s rare that I get to see you clumsy, Kabru.” There was a teasing lilt in your voice that the other man immediately read into, despite his best judgment. Logically, he knew that you would never say something intentionally cruel to or about him, but when he was always so eager to have your favor, it was hard not to worry.

Another apology escaped his lips, after which one of your hands left its assigned position to rest under his chin. The movement of the rest of your body stilled, focusing only on getting the one you loved so dearly to face you. Blue irises were met with not a trace of malice, only the truest of endearment.

“It’s fine, Kabru.” The affection in your voice paired with how insistently you pitched these words to him gave him the strength to smile and nod in understanding, his own paranoid be damned. Resolving his habitual apologizing sated you, though you were certainly not done loving on the man that you called yours.

“Honestly it’s nice to be able to teach you things firsthand. You spend a lot of time reading about things, probably to surprise me, which is great, don’t get me wrong — but I like this.”

The little head tilt you did without thinking drove him wild on the inside, but he did his best not to show it. It would be so easy to kiss you like this.

“I like being able to feel like I can teach you something, even when you know as much as you do.”

Considering it made you this happy, Kabru might start asking you to teach him things a lot more often. For once, the thought of putting the situation in someone else’s hands made him feel warm inside instead of uneasy.

“Yeah, I like it too.”

Fashion may not be one of Kabru’s biggest interests, but the sight of you in any culture or region-specific clothing that you like always has him in awe of just how dashing you look.

This goes double if it’s your wedding and you’re wearing a traditional outfit, maybe even something passed down in the family. You might as well just kill the man then and there, really.

Speaking of marriage and family, I think Kabru would actually really like adopting a kid some time in the future, as long as everything is stable and such. Kabru himself was adopted, so the idea of becoming a home for a child who may have lost the home they had before is a concept rather close to his own heart.

Future used to be something Kabru fought desperately to create for all of humanity while never, ever considering his own place in it. So much changed after meeting you — he could actually see himself having a future now. Being an important character in a story instead of just the person telling it to somebody else.

More than anything, you saved him. He doesn’t tell this to anybody other than you, but as you lay together at night, he insists he wouldn’t trade any of this for the world.

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #kabru x reader #kabru of utaya x reader #kabru of utaya #kabru dungeon meshi

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onskepa · 2 months

Text

Left Behind: Moments

Here is another chapter of the left behind series! Hope you all enjoy!

Left behind series

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Jake’s pov

“So ummm…..I was told to vlog my day to day stuff. Guess to keep record of things I do and not lose my shit on this planet” Jake tells himself on camera. It has been a few hours since he woke up from his cryo sleep. His body ached, felt like a statue from not moving for 5 years.

“This is year is 2154….those fuckers lied. It's been 7 years since I left Earth for this jungle gym crap. 7 years felt like nothing. My baby girl, probably in her preteen years right now. I wonder how she is doing. I wouldn't blame her if she hates me, no scratch that. She is incapable of hate. Maybe mad, yeah. But not hate. I want this mission to be done and over with.”

Jake’s pov

“First day in my avatar…gotta say, it felt fucking amazing. I was able to breathe the native air! Best part, I can run! WOOHOOO! YES! Oh man, never in my life have I felt this amazing. Though I did get carried away. When I woke up in my new body, the excitement got to me. I ran almost all over the fields, the basketball court, the botanical gardens, it felt great. Almost got in trouble but grace was there to save my ass”

“Still have to adjust to this body, grace is giving me a week to get used to it. I am not the only one though, there is a weird guy named Normal Spellman. Nerdy but otherwise cool. He is the one who studies alongside with tommy. Good pals I can only imagine. He just got his avatar too”

“I bet if my baby girl was here, she would be surprised. With everything really. Maybe a bit scared. Would enjoy it no doubt. Learn how this planet works. I cant help it. I wonder what she is doing. Is she making friends? Doing good in school? So many things. But I know the sooner I get this mission done, the sooner I get home to her”

“Gotta rest now, got a big day tomorrow, this is Jake Sully, singing out”

Jake’s pov

“Colonel Quaritch, tough and kinda scary guy but he keeps people safe here. As safe as it can get on this planet. Met him in the brief meeting as a welcome home type of talk. But, weirdly enough, I admire him. He seems to know what he is doing and how to do it. Said he has a special mission for me, didn't say what yet but to expect a visit from him soon”

“I can worry about that later. Tomorrow starts a new mission. Get samples from more remote areas of the forest. Norm was given a special task. Try to make a peaceful contact with the aliens here. Na’vi is what they are called. Grace gave me a brief on them. Some important figures too. Guess they have a system of rulers here. Like the old native tribes back on Earth. My missions is to guard and make sure grace and norm get what they need”

“I will be honest, does not seem too bad. Was given the ok to shoot any possible threats. Practice with the guns, proud to say I have not lost my aim. It is getting late but I still have to do this. Does keep my mind busy, recalling the day’s events. I am starting to get into a routine”

“After shutting off the camera, I look at the picture of me and my daughter. I would stare at it for a while until my eyes drop. See this? It was the day I won a little toy for her at an arcade. She was so happy. Not often was I able to give her something new. Hopefully the paychecks are getting funded for her needs. I bet she is getting nice, brand new things”

“So many birthdays I missed. Im so sorry baby girl, but I promise, the second I go back, I will give you the biggest hug ever. Buy you all the gifts you could ever want, hell, if the pay is that good, get a better place. Maybe close to your favorite park that you like to play in. Better yet, go to the zoo like you always wanted. I know you will be much older but I dont care. You are my baby girl for life. Nothing is going to change that”

“Guess now I better log off. Big day tomorrow, this is Jake Sully, signing off”

Jake’s pov

“Things didn't go right during the mission and I was split up from grace and norm. A giant weird animal, thana-something called by grace, deadly, found us. Had his eyes on me, grace told me to run so I went the opposite direction of where those to were, to not get them in the crossfire. Seriously, that animal was huge, but I guess by some miracle, a bigger animal came into view. Like in those old nature documentaries, the two giants began to fight. Either way, I made a run for cause I know it was not going to end pretty”

“I got lost along the way, had no idea where I was or how far I was from the crew. Took me sweet time though. Admiring the pretty sights that Pandora had to offer. Felt like a kid again. Everything was bright, colorful, alive. I can see why the RDA wants to use the resources here. Crazy to think that Earth was one like this. Green, healthy, breathing”

“Of course somewhere along the way I lost myself even more, lost my gun. Had to make a spear then turn it into a torch because night came. Now night time felt like a whole different world. Everything glowed, pretty almost neon colors illuminated the plats. Some small creatures also glowed. Sad that I couldn't appreciate it enough. Got attacked”

“Freaking hyena looking animals, running in a pack. The fire helped create a distance as I ran but they were too many, though I was done for. My ass got saved by an unlikely person”

Jake’s pov

“Neytiri, princess of the Omatikaya clan. Scary lady but she saved me. Called me a baby, and told me that I have a strong heart. Stuff happened and next thing you know, I am in their home base. Word passed and neytiri was tasked to train me. Teach me their ways. I am where the RDA needs me to be. It is now only a matter of time. Give the Colonel what he wants, give grace what she wants. It is a win-win situation”

“Still holding out on that little meeting Quaritch wants to have with me. Maybe it won't be that far, since now I am within the premise of the indigenous, I guess I need to collect more info”

“A lot happened so to say. I gotta rest soon. If allowed, I can bring something from here, take it with me when I get back home. Pictures seem the best answer. Or something na’vi related. My little girl knows so little of what is being told about pandora. Or knew I should say. How old is she now….? Probably a preteen. Guess I dodged a bullet. I know pre-teen years are hell. No, I shouldn't say that”

“Soon baby girl. The wait will be worth it. Like I promised. Training day begins tomorrow, so, with that, this is jake sully, signing out”

Jake’s pov

“I am part of the people. I am the son of the people and child of Eywa. Passing my iknimaya, taming my ikran, everything. I am na’vi. It feels unreal, hard to accept. Tsu’tey and I are brothers, wasn't that long ago he wanted to kill me, calling me ugly, but now we are at the same level”

“They celebrated my rebirth. It was fantastic, neytiri made me dance even though I was terrible at it. The whole thing felt magical. Truly, I felt like I really belonged somewhere, being accepted. It felt nice. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, it did get better”

“Surprise surprise, I am now mated to neytiri. She took me to the tree of voices, telling me of how sacred and precious it is, being able to connect to their ancestors. It was beautiful. Neytiri was beautiful, still is. Taking my breath away, and my availability”

“I wouldn't change it for anything, she is someone I have come to love with all my heart. As cheesy as it sounds, it's true. Neytiri changed me, made me better, and I have no regrets”

Jake’s pov

“They are starting to pressure us, more like me. The RDA really want the omatikaya gone, away from their home tree. Just because it houses the materials they want. It is not easy, none of it is easy. To tell them to leave, when it's been their home for thousands of years. According to Grace, I don't doubt her. This is their home, it is us who are the aliens”

“They are not going to leave, nothing is going to change their minds. Worst yet, I know quaritch will do drastic things to get what he wants. I was an idiot to follow him, to believe him. What he will do, knowing his tactics, he will shed blood and bullets. I need to warn neytiri, mo’at, tsu’tey. Can't believe this is coming out of my mouth, but I pray to Eywa, that she guides me. What can I do to make sure things don't go downhill”

“I came to make good money, to finish the mission given to me and be done with. Now, I am in a moral dilemma. I am stuck”

Jake’s pov

“I am sorry. No amount of sorry’s that I say will ever be enough for anyone. Not to neytiri, not to eytukan, not to mo’at, tsu’tey grace, norm, anyone. It will never be enough. I brought this to them, it is only right that I help. War is coming, and soon. So many na’vi died when they destroyed their home tree. Many wounded, kids, infants, innocent lives”

“Grace and I did our best to warn them, tell them to leave. Tsu’tey was adamant to fight, their weapons useless against the valkyries. In an instant, all was gone. I wanted to apologize to neytiri, she was furious, telling me I am not one of those people. She is right. Before anything more could be done, those damn bastards forced me to pull out. Pushed me in a tight closure”

“Quaritch, a beast he is, heartless. Keeping me locked up yet outside of my cage he dangles the picture of my little girl. Telling me it's not too late to take his side if I ever want to go back to earth and see her again. Going on about how she will react to all of this. Her father rebelling against humanity. As much as I hate to admit…”

“He is right….I dont know if I will see her again. I hate to say….sacrifices have got to be made. I'm sorry, but I have to atone my sins. Like I said, no amount of sorry’s will be enough. Not even for my little girl, I am sorry baby girl, but daddy is not coming home”

Jake’s pov

“We won. Quaritch is dead, and unfortunately, so is Grace and tsu’tey. Both sides lost many lives. Yet that is war, but we won. Humans are no more, many left, only few remained. Sworn their loyalty to the na’vi. Only they can stay. We made many sacrifices, I made many. Many I dont regret, or will look back to. This is the beginning of a new chapter for me. There is nothing left to hold me back, not my past, not my memories. I am at peace with what I did”

“Neytiri is with a child, I am excited, I am going to be a father. I cant wait when they arrive, I will be there, welcoming my son or daughter into a new world of peace. First born, neytiri likes to say it over and over. She is not wrong, our first child together in a new era of peace”

“However there is still one thing left to do. A grand celebration is going to be held”

“This I look forward to, many are coming together for it. It is my birthday after all, can't miss my own party. So, one last time. This is Jake Sully, the human, signing out. For good”

Third pov

A young girl looks at the last vlog of her father, Jake Sully, eyes wide as she takes in what she just saw. This was a side she never knew, nor did she think it would be hidden.

She clenches her hands into a fist tightly, gritting her teeth, her body shaking in fury. Hot tears streaming down her face, not knowing whether to cry in sadness or scream in anger. So many emotions mixed, creating a tornado in her mind.

Hearing a door open behind her, she turns to glare at the man.

“Why….” was all she could say before breaking down.

Aaaaaaaaaaand that is it for this chapter of the ongoing series! This one I chose to have only jake be the main point, his vlogs. See how his mind changes, perspective and what lead to the final choice. Trust me, this will come back for future chapters. So until next time! See ya!

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stayinlimbo · 6 months

Text

Returned Call

wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited

note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak.

Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you.

Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week.

They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah.

You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people.

Two months too late, don’t you think?

As if any of this was my fault.

…

I was getting better before you called, you know?

I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone.

I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.

I even went on a date.

Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.

…

You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?

I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved.

It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.

I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom.

You didn’t even look sorry.

How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?

…

I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?

You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had?

…

Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.

I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends.

You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?

Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better.

…

Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us.

…I wish I could hate you. I really do.

But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to.

I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me.

Because I still want you.

…

I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.

I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho.

…

Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.

Just please, don’t make me regret this.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3

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slytherweasley · 1 year

Text

Mine now (Pansy Parkinson x reader)

Warnings: smut, public teasing & dirty talk, oral female giving/receiving, rimming

Summary: y/n is obsessed with Pansy which intrigues Pansy so she invites y/n to a party in hopes to get to know each other.

You’d zoned out and completely shifted your attention to Pansy who was sitting across the room. Every chance you’d see Pansy you’d always be mesmerised by her. Her radiant confidence and beauty is what attracts you and everyone else to her.

You’d never spoken a word to her and you’re not sure she knows your name.

Pansy turns her head to look over at you and catches you before you could look away but she gives you a quick glance before looking away. You’re sure she knows something is up by the way you’re always looking at her.

After class you meet up with some of your friends you see Pansy walking past with her Slytherin friends. A few of your friends groan when they notice her “She thinks she’s better than everyone” you stay out of the conversation.

Everywhere she walks, people move out of the way for her, most people including you are intimidated.

At lunch you sit at the Ravenclaw table waiting for your friends to arrive when someone sits beside you. You look over to see Daphne Greengrass, Pansy’s friend. You can’t lie you started to panic, did Pansy send her here to tell you to back off?

“There’s going to be a Slytherin party tomorrow night, it’s invite only and you have to have the password to get in so no friends are allowed just you.” Daphne continues to tell you the password and not to mention it to anyone. She gets up and walks away.

You were quite confused, you weren’t friends with any Slytherins which is why it doesn’t make sense you would be invited unless she mistakenly confused you for someone else.

You got ready for the party and lied to your dorm mates and said you were going on a date and not to wait up for you. You assumed Pansy would be there so you dressed up a bit and put on some makeup.

You made your way to the Slytherin common rooms and gave the password. The common room was filled with people everywhere. You walk over to grab a drink and spot Pansy in a circle of friends. You make eye contact and she looks away again.

You skull your drink and pour another one, you didn’t know anyone here well enough to hang out with so you just tried to enjoy yourself. You’d kept your eye on Pansy and finally she was alone. You felt enough confidence partly because the alcohol helped numb your anxiety.

“Hey” you say “Hi” she replies “I’ve wanted to talk to you for months but I can never seem to find you alone” “what do you want?” She asks bluntly.

You take a deep breath in “do you want to dance?” “With you?” “Yes” “then yes.” You take her hand and drag her to where everyone is dancing. You hold onto her hips as she grinds on you.

Her bum moves against your pussy and you feel yourself getting wetter as she grinds on you. Your hands don’t leave her hips until she turns to face you pressing a kiss to your jaw. She slips her hand under your skirt and rubs you over your underwear. You had to keep quiet because it was still crowded and anyone could look over.

“Fuck I can feel how wet you are” she whispers in your ear breathing heavily. Her hand quickly slips into your underwear as she rubs up and down making your legs quiver. You hold onto her tightly as you start whimpering and moaning trying to keep quiet “that’s it, tell me how bad you want me” “so much, I want your mouth and your fingers and your pussy, I want all of you.”

Pansy stops rubbing your pussy and you sneak away from the party to her dorm. She starts stripping as she gets inside and helps you out until you’re both completely naked. She lays you on the bed and starts to kiss you, if felt like a dream, her naked body pressed against yours as you kiss.

“I’ve always dreamt about this” you mumble between kisses “I’m about to make all your dreams come true.”

She pulls away and makes her way between your thighs, she presses soft kisses that turn into more passionate and hungry kisses. Her lips kiss up to your pussy and she begins to eat you out. Her tongue laps up your cunt as she tastes you. “Fuck so good.” you moan.

Pansy positions her pussy on your face as you eat her out she can give the same pleasure. Each lick of her clit, she lets out a small moan against your clit.

Her tongue moves from your pussy to your ass where she places a small kiss and her tongue teases your entrance. Her tongue swirls around rimming your hole. “So pretty” she mutters.

Both of your mouths consistently work at each other until you’re both so close. “Make me cum” Pansy demands.

You both moan against each other’s pussys as you finish. Pansy lays beside you pressing a kiss to your mouth.

“You’re mine now, I don’t do casual I do exclusive relationships” she says looking lovingly into your eyes “perfect because I don’t want anything less than that” you reciprocate the kiss to her lips.

#harry potter #hp imagine #smut #wlw smut #pansy parkinson #pansy parkinson fluff #pansy parkinson angst #pansy parkinson x you #pansy parkinson fanfiction #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x female reader #pansy parkinson smut #pansy parkinson x fem!reader #pansy parkinson imagine #pansy parkinson x y/n #pansy parkinson x lesbian!reader

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winterarmyy · 1 year

Text

Promise Me | Part II

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.

P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past

"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deem necessary.

Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size, as he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.

"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"

If he was being truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.

Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour, "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.

"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Yes. Something did happened recently.

Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.

They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.

Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through her raven hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.

He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her brown eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.

Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.

"No." He lied again.

"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.

Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."

Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.

Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?" Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."

"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.

Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."

His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..." Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."

It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.

There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.

Just an empty atmosphere without the presence of her lover.

And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.

She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.

Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she needed to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.

"Missed you in bed, yknow?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts.

Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.

She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.

Bucky's humming was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.

Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.

She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.

Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.

He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."

Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.

"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."

The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."

Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.

Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and grabbed her onto his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"

"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"

Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."

"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."

There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.

Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.

Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.

She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."

He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.

"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's still alive somewhere."

Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her at all, before walking out the room feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.

Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.

Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved

Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.

It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her 6th life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.

It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound her face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.

And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.

After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.

Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.

The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.

But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.

Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.

She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.

There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even with the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.

She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.

Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.

There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.

She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself.

Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.

All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the pain.

"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.

She wanted it to end.

She wanted to rest. For good.

In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.

She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.

It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when a person's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything became the reminder of them.

Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.

Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."

She truly did.

She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.

But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.

"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.

Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover

Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.

Don't get her wrong, though.

She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.

She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.

He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.

Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night, while they were completely out-numbered.

She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.

It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.

And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum making the trio combination even more concerning.

She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.

He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.

Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.

"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.

And two shots later, he did.

There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.

The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.

But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not before I get what I want." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.

In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.

The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of the cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.

"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.

The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."

"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.

However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.

"You know her?" Sharon quirked.

Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.

"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.

Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."

The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.

Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.

"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.

Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .

"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.

Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.

Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assissin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.

Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."

Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.

Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."

Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"

"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.

After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."

Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?

Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight against her.

"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.

Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."

The Dealthstalker technically saved his life.

So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?

Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.

Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.

Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.

Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.

"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menancing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.

What kind of bullshit was she talking about?

Reviving Hydra?

Why the hell would he do that?

However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.

While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"

Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a paticularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.

Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.

When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.

Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.

Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.

But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.

He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.

How could she forget those livid-blue eyes sharpen beneath the deep frown he was wearing?

Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?

Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.

"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.

Suddenly, the high walls of her defences begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.

And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.

Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.

When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.

And when he saw the wet glaze in her brown eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.

There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.

With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.

Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.

He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her eyes, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.

Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.

Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.

It's real.

He's real.

Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.

"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.

However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.

But, why?

Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?

Why?

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

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tinkerleaf · 6 months

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Drunken Ballads

This one is so funny to me. Don't judge me for the song choice, I've been blasting it for days. Synopsis: reader gets tipsy, dazai and chuuya to the rescue Genre: comedy? Words: 675 Pairing: dazai/reader/chuuya Warnings: cursing, a little suggestive, alcohol

The Armed Detective Agency didn’t allow you to drink too often, and there was a reason for that. There’s a story that the office tells the newbies before they get carried away, just to keep them from acting out the way you did one special night.

After a particularly hard mission, you felt you needed a little something to relieve the tension you felt. You decided to go to a nice bar that offered cute little cocktails because you deserved it. It had been a rough week for you, and nothing hits the spot better than getting drunk.

At the time, you had only meant to get a little buzzed. Unfortunately, you were wasted.

Something that this bar was known for was its large stage for karaoke and other forms of live music. There was a dancefloor in front of it, and behind that stood a plethora of couches and tables. Lots of people were there, it was quite popular.

This was the first time you had ever been to this club, and you failed to consider who owned it. Some of the Port Mafia members were scattered throughout the place, but you wouldn’t have realized it anyway due to your condition.

A certain redhead placed himself in a black leather chair at the opposite end of the room. He didn’t know you were there yet, but it wouldn’t be long before he did. He sipped on the last bit of his wine, and before calling someone to fill his glass, he choked. He almost dropped it when he saw you on the stage, singing “…Baby One More Time” (specifically the Tenacious D version).

“No fucking way…” He couldn’t lie, you were doing great, but you were certainly drunk out of your mind.

“Hey boss, isn’t that-”

“Nope.” He lied. He knew this would be awful for your image if people realized who you worked for.

The mafioso didn’t respond, other than to roll his eyes.

Halfway through your little “performance”, Chuuya reluctantly dialed a number he hadn’t rung in a while.

There wasn’t an answer. Instead, he finds Dazai walking up to him with a smug look on his face. “They sure know how to put on a show, huh?”

“The crowd’s loving it.” He glances over to his former partner, “Apparently so are you.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just waiting for them to fall off the stage.”

“You didn’t have to call me by the way. I already knew about their after-work plans, but I had no idea it would be this entertaining.”

When you finally made eye contact with the two, you knew you were in trouble. You quickly stumbled down the side stairs and attempted to escape without them noticing. This was an awful plan, however. Your current state was equivalent to a fawn, wobbling to keep balance.

A strong arm pulled you close. “Where do you think you’re going like that?” Chuuya asked. “You can barely walk!” His cologne was intoxicating.

“You’re so handsome…” You slurred quietly.

“Damn, they really are wasted,” Dazai retorted, earning a scoff from the other man. He moved some of your hair from your face, “Guess it’s time you come back with me, sweetheart.”

You smiled, “You both can take me home.” Dazai laughed, while Chuuya’s eyes widened.

“Get them out of here. Make sure they get home safe.”

“Of course.”

The rest of the night was a blur. All you could remember was Dazai taking you back to your apartment and then waking up in your bed the next morning. He left a note on your nightstand, along with a glass of water and some painkillers.

Upon walking into the office later, you had a serious migraine. You couldn’t afford to stay home, however, due to the massive amount of paperwork you had to fill out from the last case.

Sitting at your desk, Dazai had quite a smirk on his face. “How you feelin’?”

You held your palm at him. “I don’t want to hear it from you right now.”

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wen-kexing-apologist · 2 years

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By god do I just need to scream into the ether about the Heart and co. confrontation scene.

First, the tension, incredible. Gemini and Fourth are phenomenal actors. Heart and Li Ming know they are walking in to a very emotionally fraught situation and their hesitation is palpable.

It's scene breakdown time babyyyy! Let's start from the beginning

For a boy who admitted last episode that he has no idea what he is doing, he sure keeps doing things right. He's letting Heart know he's going to talk. Now, granted I don't know what he is saying here precisely if he is just simply saying "I'm going to talk for us/first", "I'll interpret," or if he's saying "I'm going to talk?", I don't think his face moves in any way that would imply a question, but his face is partially obscured. Either way he is at the very least keeping Heart in the know, and at the most asking for Heart's explicit consent to lead this conversation. You can't see it from pictures, but I appreciate the fact that before they cut back to the wide shot, Heart nods, so we as an audience, and Li Ming as the speaker here knows that Heart is okay with the power dynamics at play, with Li Ming talking for both of them.

It's a blink and you'll miss it moment, thankfully I'm obsessed with this scene and therefore have been looping it endlessly, but I feel compelled to point out the way eye contact in this moment goes a long way in conveying how Heart's Mom and Li Ming view Heart. When Heart's mother points to her son she doesn't even look at him. The most she does is cast a downward glance at his bandage, and that's before she even points. And you can argue all you want that she doesn't look at him because she's specifically talking to and addressing Li Ming. But I call bullshit on that because Li Ming is specifically talking to and addressing Heart's mother, and he's looking straight in to Heart's eyes when he refers to and gestures towards Heart. I'm sure that both of these characters believe they love and care about Heart, but of these two characters which one actually recognizes Heart's personhood?

But uh oh! Li Ming stood up for himself and for Heart, and talked back to not just an adult, but a powerful adult. And now she's mentioning past debts, and now there will be more to pay as a result. And Li Ming can only work so much with school and life and everything. He clearly doesn't know what he's getting himself in to, or what he has gotten himself in to. Li Ming and Heart's Mom are both getting angry, tensions are rising, something needs to happen to de-escalate the situation or this might go wrong. Uncle Jim absolutely must intervene (I hope you can hear the sarcasm in my voice). Interesting note: Guess who else doesn't look at their child when making a decision for them. Jim does look at Li Ming directly after this though, but it's to ask him why he did it. It's to place the blame for the accident on Li Ming. "You Li Ming, why did you do it?" "Heart asked me to." "Stop saying that."

Jim is scared, Li Ming is pissed. "He was bored at home" "I said stop!" Jim is used to the way powerful and wealthy people can control and punish the poor. Jim and Li Ming have had conversations before that indicate this very mindset. Jim has mentioned power to Li Ming before and Li Ming's response has always been "what, so we just let them?" "He's a police officer so he can just do anything he wants to us?" to a young adult like Li Ming, this is an absurdity, to an older man like Jim, this is a reality. "he can just do anything he wants to us?" the answer is yes. Which is why Jim is so desperate to get Li Ming to stop talking here. But it just serves as a reminder to Li Ming that Jim thinks he's a child, and that he needs all his battles fought for him. If Li Ming doesn't keep pushing, nothing is going to change (social and political commentary anyone?)

"There you go again," Heart's mother says, and this is Li Ming's initial reaction. This moment of annoyance and anger that this woman who doesn't even know him is once again accusing him of something he didn't do. This woman who is pointing once again to her son without even a glance in his direction "You know that he's mute, so you can say whatever you want?" First of all, even people who are mute have ways to communicate, so it's not like even if he was mute Heart would be helpless. Hell, even if Heart was mute he still has fucking sign language.

The face of a woman who was, in fact, not aware that deaf people dislike being called mute.

GUESS WHO FINALLY LOOKS AT HER SON AFTER THAT!!!! Please please if the writers are kind and merciful, this will be the point in the show where Heart's mother does so deep deep introspection and realizes how much she has fucked up. "He's just deaf," Li Ming says, loudly, and he steps forward, to try to engage Heart's mom in further conversation, in more dialogue. And what does Jim do? Pulls him back, takes him off his even footing "I said stop,"

The face of a man who is very scared for the trouble his nephew might be getting himself in to, and the face of his nephew who is very disappointed that his uncle keeps not only backing down, but forcing him to back down as well. Who keeps asking him, in these small ways to lie instead of tell the truth. To remain quiet, to take the blame, to stick to the status quo.

And then the part I hate (emotionally) begins. Heart asks Li Ming to tell him what they're saying. And I hate it because Heart's parents refusing to learn sign language does not only hurt Heart but it hurts everyone around him, themselves included. But specifically here, it hurts Li Ming, because he has to be the one to look Heart in the face and repeat the words his mother said, knowing that to do so will hurt Heart. Knowing that he has to be the one to hurt Heart.

And this moment is also a great reminder for the audience as well that no one else knowing sign language creates really uncomfortable power dynamics between the person who is able to interpret and the Deaf person. Because Li Ming is hesitant to repeat it. Heart has to repeatedly grab his arm, repeatedly ask Li Ming to tell him what was said. Li Ming has absolute power over Heart right now, to refuse to say it, or to flat out lie. He doesn't, but it also should not be Li Ming's decision whether or not Heart knows, accurately, what was said. Even after we see it in his face that Li Ming agrees to translate, he still hesitates for a few seconds to move, to reach for the notepad, to have to write it down.

And once he writes it down, Li Ming's eyes do not leave Heart. He is honed in on Heart, on Heart's face, on his shoulders, hell even on the back of his head until Heart asks him to translate. And god as much as I hate this moment in the scene for the pain that it causes Li Ming, I hate it even more for the pain that it causes Heart.

He is fucking livid. Rightfully so, because HE'S NOT FUCKING MUTE, HE'S HAD LANGUAGE THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME. He just wants to live his life like everyone else AND HE HAS TO TELL HIS PARENT'S THAT USING SOMEONE ELSE'S VOICE. Because they have refused to use his own. GOD. I'll be surprised if anyone makes it this far down in the post but I just...AHHHH I have no coherent thoughts about this moment, I just....Heart's parents do fucking better. Damn. And the worst part of this scene is yet to come because his Mom tries for like 0.2 seconds, but it looks like she's going to start signing something and Heart just looks SO surprised.

He's so focused on it, he's paying so much attention to it. Is this it? Is this the moment he finds out that his mother has actually been trying? That she has learned and is ready to start using sign language with him? To talk to him, to understand him?

No.

She can't do it. She doesn't know how to. And it's just..it's so easy to see how much hope he had for just a second, how much that one millisecond of effort obliterated all the logic in his head that told him they didn't know it, they didn't care. And how quickly that disappointed anger snaps right back in to place. So Heart starts talking, in sign language, like he has been able to do for years, and he speaks his mind, and his mother still can't understand him. And we see the same dynamic here as with the "mute" comment. Heart's Mom wants Li Ming to translate, Heart wants Li Ming to translate, Li Ming knows how hurt Heart is, and yeah, probably some of his hesitation in voicing what Heart said is because he knows what Heart said will hurt her. But more so because I think it hurts Li Ming to know how much pain Heart is in.

God, poor Heart, literally having to beg to be heard.

"He said you are ashamed of him being deaf,"

His mother shakes her head and says "Heart, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, dear," and therein lies the problem. She doesn't know what to say, she never has. She has never bothered to learn how to communicate with him since he went deaf. She has kept him locked away. And it doesn't matter if she thinks she did that to keep him safe, Heart feels like he's being hidden away. And she doesn't say "No. No I'm not ashamed. I have never been ashamed." she doesn't know what to say. Because she can't say that. She can't deny that, and it just confirmed everything that Heart has known. So he leaves, because that's too much to handle.

Bullshit 'he'll be fine, honey'. Your fucking son just told you that you never bothered to learn sign language in THREE FUCKING YEARS, and stormed away after admitting that he feels like you are ashamed of him, and you think no need to go after him, he'll be fine??? Fuck you. ACAB.

Does this...

look like...

he's fine, to you?

No. I didn't think so.

I don't really feel like I need to say much about this last shot. It stands on its own so strongly. Mirrors reflecting back, Heart and Li Ming only ever being able to see each other, to be seen by each other. Warm light at Heart's back, Li Ming in front of him, sandwiched between warmth in all of that blue, isolating coldness. All that evidence of how much time and the energy Heart has spent learning sign language. I don't know what the post-its say, I don't know that I want to know.

I don't know if they are notes Heart has written to himself when he was learning, and this is just what remains of his effort. Honestly I hope it's that, because if it is what I think it is, general, every day responses that he might have to give in reply to his parents that he can just pull off his wall and return, that is so much fucking worse. Because then its just the evidence of all the effort Heart has put in to communicate with his parents on their level when they have not put in the same effort to communicate on his. Even if it's something cute, even if it's all the notes that he and Li Ming have passed back and forth to each other over the last few months, serving as a reminder that someone cares, you still are left with the heartbreaking shot of two young men, desperate to be understood by their families, only having each other to hold on to, surrounded by reminders that they are the only two people that can understand each other. No matter how hard they try.

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harmonictechnicality · 2 years

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Memory Log: Day 52

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.

He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).

Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.

He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.

Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.

“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?”

Yeah. Why does he care so much?

She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”

They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.

They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.

So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.

He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:

“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”

He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.

“I’m doing it for them.”

Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.

Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.

“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”

“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”

“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”

“Right.”

This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.

Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.

But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.

He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night.

So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.

Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.

“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.

So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize.

Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.

That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.

Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.

“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.

“Never said he did.”

He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.

“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”

“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.

They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident.

His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”

“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”

“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”

“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”

“Fine.”

Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.

“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:

Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.

“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”

Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).

Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.

Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.

The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too.

He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets.

Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?

Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.

The notes are still there. Fading, but there.

It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.

Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life.

He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.

Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.

Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.

After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.

“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.

Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”

“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”

This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”

“Right. And what theory would that be?”

That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”

Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”

Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”

“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”

“Not all the time, but -”

“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”

Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”

“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”

Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”

Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”

“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”

“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”

Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”

Memory Log: Day 53

Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.

“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.

“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”

“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”

That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.

Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”

Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).

“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”

Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.

Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape.

And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.

But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections?

The payoff might be worth the weirdness.

“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.

Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”

“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.

“You think of something better then.”

Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”

“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.

“Better than yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”

“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”

“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”

Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.

“You sure are, Steve.”

Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.

“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.

“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”

Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.

“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”

Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”

Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.”

“Too late.”

Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”

“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.

Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.

“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”

Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”

He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.

“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”

God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.”

“Got it.”

The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.

They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.

It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.

“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.

“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”

Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.

Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:

“I won’t forget, Eds.”

Day 56:

Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.

He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can’t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.

But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.

After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.

“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.

Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”

“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”

Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”

“With what insurance?”

“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”

“So?”

“Final conclusion?”

“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”

“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.

“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”

“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.

“Whatever you say, man.”

“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”

Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.

They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.

Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”

“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”

“It wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”

“Oh.”

“With you.”

The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.

The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.

It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.

Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.

But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?

Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’

But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’

Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.

“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?”

Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”

Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

His monitor is ballad again.

One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.

The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches.

Headaches…

Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.

Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now.

Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.

“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”

Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”

“Share with the class, please.”

Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”

“Not joking, no.”

Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”

Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.

“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”

Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.

So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.

“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”

“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”

“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”

They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.

Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.

“Hey.”

Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”

And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green.

This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.

He probably deserves it.

Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.

It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.

Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.

The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.

The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.

He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.

“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.

Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?

“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”

“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”

Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.

“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”

He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line.

Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’

But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”

Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”

Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.

And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.

Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.

“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”

She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”

“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”

“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”

Steve smirks. “Got it.”

“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”

Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.

He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.

Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he’s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.

Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.

And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.

Day 57:

It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.

He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home.

His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.

They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever.

The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.

Awake.

Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.

Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.

It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth.

Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.

Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.

Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”

Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.

Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.

“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”

Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.

“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.

“The sounds you’re making?”

Steve nods.

“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”

Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”

Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.

He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.

Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”

The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.

Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”

Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.

“Good.”

Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.

He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.

Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily.

It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.

“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”

Right. It's the weekend.

Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”

Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”

“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”

She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.

Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.

Steve nervously whistles. “So…”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”

Um. What?

Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”

“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”

This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”

“Get out of here already!”

Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever.

Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.

Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.

If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.

And a kiss on the lips.

Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too).

#🎶here comes some contenttttt🎶#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #sorrrrrrryyyyy these keep getting longer and longer #also - this is as close as I can get to a bed sharing trope in a hospital fic #and I hope this helps y'all feel better after the *last* chapter #and if I missed your tag pls reach out and tell me - I'm trying to keep up but my brain is a cluttered place to be in

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bunchems · 9 months

Text

Marc’s Girl 18+ minors dni

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader

Summary: Loosening Steven up after trying on an outfit for your date with Marc tomorrow.

Warnings: Shy Steven, some haram drink consumption, premarital skin to skin contact, I think that all.

She looks gorgeous

Steven thought as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you finish up your hair. Marc had him front so you could show him your dress, Steven looked down at himself, white tee with light grey sweatpants on, clearly no underwear. You and Marc have a date night planned for tomorrow and to make sure your outfit was absolutely perfect, you ask Steven for his opinion.

“Okay, done! How do I look?” You smile, spinning and watching as his face warms, taking you in.

“You look per- pretty. Lovely.” He wipes a finger over his brow, hoping you didn’t hear his slip up. “Marc will be thrilled when he sees you.” You laugh and start walking closer to him, noticing how he anxiously fidgets as he wonders how to act around you.

“You don’t think the heels are a problem? I’m almost as tall as you.” You say, pulling his hands so he stands up.

“No- no it wouldn’t be a problem, he would love everything you’ve got on- planned! He would love everything you have planned.” Steven couldn’t help the way his eyes shifted to the mirror, paranoid that Marc would be there to yell at him for talking to his girlfriend like this. But Steven wanted her too. He wondered what it would be like for you to dress up just for him like you do for Marc. What would it be like to be kissed, even on the cheek, by you.

“What about you?” Blinking, he snapped out of his thoughts. “Hm?”

“I asked if you liked it. You keep saying that Marc would like it, but do you?” He’s looking at the mirror again, at the floor, at your feet, at the door, he’s nervous.

“I think you look… pretty.. all the time.” The way your eyes beamed made his heart clench, why did you have to be so incredible.

“Oh yeah? How come you’ve never told me before?”

How could I…

“Well, well you don’t need to be told do you? You know you’re lovely.” That might have been the smoothest thing Steven has ever said, especially when his brain was just dumping thoughts.

“You’re quite the charmer. You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” He frowns at the question, the truth is quite embarrassing, of course the truth is that he’s never even had a moment with a girl that was more passionate than holding hands.

“I- yes. I have. I had one when I was..”

Eighteen? Twenty-six? Thirty?

“Twenty.” He lies, watching your jaw drop. “You haven’t had a girlfriend in almost twenty years?!”

Should’ve said thirty.. five?

He looks down, your reaction hurt him, he knows it’s weird that he’s never been with a woman, that’s why he lied to you— but it has been double that, how would you have reacted if he said never?

Steven didn’t bother to answer, of course you noticed how he’s retreated a bit more into his shell.

“There’s nothing wrong with that or anything but I’m just shocked! You’re like the perfect man it’s quite unbelievable.” He looks at you in awe, then closing his mouth and nodding.

“You mean Marc.“ He was about to laugh his little shy laugh but you weren’t having any more of this denial.

“No, I know who I’m talking to, Steven. You and Marc are two completely different people.” You’ve stepped closer to him and he flinched, eyes shifting once again to the mirror, you ponder on that.

“Right.. you and Marc do communicate through reflections right? Is he here right now? ‘Cuz he’s really not supposed to be snooping on my dress.” You said, turning to look at the mirror with a stern look.

“No, he isn’t. I just- sometimes I get nervous that he might be.”

“Why?”

“Well.. you know..”

“No, I don’t think I do..?”

“Really? Well- you- you’re Marc’s girl..” You chuckled at his words, you’ve talked to Marc about this. That dating him and not Steven would be a little different for you and he fully understood. But of course he’d be jealous and not tell Steven this information.

“I can be yours too.” Gasping, he puts his hand over his heart to soothe the pleasurable ache in his chest.

“You don’t mean that..” He sighs, his face holding all the disbelief in the world, you squint at this, hatching an idea.

“You know what? We’ve never had a drink together, I have a bottle of wine that needs to be finished by tonight.. and I do mean that.” It was your smile that ultimately led him to saying yes, taking a distant seat next to you on the couch. The wine glasses were filled equally and you gave the obligatory cheers before taking a sip.

“T’s not as bad as I expected, not as bitter.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite, when this runs out I’m going straight to the store to get another.” His eyes get comically wide, setting his glass down and turning his body to face you.

“If it’s your favorite.. don’t you think you should save it for your date with Marc tomorrow? I mean wouldn’t you want to share this with him on your ..special day?” His voice lost diction as he spoke, subdued by the idea of it not being him that you’d be happily going out with tomorrow.

He takes another sip of his drink as you respond with a voice as sweet as honey. “There’s no one I’d rather share this bottle with, Steven.” He takes another long sip, hiding his smile with the glass and finishing the cup absentmindedly.

“So, how come you haven’t had a girlfriend for such a long time, hm?“ He felt shy at the question, answering in a low voice. “Women have never seemed to like me.. Don’t really blame them, I’ve no idea how to make a woman happy.”

When Marc first told you about Steven one of the first things he mentioned was how he’s treated. No one necessarily likes him yet they don’t have a good reason not to, he gets pushed around but he doesn’t do much about it, not many people talk to him and when they do you’d find yourself wishing that there were still good people on Earth. Marc said Steven doesn’t deserve nearly as much shit as he gets, he actually wants Steven to like you so everyone would be happy.

“That can’t be true.. how’d you ask out your last girlfriend? Or did she ask you?” He didn’t want to continue this lie but with the help of a glass of wine it became a bit easier to think of a way to answer.. without answering.

“Oh, I could never go and talk to a woman. Let alone one that I fancied.” Finally finishing your wine, you make to pour two more glasses, handing Steven his cup and smiling as he takes a bigger sip.

“So that must be why you’re all the way over there?” You figured that by now, the alcohol must be running through his system, of course you figured that because of his sudden inability to hide his smile and the way he looks at you.

“Yeah, sorry, guess I haven’t quite shaken the habit.”

“So you do like me?” He sighs, “‘Course I do.. Jus’ wish I was more like Marc, would be nice to be able to look good, sound cool. I think it would be nice if I could impress you like he does. I dunno.” He shrugs, taking another sip.

“Why don’t you impress me in your own way? Y’know, rather than Marc’s way.” Pressing his lips together, he thinks for a moment.

“Well, like I said, I wouldn’t know how. He’s the one that knows what to do, he’s tried to get me a girlfriend before, y’know? Didn’t work, she threw her drink at me.” You frown, “Why?”

“Well, it was my fault, really. I set our date at a vegan restaurant.” He looks up at your confused face with a small laugh. “She wasn’t vegan, she yelled at me because I didn’t ask what she liked to eat. Actually, a small part of me believes that she did that because she regretted saying yes to me.” His smile fell when he looked at you again, you looked upset, really upset.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?” He sets his glass down and wipes his palms over his thighs, ready to leave in case you were mad at him.

“You could never make me uncomfortable, those girls suck okay? And it most definitely wasn’t your fault.” Standing, you pick Steven’s wine back up and hand it to him, sitting close enough that your legs touch.

When Steven received his glass, he passed it to the other hand. He allowed his left hand to relax but when he felt soft plump skin under his palm he jerked back with fear. “Sorry! I-I’m so sorry!” He was panicking at first, but then you laugh. That beautiful, lighthearted laugh that always seems to calm his nerves.

“What?” He laughs back, subconsciously scooting away. “You’re adorable, I don’t care that you touched my thigh.” He smiled and looked away momentarily.

“You don’t?” When he looked back at you, the comfortable smile on your face had his heart melting.

God she’s beautiful.. focus focus focus..

His thoughts were slow, concentrated on you and how your hand reached for his.

“Obviously not.” He blinked, what were you talking about? Did he miss something that had been said, done? What was happening? After a moment, he answers. “What d’you mean?”

“I thought we established that I want to be your girlfriend.” It takes multiple moments to fully understand what you were saying to him, he sat there blinking at you with the most mixed emotioned face you’ve ever seen.

“You were serious?” The waver in his voice almost broke your heart, “Why? I mean, of course I think you’re amazing.. and I know Marc and I are almost the same person to you but, uhm, d’you think you like me because you like Marc… Or do you actually think that I’m.. do you think- that you could even possibly be happy.. with me?”

“Yes, Steven, of course I can be happy with you. I like you for you, not because of Marc or anyone else. I know you’re sweet and incredibly caring. I know you’re a vegan so I’ll know to buy separate things for you, I know you love Egyptology, which is perfect for me because I think it’s interesting too, I know your fish, Gus, who really needs a companion, I know you’re entirely misunderstood, and I know that I do like you for you.” He contemplates, leg tapping and hands wringing.

“Are you sure?” You laugh at this, but he can’t seem to make himself laugh with you. “Why would I mind that?” He tilts his head in confusion. “Well- well I’m too nervous, for one.” He finishes his wine in a gulp, “I wouldn’t know what to do, how to treat you.” He thought again, the lie he’d told earlier still sitting on his chest weighing him down.

“And you were right earlier.. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend… I lied.” He sighed dramatically, you question him with a frown, feeling your stomach clench. “I just said that because I didn’t want you to know that-“ He stops to think of his words carefully, but no matter how he puts it, it still sounds the same.

“To know what..?” As patient and relaxed as ever, you calmed him down with the sound of your voice. “That no woman has ever really liked me.. because if you knew that, there’s no way that you would want me.” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he was feeling shame, embarrassment, something too unpleasant to bare that he couldn’t put his finger on.

“I just- I know that it could change your mind..” He confirmed after maybe three seconds of silence, you put your hand on his thigh and fight back a giggle when he freezes.

“I do not give a fuck about what any other woman thinks of you. All you need to think about from now on is me, not whoever used to treat you like shit okay?” Even though he hears what you’re saying, his eyes seem to focus on the way you take his glass and put it down along with yours. The way your hips and legs shift to face him, your body coming closer, yours hands coming to the side of his face to tilt his head up so he could look in your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?“ The shock in his eyes only makes your heart flutter. He sighs out an ‘uhuh’ and you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back and laughing at the fact that his eyes are still blissfully closed.

You take that as a sign to press two more soft pecks before using your thumb to pull his lip down, sucking on it and pulling it softly with your teeth. He gasps and pulls away as he looks at you with curious eyes, you were sure he had a question but his eyes trailed away instead, shying away from it.

“What do you want to say?” The attempt to make your voice as sweet as possible must’ve worked since he turns to you, albeit slowly, and starts to mumble. “You- don’t have to say yes, but I wanted to- wanted you to maybe, teach me how to.. kiss.. you…”

“Of course, come with me.”

Part 2 maybe?

#steven grant x reader #moon knight #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #marc spector #black reader #fem reader

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hwaseonghwasworld · 8 months

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Arranged marriage chapter 3: Wedding Ceremony

Summary: being a popular model isn't enough for Y/n’s parents so they decided to get her married with a 6’1”, protective male who is also a mafia, all the secrets and lies everyone kept from her will soon come into the light, what happens once the truth comes out?

Yunho x Reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: series Mafia au!, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Media au!

Warnings: murder, graphic violence, kidnapping, cursing

Updates: Probably Thursday at 7pm BST

I hate this…

Getting married to a guy I only met once, and watching as people took pictured with me then going to go sit down at the main area, I rolled my eyes as people actually thought I was I love with this stranger, my grandma walked up to me and I tried smiling just for her, “you two look like such a beautiful couple, how did you two meet? Why didn’t you tell me about him?” I looked at my mom who decided to take a picture with both of us and she just smiled and laughed a little.

“You know kids these days, mother, they’re always keeping secrets” I sighed and they stood up and hugged me then walked into the main room. My friends hugged me and we sat down and took pictures, I nodded at them about the plan and we started, “Y/n your bun is loose” “really? Let’s go to my changing room to fix it” we walked away apologising to everyone and we walked to the changing room, I look at Setsuna since she’s the one that decided to switch with me. “Tsuna are you ready to get married again?” She nodded and we quickly switched clothes.

After putting the veil over her head and a cap on mine, before we stepped out Nina said something “why don’t we just run out of the venue instead” I look at her like she’s dumb “you know how obvious it is if I just run out, did you not see the amount of bodyguards here, it’s even risky doing this” she nodded and the girls and I went to go sit down at the main area, while Tsuna was getting ready to walk down the isle, my father got her to hold his arm while she made sure not to look at my father.

“Y/n I understand that you’re mad at me, but… this is for your safety” as soon as Tsuna was standing next to Yunho, Yunho could feel that something was wrong when she was avoiding eye contact

~ Yunho pov ~

Y/n was acting weird… when we first spoke she always kept eye contact even when she didn’t want to, now she was playing with her dress and avoiding eye contact. As soon as I finally got a good look at her… it wasn’t Y/n I look over at the seats and see a girl in a cap who hid her face with the cap but by looking at her lips it was definitely Y/n.

“This isn’t Y/n!”

~ Y/n pov ~

“Shit” I got up and was about to run out buy got stopped by two large body guards who grabbed my arms and dragged me towards Yunho “GET OFF ME” they finally let go of me as soon as I was face to face with Yunho, I looked into his eyes in anger. “I don’t know you enough to marry you” he took my hat off and ran his hands through my hair he grinned touching my cheek and bent down to my height and whispered something in my ear “Y/n trust me, please” i was confused but nodded, why should i trust him is my dad up to something?

As soon as the vows finished we were meant to kiss, he grabbed my cheek and kissed me, I looked shocked but closed my eyes to make it look like I’m kissing him back, once he broke the kiss and smiled while everyone that didn’t know the truth plus my parents clapped. I broke the kiss and looked at how Yunho was just smiling at me.

After a while my older brother Hyunjin pulled me outside while I was talking to my friends, “You can’t be with that guy” I looked at him confused not knowing what he meant, I didn’t want to bring up the fact that it was forced upon me so I just asked him why “is there something wrong?” “I-It’s not being don’t worry” I looked at him pissed since he just bring me out here for no reason then “you can’t just do that asshole” he walked away and I ran up to him and slapped his head in anger “Hyunjin what is it?!” “I said don’t worry!” Yunho pulled me behind him and I could feel the tension between Hyunjin and Yunho.

I decided to just leave cause I didn’t want anything to do with this.

~ Yunho ~

“Stay the fuck away from my sister” “we’re married dumbass” Hyunjin rolled his eyes “look just don’t hurt her cause I know your group is pretty fucking sadistic” “I would never hurt her I love her…” “oh yeah right you had a crush on her in high school” him being that up reminded me about how she acted when we first met again at her house “why can’t she remember me” Hyunjin sighed passing me a cigarette.

“On her 18th birthday something happened and the trauma made her forget stuff” “what happened?” Hyunjin looked at me like he remembered that we hate each other “it’s not my part to say… just don’t ask Y/n about it she already hates her birthday cause of it, just don’t remind her” Hyunjin walked away and I said something before he went into his car. “Where’s your group at?” “I’m not bringing them here, I’m not trying to ruin my sisters wedding with rivals.”

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its-time-to-write · 1 year

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Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame.

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself.

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster.

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door.

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says.

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago.

God, it feels like a lifetime ago.

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him.

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie.

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing.

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses.

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger.

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right.

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh.

Everything’s all twisted.

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?”

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around.

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble.

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off.

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes.

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie.

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger.

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs.

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle.

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand.

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet.

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit.

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk.

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had.

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty.

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question.

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse.

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat.

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable.

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie.

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again.

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright.

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you.

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye.

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you.

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying.

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except-

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication.

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back.

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue.

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech.

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions.

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair.

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell.

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests.

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships.

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off.

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting.

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw.

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able.

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch.

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?” you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?”

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day.

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think.

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep.

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice.

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid.

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle.

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road.

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever.

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply.

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act.

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car.

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend.

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait.

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle.

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says.

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm.

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy.

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra.

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan.

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca.

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster.

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease.

“The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right.

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall.

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place.

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty.

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move.

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.”

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say.

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod.

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug.

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry.

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin.

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak.

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

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When We Were Young

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (breakups, seeing your ex, a lil angsty with a happy ending, a douchey/aggressive male interaction, alcohol consumption, language)

wc: 2.5k

frankie masterlist

Time froze. As cliche as it sounded, it was also accurate. You sat there gawking like a deer caught in headlights, your blood rushing from your head to pour into the crater-sized hole in your heart in the shape of him. It was like seeing the ghost of a loved one, desperate for it to make contact and fearful of it all at once. To see him, the man you’d loved and lost five years ago, here in the flesh, laughing with a group of people you didn’t recognize, reminded you that whatever life you had shared with him in the past was just that—the past. But even still, you couldn’t help but hope there was a moment for the two of you here in the present, and perhaps if the fates were kind enough, in the future.

“Everything okay?” Your eyes wandered back to the man in front of you—your date, you had to remind yourself.

“Yeah,” you managed, nodding your head as if it helped make your lie believable. “Just saw someone I used to know.”

“Oh, why don’t you go say hi?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

If only it were that simple.

“I’d rather stay here,” you replied, lying again. Is that what you were forced to become? Nothing but a liar? A half-lover? Someone frozen in the past?

Across the bar he spots you, smiling at some dark haired man that looks too old for you, or perhaps that’s just his jealousy talking.

You look good, healthier than he last saw you. You’d gained some weight, filling out your sunken cheeks that remained seared in his memory from the night he left you. The night that haunted him, a dark cloud of regret and shame that rained the taste of your tears over him to remind him of the hurt he caused you.

You only ever asked him to love you, but like the immature child he was—the child he still feared lived deep within—he made you feel like you were asking for too much.

As he sat there watching you giggle, your fingers stirring the black straw in your glass—a gin and tonic like always, no doubt—he wondered if you spotted him as well. He figured it didn’t matter even if you did. He couldn’t imagine a universe in which you could forgive him for what he did—or for what he couldn’t do.

“Frankie!” A whine coming from the girl he’d been seeing casually the last few weeks pulled his eyes from watching you, his head turning in the direction of the woman who didn’t know him well enough to know what darkness lied within him. “I want another drink.”

“Okay,” he replied, awaiting an explanation for how this concerned him.

“Can you go get me one?” she snapped, drunken and slurred. Frankie exhaled softly and nodded, the bottle of beer in his hand empty and needing replacing anyways.

He stood to walk to the bar, his eyes finding you no matter how hard he tried to keep them occupied. As he passed your table, he overheard the man you were with talking about his job—finance, it seemed. Was that really the kind of man you were into these days? Back in the day the two of you would’ve made fun of a guy like him. What could you possibly have in common with such a…stiff? He supposed it didn’t matter—shouldn’t matter.

How could you listen to anything this man was saying when you could feel Frankie’s eyes on you, when you could smell him walking by? He still wore that same cologne, still donned that same red flannel you gifted him for Christmas. So much had stayed the same about him on the outside, it seemed. Could the same be said for the inside? Did you want it to?

“Hey, I’m gonna go use the restroom,” your date announced and you nodded, watching him as he walked off through the crowded pub.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to stand, but before you could talk yourself out of it, you were already standing beside your ex at the bar, his head turned in the opposite direction as he waited for the bartender to make his way to him.

“You look the same,” you spoke over the chatter and music filling the room, causing his head to whip over in your direction. He looked wide eyed, the color draining from his face. For a minute, you worried you’d offended him by simply speaking, but the soft curl of his lips quickly soothed that fear.

“You look…good,” he managed, his eyes frantic as they studied your face, seemingly taking in all the changes you cursed your body for making. “I, uh, I saw you, but…I don’t know. Didn’t want to interrupt your date.”

“Not much of a date,” you shrugged. “Not anymore at least.”

Frankie smiled more genuinely and it was as if you were thrown back in time, seeing that dimple come out for the first time. You longed to reach out for him, to touch him to make sure he was actually there, but refrained.

“You here with anyone?” you asked, unsure of what overcame you. You had no right to pry that way, but couldn’t help yourself. Had he moved on? Was it better that way? The sinking feeling in your gut as his eyes flickered over to the singular woman sitting at his table told you no, it wasn’t.

“It’s…casual,” he shrugged, pursing his lips. “Haven’t really been able to jump into anything after…after us.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, batting away the childish tears born of jealousy. You felt the immature little girl you used to be clawing at the back of your throat begging to scream “he’s mine, he’s mine, don’t touch what’s mine!”. You lifted your drink to wash down the burn.

“Yeah, it’s been hard for me too,” you admitted, though the word “hard” felt like nothing more than a watered-down truth.

“God, sorry about that. The line was so long.” Your date appeared with a smile, his eyes flickering to the man beside you at the bar. “Hey.”

Frankie nodded at him but remained silent.

“Well,” your date exhaled as he turned back to you. “You wanna get out of here? Maybe go back to my place?”

Your eyes flickered to Frankie, watching his profile as he tried not to appear like he was eavesdropping on the conversation, but the clench of his jaw gave him away.

“I think I’m just gonna go home for the night,” you finally answered, turning to your date to give him an apologetic frown. He chuckled and looked towards Frankie, pointing his finger at him.

“You mean you’re going to go home with this fucker?”

Frankie’s body turned fully to your date, his brows laced as he looked down at the man at least five inches shorter than him.

“What was that?” Frankie asked, the dominance in his voice foreign and familiar at the same time.

“How’s it fair that I have to pair for all her fucking drinks and you’re the one who gets to take her home?” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I got her drunk, so I get the reward.”

Frankie scoffed in disbelief and looked to you, the look of fear in your eyes igniting a protective streak in him that only seemed to light for you.

“Go home, man,” he ordered, turning back to your “date”.

“Fuck that—“ He made to grab at your arm but Frankie shoved him back before he could make contact.

“Go home.” Frankie ordered again, giving the man one last chance before he’d have to walk home with only one working eye. The man sized Frankie up for a beat before turning to you.

“You’re paying for your own fucking drinks then,” he said, as though it was a punishment. Truthfully, you were thankful not to “owe” this man—the word used loosely—anything. You watched him walk off down the bar to pay off his half of the tab, keeping your eyes glued to him to assure he didn’t come back and try something again. It seemed Frankie was doing the same.

“What a fucking prick,” he mumbled under his breath as the two of you watched him leave the bar. You turned back to Frankie and felt your lips part to speak, to apologize for your choice in man, but couldn’t manage a sound. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” he offered sincerely, his gentle brown eyes landing on yours. “You didn’t deserve any of his bullshit.”

“Yeah, well…when they tell you there’s tons of fish in the sea they don’t mention that those fish fucking suck.” Frankie laughed and nodded, that dimple coming out again. The bartender finally made his way over, looking at Frankie anticipatorily, but Frankie seemed hesitant. “Well, I’m gonna go pay my bill—“

“No, let me,” he intervened with his hand on your arm. “I’m honestly ready to leave, too.”

“You gonna order anything?” the bartender asked, annoyed by the delay. Frankie leaned over the bar and ordered a vodka-cranberry and then pointed over at the table his group was sitting at, the bartender nodding before walking off to prepare the drink.

“Alright, let’s go take care of the tab.” He turned back to you with a friendly but soft smile, his hand resting on your upper back as he guided you through the crowded room to the bartender set up by the till. Frankie paid for both of your bills as if it was nothing, as if anyone would have done the same thing. You couldn’t help but glance over at the girl he was with, comparing yourself to her. She was thinner, not by much but enough for you to realize it. Her hair was freshly styled, her nails polished and manicured. She seemed to be a newer and improved version of yourself, the image of someone untainted by heartbreak. Soon a pit of guilt formed in your stomach as you considered the fact that your interacting with Frankie tonight would be the first blow to her heart. Did she love him? Would that be enough to stop you?

“So…do you live at the same place you used to?” Frankie asked at the counter while he waited for change.

“I do,” you turned back to him and admitted.

“I could walk you home,” he offered with a shrug. “No funny business. I just…I guess I want a chance to talk.”

“What about your date?” you asked, a nervous chuckle slipping from your lips to cover your guilt.

“She’s with her friends, and truthfully…I think our friendship has run its course.” Perhaps in another reality you’d be strong enough to turn him down, but in this reality your heart still belonged to him. It would always belong to him.

With a nod, you accepted his offer and headed outside to wait for him as he grabbed his coat and bid his group goodbye.

You watched from the window as your replacement scolded him, her voice loud enough to cut over the music and through the glass separating the two of you. Frankie never did well with loudness, with screaming and fighting. You wondered what drew him to her in the first place.

When he finally made it outside, he let out a sigh and shook his head.

“Well,” he said, giving you a laugh. “That went well.”

“Yeah, I could see,” you pointed at the window. “I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” he commanded, shaking his head. “I’d leave anyone to have a chance at talking to you again.”

You tried not to melt at his words, tried not to put stock into them, but was it possible that five years could have changed him? Could have made him realize that you truly loved him, and that it was all you ever wanted to do?

“So,” he began as the two of you made your way through the downtown neighborhood towards your apartment complex about a mile away. “I guess I want to say sorry first and foremost.”

You turned your head to watch him, his eyes fixed forward while his hands twitched in his pocket.

“I…I was scared,” he confessed, his voice softer, more vulnerable as he glanced at you. “You loved me in a way that I’ve never been loved before, and that was scary. I never thought—I don’t know. Never thought I deserved it, so I turned myself into someone who didn’t. But, I really need you to know that I loved you, too. I just didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t trust myself with it, I guess.”

“I did,” you replied, bumping your shoulder against his. “I trusted you with it. But I could see the fight going on inside, and I could see that I was losing. I didn’t know why I was losing. It seemed so simple to me—I love you and you love me so why can’t we just be together? Be more than these two friends who fuck?”

“Yeah—“ He swallowed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I was…young and stupid. I wish that was a better excuse.”

At your doorstep, you turned to him with a twisted smile, unsure of what to do next. You’d talked through the wounds you left on each other as best as you could with a few drinks in your system, but what came next?

“So…” you started, swaying a bit as you looked up at him. Frankie’s smile turned boyish as he looked down at you, a chuckle escaping his lips as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Would, uh…” He bit his lip as he paused to reconsider his proposition. “Would you maybe want to grab breakfast tomorrow? There’s this new diner on 32nd street—“

“Oh my god, Brownies?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, your eyes locking as the two of you wondered how many times you must’ve missed each other in this small town. “I go there every Sunday with Caro.”

Oh, how you missed his baby girl. She was only three when you’d last seen her, making her eight years old now. How time flies.

“I go every Saturday,” you admitted with a chuckle. “Would I be throwing off your schedule by making you go two days in a row?”

“No,” he assured. “Any excuse for chocolate chip waffles, I’ll take.”

You laughed and nodded, looking down at your feet.

“Well, in that case, yes. I’d love to.”

“One more thing, and feel free to say no—“

“Can you kiss me?” you interrupted, watching as his smile grew into a grin.

“You beat me to it,” he laughed.

“Is that a yes?” you asked with a girlish and flirty smile. Frankie’s hand found your jaw, cradling it gently as he leaned in slowly, the anticipation burning in your belly. When his lips met yours, you swore you’d died and gone to heaven. It was as if nothing had ever changed between the two of you, that spark that only he could light inside of you quickly turning into a flame as you melted against him, clutching at his flannel. When he pulled away, you almost whined. Frankie smiled and rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For all this lost time.”

“We can make it up,” you assured with a smile of your own. “Starting tomorrow.”

“See you then, baby.”

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales oneshot #frankie morales x you #frankie morales angst #frankie morales #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales triple frontier

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nonotnolan · 1 year

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Cuerpo Inc: After Hours Perk

“Look, dude... I know you’re not really Jake. The sooner you drop the act, the sooner we can have an actual conversation between us.” I tried not to any trace of fear reach my smile as Jake’s neighbor continued to stare me down, his arms folded across his chest. Thomas was right, of course-- Jake and I had swapped bodies with each other a few hours ago. I wanted to take advantage of the pool in Jake’s suburban backyard, and he wanted to take advantage of my downtown apartment to have a few nights out on the town. It wasn’t specifically against the rules, but since the office frowned upon non-work swapping we had promised each other that we were going to keep it on the downlow. Did he know about Jake’s job? He probably knew about Jake’s job..

“Why would...? Thomas, my man... it’s the weekend! Why the hell would I swap bodies over the weekend?” I gave him a playful shove on the shoulder, like I had seen Jake do to so many of our coworkers back at the office. “I spend enough time during the work week swapping bodies with people so that my company doesn’t have to pay for airfare. After a solid week of swaps across the country, I’m gonna be spending the weekend in my own body, thank you very much.”

Thomas simply shook his head at me. “Yeah, I dunno, man... being Jake’s neighbor, I can’t help but notice a few things.” Jake had warned me that his neighbor on the other half of the duplex was weirdly nosy, but this was a special kind of intrusive that I hadn’t prepared myself for. “It seems like Jake always swaps bodies with someone on Fridays, and he doesn’t swap back until Sunday afternoon or so. Not everyone who wears that body is as good as pretending to be Jake as you are, stranger.”

His benign acceptance of Jake’s body swapping habits was starting to make me question just how often Jake was swapping bodies outside of work hours. Jake swore that he only swapped once every few months, but there was no way Jake’s neighbor would be this suspicious if that were true. “I’m not pretending, it’s really me in here!” I said, laughing as I slapped my chest for emphasis. There really wasn’t any reason for me to double down on this lie, but... telling Thomas the truth felt like giving up, and I wasn’t about to take that loss. “I’m Jake, dammit! What do I have to do to prove it to you?”

“Take your shirt off,” he said, staring me down with a shit-eating grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. There had to be a catch, but I had no idea what it could possibly be. Better to try and just bluff my way through it. “You’re such a weirdo-- you know that, right?” I peeled my tank-top off over my shoulders, trying to mimic the body language I’d seen Jake use before. I wadded it up and tossed it over my shoulder, making sure to maintain eye contact with him as I did so. “Are you happy, now, Thomas? Do you believe me?”

He just smiled at me as his shit-eating grin got even wider. “Quite the opposite, stranger. The HOA around here gets very angry about partial states of undress, so the real Jake wouldn’t go shirtless unless he was behind a fence. So. Let’s head over into Jake’s backyard so we can talk about this further. What is your name?”

“Gah, fine. My name is Ethan,” I said, shaking my head. Not that it really mattered that Thomas had figured out that I was lying, but it still felt weird that he cared so much. I made my way toward the gate, and gestured him through. Jake’s backyard had a nice, tall wooden privacy fence to keep the pool hidden from view, and there was a patio area with a few plastic beach chairs set up near a cheap outdoor table. I’d expected Thomas to be gloating-- it’s what I would have done after calling out someone’s lies like that-- but instead he was typing away on his phone.

“Is this you?” Thomas asked, holding up a picture of a guy in a suit. More to the point, it was a photo of me wearing a suit.

It took me a bit to figure out when that photo had been taken. “Yeah, that’s my body,” I said, staring back at Thomas. I wasn’t sure why he had a photo of me, but I didn’t see much point in trying to lie anymore. “Assuming it’s a recent photo, that was probably taken last Wednesday. I swapped with a guy out in Milwaukee who needed to be local, and he needed someone who was wearing something a bit nicer than business casual.” It was a part of my job as an Accountant / Host. Since my job was 100% virtual, my workplace also expected me to swap bodies with anyone who needed to be local for an important meeting. I’d gotten used to filling out spreadsheets while wearing someone else’s body a long time ago, but not everyone was used to Cuerpo Inc’s casual approach to body swapping. Maybe Thomas was one of them?

“Just thought you should know, he’s using a photo of you on his Grindr profile,” Thomas said, handing me his phone. Sure enough, there was my name and my face on a profile littered with peach emojis, declaring that I was a hungry bottom eager for a hung daddy. Well, that explained why he had a photo of my body. “Jake does this a lot,” he added. “He’ll find a guy with a young face and a slender build, and then spend the weekend knee deep in gay sex. So, when your ass hurts on Monday, that’s why.”

“I appreciate the warning,” I said, giving Thomas his phone back. “I’m a gay man myself, so I’m not too bothered by it, but... it is the sort of thing Jake should have told me before we swapped.” I have to admit, I was not expecting Jake to be into that kind of thing. When he told me he wanted to spend the weekend out on the town, I really did just assume he was going to get super drunk in my body. Jake usually carried himself as a man’s man around the office, talking about beers, sports, or his most recent fishing trip. True, he never mentioned a wife, but I assumed that meant he got burned in a divorce or something. A thought occurred to me as I looked closer at Thomas.

“I can’t help but notice that you also have a Grindr profile,” I said, slipping my hands into my waistband. “Perhaps you would like to enjoy me for some fun out here by the poolside? Seems like this fence would give us a lot of privacy...”

Thomas stepped forward, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath hitting my chest. “So let me get this straight. I come here to warn you about Jake’s plans to have sex inside of your body, and you decide to... try and have sex inside of his body instead?”

I looked down at him, staring directly into his eyes. “I suppose that is exactly what I’m doing, yes.” It was my turn to stare at Thomas with a wide grin. “It only seems fair, after all. What’s good for my body must also be good for his. And I can’t help but notice that you haven’t turned me down.”

He responded by placing his hands on my shoulders. “Well, now. I suppose I haven’t. But do you really think it would be a good idea for me to fool around with my neighbor’s body while he’s not inside of it?”

I responded by grabbing one of his hands, and sliding it down to one of Jake’s pierced nipples. “I just asked if you wanted to join me. Who said it was going to be a good idea?”

#male body swap #gay body swap #cuerpo inc #casual body swap #after the swap

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meganwiththeknees · 2 months

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Distant

Summary:

You and Denki have been best friends since your first year at UA. Unforeseen circumstances lead the two of you to follow different paths in life which causes the two of you to fall out as friends. Now after three years, the two of you meet again and wish to sort things out. Will you two be able to mend a broken friendship, or does the universe have different plans for you?

Chapter 1

“How do you feel when I ask you more intimate questions about your past?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you. You always know what the answer will be, but being the person you are, you always hope for a new outcome.

You notice the way he starts to play with his hair, seeming like he wants to be anywhere but here. He’s sitting on a couch not too far away from you, hunched into himself, almost as if he’s trying to make himself appear smaller.

“Uhm, don’t know, I just feel a little uncomfortable talking about certain things,” he stammers, looking anywhere but in your direction.

You feel taken aback, not hurt by the answer, but the fact that he actually said something this time.

“What do you mean you feel uncomfortable? We’ve been talking for about six months?”

“I just feel like you're a little intimidating.” He continues, purposely not directing his gaze on you.

Your mind starts to race. Why would he think that? Are you really that intimidating? You keep your composure and review the neatly written notes in front of you from the past few months . This client has been taking a while to open up, but you didn’t think it had anything to do with your behavior.

“Do…do you not feel like we’ve made any progress these last few months?”

“Yes, yeah,” he finally looks back at you.

An alarm goes off signifying that your session is over.

“Okay, Mr. Yuki, we'll try this again next week and see what progress you’ve made. I can’t seem to get through to you if you won’t open up to me. So, please make sure to go through the lessons I gave you last week.”

Mr. Yuki stood up and you quickly followed suit. You proceed to head for the door to let him out of your office. You exchanged your goodbyes and quietly closed the door.

You let out an exhausted sigh, finally happy that the week was over, and looking forward to the events happening later that night.

You tidied up your office and packed your valuables, getting ready to leave after a long day. You quickly leave the office to beat any unforeseen traffic to get ready for your outing with Mina.

You made it home only encountering one light traffic. Opening the door to your studio apartment, you feel the aroma of home as soon as you step in. You kick off your shoes immediately and walk over to your couch. You plop down knowing you have a little time before you need to get ready.

Last month Mina invited you to the Annual Japan Hero Billboard Chart as her plus one. Throughout the years, you and Mina stayed in contact and grew closer than ever. Your mind started to think of all the people that would be attending the event tonight. More specifically, Denki. After you graduated from UA high, Denki and you drifted apart due to communication issues and the fact that he just had never made time for you.

While in your thoughts you were interrupted by a phone call. You sat up to see who was calling.

“Hey girl!” Mina said enthusiastically.

“Hi, Mina.”

“Are you dressed yet? ‘Cause you need to be there in the next hour so we can walk in together. I got to show off how good my plus one looks.”

You look on your phone realizing you had lost track of time while you were consumed with your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fixing my hair right now.” You lied to Mina running off the couch and stripping off your clothes to hop in the shower as soon as possible.

“I hear you turning on the shower girl…”

“What are you talking about? That’s just the sink.” You lied again

“Whatever, just make sure you're there in an hour.” She giggles shortly after.

“Okay, I’ll see you there.”

You got out of the shower and brushed your teeth and put on some light makeup to make your skin glow. After that, you got started to slick back your hair in a low puff fluffing out the ends to make sure your curls pop then doing your edges after. You walked to your closet and pulled out a cream-colored satin dress that had a slit mid-thigh. You put a few things in your purse before heading downstairs and putting your heels on. You grab your keys before heading out the door to meet Mina.

A cold breeze hit your body, not having time to grab a jacket. You got in your car and texted Mina before you pulled off. The GPS confirmed that the address was only thirty-five minutes from your studio and that you would make it to the event with ten minutes to spare.

You arrived at the event with just enough time as you expected to walk in and get seated. You proceed to get your phone out and call Mina to let her know that you had arrived.

“Hey Mina, I just got here and parked. Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Oh perfect, you're here. I’ll come and find you so that we can walk in together. Where did you park?”

You proceeded to tell Mina where you were parked so that she could come to get you. After looking for about eight minutes you heard Mina screaming your name.

“Girl over here!” you jolted your head to see the pink-haired lady waving crazily at you.

Mina called out a little too happy as if she didn’t see you a week ago when you went out for drinks with her and Eijiro. Although you enjoyed yourself every time you hung out with them you couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel even though neither of them minded your company and always made you feel welcome.

“Oh my God Mina you look so good,” you say, eyeing her attire as she twirled around giving you a spin showing you her whole dress.

Mina wore a green cocktail dress and her black heels. She also had her hair slicked back at the side with some pins in it. Her hair never changed much from back in the days at UA High. It was still the same pink and curly shortcut that you have grown to love over the years.

“Me? I should be the one complimenting you. Who told you that you could go out of the house looking so sexy? But I expect nothing less from my plus one.’’

You both begin to laugh at the continued compliments that you give each other. Your talk is cut short when Mina gets a call on her phone. She picks up the phone and begins to talk. After a short amount of time, she hangs up.

“Eijiro just called and said that they are about to seat people in the next five minutes. So, we have to get going if we want to get some pics of us walking on the red carpet together.”

You were surprised when Mina said that you two would be walking in on the red carpet, but in all actuality, you should have known that there would be a red carpet at this event just like there was at every other event throughout the years. You remembered this especially because you used to love watching this same event on TV as a little girl. It was almost like a dream come true to attend, but you never would have thought that you would be attending as a plus one and not a pro hero.

You and Mina get to the entrance of the building and see the red carpet and all the paparazzi surrounding it. You two walk up and the cameras start flashing. You both pose for the cameras as you try to walk into the building. As the pictures are being taken one of the cameramen asks who Mina is walking in with.

“Pro Hero Pinky, who is this accompanying you tonight? Are you and Pro Hero Red Riot still in a relationship?”

All the cameras turn to you and Mina. You look at Mina waiting for her to answer the question until she bursts out into laughter.

“You people are really funny! Can’t two people just hang out without being together? Anyways, yes I can assure you that Red Riot and I are still a couple. This is my best friend.” Mina states as she says your name.

Mina proceeds to look at you and all the cameras are now focused on you. You are a little embarrassed by all the sudden attention, but it’s not anything that you weren’t used to. Back in your days at UA, all the news could talk about were all the kids in class 1-A.

“Oh yeah, I can confirm that I’m just her best friend.” You begin to smile and wave at the camera.

“Miss how long have you known Pinky?”

“Miss did you attend UA High with Pinky?”

“Miss over here. Did you happen to attend UA at the same time as Pinky and participated in the sports festival about six years ago?”

The paparazzi began to bombard you with hundreds of questions to the point that you couldn’t even understand what they were saying anymore. Mina grabbed you by your arm and pulled you the rest of the way until you two were inside of the building and safe from the paparazzi.

“Man I didn’t think that any of them would remember you from that long ago, it’s been years?”

��Me neither, but we should get seated now.”

Mina nodded in compliance. You guys begin to walk into the auditorium that the ceremony is being held in to find your seats. As you two are walking, Eijiro spots you guys and waves y'all over. As expected, you guys have seats close to the stage next to a whole bunch of other pro heroes. You can’t help but feel a little out of place, but you realize that you're here to have a good time with your friends.

As you sit you greet Eijiro and hug him. He begins to tell you how womanly you look in your dress and you just smile at him accepting the compliment that was given. Looking on the stage you see someone come up and say that the ceremony will begin in about five minutes so that everyone can get situated in their proper seats.

As you all wait for the ceremony to begin you and Mina start to talk about frivolous things. Like about the times you and her would sneak out of UA and go have nights on the town or when you used to be so dead set one being a pro hero.

“You remember a time when I wasn’t your number one bestie. I used to be so sure that you and Denki would end up together.

Your eyes widened by the sudden change in topic, not expecting Mina to even bring Denki up.

“Like I used to ship y’all hard. Even Eijiro did, isn’t that right Eijiro?”

“Huh?” Eijiro asked, looking up from his phone.

“Didn’t you used to think that she and Denki would be-”

“Ladies and gentleman, I would like to welcome you to the annual Japan Hero Billboard Chart and give a special thanks to all the amazing heroes out there in the crowd and even the ones that couldn’t make it tonight for keeping all of us safe with the sacrifices you all make every day.”

The crowd began to cheer and the host went back to their speech. The ceremony felt so different being in person than at home. It was nice to see some of your favorite heroes up close and cheer for them and they could hear you instead of cheering to a non-responsive TV screen.

The ceremony was continuing in its normal fashion and you cheered loudly and even let out a little scream when Mina and Eijiro’s names were called as well as a couple of your other old friends from UA were called to the stage.

You could tell that the ceremony was drawing to an end because the top ten were drawing close. You already knew who the top ten heroes were so there wasn’t much for you to expect. Of course, number one was the symbol of peace himself Deku. Right under him was the hot-headed explosive hero Dynamight in number two. Holding the third-place spot was the half-hot half-cold hero Shoto. Dynamight and Shoto always go back and forth holding the second and third spots so you assumed tonight you would see if Shoto took Dynamight’s place. And of course, you couldn’t forget that fact the eighth place was held by none other than Chargebolt himself.

“Now for the top ten heroes of Japan and congratulations on your hard work to make it this far!” The host of the awards show stated about announcing the top ten heroes.

You proceeded to listen to the hostess announce the tenth and ninth heroes. Even though you and Denki may not be on the best of terms didn’t mean that you wouldn’t clap for him when it was his turn next or so you thought. The eighth hero was called and it wasn’t Denki. You were shocked, but you knew that could only mean one thing.

“The hero coming in seventh place is Chargebolt! Kaminari Denki, our new number seven, congratulations!”

You began to clap, happy that he was finally moving up in the world and becoming what he always wanted to be. Even though you were happy for him you couldn’t help but think that you were somehow a bump in the road on the path to Denki’s success. You started to think that maybe if you had not stopped talking to Denki when you did that he wouldn’t be where he was right now at this very moment. You were probably a burden to him a few years back and that’s why he started to distance himself from you.

As the cheering died down you snapped out of your terrible thoughts. You don’t know why but whenever you see Denki you start to have negative thoughts. It’s not really like you and Denki have any bad blood between each other but you can’t help but feel a bit awkward whenever you're around him now. No matter how many times you try to tell yourself that nothing has changed and that you and Denki are the same people you know deep down that that’s not true in the slightest. The last time that may have been true was when you both attended UA and you still wanted to be a pro hero just like him.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen for all coming out tonight and supporting these fine pro heroes. I’d like to give one more special thanks to all the pro heroes out there for keeping families safe around the world. With that being said, thank you for letting me host this tremendous event and goodnight Japan!” With those closing statements, the ceremony had been concluded.

Extra Notes:

To those who are completely new to this story, I hope you enjoy. To anyone who remembers the old version of this story I've decided to comeback and make it better than ever. It still has the same plot I just really wanted to change some things and I feel like I've made the story 100 times better for everyone to enjoy. <3

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