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laughingfcx · 6 days

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(please/don't) call me baby

soundtrack <3

pairing: tetsurou kuroo x f. reader

content: fluff, crack humor, kuroo acts like a loser virgin LOL, way too many pet names, it girl energy reader !!!

warnings: swearing, like one sexual joke, ooc

word count: 1k

for the lovely @chososcamgirl <33 i've had sm fun in your w this idea !!!

you call everyone pet names. it's kind of your thing now, really. everyone, from yaku (darling!), to kenma (sweetheart!) to lev (angel!). that is, everyone except kuroo. to you, kuroo is kuroo. occasionally tetsurou, if he's lucky, but mostly he is just kuroo.

he doesn't mind it, he swears. he doesn't even care! or he wouldn't, but he also unfortunately happens to be head-over-heels in love with you. how embarrassing. and he's totally not jealous of the other guys.

which leads him to his current situation. his head tips back over the back of his chair as he runs one hand through his hair. "y/n, do you hate me?"

"no, why?" your answer is sharp and fast from the desk next to his.

oh, shit. now it's awkward.

"because, like... you don't call me any of your stupid cute names or anything," he explains sheepishly.

you sit up straight, lips curving up into a beautiful, evil smile. "you wanna be called pet names, kuroo?"

he flushes, shakes his head. "naaah, just asking."

you don't seem to believe him, head tilted to one side as you regard him curiously. and then you're getting up and making your way towards him, bending down to get on his level, and he thinks he might spontaneously combust in his pants. your fingers dance across the broad expanse of his chest, and your eyes are like a predator's, stalking its prey. his breath hitches as he waits for you to speak; when you finally do, he thinks he might have be going insane.

"whatever you say, baby," you purr, and holy fuck, kuroo is so ready to get down on his knees for you or bark like a dog or do whatever the fuck you want right now. he is pathetically down bad for you — it's embarrassing, and like you can read his mind, you just have to go and make it worse.

you twirl his tie around your fingers, careful and calculated, and for a split second, he imagines being pulled up by it, letting you kiss him in this empty classroom, just like that. and oh, apparently you're satisfied with how much you've messed him up right now, because suddenly you're back at your desk, and he's watching you fix your skirt with a beet red face and even redder ears.

today, for whatever reason, you're taking longer than usual to pack up when class ends, so he takes the opportunity to extricate himself from this terrible, terrible situation that he's created for himself. but when he's finally halfway out the door, someone calls his name.

"kuroo," you call after him, sickeningly sweet voice pulling him back to you. "baby, don't say you're leaving without me!"

his knees give way.

"you haven't forgotten my offer, though, right?" what a perfect gentleman, walking you home like this. he's even limiting his strides so you can keep up with ease.

"what offer, baby?" you hum distractedly, eyes glued to your phone. manicured fingers fly across it as you text someone, and you only look up when he chokes unceremoniously.

"you okay—"

"yes! i'm fine!" he yelps before you can say another word — or rather, one very specific word — and looks away to hide his reddening face. "as i was saying—"

"yes, b—"

"stop talking! i mean, let me speak!"

you frown, surprised at the way he won't let you get in a word edgewise. "okay, weirdo. go on?"

"the manager position is still open," he huffs. he's still embarrassingly red; his heart has not yet calmed down. “if you want.”

"mm, i don't know, baby, i'll have to think about it."

he will die. or he will run into oncoming traffic and die. this is so unfair, it's torture—

"thanks for walking me back, baby, i'll see ya."

he trips and falls on his face. "fuck— i mean, see you later!"

"you seem awfully happy today," kenma observes. "did something happen?"

"what? no, why?" he splutters. splotches of red begin to appear on his face, and kenma smirks.

"sure."

"say, kenma."

"what?" he sounds annoyed even though he's the one who started this conversation.

"how do you deal with y/n's nicknames?"

"what d'you mean? they're okay."

silence. kuroo rolls this new piece of information over in his mind. "so... you don't feel like exploding or dying every time she calls you, like, baby or something?"

kenma looks confused. "no? i think that's called a crush, kuro. also you know she said she thinks that's too romantic for her friends, so no, 'cause she doesn't even call any of us that— are you okay?"

"kenma."

"what?"

"shut up."

kuroo is pretty. it's not an unknown fact, and you, having known him for several years at this point, are no stranger to it either. with sly honey-brown eyes and bedhead that he manages to make look good in a way that you just cannot fathom, he is — in short — just your type. this is also where you shamefully admit that yes, even his derisive remarks and general air of disdain when it comes to his opponents is very attractive indeed. not to mention his biceps— actually, let's not go there.

but biceps or not, he has been driving you insane as of late. and now, it's apparent that you're finally getting to return the favour. you're not stupid; you've been noticing his reactions to the nickname from the start. and it's almost satisfying to be able to toy with him the way he's — unintentionally — been doing with you. maybe he'll even catch the hints you've been dropping if he's lucky.

meanwhile, it's taken kuroo exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes to desensitize himself to (the thought) of your voice. anyways, it's not like he'll see you any time soon, so it's okay. first there's volleyball practice, then he'll go straight to bed.

kuroo hates himself — it's like everything he does comes back to bite him in the ass. or rather, in the lungs this time, question mark. because as he struggles to breathe properly, you're waving at him from across the gymnasium in a very oversized NEKOMA jacket.

"i thought about it it!" you yell. "i'll be temporarily managing the team!"

maybe he should quit.

author's note :: whenever i'm describing kuroo i swear i start typing w one hand😭😭 reader's pov was NAWT necessary to the story i just wanted to salivate over him ok.

also this is going to be a series so like :) that's why there's nothing major here really

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurō #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #haikyuu #haikyu fluff #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #hq #yes the soundtrack is clown music LOL #not actual clown music but... yk.#linawrites

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lfghughes · 11 days

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Won't Do It Again

authors note: I know I was gone with a while but I came back with a mini series ill be doing! readers beware there's mentions of drinking in this and also toxicity. this is kinda just the start so I know its kinda boring but trust.

Of course you felt dumb but somehow you kept going back every time.The first time you and Jack hooked up you didn’t even blink when he said you two should keep it between yourselves because you agreed, why should other people know your business? He claimed he didn’t want things going around and you could understand why so you kept your mouth shut. But the hot and cold from him drove you insane. Right now it was cold, ice cold actually as you watched him from across the room at a house party just flirting with a girl. “You’re not drinking tonight?” Nico asked and it snapped you from your thoughts.

“Oh no, I don’t really feel good, I’ll probably head out in a bit.” You shrugged as your eyes flicked back over to Jack. Nicos eyes followed yours, landing on his teammate “Looks like Jack is having a good night.” A chuckle left his lips as your own heart fell into your stomach. “Good for him.” And with that you couldn’t watch anymore so you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to put as much space between you and pretty much everyone but no such luck.

Home is where you needed to be so that’s where you went. There was no need to tell anyone goodbye especially not Jack since he was busy. The minute you got home you sank down into your bed, willing the tears to come but even then you were so tired of this cycle that you couldn’t get the tears out. The buzzing of your phone caught you off guard and you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated groan when you saw Jacks number pop up.

“Hey where did you go, dork?” Jacks voice filled your ear. “I went home, I was tired.” You simply answered, not wanting to offer up any more information on why you left. “Can I come over?” He asked and you knew you should say no but yet the butterflies in your stomach started fluttering around. “Sure.”

It didn’t take him long to get there and as soon as he was in your door, he wrapped his arms around you and his lips were on yours. “You know, Nico was telling me how into you he is.” Jack started once he finally had pulled back and your eyebrows furrowed at the conversation. “I think he’d be good for you.” But before you could even say anything else his lips were back on yours and even though you were confused about everything he just said, you were focusing on the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he grabbed a hold of your hand and starting leading you to your couch. “Let’s watch a movie before bed?” He asked and you nodded your head as you flopped down onto the couch. You grabbed a few blankets and spread them out between the two of you. “You know that girl from earlier?” Jack asked, raising his brow at you as he turned to look at you. You nodded your head but you could feel that sinking feeling in your stomach again. “Do you think she was into me?”

What in the world was Jack on where he thought that was an okay question to ask. “You’re joking right now, right?” You asked and the confusion on his face let you know that he indeed was not joking. “No? All the boys were saying she seemed into me and I should go for it but I wanted a womans perspective.” He said with a shrug. With those words out of his mouth you stood up. “You need to leave right now.” You told him and his face only got more confused.

“What why?” He asked as he stood up next to you. “Jack I’m not kidding, leave.” And with those words he knew you weren’t kidding and he left. This night was one of the worst nights yet, and your head was starting to pound at everything that had happened. It wasn’t long until a text showed up on your phone. “What did I do that pissed you off??” But the only thing you could do was click delete on the message.

#jack hughes #nico hischier #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine #jack Hughes x reader

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schoenpepper · 2 months

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Isekai'd Chronicles 3

Intro: Savanaclaw in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, you get a disc to the head in Leona's part, stuck in a janitor's closet with Ruggie

A/N: I love Leona and Ruggie. Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

You'd seen lots of movies before with the exact same meet cute, but it didn't really feel cute when a magical spinning disc almost made its way through your skull. Your swordsmanship reflexes are very handy in this situation, and you dodge just enough to not die. It does leave a pretty nasty bruise on the side of your forehead, leaving you to glare grumpily at the figure that was slowly walking closer and closer to you, whom you assume is the one at fault. It's a muscular lion beastman with braids in his mane and a bored look on his annoyingly handsome face that you kind of want to throw the disc at. But you won't, because you're smarter than that. And also because this is Leona Kingscholar, the second prince of the beastmen.

He doesn't apologize until you repeatedly annoy him to do so, and even then, he doesn't do anything to acknowledge his mistake. Now, that's just so rude! You didn't want to deal with the love interests any more than you have to, but there's no way you're going to let this lion roam penalty-free when he left such a big wound on your face. So you get patched up by Jamil (thank you, Jamil) and start on your mission to annoy Leona until he apologizes and actually does something worthwhile for it. You follow him around, studying while he naps, and you've found that he's annoyingly smart too, grumbling out answers you couldn't find on your own. So, hey, you use him as a free tutor while you wait for that heartfelt apology. In the next few days, you spend so much time with him that your friends grow concerned, especially when they hear it's because you're trying to get a sincere apology from Leona, of all people. You can tough it out a bit more, though.

You force him to come with you to the cafeteria instead of getting his food for him, and you pull him towards his classes out of spite. By some miracle, he reluctantly lets you play with his hair, and you decide to cut him some slack. You think you've annoyed him enough, and it doesn't seem like your apology'll ever come, so you give up. It's okay; you weren't supposed to be close again to a male lead anyway. It only takes two days after that for Leona to knock on your door with an apology as well as a bead bracelet like one of his own, and you find it in your dumb little human heart to forgive him. And he says he doesn't like it when you avoid him.

So...are you and Leona friends or...?

"Senpai, you're slacking again!" You complain as you stomp towards his little spot in the garden. He seems asleep, but from the twitch of his fuzzy ears and the sway of his tail, you know better. You huff and sit down next to him, touching the tip of his ear and watching it flatten against his head to avoid you.

"What gives, herbivore?"

"Ha! So you were awake." You smile victoriously. Lifting a hand, you show him the miniature wooden chess set you bought from a bazaar the other day. "I have come to demand a rematch!"

Leona chuckles and pulls you down, using you as a pillow with his tail wrapped around your waist. "You can lose later. Since you're already here, be a good pillow and stay still, alright?"

A certain hyena beastman seems to have come to hate you. Ruggie Bucchi isn't too scary though, as right now, you're still the heir to a dukedom and he's still just Leona's aide. But, to be honest, you don't like the feeling of being hated. Especially since you don't even know what you've done! You've tried asking Leona but one, he tells you to just not care about it, and two, that only makes the glaring worse. You walk in circles in the human dorms' kitchens, almost tripping on air when suddenly, the best idea ever pops up in your mind. You could give Ruggie donuts, it was his favorite in the game. And it really wouldn't do you any favors to have a love interest hate you when you haven't even done anything to him yet (that reminds you, where are the main characters?).

Now, you could buy donuts, but you're already in the kitchen trying out recipes for a party that Kalim's throwing, so why not just make them while you're at it?

The sugary fluffy treats open up the hyena's mouth real quick, and when you reassure him that there was no way that you would ever steal his gig by being Leona's servant, he's good already. And that should be the end of the story. But it's not, because apparently, you make the best donuts ever according to Ruggie, and he trades you a couple chores for a couple donuts every few days. He's a funny guy, so you don't mind too much when he hangs around. Plus, you two get to laugh about gossip and little anecdotes he'd share, and whenever you have free time, you decide to bless him with your presence by helping him cook and clean and do the annoying lion's laundry. And hey, you really can't imagine Ruggie killing you at this point, or where else would he get the best donuts in the whole world?

That's one less male lead to worry about, at least.

Ruggie's eyes are so blue up close. Uh, why are they so close?

"Shishishishi, don't move around too much." He whispers mischievously, shifting around in the tiny space you've both found yourself in. "Ruggie senpai? Why are we in the janitor's closet?" You whisper back, glancing at the small opening on the door.

"Some guys lookin' for me, let 'em pass."

"What did you do?" You chuckle softly under your breath, trying not to be too loud. Ruggie replies with a shrug.

"Traded some items, guess they regretted it."

You know he used his spell to 'trade', and it makes you sigh before gently scolding him. "Senpai, can't you at least not get caught? I know you can handle yourself but it's worrying, you know?"

"Eh? Worried?" His eyes are wide as he repeats your words, before agreeing blankly. "Okay...I'll be more careful since, you're... uh, worried or whatever..."

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #savanaclaw #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year

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Just for fun ✨🌸

Summary; Eddie only fucks you for fun, you're just an outlet for him or so you think. You're proven wrong.

Warnings; Minors dni, 18+, bit of angst,smut.

❤️ Wrote this quickly last night, I apologise if it has any spelling mistakes, etc ❤️

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work.✨❤️

❤️

Eddie comes over to yours for sex, its a rough and passionate like every other time he comes to see you.

He does this a lot, usually every night if he can or he sneaks you into his trailer when his uncle is at work.

It doesn't matter that he has a girlfriend he says, her pussy doesn't clench around my dick like yours, he tells you, in fact they rarely have much sex at all.

They have an open relationship he tells you one night while your sated in his arms and he's just about to leave.

"I can't get enough of you sweetheart, you feel so fucking good"

He's using you and you know it but he makes you feel so good, even though your heart aches for something more.

Something you know you won't ever get. So you put a smile on your face and pretend everything is okay because it is. You're fine with this being all you are.

Totally fine.

❤️

Derek asks you out, he's a co-worker of yours, since you and Eddie are just a sex you figure that fine.

Plus he has... Whatever the hell is going on with Chrissy so you figure you can have someone too.

Derek is nice, polite, helpful and kind. When Eddie knocks at your door that night because you haven't shown up for your time with him, it's your mother that answers as she has brought around a casserole dish for you.

"Honey, Eddie is here" she knows Eddie, everyone knows Eddie in this town due to his reputation, the don't fuck with me attitude that you know hides a soft side.

It exists, you've seen it. Even if Eddie doesn't like to admit it.

"You're late" he whispers to you as you smooth down your dress, his eyes darken deliciously as his takes in your outfit.

"I'm not late, I wasn't coming. I have a date tonight" his expression mirrors shock, then something else, something you can't place.

"Why am I just hearing of this now?" he growls and you give him an annoyed look.

"His name is Derek, I don't know why you're so bothered. You have Chrissy don't you? why can't I have someone?"

His eyes flash, he's about to say something when Derek shows up to the door, with flowers.

You turn to Eddie and say to him quietly.

"I have feelings Eddie, I'm not just some sex toy for you to use when you feel like it" your eyes shine with tears and you blink them away quickly then turn to Derek smiling and take his arm heading outside.

❤️

The date is nice. Shit there's that word again, nice. Derek is lovely but there's no spark no matter how much you want there to be.

Eddie ends up at the Diner that Derek takes you to and you can practically feel his eyes burn holes into you Derek, he's tense and barely pays attention to what his friend says.

You sigh having enough of his jealousy? Or whatever is wrong with him and ask Derek to take you home.

He gives you a kiss when he takes you home and it's chaste and sweet, both of you however seem to realise that there's no heat between the two of you.

With a quick good night you're back in your house and relief washes over you. With no time at all you strip down to your underwear, wipe of the small bit of make up you have on and get changed into your pjs.

Just as you are about to relax you hear a knock on your door and answer it. You know it will be Eddie.

He comes in, his hair in a messy bun, stubble coating his jaw, eyes still full of irritation. He looks sexy as hell if you're being honest.

"How was your date?" you roll your eyes at the obvious jealousy emenating from him.

"Oh, fine. He fucked me then left. You just missed him" you say sarcastically and if it's possible Eddie's brown eyes darken even more.

"I'm kidding" you tell him and he takes off his jacket.

"Don't, I... I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else" you raise an eyebrow and walk towards him.

"Why? Why are you so jealous?" he doesn't even deny that he is.

"Because you're mine" he murmurs then kisses you, it's not long before he has you up in your bedroom and on your bed fucking into you.

His lips and teeth tease over you breasts, your neck as he thrusts into you powerful. The pleasure is so unreal, so intense that you come fast, clenching around him and crying out his name.

"You think that asshole could pleasure you like this huh?" he asks you and you shake your head as his lips press to yours.

"You're mine" he groans out and you agree with him, on the edge of your second orgasm, it's so close and Eddie's movements grow more erratic and he soon finds his relief and he comes, spilling into you.

His guttural groans fade into a soft moan as he kisses over your cheeks, then to your mouth. It's gentle, tender.

"You have Chrissy" you say softly and it makes your heart tug painfully.

He shakes his head. "No. We're done. For good. It happened a few nights ago. Tried to tell you but you've been a little bit awol princess". Oh.

He strokes your hair as he continues speaking.

"Chrissy and I are much, much better as friends sweetheart, just friends, much better. We both agreed with that and she's met a guy called Danny, he's a great dude".

"What does it make us, I don't want to share you with anyone Eddie?" he turns to you, kissing you softly, his eyes intent on yours.

"You are mine, only mine. I don't share you ever, I don't want to be with anyone else. I'm yours, only yours"

You liked the sound of that very much.

❤️

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #jealous eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader

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kurokawaia · 5 months

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❛ Clan Rules ❜

Hyuga Neji X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.3k + | TW/CW; fab!fem!Reader, just angst, ANGST!

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: can you write something with angst for neji hyuga? - @ipodic

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: She never imagined falling in love with with him... The rules of the Hyuga clan are rigid and unforgiving, especially for those who are not part of it.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list

The moon cast its silver light over the Hyuga clan training grounds, shadows from the trees playing around in the cool night breeze. In actual fact, I had been looking forward to seeing Neji since his return from some mission, but by the time I reached him, something told me that all was not right.

He stood alone in the clearing, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his head bent as though lost deep in thought. He seemed to bleed sharp definition, cornered off from everything that was around him. The sharp definition that seemed to etch out of his very being had dulled, replaced with heavy, subdued weariness. Where normally intense focus shone out of his eyes, now it was but a shadow.

"Neji?" I whispered, tinged with just a hint of concern. There was no answer; it hung there, in the heavy silence between us and could have been cut with a knife. Of course, Neji wasn't going to let me get away with just worrying for nothing. "Is everything okay?" I said, finally taking a step closer, my hand going out tentatively to lay on him.

He winced at the sound of my voice, almost as though it caused him physical pain. A moment it was before he looked up at me, and something in the bogged emotion that plastered his face into a stiff mask I couldn't place. Regret? Guilt? His words came out slow, as if he had to force them into existence.

"There is something I need to say," he finally began in a tightened voice; that is, he could barely breathe out the words. It was very clear that what he needed to say was going to be hard—for him and probably even more so for me.

And then I felt like a ton of bricks were falling into my stomach as I stepped forth, trying to look him in the eyes, but Neji just kept looking down on the ground.

"What's wrong?" I said again, my voice now shaking and slurred with this rising sense of dread. My skin grew cold—a cold washing over the night air and through me—some sort of pressure weighing down on me, squeezing at my heart.

Neji finally broke the silence, and his next words seemed to weight heavy enough that my very breathing hitched as he said, "we can never see each other again." My world seemed to tilt; the earth seemed to shift under my feet. I never thought he would say those words to me.

"Why? What happened?" I asked, my voice shaking in desperation. The Hyuga clan have their rules, but we were so cautious. We had our meetings tucked away, out of the way, always away from prying eyes of the clan; it had to be enough. I thought we were safe.

My eyes barely saw Neji slump his shoulders, but it was a battle in that gaze once he lifted them. A battle full of conflict and sorrow. "It's the clan," he said not politely, sorrow thick now and voice low. "They don't allow relationships with outsiders. If they find out, they'll punish us both. I can't let that happen to you."

My eyes welled up in an instant, the vision blurring. "Neji, we'll find a way," I said, reaching out my hand towards him as he walked back, putting in the sudden distance that seemed insurmountable. "And we'll be careful. We can—"

"No." He cut me off with the shake of his head. His voice was tight with urgency in his actions. "It's not that simple. The Main Branch watches over everyone. If they find out, they won't just punish me. They'll come after you. But I can't risk that."

Each of his words was like a hammer inside me, the kind that was driven into my heart. I knew he was right. But it was a truth I did not want to accept. And I took another step forward, reaching out to place my hand against his cheek. I needed that connection. Any connection in this moment between us. His body tensed, the muscles tightening under my touch, but he didn't pull away. "Neji, please," I continued, tears streaming openly now. "''We don't have to give up. There's always another way.''

He closed his eyes a moment and leaned into my embrace, like a man hoping to find reprieve, if only for a moment, from a burden too heavy to bear. But it was a short-lived reprieve, and he pulled away, leaving a vacuum where my hand was. It was there in his eyes, not hidden, the pain reaching out to bang relentlessly on my heart. "My fate is sealed," he'd say, full of regret, his voice heavy. "But I can't change it, no matter how much I might want to."

It felt like this crumbling world; somehow, the ground split beneath my feet, leaving a deep abyss dividing us. I wish to God I could bring him back, somehow bridge that unyielding rift, which even the Hyuga clans' laws set before us. Challenging them would be to risk everything we both cared about—yes, maybe even our lives.

"Neji, please don't go," I implored, my voice raw and splitting. The tears streamed down my cheeks, and my heart ached in desperation. I wanted to fight for him, for us, but what was the use? The iron grip of the Hyuga household control was too hard, and any defiance might rip consequences on the heads of us both.

He gazed back at me, charged with the same sadness and lament that expressed in my eyes. "I wish it didn't have to be like this," he had that soft voice, where every spoken word became an essence of goodbye. "I will always care about you, but I cannot stay; it's too dangerous." And then he turned and walked away. The steps echoed through the silent night, cutting into my heart with every echo.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him that we could fight this together, but his eyes told me it was useless. He wasn't just deciding; he was resigning himself to a life decided by others, his happiness cast aside to keep me safe.

I wanted to argue with him, to tell him we could fight this together, but the look in his eyes told me that would be pointless. He wasn't just making a choice; he was submitting himself to a life told by others, his happiness sacrificed on the altar of my safety.

"Neji," I whispered, fighting in my voice with the rust of leaves, "I just can't see my life without you." Every syllable seemed to be a plea, one for keeping from letting go what could not let through.

He stopped, a dark figure against the blue-gray glow of the moonset, and turned around over his shoulder to look back at me. There, in the silver brightness, I was able to see something shining forth from the pale eye—a glint of unshed tears. The scowl faded from his face, replaced by something more tender and reflective of the ache in my treated heart.

"Nor I," he admitted, the sound of his voice barely more than a thread in the darkness. All raw, vulnerable exposure, his admission bared depths of his own pain. "But you and I have to. It's the only way for me to keep you safe."

The moon cast a cold silvery hue over the empty training grounds, which would eventually play a role in the sensation of loneliness stealing over me.

So much I wanted to run after him, take him by the hand, and beg him not to leave, but nothing would alter.

It would only be worse for both of us.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list|naruto/borutom.list

#neji x reader #neji hyuga x reader #naruto x reader #neji x you #neji x y/n #hyuga x reader #x reader #angst #neji x reader angst #neji angst #naji hyuga angst

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cryptidghostgirl · 6 months

Text

Drawing Down the Moon (Alastor x Ancient Roman!Witch!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any? Please correct me if I am wrong. The subject matter is a little niche.

Description: Alastor reencounters an old friend.

Word Count: 2,871

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A/N i’ve been reading about roman magic laws for school okay?? don’t judge me. Maybe one of the nichest things I've ever written (except that one Akutagawa x Reader fic I have on my Wattpad where I made them talk to one another in ancient Greek and Latin (its called Leo, Leonis and tbh, that fic slaps if I do say so myself)). Won't be surprised if no one reads or likes this one but I don't care. This will be a monster of a fic, she's been lurking in the recesses of my mind for a hot second now.

"Why would she lie for so long? Does she think I wouldn't accept her?" Charlie was animatedly talking at Alastor as they walked the streets of Hell, "What about me, ME, says un understanding... misunderstanding?... Disunder- Wait, w-where are we?"

Alastor sprung to life as Charlie finally asked a question he had an answer to. Theatrically, he stepped into her curious line of sight, his arms held wide.

"Cannibal Town!" respectfully, Alastor turned and took Charlie's arm in his own, "There's a friend of mine I think you should meet."

"In Cannibal Town?" Charlie doubtfully asked as Alastor began to lead her towards a crowded shop entrance, "But it's... it's... surprisingly nice here."

"Isn't it, though?" Alastor proudly replied, "And it is all thanks to a very special someone."

Alastor opened the stained glass doors to the emporium, allowing Charlie to walk through them before he followed in her wake. The store was full, packed to the brim with cannibals of all sorts, all of whom seemed to part respectfully in the face of Alastor, allowing him to approach the front counter with Charlie trailing after him.

"Ah, Johnny my good fellow." Alastor hummed to the cashier, leaning casually on the counter.

The demon seated behind the table looked up with a wide smile.

"Mister Alastor, it has been quite a while since we've seen your face around these parts."

Charlie watched the interaction in mild surprise. It wasn't often she had the pleasure of meeting someone Alastor knew who didn't hate him or want him dead. Curiosity clouded her mind as Alastor waved the man off.

"I don't mean to be rude but, we're in a bit of a rush." Alastor said, politeness pooling delicately around his words, "Rosie wouldn't happen to be in, would she?"

"Ah, well, you see, Mister Alastor..." the demon seemed slightly uncomfortable, scratching at his ear slightly, "She's a tad... preoccupied at the moment?"

"A guest?" Alastor asked.

"A guest." Johnny reluctantly confirmed.

"Well, no matter. Is she in the back?"

"Yes," Johnny got to his feet, leaning forward as Alastor linked arms with Charlie once again, leading her behind the counter, "but I really don't think it's a good idea to... and they're gone."

"Wasn't that rude?" Charlie asked as Alastor pulled her behind the curtain that separated the main store from the backrooms and Rosie's apartment, "Oh no, is that guy going to get in trouble? Because of us?"

"Everything will be just fine my dear, don't you worry." Alastor patted her hand reassuringly as they came to stop before a door.

Letting Charlie's arm fall free, he straightened his jacket just the slightest bit before knocking on the door. There was a moment of silent anticipation before a voice from the other side called:

"Who is it?!"

"Alastor, Rosie." Alastor replied calmly.

There was a rustling of fabric, a handful of hasty footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal a woman. She was tall and beautiful in her long dress and her wide brimmed hat.

"Oh my stars!" she exclaimed with a bright smile, "Do my eyes deceive me? Alastor? Alastor! Where have you been? These halls really lost some of their sparkle without your lively presence and-"

The woman, Rosie, trailed off as she caught sight of Charlie standing beside her dear friend.

"Oh, who's this you brought with you? Come now, Alastor, she's much too young for you. Oh, I'm just kidding. But where are your manners, Mister? Introduce us, why don't you?"

"Ah, yes, Charlie, this is Rosie: the most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord this side of the pentagram."

At his words, Rosie smiled, giving a perfect curtsy. It was as her form lowered that Charlie caught sight of the interior of the room, and the strange seated figure it housed. Alastor seemed not to have noticed and as Rosie straightened herself up again, she laughed slightly.

"Oh, always such a charmer."

"And Rosie," Alastor continued, "it is my pleasure to introduce you to Princess Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer and heir to the throne of Hell."

Charlie smiled weakly, waving slightly at the imposing and nearly off-puttingly cheerful woman.

"How do you do?" she asked awkwardly, "I am very sorry for interrupting your meeting, I tried to get Alastor to wait but..."

"Oh, yes!" Rosie suddenly exclaimed, almost as if she had forgotten about her previous guest in all the excitement, "Come on in you two, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Charlie was about to protest when Rosie grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the room. Alastor followed, turning his back as he shut the door behind them. Charlie's mouth fell open slightly as her eyes finally saw the truth of Rosie's guest.

She was tall, probably tall enough to rival Alastor or Rosie herself. Skin tinged slightly blue, she seemed to be covered in a faint gold dust that clung to her draped, toga-like dress and skin in equal amount. Heaps of gold jewelry hung on every inch of her as well, wrapping her wrists, her neck, her ankles, her fingers, even braided into her hair. Resting atop her head was a crown of gold with a half moon on it, her feet were bare. With wide, white eyes that nearly seemed unseeing, the woman watched Charlie carefully.

"Can I offer you something to eat?" Rosie was asking, but Charlie could barley hear her, unable to break eye contact with the woman, "I'm sure I have a leg around here or something..."

"I am afraid were not here for food." Alastor thankfully stepped in, turning to Rosie with closed eyes and a wide smile, "We happen to be in need of some help."

"Alastor?" the woman spoke and her voice resounded in itself, loud yet soft at the same time, singular and yet somehow plural.

"Well, aren't you fresh."

That was the first thing she had ever said to him. Alastor had been wandering Hell, minding his own business when he had heard that voice say those words and felt a fire ignited in him. Slowly, he had turned around to see a pair of towering demons. Overlords, he realized, and big ones at that. Alastor's smile sharpened at its edges as he began to formulate a plan.

Charlie turned at last, as if whatever spell the stranger had cast on her had broken at the sound of her voice, to look at Alastor in mild confusion. She heard his breath hitch in his throat. The man in question was frozen, his ears twitching wildly, his eyes now wide open.

"Is that you?" the demon asked again.

Alastor somehow seemed to reassemble himself before their very eyes. Slowly, he turned to the room's only occupied chair.

"Who are you?"

Alastor feigned innocence, looking up at the titan herself as she took a step forward. In an instant, she stood at his height, looking him dead in the eyes.

"An odd one too." she hummed thoughtfully, white eyes tracking the stars, reading his future it almost seemed, "Most people go with what before who."

Alastor was unsure how to respond to that one. The titan chuckled, a grin flashing across her face. It was unexpected, disconcerting. Alastor hadn't thought her face capable of any expression save solemn disinterest. She turned her head slightly to the side, looking back over her shoulder to her companion.

"Zestial, cara mea?"

The spidery demon took a step forward, meeting her eyes.

"Yes?"

"Don't you have something you need to be getting to?"

Alastor may have been dumbstruck, but he wasn't stupid. He heard the order as clearly as if she had not bothered with the formalities of disguising it. It shocked Alastor to his core. This might be his first time encountering Zestial but, he had heard the demon's name before. Most frequently, it had been spat at him by his victims who claimed that one of Hell's oldest and most respected demons would come for him. So who was this other overlord, the titan? Sure, he'd heard of her before but enough that such blatant disrespect towards Hell's most respected made sense? No. Not at all, in fact.

Zestial paused a moment before bowing his head slightly.

"You're quite right." he hummed, "I will be seeing you presently I expect?"

"Perchance." the titan lazily replied, her gaze having long since switched back to Alastor, set on analyzing his features, "I'll let you know."

With another polite bow, Zestial had turned and began walking in the opposite direction. The titan held an arm out for Alastor. He looked at it curiously before meeting the demon's eye's again. She laughed.

"So suspicious. I thought you we're the one killing overlords, not me."

His eyes went wide.

"How do you..." he cleared his throat, "how did you know?"

It was a stupid question and he knew it. There hadn't been any secret keeping, not really. Sure, he never outright said he was the Radio Demon who broadcasted screams but he supposed there couldn't be many Radio Demon's out there really. It didn't matter that he had only been going after overlords for a month or so now, she was one. Of course she would know.

"Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

All it took was one look. Suddenly, he was new again, spat fresh out of life on Earth and in to Hell's gaping maw. One look at her, and he dissolved at the edges, forming and reforming his own ability to speak and comprehend the world around him.

"It is." the woman hummed, a wide smile breaking across her face, revealing the blackness of her teeth, her mouth.

Alastor soon formed a bit of a soft spot for the inhuman overlord. It was that first meeting, that first walk. He had asked, hunting for information to wield against her, about her life on Earth and in Hell. It was her fault really, for answering. That's what had him stuck.

Y/n had laid her life out for him like a freshly pressed table cloth. She had been raised on the streets of ancient Rome and executed as a witch. She was perhaps the oldest demon remaining in Hell, the exterminations having eventually wiped out even the strongest members of her times. Just as Alastor had been reborn as a deer due to his death, so too was she reborn as what they had accused her of. Every ritual, every spell, prophecy itself all worked for her. It was then Alastor understood the interaction he had witnessed between Zestial and Y/n, then he understood the respect.

He found himself drawn to her more and more and, somehow, he always seemed to be able to find her when he went searching. He assumed it was some strange magical nonsense she controlled. Alastor didn't question it.

Y/n showed him Hell in a way he had never seen it before. She taught him where to gather herbs and how to use them, how to bend the earth to his will, how to spin iunges and call down the storms, the rain, the moon. Alastor devoured, fed by her hand.

It was odd, Charlie had never seen a demon like her before. The white eyes, the teeth black with what seemed to be darkness, the gold. All of it was off putting yet somehow, captivating. Alastor seemed to be acting weird, his eyes flitting wildly across the woman, taking in her every detail. Charlie wasn't sure what to do about that.

In some sense, Alastor seemed to be scared. In another, he was in an overjoyed state of disbelief. Charlie wasn't sure which was more disconcerting, or how to respond to either and so, she simply watched.

"I have a question, mea ocella."

Y/n announced one day and Alastor turned from where he sat spinning stories into his microphone at her feet. That was what she had called him, her little eye. She told him it was a term of endearment. Alastor had no reason to doubt. The red grass swayed slightly in the breeze as he looked up at her, immediately bringing a halt to his broadcast.

"What is it?"

"You've been so set on ending all us overlords for so long now," she hummed, "wouldn't you like to do something different?"

"Something like what?"

"See from the other side of the glass."

Her white eyes glowed blue, the gold on her skin shining out into the world around like stars. Alastor sighed.

"You're prophesying again."

She nodded in agreement. Y/n had never seen the point in lying, she had never known its use. Not since before she could remember, back in the times she lived. They were so distant now, so immaterial and unimportant she rarely payed those memories much mind.

"So, what is it you see me doing?"

"Simple riddle or play on words?"

The two types of prophesy, the two options. Alastor put a finger to his chin, humming in thought.

"Simple riddle. Please, not in dactylic hexameter if you would, decoding that always gives me a headache."

"But that has been the meter of prophecy since Justice herself sat on the Delphic throne, mea ocella." Y/n retorted in surprise, meeting Alastor's eyes.

"Yeah, well."

Y/n laughed lightly, looking back out blankly toward the future.

"As you wish, ocella. Just this once. My gift to you."

Alastor hummed his non-comital thanks, turning his gaze back out the the skyline of the city as well.

"One will be two, two will be four, when that number comes be ready for more. Seven years past under grim sudden stress, four becomes ten, I'll tell you what happens next. Help one bright star to the top, not too far, and you will be free from the one not the three."

"Rhymes? Really?"

Y/n looked down at him, the glow fading from her as their eyes met and the future vanished from the scope of her vision.

"You asked for no hexameter, I still get to have fun."

"Yeah, yeah."

The pair fell into a comfortable silence. Alastor ran the words of her fortune in his head, trying to gain any semblance of reason from them.

"They don't sound very... avoidable."

"That's because it's not one of the ones you can change."

"Oh."

Y/n pulled herself to her feet suddenly, her chiton swirling around her. Alastor watched in awe as her image flickered in the air for a moment between the image of herself just a head shorter than him, the one who loomed around nine feet tall, and some three headed monster at what must've been five stories. Leaning, she held a hand out for him to grasp. It took Alastor a moment to realize, shaking his head slightly as he at last accepted Y/n's help and got to his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"I've decided you are going to be an overlord, mea ocella."

"Why?"

"I think it might help you down the line."

It had been years since Alastor had seen her. Long before he had taken his so called seven year sabbatical, Y/n had vanished. Alastor knew she wasn't dead, he would have been able to tell if she was dead. Surly the world would have shifted in some new and strange way to lose the goddess of the crossroads, the titan, Hekate made flesh and blood. Nothing like that had happened and so he knew she was alive, just not where or how.

Y/n's prophecies were always accurate. Standing here before her now, Alastor recalled her words from all those decades before.

One will be two, two will be four. When that number comes, be ready for more.

One had been just him. Two? When he had died and met his shadow. Alastor realized now that three had been Y/n herself and that the fourth important person who had come into his afterlife was the very person who owned his soul.

Seven years past under grim sudden stress, four becomes ten, I'll tell you what happens next.

Seven years he'd been gone, indeed under an unexpected and disastrous situation. When, after seven long years, he had returned to Hell, he had gone to the hotel. It was at the Hazbin Hotel that he not only met Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Sir Pentious but that they became vital parts of his life along with Husk and Nifty who before then had mostly existed on the periphery. Those six, plus the original four, made ten.

Help one bright star to the top, not too far, and you will be free from the one not the three.

All along, all those years ago, she had known. Alastor had always respected Y/n, always harbored a soft and disconcerting love for the witch. Never before now had either felt so overwhelming. Alastor took a trembling step forward from his place at Charlie's side. The world closed in, she was the only thing he could see.

Y/n smiled as he sunk to his knee before her, his head bowed.

"Mea ocella." she happily hummed, lifting his head up gently with the tips of her bluish grey fingers.

"Y/n."

----

This fic will probably have a part two.

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

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meanbossart · 10 months

Note

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #text #ask #cazador szarr

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sugar-coat-it · 1 month

Note

i reread teenage dream and i am crying and throwing up thinking about them wanting to make it as a couple despite being young

STOP I WILL ALSO CRY AND VOM

Here is a little tidbit about that. I did in fact cry while writing it because I am a baby. this is SO SAPPY

You're both already awake when the sun peaks through the blinds, gracing the gentle features of his face. It's a routine you both know well: Matty sneaks into your room in the middle of the night and leaves when the sun comes up before anyone notices he's gone. He always jokes about how stealthy he is when he's climbing up to your window even though you have to hold your breath every time, praying he doesn't break his neck. ("It's like Romeo and Juliet, innit?" "Would you just get inside, please?")

It's quiet. It feels like you two are the only people awake in the whole world as you look into each other's eyes. Flushed cheeks and tender stares. It's the sweetest thing you've ever known. Affection courses through your body despite still being heavy with sleep. You always insist that he wakes you up before he has to go. You'd take the somber goodbye over waking to the coldness of an empty bed any day. You remember he’d kissed you hard after you said it.

"I don't want to leave," Matty admits softly, his voice scratchy.

Your heart aches in your chest, but the tender smile remains painted on your lips. Your fingers curl into his shirt, holding him a little tighter.

"I know."

"I wish I never had to leave... we could stay here, like this. Just you and me," he whispers, sleepy, his voice laced with the kind of longing poetry is written with.

You can't seem to find the words you're searching for, nothing seems like it's enough. You nod softly, searching the depths of his soft eyes for the answers. Matty carefully pulls you to his chest, burying his nose into your hair. He breathes you in deeply.

"I think I want to be with you... always. All the time," he says, his voice thick with emotion.

Your eyes squeeze shut as unshed tears begin to prickle at them, heat gathering at the bridge of your nose. You both know you're talking about something bigger now.

"Promise me you won't let anything take you away," you whisper. You hardly recognize your own voice. It's so small.

He understands what you're asking. He doesn't even hesitate for a moment to respond.

"I promise. I promise I won't. I'm yours. That's not gonna change, you know that?"

You don't feel like you know anything at all. You know he doesn’t either, not really. That’s the thing about being so young, it feels like you’re supposed to wake up one day and have it figured out, but that day never seems to arrive. There are only three things you know for sure. The first thing is that time isn’t always kind. But you hope she’ll take pity on you.

Matty kisses the top of your head, cradling your head against his chest like you’re made of something breakable, his other hand at your back. You listen to the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of him under your cheek. You press against him like you couldn’t possibly get close enough.

“I’m scared about what’s gonna happen when school ends,” you utter against his chest.

You shudder softly as your tears soak into his shirt, unable to hold them back any longer. Matty feels his heart clench in his chest. He watches as the sunlight washes over your skin, painting you in its glow. It feels like time running out as it creeps across your frame. He’ll steal all the time in the world to stay in this moment.

"I'm scared too," he whispers back. "Scared shitless actually. But we'll figure it out, okay? We'll make it work, no matter what."

“No matter what,” you sniffle, nodding against him.

It’s quiet for a few moments. Matty gently guides his hand up and down your back, delicate, comforting fingers trailing across your spine. You can hear birds chirping outside your window, the same chorus that’s been there every morning since you were little. The second thing is that the idea of growing up and growing apart from him tears you to pieces.

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like this about you. Even when we're really old and gross,” he whispers, smiling through misty eyes.

You laugh at that. He savors the sound, taking a shaky breath as he tries to etch it into his memory somehow. The arm that rests under your body has long fallen asleep. He’s numb throughout his limb all the way to his fingertips, but he doesn’t dare to move.

“You think we have a chance then?” you murmur. It feels a little silly to ask, it’s like you’re trying to guide each other through pitch black. But, having his hand to try and lead you is enough.

Matty pauses for a moment, considering the question. He’d asked himself the same thing plenty of times, his gut a tangle of both hope and uncertainty. He’s not dumb, he knows the chances, that nothing is guaranteed, especially not at this age. He knows the looks you both get from your parents. One of pity, like they’re already expecting heartbreak for the both of you, that the sweetness can only take you so far. It pisses him off to no end. Despite all of that, he wants to believe you two can be the exception. If that makes him naive, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I think so.”

The third thing is that you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything.

#crying and sobbing and #GAHHHHHHH #pls pls pls i need them to be happy #teenage dream!matty #matty healy blurb #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy x reader

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neoarchipelago · 2 years

Text

And they were Roommates (part 6)

A/n: ok here's a little warning. First from now on i'll take a bit longer to publish because ... work. It's also slightly shorter than usual

second i've realised that i had completely forgotten that Keller is the last name of the character Alex. So i do want to underline that it is not in fact alex Keller.

third, thank you so much for the love you have given to this story, it warms my heart. I hadn't written in a long time and i was afraid to post anything. I'm really happy that you guys like it.

Fourth, thank you so much for the little ideas you send me, they're very helpful. I apologise if I fon't translate the full idea into the story but i try to add any little thing you send my way.

fifth, you are entirely allowed to fucking hate me.

Warnings: as usual, cursing, violence, mentions of death.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"(Y/N)".

You smirked.

"Yes?" You questioned, glancing back as you sat at the counter in the kitchen.

"What time is it?" He asked from the couch.

"It's 7pm" you answered.

You smiled down at your computer. (Y/N). You had heard him say your name more than a couple dozen times today. Since you both told each other your real names, he had seemed to chant it non-stop. At any little question or situation.

"Y/N."

You rolled your eyes.

"Yes Simon?" You chanted sweetly.

A few seconds ticked before he answered.

"I have to tell you something." He answered, tone serious.

You paused your current activity to turn in your seat towards him. He was looking back at you.

"I have a Mission scheduled." He warned.

"Oh. Alright." You answered cautiously.

"I won't be here for a while." He announced.

"For… a while?" You frowned. "How long?"

"Around 2 months."

You swallowed, looking away. You didn't exactly know how to react. Obviously he had missions. You found yourself in a mix of sadness, worry and frustration.

"Y/N."

You looked up at him. By the look in his eyes, you felt like he was going to ask if you were ok. And you didn't want to answer that.

"Why do you keep calling my name?" You asked.

He remained silent. You stood up walking to the couch letting yourself fall next to him. He closed the file on his lap, red letters stamped on it.

"Simon ?" You pushed.

"I don't." He defended.

"Simon." You scolded kindly.

He groaned, looking away.

"How will you know if I'm addressing myself to you?" He debated.

"We literally are the only two people here." You chuckled. He ignored it.

You sighed, shrugging. You turned to the TV letting yourself enjoy the time you could spend with him. The tv played with whatever show was on as you started to think about something to order for dinner, too tired to cook.

"I like it."

You blinked.

"Hm?" You questioned, turning to him.

He raised his hand, turning your head so you looked at the tv instead.

"I said. I like your name."

"Oh. Really? It's nothing extraordinary though." You said blushing a bit.

"I was curious. After a few weeks. About your name."

You tried turning your head to him but he repeated his move, groaning annoyingly.

"It's… delicate…" he praised.

You felt your heart rate quicken. He.. liked your name.

"So… you like how it sounds?" You asked.

"Pretty much." He said matter of factly.

"Alright." You nodded.

"I like… that it's your name."

You turned your attention back to the TV, your mind unable to process anything after what he had just told you.

"I.." you started after a long minute.

"I like when you say it…" you said in a low voice.

The rest of the evening was spent very calmly. As per contrast to the rest of the week.

You sighed, grabbing your things to head out. Simon had been spending more and more time at the base. He had been preparing with the squad, preparing gear, tactics and training harder.

You could feel it. He had progressively grown colder. The ghost taking its rightful place, ready to hunt its target. You could feel him being careful around you, his mood had a drastic change and it seemed he tried to keep you away.

You tried to give him the space he needed. But you grew more and more worried and sad as the days passed.

You walked out of the door, walking down the apartment complex.

You stopped and cursed as soon as you walked outside.

"Hey Sparrow! Ready?"

"Soap. What are you doing here?" You asked, obviously already aware of the answer.

"Price asked me to come pick you up on the way to the base." The sergeant answered with a smile.

You rolled your eyes. Walking to him he opened the passenger seat for you. You thanked him, sitting and buckling your seatbelt. You watched the man skip to his side and get in. As you started driving to the base you asked.

"How is he this morning?" You asked.

"Well. Murderous." He smirked. "He's been training with some recruits coming along on the mission this morning and I think he's making them regret ever enlisting." He laughed.

You sighed. His mood had been becoming more and more sour. Not necessarily because he didn't want this mission, but mostly because he was entirely focusing on his target. The thought made a shiver down your spine.

"I don't think I'll be of help this time." You said.

Price had been asking you to come by the training sessions or after meetings to try and soothe his moods, but the closer the day of departure arrived the harder it became.

"Ah, don't worry. We're used to it. He's not entirely bad. As soon as he'll be in the field, he'll be the LT we're used to." He said. "We, the squad. I don't think you've seen him like that. But not sure… he wants you to." He said with a smile your way.

You bit your lip. Did you want to see him like that? A part of you did want. Another felt anxious at the thought.

The rest of the ride was spent in small talk. The closer you got to the base the more you could feel your body fall into a stressful state.

When soap parked in front of the training grounds, you walked out before entering the warehouse, the first thing you heard was the sound of people talking. The place had been rearranged as a training ground. Various dummies, people sparing at each other on mattresses.

Soap dragged you towards the rest of the squad a bit further from the rest.

"Here's our little bird." Price smiled.

You sighed but threw him a weak smile. You turned your head to the closest training mat. A breath caught in your throat. He saw fighting. With a man that surprisingly was a bit taller than him, also wearing a mask, though much looser. You watched the punches and kicks being thrown. They weren't holding back. Suddenly Ghost body slammed his opponent to the ground, the sound echoing. You flinched. That must have hurt.

"Don't worry, sparrow. They're used to it." Price tried to reassure you.

"Sure… if you say so. He seems to be fully into it." You commented.

"He is."

"I don't understand captain. Soap said it's usual for him to behave like this before a mission. Why do you want me to show up everyday?" You asked, turning to him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, walking you a few steps away from the rest of the squad.

"This time is a bit different. He seems. Frustrated."

"I don't think my presence helps."

"It does a bit. Though I know it's getting harder for you to deal with his mood. Today especially. The departures date was moved. We leave in 48h." He said with a sorry look.

You took a moment to process the information.

"It's not hard to deal with it. I'm just sensing it's being more and more useless. He's getting frustrated at me." You answered honestly.

"I don't want you two to fight. You don't have to go see him."

"I'll try. One last time." You replied with a soft smile.

He nodded. You turned back to Ghost. The fight was over, his opponent walked away, slightly limping and rubbing the back of his neck. You walked towards him.

"You ok?" You asked lowly.

"Ah, ja, I'm ok!" He answered the taint of accent on his words.

You smiled, continuing your path towards the man readjusting his gloves.

"Hey."

He stiffened, looking back at you.

"Why are you here?"

Ouch. You smirked at him.

"Price asked me to come check something for your mission." You lied.

He nodded. His chest heaved, his breath had quickened from the physical exercise though he didn't seem out of breath.

"Will you be home for dinner?" You asked.

"I don't know." He answered in a cold tone.

You could hear, Price started to walk up to you too very slowly.

"I can keep a plate for you if-"

"Sparrow. I'M BUSY." He barked, the sound echoing. A dreadful silence stood in the whole place. Everyone had stopped talking.

You flinched. Not enough for the others to see but he had noticed. The sound of small talk started again, probably under Price's glare.

"I'm sorry Ghost." You tried. Standing your ground hands behind your back.

"Lieutenant." He corrected coldly.

Price had finally reached the both of you.

"Fine." You spat back, the staring match now showing off both of your frustrations.

"Do you need anymore help captain?" You asked, not dropping your gaze from Ghost.

"No sparrow. Thank you and I apologize for-"

"It's fine. If lieutenant Riley wants to be a dickhead that's on him." You said, visibly angry and visibly taunting the man.

You turned around walking to the rest of the squad.

"You good?" Gaz asked.

"I'm perfect. I'll see you guys another time." You said with a smile towards them before exiting the perimeter. You took a deep breath outside. Fuck. What was wrong with him? The behavior had changed so drastically. A week ago, he was chanting your name in every sentence. Now he refused to even say it. He was cold. It was hard to hide the fact it was hurting. You were trying to see his point of view too, but you missed his old self.

You closed your eyes for a second. You had work to get to. So you did.

You had stalled. A lot. It was very late. You didn't need to be at the base. You could have spent the day working from home. Fuck you had finished all your work. Yet it was 9pm. And you were only turning the key in the lock to the apartment now.

You didn't want to fight again. You didn't want to fight before he left. You dropped your things on the ground and fell face first on the couch. The house was silent. Dark. It felt odd. You turned, grabbing a pillow and hugging it. You closed your eyes. Several minutes passed by before you heard his door open. You sat up as he walked into the living room.

You shared a look. He seemed annoyed. His new signature mood.

"What?" You spat.

"Don't." He warned.

"Don't what?" You replied in the same tone.

"Don't be a brat." He said.

You laughed coldly.

"I'm not the one being a brat Simon."

"Lieutenant." He corrected it once more.

You rolled your eyes.

"Why did you pass by the training grounds again?" He asked.

"Because Price asked me to." You answered honestly.

You stood up walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He stopped you halfway, grasping your arm. It wasn't soft but he was still careful not to hurt you.

"Sparrow. Don't come insult me in front of my men." He said in a serious tone.

"I didn't. I came to ask you something. You fucking yelled at me." You answered.

"I have other things to do other than giving you attention." He scolded.

"I didn't ask for attention." You replied, taking your arm back and crossing them over your chest. Fury growing in you.

"Y/N."

"Oh, we're back on a name to name basis?" You asked sarcastically.

He frowned. You were pushing his buttons. Unfortunately for both of you, he was too.

"Sparrow. You and I are not-"

"What? We're not friends?" You asked, interrupting him.

He stood there, silent.

"Is that what you're going to say?" You started now letting your anger finally out.

"Are you going to push me away again? And then leave without saying a word?" You continued your tone slowly rising.

"Are we going to fight until you leave and then you'll come back as if nothing happened? Fuck Simon! It looks like you're doing this on purpose!!" You ended.

And suddenly it hit you. Like a shit ton of bricks.

"You are…" you said in a whisper.

He turned away.

"You are! You're doing it on purpose. You're making us hate each other before you leave on missions." You said, incredulous.

"Y/N stop." He warned in a tone that promised repercussions.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" You asked, stepping closer.

He seemed to think for a minute.

"I'm a soldier. I go out there. I kill and I very possibly… get killed." He explained.

You frowned in confusion. He groaned in annoyance.

"I might not come back." He said abruptly.

"I know that. So what? You think making me hate you is what…? Going to make it… feel ok?" You asked.

He looked straight at you.

"My death isn't something that deserves mourning."

You blinked. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Anger spoke volumes. Actually it moved fast too. You didn't exactly know how you grabbed the pillow from the couch and started hitting him with it.

"SIMON, FUCKING RILEY, DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN." You punctuated every word with a hit.

He groaned. You were really hitting his last nerves.

"I care! I fucking care! It's not up to you to decide if I should or not!" You said, this time tears prickling at your eyes.

He noticed. You hit him harder trying to hide it from him. He grabbed the pillow, snatching it from your grip and throwing it somewhere in the room. He grabbed your wrists making you back up against the wall.

"Calm down." He tried, his voice slightly calmer.

"No! Fuck Simon!" You scolded.

You stared at each other.

"Lieutenant Simon ghost Riley, you better come back to me." You whispered.

He didn't say anything. He leant forward, letting the top of his skull mask rest on your forehead and hissed a fuck. Your breaths mixing together.

"If we hate each other. We have nothing to lose in this situation. We shouldn't have…been friends in the first place." He explained in a whisper.

"Do you hate me?" You asked in a whisper too.

His grip on your wrists tightened. He didn't answer.

"If I don't come back. You're going to have to deal with it." He answered coldly.

He let go of your arms, stepping back as you looked at him, eyes wide in shock. He simply turned around. And walked out of the apartment.

You bit your lip closing your eyes. God. He was stubborn. You were hurt once more. Even if you knew he didn't mean it. In his stupid attempt to spare you from being hurt, he ironically hurt you.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to sleep, forget this whole discussion. You wanted to roll into your blankets. So you did, and you let sleep take you.

That morning, you had gotten up with very little motivation. You had realized quite quickly he had not slept home. You tried to go about your day but your mind kept running back to him. Was he really going to leave with saying goodbye?

The hours ticked and the more the realization settled in. He wasn't coming back. You decided to go to the base in the afternoon to drop a report. You had met with the squad, avoiding talking about their lieutenant. You told them goodbye, threatening to go find them if they don't come back. They had announced they were leaving late in the night, the departure being changed again.

You were going to miss them. You had started to get used to their presence. To enjoy their company. They had grown on you.

You walked home pretty late. Feeling devastated by your roommate's behavior. You wanted to see him. Talk to him. Hug him before he left. But it wouldn't happen. The thought making you want to cry.

You walked into your apartment. The silence felt horrible. You dropped your coat over the couch, slowly walking to his bedroom. A shy knock on his door was heard. It was the only thing heard. Nothing. Your hand reached for the doorknob slowly. Turning it, you opened his door. Empty. He wasn't there.

You turned around, feeling the need to go back to your bed. You froze. Your door was open. You frowned, slowly walking into your room. You noticed a bag on your bed. You approached, sitting next to it. You opened it, taking out the soft object inside.

You stared at it. Tears rushing down your cheeks. It was a squish-able round plush. Of the grim reaper. It was black, with a cute skull for a face. You hugged it.

Knock knock knock.

You looked up. Holding the plush, you stood, walking to the door. You opened it.

"Hi! I'm… Sergeant Hansen… I'm your new neighbor… are you ok?"

You stared at the man in front of you.

He wasn't going to say goodbye.

----

tags:

@lemontails @cabreezer0117 @tomhardy411 @brxghtixghtz @shuttlelauncher81 @pinkdazelight @sirenbunnylol @snortangeldust @novausstuff @gasstationfifacard @emotion-not-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @simpforavillain @minimisthios @catied32 @poohkie90 @watermaylon-writes @thereealink @meimhem @sorryi-mtrash @gaymistakeboii @bittersw33t-lotus @gh0stm3g @freckledmuffin @itsasecrets-things @xback1021 @connierk690 @feedthefandoms995 @friendlyneighboorhoodgothicpagan @dead-noodles @friendly-reject @critter-mylo @honeymariee @badame0224 @kitty-satan1 @all-good-things-have-an-ending @tianotfound @thriving-n-jiving @hailstrum18 @kiruoris @thats-s0-ravenn @orcasarebigbabies @makastaco @abajointrossyearl @kaylynninice24 @cated18 @swg141 @ghost-2513 @whore4dilfs @yggrid @jaehyacinths @juneitoo @popevickysmainbitch @topgirl17 @mildlyhopeless @feyredarling92 @thegirlintheshadows101-blog @badbittywitty @yourmom3-5 @tapioca-marzipan @xoprincesslea @here4thespice @goldyghoul @wolfyland07 @chingaderastillidie @d4z01 @stokcholm @khjssss @julesclues @hopefuloperaangelnerd

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riality-check · 1 year

Text

tw for mentions of substance abuse (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

ao3

Steve Harrington has been awake for fifty four hours. With luck, he'll be able to eke out another eighteen. Three days seems to be the sweet spot, even if he only makes it there half the time and, of that half, it only works half the time.

It's better than nothing.

Maybe four days is the sweet spot. Ninety six is close to one hundred, and that seems like a good omen.

Omens don't really matter though. What matters is staying awake.

So, Steve chugs his coffee and walks into the conference room. Coffee isn't enough, not nearly, but it'll do until he gets desperate enough to take something.

He really does try to only take them when he's desperate. It's easier that way, to just do it when he feels like he needs to rather than measuring dosages and remembering times. Hours start to blur around hour forty of being awake.

He walks in, sits down in the chair closest to the door, and is met with a withering glare from Eddie Munson.

Listen. Steve isn't happy about this either, but at least he doesn't look like he stepped in dog shit on the way here. Then again, Steve doesn't have the luxury of ever looking truly unhappy.

Eddie is a rock star. Mean is part of his brand, while mean is the antithesis to Steve's.

Whatever.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie says, still staring at him, but Steve knows he's not who he's asking.

"He's the best person for the job," Chrissy, Eddie's manager, says.

"We don't need him."

Someone taps Steve's left shoulder. He turns to see Jeff, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, give him a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Steve," he says, and Steve shakes his proffered hand.

"Happy to help," he says, and it's only half a lie.

The drummer and the bassist - Steve would probably be able to remember their names if he wasn't so exhausted - wave their hellos from a few seats away.

"Hi, Steve," Chrissy says.

He takes another swig of his coffee and gives her a little wave in response.

"We don't need a pop singer to write lyrics for us," Eddie says, still not letting this go.

"Yes, you do," Steve says. He sets his coffee cup down on the table and opens the folder he brought with him. "I read through the lyrics of every one of your songs."

"You didn't even listen to them?"

"Would have taken too much time."

That's a lie. Listening, even with the lengthy guitar solos, probably would have taken less time. But Steve needs something to fill the hours when he's supposed to be asleep, and reading, that slow process with its ample, awakening frustration, is the perfect thing.

"You became so much less interesting after your first album," he says. "Every one of your songs talks about the same thing. Conquering evil, killing demons, blah blah blah."

"That's what's in right now," Eddie snaps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches the drummer and Chrissy make the same motion. They pinch the bridges of their noses, clearly frustrated.

Steve sees why Chrissy wanted to talk to him.

"It is," he concedes. "But I also read the lyrics of every song by the bands with top ten hits. They don't talk about it nearly as much. They sing about other stuff. And they don't use an F major chord in every one of their songs."

"We don't-"

"We kinda do, Eddie," the bassist pipes up. "I'm a little sick of playing F."

Eddie takes a breath. Steve takes the opportunity to take a pill.

He found a way to make it less obvious for people who have something to say about it. Steve will take one from his pocket, yawn, cover his mouth, and swallow it dry. Easy peasy. They don't notice, he doesn't have to deal with people who don't get it making comments.

Except when he does, this time, Eddie narrows his eyes. Like he knows what he's doing.

Steve doesn't like that look.

"Have you read my stuff?" He won't ask if Eddie has listened to any of it. He knows the answer is no, if he keeps bringing up genre like that really means anything.

Eddie doesn't respond. He keeps those narrowed eyes trained on Steve and stays silent.

"Didn't think so," he says, and he slides over the thick stack of papers Robin stapled together for him last night. "Here's everything. Read it. Tell me if you like it. I'm only helping you if you give a shit. This goes two ways, and I don't want to waste my time if you think I'm wasting yours."

Eddie doesn't take the stack, but the drummer, sitting next to him, tugs them closer. "Thanks."

"Let me know tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jeff says, eyebrows raised.

Steve forgets that most people don't actually take advantage of their twenty four hours.

"End of the week," he says instead, and he relaxes when Jeff does.

The drummer starts flipping through the pages while the bassist looks over his shoulder.

"Need anything else from me?" Steve asks Chrissy.

"I don't think so," she says. "I'll call you back to set up a time for Saturday."

He's amazed by the fact that someone as sweet as her works with someone as pretentious as Eddie.

"Sounds good," he says, and he walks out, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie's eyes on him as he goes through the door.

It only halfway works.

The pill should kick in soon, within a half hour, maybe shorter because of the coffee. Maybe he'll write something. Maybe he'll work on the piano melody he's been tinkering with for the past week. Maybe he'll read the latest book Robin picked up from the library, something interesting enough to be worth the frustration of the moving letters, something that will still fill the time.

He'll make it to seventy two hours. Then he'll crash because his body is a worthless piece of shit, and he hopes this is the half of the time when he doesn't have any goddamn nightmares.

Maybe he should pop another pill, just in case.

#ria writes #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #corroded coffin #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie #steddie ficlet #can you tell i just finished daisy jones and the six?#anyway it gave me worms #so enjoy #pop star steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #dja au

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urdepressedslut · 1 year

Text

More than friends

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You are eager to help Bucky prepare for a date, but he would rather stay home with you.

♡ Warnings: light angst, fluff (idiots in love)

Bucky watched as she paced around, listing off date ideas.

“A carnival would be so romantic— do we have any carnivals around here?” She paused, scratching her head. “Never mind, maybe a relaxing walk… OH— A picnic!”

She faced Bucky, waiting for his reaction to what she thought was a brilliant idea.

Bucky just shrugged, not giving her the feedback she had wanted.

“Doll, I appreciate you but… I don’t know…” He trailed off, causing her to frown.

“Buck don’t be nervous, Leah is super sweet.”

“I’m not nervous, I just… Its…” He mumbled, trying to find the right words, but the way she was looking at him, so eager to get him to this date. He wondered if it was possible that she’d feel the same way.

He was crazy about her. But Bucky being well… Bucky. He never voiced how he felt, even though he wanted to. He assumed she didn’t feel the same about him, which hurt.

She seemed happy helping him plan for this date, which she planned. Bucky politely tried to say no to her idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

He liked seeing her happy, and if that meant going on dates she planned for him… Well, so be it.

“I’ll make sure you look handsome, not that you need help in that department.” She told him, going through his closet.

Bucky became flustered at her compliment, knowing she most likely didn’t mean it like that. But it affected him nonetheless.

"Handsome?" He questioned, making sure he'd heard her right.

"Duh, have you looked in the mirror?" She asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

Bucky didn't think it was possible for more blood to rush to his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his seat.

"You feeling a button-up or a long sleeved shirt?" She asked him, holding up the two options.

"Long sleeved." He answered too quickly.

"Buck, she won't judge you." She told him, trying to ease his anxiety about showing his metal arm.

"How do you know?" He asked, raising his brows.

"I don't know, but I know she's nice. It doesn't seem like something she'd do," She countered, "Besides the metal arm is hot."

Bucky's eyes widened at her confession, looking at her intensely. She seemed to realize what she had said, her cheeks turning scarlet.

"I- I mean... I was saying that your arm would look hot- Look good in a button-up... I mean I didn't- It's what I meant to say." She got out, stumbling over every other word. She felt embarrassed at what she had said.

She obviously adored Bucky, him being her entire world. She liked seeing him happy, and he seemed content when she would help him with dates. She had wished that it was her going on dates with him numerous times, but pushed the silly thought away. He'd never see her in that way, they were just friends.

Bucky's chuckle got her attention.

"You think my arm is hot?" He teased, loving the way she'd get flustered. He thought it was adorable.

"I mean't your arm would look good in the button-up."

"That's not what you said." He teased again.

"Are you feeling okay?" She asked, "Because thats definitely what I said."

"Are you feeling okay? You seem flushed Doll." He asked in mock concern.

"I feel perfectly fine. Now what you gonna pick?" She rushed out, wanting to change the topic.

Bucky wasn't having that, he wanted to know why she was getting all nervous all of a sudden. He had hoped it was because she might feel the same way. He had gotten courageous suddenly, wanting to confess how he felt.

"(Y/n)... I don't think I wanna go out." He started, not wanting to jump straight to the point.

She frowned, suddenly concerned that something was wrong. Her heart ached that he was possibly feeling anxious, and she wanted to be the one to reassure him.

"Oh Buck, what's going on?" She asked him softly, giving him her full focus.

He noticed her worried eyes, he didn't think it was possible to fall more in love.

"I've just changed my mind, I don't wanna go. I wanna stay here, with you." He told her, watching her expression switch from concerned to confused.

"Why? You don't like Leah? Thought you guys hit it off at Izzy's?"

"Doll, I was ordering a drink... And she works there." He corrected her, watching her cheeks go scarlet from slight embarrassment.

"Whatever, you guys would be good together."

"Why do you keep doing that?" He questioned.

"Doing what?"

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her trying to play dumb. Although deep down he found it adorable.

"You keep pushing me to go on dates- talk to girls. I'm starting to feel like you're trying to get rid of me." He teased, but felt insecure by his own words.

"No Buck it's not like that I... I just want..." She stumbled, "I was just trying to make you happy. You seemed happy when I would help you out, I'm sorry."

His heart thumped loudly, wishing he could pull her into his embrace. She was too compassionate for this world, her soul too pure.

"I was happy." He told her truthfully, causing her to furrow her brows in confusion.

"But you just sai-"

"I was happy because I was with you." He rushed out, "All that time we sat around as you listed off date ideas. When we'd go on long walks and you'd tell me about a new girl you thought I'd like. The hours you spent searching my closet for something I could wear for a date. I was happy because I got to spend time with you. I wasn't thinking about the girls you were throwing at me, I was only thinking about you."

"Oh." Was all she could say, the butterflies in her stomach becoming overwhelming.

His gaze was piercing, causing her to break eye contact. Fiddling with her fingers instead.

"You were thinking about me because... You uh..." She trailed off, feeling suddenly very vulnerable.

There was still a chance Bucky was speaking as a friend. She didn't know if she could take such rejection from him.

"Because I love you." He finally confessed. A weight feeling like it was lifted off his chest, while anxiety swarmed within him.

She was taken aback, and she almost couldn't believe what she had heard. Bucky loves me? It was too good to be true.

"You... You love me?" She whispered out, his confession leaving her breathless.

"Doll, you're my everything. I've loved you for awhile, and I never said anything because... You were always trying to set me up, and I just thought you didn't feel the same way." He spoke softly to her, noticing her glossy eyes.

He feared he may have ruined their friendship, by the looks of her teary eyes.

"Buck... I've liked- loved you for a long time... And I..." She paused, swallowing a sob. "I just didn't think you'd ever feel the same way."

Bucky's chest filled with warmth at her confession, and he couldn't believe someone as tainted as him, deserved someone like her. But he was selfish, and he wanted her.

"Doll, you're beautiful, brilliant and you have the best dad jokes. Why do you think I wouldn't fall for you? You're the only one I'll ever want."

"I'm not special Buck... I'm just... Basic. The dad jokes are all I've got." She tried to joke, but an escaping tear caught his attention.

Standing up and walking over to her, he reached up his flesh hand. Grabbing the side of her face, tilting her head up to where their eyes met. Gently his thumb wiped away the moisture, his thumb tracing all the way down to her quivering lip. Stopping there.

"You are incredibly special to me, (Y/n)." He spoke genuinely, her eyes shining with adoration.

She felt nervous under his intense gaze, the butterflies threatening to burst from her stomach. His touch causing her skin to heat up. They had stolen friendly touches here and there, but this was way more intimate.

"I don't really know how to do... Relationships... I don't wanna mess anything up." She whispered, her eyes dancing down to his lips real quick, then back up to his steel blue orbs.

"You're not gonna mess anything up." He chuckled, stroking her bottom lip.

"How are you so sure?"

"You could never mess anything up... Just please don't leave me." He told her, his eyes shifting down to her mouth when she wetted her lips.

"Well you're in luck then." She huffed out, sliding her hands around his waist, tugging on his lower back, pulling his front flush to hers.

"Why's that Doll?" He got out breathlessly, the feeling of her body pressed up against his, being too much for him.

"I don't think I could ever leave you," She told him, "I don't wanna live in a world without you in it."

A/N: thank you @foreverrandomwritings for beta reading <3

#bucky x y/n #buckybarnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #imagine #marvel imagines #one shot #reader insert #marvel cinematic universe #tfatws #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #idiots in love

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still-fatemeh · 4 months

Text

失しっ敗ぱい (shippai)

Dark era! dazai X prostitute! reader

[The reader has a name, again. Because I don't like putting the word y/n into the fic, but this isn't really an oc, you can read your name instead of the character's. Tsuneko was the name of the bartender yozo commits double suicide in No Longer Human, that results in his survival and tsuneko's death. I've written this a long time ago, its ooc and full of mistakes but bare with me I'm writing another one that's better. Dazai acts younger than his dark era counterpart but he's addressed as an executive, his age something between sixteen to seventeen. But I wrote this with fifteen dazai in mind, which makes the age of the girl a bit too messed up, so I abandoned it. She's a year younger. And yes, I stole one too many parts from the light novels 'cause my english wasn't that good at the time. Enjoy (^3^)/]

It was a dumping ground-a place long forgotten by all. Beneath the stormy sky of the night lay haphazard piles of shipping containers, one on top of the other like dead bodies. Toxic substances illegally dumped in the area seeped into the open soil. Even field mice knew to stay away.

The sound of high heels clicking on the ground and dazai's soundless dress shoes was the only thing that could be heard at such hour at night. The figure in red dress was a guest, stepping hesitantly behind dazai. Tsuneko had been doubting her decision one too many times now, but was following him meekly nonetheless.

Not located on any map, this was the loneliest place in Yokohama. And near its center lived Dazai.

Dazai didn't live in a house, though. He lived inside one of the thrown-away shipping containers originally used for exporting cars to foreign countries.

As soon as dazai stopped walking, tsuneko questioned.

"Where's this, dazai-san?"

Dazai turned and looked right at her with a sheepish smile as he put his hands in his pockets.

"It's a good hideout for you tonight."

He turned back to face the front once again and took two more steps forward before stopping.

"The reason I'm taking you here is because you need a place to stay for tonight, as simple as that. And this is as far away and secluded as a place can get in the city. There's no better hiding spot for someone. Don't worry. I won't kill you."

He said with a soft and carefree laugh that made a shiver run down tsuneko's spine.

She entered the container after dazai did, as quiet as a mouse. After dazai turned on the only light, she observed the inside with a confused look.

Inside the large container was a refrigerator, an exhausted fan, a desk and chair, a bed, and a small and a naked light bulb.

"Is this where you live?"

She asked with a skeptical tone of voice.

"Unfortunately, yes."

He turned and faced her as he folded his arms behind his back.

"The organisation I work for could supply me with a house but I don't care for that kinda thing. This place is enough for me."

He tilted his head ever so slightly and stared at the ceiling for a moment as a thoughtful look came across his face.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No, not at all... Go ahead."

Tsuneko answered as she kicked off her heels. She wasn't as tense as before. She didn't even seem uncomfortable because of the oddity that was the shipping as a home. Dazai assumed she'd seen worse, so that wasn't a big deal for her.

"What's it like living at the brothel?"

He turned and looked directly at her with a solemn expression, he then walked over to the light switch and turned it off, leaving only the gentle glow of the outside night sky shining into the container from the gaps in between the metal walls. He then took a seat back on the bed and motioned towards her.

"Sit with me."

"It's... nothing pleasant."

She finally spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice though she managed to flash him a faint smile of gratitude for sheltering her tonight as she slowly walked towards him, the sound of unsure feet stepping on the metal flooring cutting through the silence.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Tsuneko sat on the bed, giving him a glance from the corner of her eyes. Baby blue, and glassy like porcelain, shining in the dark.

"Just curious."

He smiled with his gaze still locked onto her pale, azure stare. He could understand her cautiousness and uncertainty. She had been living on the run, and she was right to be afraid of him. However, in this specific case, she had no reason to be wary. As weird as it sounds, right now dazai's intentions were pure.

"Does he hurt you a lot? The owner I mean."

Her eyes darted to the ground, looking somewhere in the darkness with a solemn face.

"He raised me, I have no right to complain. And now he wants the money he spent on me back."

She sighed, shaking her head, trying to forget the stinging wounds and the screaming, especially the night that never fades in her memory.

"But it was too much money in a really short time..."

Dazai let out a breath and looked down at the bed in a melancholy expression as he listened to her.

"So how many years of your pay go to him, then?"

His voice was soft and gentle, but his eyes were cold in an unsettling way as he waited for her reply. It was something he knew, but wanted her to say it herself.

"Two years of my pay 'til now, the filthy money that I made since I was fifteen. He wants the rest of it whole, and I have no such way of getting all that much money all of a sudden."

Her eyes were empty, they reminded him of his own when he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

She went silent a few minutes, before speaking again.

...

"I've always wondered dazai-san, is there a reason you wear bandages on the right side of your face, is there an injury?"

There wasn't an injury.

A random question, to distract herself from the demons of her past.

A slight chuckle and a grin crossed his face as he looked at her.

"There's no injury. It's purely cosmetic. I do it because it looks neat! That's pretty much it."

He then paused in thought, looking into the shadows with his one visible eye.

She merely cocked a brow at his response, her eyes glimmering in that darkness with something akin to amusement.

"I've never seen anyone use bandages as cosmetics, it's weird honestly. Are you trying to make your soul look more pretty and beautiful? Because your appearance only looks more frail and sickly with them on."

She teased, a quiet chuckle escaped her lips.

"Heh, you sure have a way with words."

He tilted his head in amusement as she teased.

"So basically you're saying I look ugly with the bandages and even more ugly without them?"

She snickered lightheartedly at his response.

"No, you're quite a handsome guy, in my opinion..."

She praised him with a giggle, it felt like a mother praising her little son in a new outfit. It didn't sound flirtatious at all.

Dazai blinked, a perplexed look flashed over him for a few moments as tsuneko praised him in a motherly way. He wasn't sure how to take it. It wasn't unpleasant just a bit strange.

"Tell you what. I'm feeling generous tonight. How about, for tonight only, you can call me dazai, just dazai. Not dazai-san. There's no need for such 'honorifics'."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He wanted to keep himself detached but that little smile gave away his hidden emotions.

She tilted her head to the side, looking at him with a surprised expression.

"I'm aware you don't like me asking personal questions about you but, what do you do for a living, dazai?"

He just tilted his head in a more thoughtful manner.

"You know the Port Mafia, right? Well... I'm a member of this group. Specifically an executive."

He explained it with the most casual and relaxed tone of voice possible.

She snickered even louder.

"Yeah, also, I'm not a whore, I'm an actress playing roles in hollywood!"

Tsuneko joked in an exggrated manner, not taking his statement of being a port mafia executive seriously. She thought he said it as a joke.

Port mafia was a terrifying organisation, there's no way this lump of bandages could be working there. You needed to be an inhumane monster to be able to do such dirty work and also, the money was probably filthier than the money she made.

"Where do you actually work? Or are you just loafing around in a shipping container living off unemployment benefits from the government?"

Dazai just stared at her for a moment as she spoke. Then, out of the blue, he just started laughing. And when he started laughing, he continued laughing louder and louder. At first it was just a light chuckle, but soon it turned into a hysterical laughter. He held his right arm across his chest as the left gripped his sides.

His body started shaking from the laughter as his mouth formed a wide grin.

"Why? Why do you think so hard about me being an executive of the Port Mafia? Is it impossible for you to believe?"

His hysterical laughter made tsuneko gulp hard, trying to make sense of dazai's behaviour.

He was a bit nuts, that was for sure.

"But, my guy... People like mafia executives are filthy rich, they don't live in shipping containers or go to dingy brothels for a night of fun. They are important people with loads of money, a number that you and I can't even dream of, at least I can't."

Tsuneko was just a girl. Compared to him, she was as innocent as a lamb.

She just tapped her index finger on her bottom lip in an overdramatic display of thoughtfulness.

"To me, you seem to be from a rich background. You are intelligent, educated and well-spoken and your clothes look quite expensive. Maybe just the fact that you weren't raised properly. Something happened and you aren't with your family anymore. Did they disown you or something?"

The girl's assumptions were based on her logic and proofs but only this time, she was dead wrong.

To an outsider, seeing the title of Mafia executive on a guy who could easily be mistaken for some kid would be a hilarious joke. But they wouldn't be laughing if they saw Dazai's list of achievements, a dark and bloody list.

Around half of the Port Mafia's profits those past year were all thanks to him. A little girl like her couldn't even fathom just how much money that was, nor how many lives were lost as a result.

Dazai's laughter continued as he placed his hands on his knees and hunched over in delight. His hair fell over his eyes as his voice was muffled from all the laughter.

"Oh, tsuneko-chan! What a silly little girl you are."

He looked up at the shocked and to an extent concerned girl with a wide grin.

"You're right about one thing, I came from a wealthy family. And no, I was not disowned by them. I left of my own will. Why? I was bored. The answer's simple like that. I just got bored."

She flashed him a semi-worried expression and her brow shot up in confusion upon hearing his intense laughter.

:"Are you okay, my guy? Like... are you fine? How much did you drink at that bar?"

She shook her head with faux disappointment.

"I'm completely fine."

The corners of his mouth curled up into a faint grin as he stared down at the girl.

:"You left your family, because you merely got bored?"

She asked, a little perplexed by that apathy.

:"I don't know why... But that's completely up your alley, dazai."

Tsuneko's tone shifted to a more serious one as she said that.

"Yes, it is exactly something I would do. It's not that hard to understand."

Dazai took a moment to calm himself as a more serious expression crossed his face.

"You know, you're awfully curious, tsuneko-chan. You've asked me quite a few questions."

He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked down at her.

She gives him an unconvinced expression, her brows knitted together in confusion but she eventually just sighs softly.

"I get that a guy like you might get bored of his own family, It sounds like something you would do because, yeah, that's totally up your alley. But... But... Do you not miss them? Did you not love them? Didn't you want any of that inheritance money?"

She asked, with sincerity in her eyes. Despite the fact that her mother died in a brothel, she'd still give up her life to see her just one more time.

He stayed silent for a moment as he considered her question.

"Miss them? Love them?"

Dazai's eyes narrowed as he looked into the dark void once more.

"Of course I miss them. That kind of attachment does not disappear in a few months. And as for love...."

He closed his eyes and chuckled.

"I've heard of it before, but what exactly is love? What is 'missing' someone? I may be a simple-minded individual, but I have not yet learned any of these things."

She takes it back, he is more than a little nuts, indeed.

"Love is an attachment, an attachment to life."

Tsuneko answered, her eyes and expression blank though her tone was slightly grim.

"You wanna cherish the one that you love. That type of attachment leads to sacrifice... It's when you put someone else before yourself."

She spoke with a far off look on her face.

The word 'love'. Did it have any meaning? Love was filth for people like her.

"You know... I think I figured why you want to kill yourself so bad. We accept the love we think we deserve, you think you don't deserve any. You view yourself as a stranger, dazai."

She gently touched his hand, as a form of reassurance.

"Do you think I need someone telling me that?"

He stared down at her her hand as the corners of his lips curved upwards into a light smile. Something about the gesture was quite touching.

"But thank you, the way you spoke about love sounds beautiful. I haven't seen much love and attachment in this cruel world thus far. It is quite nice."

He remained silent for a moment, lost in thought.

"Hmm, am I a stranger to myself? I suppose you could be right. I never really thought about that."

A faint frown grew on his face as he looked up at tsuneko again.

"It looks as if you are."

She just commented with a soft sigh.

But she wasn't looking at him, it seemed that she was somewhere far away, truly deep into her memories. With the far off and grim look on her face, dazai could guess that they were far from good memories.

She intertwined their fingers and brought it to her lips, pecking his hand oh so gently.

He flinched from the sudden action and turned to look at tsuneko, his left eyebrow raised.

"Hmm?"

He looked down at their intertwined fingers as they were brought to her lips. A light blush spread across his cheeks and his dark brown eyes widened as he looked at her in surprise.

He didn't know what he was feeling in this moment—was it pleasure, discomfort, or maybe something else entirely? The words 'love' and 'attachment' still sounded new to him.

"Tsuneko-chan, what exactly was that just now?"

He chirped with a lighthearted tone, his face not at all in sync with what was going on in his head.

Was she flirting? Was it a form of comfort? Or was it something entirely different—a gesture of gratitude for giving her shelter here tonight?

He had no idea, but he certainly felt something.

"Old habits die hard."

She spoke, seemingly nonchalant as she let go of his hand.

"What I mean is... I owe you one, I'd have to repay you one way or another... However you'd want me to."

The girl was speaking with a lopsided grin, as if unbothered by all that happened.

Dazai's face was stained by a bright shade of red. He was stunned, completely speechless as he stared at her with his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

Did she actually just…

Did she really just offer to—

Oh.

That's exactly what she did.

He didn't know what to say. So much was happening all at once that his brain felt like it was moving in slow motion.

"Red suits you."

Tsuneko's lips absent-mindedly twitched into a pleased smile, as she said that. Her tone a bit teasing.

"I've never seen you flustered before..."

She mused, suppressing the urge to giggle.

This guy was a mystery to his core, unravelling him has to be like unravelling bandages... layer by layer. Dazai was willing to get to know her... It wasn't everyday that people wanted a whore's opinion on questions like whether or not life is worth living. He listened to what she had to say, and that was enough for her to consider his company a bliss.

Dazai's cheeks were on fire by this point. Everything she said was pushing his nerves to the very edge. She even said red suits him—his cheeks were burning up—and he didn't have any logical explanations for this whatsoever. Something about hearing these words come out of her mouth just threw him off.

"You certainly have a strange way of showing gratitude."

"Do I now?"

She said, cocking a brow in amusement.

"It's the only way I know."

The next words however, left her mouth quietly, with a sarcastic edge to them.

Umi curled up more comfortably on the bed they were sitting on, hugging her knees with a sigh.

"But all jokes aside, thank you for getting me out of the brothel without any pressure for doing... stuff, even for one night. I was really going crazy there, tomorrow when the owner wanted his money, I didn't have any chance to pay him back but now at least I can buy some time... I really owe you for tonight."

She said with a subtle smile.

"It seems that I really have a talent for getting myself into debt, hm?"

Dazai nodded at her and a faint smile spread across his face.

"You really do have a talent for that, tsuneko-chan."

He paused for a moment, his mind going over every word she said. Why did he offer to help in the first place? What was even going through his mind at this rate? As he thought, he shifted his focus of on her and raised a eyebrow.

"You're really that deep in debt, huh?"

"For... A lot of people the amount I owe the owner isn't considered much, but for me it's quite a lot of money."

She mumbled with a quiet voice, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She still remembered very well the last time she told the owner she didn't have the money, even the thought of it made her body hurt.

After a few minutes of silence, she broke it with a whisper of his name.

"Dazai..."

She looked at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face.

"Were you actually telling the truth when you said you worked in the port mafia for a living, as an executive? You weren't joking?"

He remained quite for a moment. His silence hung in the air as he stared down at the girl with an almost eerie seriousness. He wanted to say "yes" but his mouth wouldn't form the words. It was almost as if his throat was filled with concrete. His dark eyes darted away from her as his body language seemed much more timid than before. He looked away and finally muttered something.

"Yes..I was telling the truth."

Tsuneko let out a loud groan and rolled over in his bed. Her back facing him, she was internally cursing herself for... she couldn't even say for what, but her options were quite a lot.

"So that must real the real deal then?"

She said aimlessly, her hand pointed to the direction of the coat hanger, a silver pistol's handle sticking out of the pocket of his one of coats. It was one of his subordinates' that he'd Probably forgotten to return. Probably the reason she'd asked the question in the first place. She didn't look scared while pointing that out, her expression was solemn, her eyes clouded over with something unrecognizable.

There was a moment of intense silence in the air. Tsuneko was pointing her finger to and the outline of the gun in the pocket of his coat and he had already noticed her staring at it. He looked back down at his coat and then back up at her again. When he finally opened his mouth, his voice sounded strangely stern.

"Yes..It is the real deal."

The man in front of her probably was the thing he said he was, an executive of the port mafia. He could've easily be mistaken for some boy. Too young to be taken seriously. That sparked the same question again, why did he lived in a shipping container? If he was really an executive, he would've been filthy rich.

Of all the questions she could've asked, the most uselessly obvious one found its way to her lips.

"Have you ever... killed someone?"

The girl speaks with a slightly stretched out voice.

There was a slight hesitation, but he eventually answered.

"More times than I can count. The first time was when I was 14."

He answered simply, his face void of emotions despite what he was saying. His dark eyes showed nothing. He sat there as if he were narrating a story from a book instead of an admission of guilt. Yet his words held a certain weight to them. The weight of all his past deeds.

Tsuneko gulped.

She'd fucked up.

She'd fucked up so bad.

She'd trusted a guy who'd killed more people than he could count... but that was exactly it. She didn't regret her decision. A port mafia executive, an actual executive of the port mafia... If he really was from Port Mafia, she would have to be careful even about lifting or lowering a spoon in front of him. When it comes to the Port Mafia, the synonym of darkness and violence, there's no assurance that if she does something he doesn't like she wouldn't be murdered. That'd definitely hurt more than the owner's beating.

"Aren't you gonna sleep?"

Tsuneko asked dryly, the back of her head still facing dazai.

"No, not really. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I always end up having the same nightmare."

He leaned back against the bed, putting his hands behind his head. His dark brown eyes fixed in on the ceiling for a few moments, before he looked at her.

Umi sat up on the bed and her eyes silently scanned his face, a curious expression shining on her features.

"A nightmare? Is it the same one every night?"

What it would take for a nightmare to keep a person like you awake at nights?

He remained silent for a moment. The dark brown of his single visible eye flashed with a slight spark of sympathy as he saw the sad expression on her face. She seemed so innocent yet she was stuck here. A life of pain and agony. He had to look away from her for a moment before finally speaking again.

"And... Yes, it's the same nightmare every time."

"What is that nightmare of yours that manages to keep you awake at nights?"

It was more or less a rhetorical question, she knew he wasn't going to answer him.

"The only thing I can imagine you fearing, is not being able to die."

She said that with a subtle smile.

"Maybe it's a warning of some sort."

A soft, bitter smile spread across his lips. But his eyes remained filled with sorrow and his words carried the faint feeling of shame.

"It is a warning of sorts. Not being able to die. But there is also another part of this nightmare that keeps me up at night."

His voice felt hoarse as the next words had a certain difficulty in coming out of his mouth. As he spoke, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. He couldn't bring himself to even look at the girl sitting in front of him.

"You really think that I would just snap and kill you for a random ass reason..? Don't you think that's a bit of a stretch?"

"Common sense commands me to be scared of the person with a loaded gun."

She whispered softly under her breath.

"Ah, I see. I'd imagine you would've met quite a lot of shady characters, working in a brothel."

"Yeah, I know. I've met lots of port mafia members, they're far from friendly if they don't get what they want. Working in a place like I do, you will see this kind of people a lot. People who are used to getting their way, one way or another."

She says that with a distant gaze and he just nods his head.

"You're funny."

Tsuneko suddenly said with a calm smile.

:"That's the first thing that struck my thoughts when you first spoke about how excited you were to finally off yourself, explaining and comparing different methods of suicide like you were comparing different games you wanted to play. Any normal person fears death, but you seem to be driven towards it, hoping for a kind of excitement. Something to cure you boredom but man..."

She spoke with a mindless snicker, albeit a little bit bitter.

"But... I bet you know better... Bein' mafia and stuff... But death isn't anything exciting. No one around me has died with dignity, they've all died like street mice stuck in a glue trap. Died in fear, in pain, in filth, in blood. So to think that you want to die so bad, really annoys me. Because death isn't anything precious to begin with."

His eyebrows narrowed as he heard her words. Was she mocking him? Was she scolding him? His mouth contorted into a grimace at the way she talked about life and death as if it was something simple. His voice was barely a whisper as he whispered back to her.

"Then why haven't you died yet? If the world is so full of pain and suffering for you, why do you bother to breathe each day? Why did you crawl out of the drainage ditch instead of just lying there and dying?"

"The less you have to lose, the more you cling to life. Hoping for something that will never come..."

She says, her smile not faltering. But it was certainly bitter now. Her gaze was as sticky as mud.

"There's also something else..."

She leaned closer to whisper into his ear.

"I'm scared of the fact that when I die, there wouldn't be anyone there to bury my corpse, no one to mourn for me. Dying in a cold dark alley, left there to rot for god know how much time."

Her pale blue eyes rivalled his chocolate ones, in terms of how much they were depraved of light.

"Let me tell you something, my guy. Death wouldn't be anything out of your expectations, nothing beyond what you would expect will appear. Death isn't the sweet release, it's just another step in life that you have to take."

He finally turned his eyes back at her. They were darker and sadder than before, void of all light. His mouth was set into a soft frown. With a weak voice, full of resignation, and perhaps acceptance, he whispered at her, his tone strangely empty.

"Why... Why didn't you just let the owner kill you back there? If the world is so pointless, and people suffer so greatly... why do you cling so desperately to life? There's nothing here for you, especially not for someone like you. Just let go already."

"I... don't want to die like a sewer rat, dazai."

Tsuneko's words came out as a desperate plea for life.

Then it hit dazai, she wasn't like him.

"My mother wanted me to become someone who she could be proud of. A person of value. I'm not going to let her down, not when she sacrificed everything so I could live."

She had nothing to lose, it doesn't matter how many times life kicks her down, she'd still stand up.

Dazai could see the determination in her eyes, the intent to survive.

"As long your heart is beating, you shouldn't waste it, not a lot of people have that privilege. "

"...The human spirit. It never ceases to amaze me."

Dazai mumbled those words under a quiet breath. His words were full of both admiration as well as some contempt. Admiration for the sheer strength she had. Contempt for the fact that she was so naive at the same time.

"Your mother must be a good person if her last wish for you was for you to live a meaningful life."

A smile found it's way to her lips, a wide, beaming smile like a little girl who'd just been gifted a precious doll. her eyes crinkled with her smile.

:"I loved her so much... and I still do. I would give up on the world just to see her smile one more time."

She mumbled, looking at dazai with glimmering pupils, dilated with childlike joy. A total contrast from her eyes a few moments ago.

"Do you want to know what my mom did when I woke up crying because of a nightmare? How she lulled me back to sleep?"

She asked with a wide grin.

"What did she do?"

Dazai asked quietly, not missing the sudden, stark contrast in her expression. There was a certain warmth that suddenly appeared in her eyes. Almost as if she were a different person.

"Why don't I show you?"

She giggled, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Tsuneko brushed a hand through her hair, gesturing him to lay his head on her lap so she could stroke his hair. The smile lingered on her lips, it was enduring in a way.

There was a moment of doubt, a moment where he considered whether accepting her invitation or refusing it, before he finally did. He slowly placed his head on her lap, looking up at her with a somewhat puzzled expression.

Her hands began to stroke his hair as she mumbled some old melody under her breath. Her touch was soft and gentle and there was something comforting and nostalgic about it. As if he'd felt it before. But despite the comforting nature of her gesture, dazai's nose was still scrunched up uncomfortably.

"Is what I'm doing right now, perhaps... bothering you?"

She asked him with a sly grin.

"No."

Dazai replied in a soft, almost monotonous voice. But there was no mistaking that the touch of her hand was soothing to him. However, he wasn't going to tell her that. There was something a little bit embarrassing about it. Still, he decided not to move or resist against her. He just let his hair be stroked and his eyes be fixed on her.

She couldn't help the smile creeping up her face, as she saw his face. Dazai looked like an awe-struck boy.

"You like it, don't you?"

She teased him in a playful manner as she ran her fingers through his chocolate locks gently.

:"Your hair is so fluffy~"

She said in a baby voice, giggling as she messed his hair. Dazai was surprised at how much it came naturally to her, being this affectionate. Tsuneko has never had anyone to shower with her affection, now that he wasn't resisting it, she continued. Just like a little girl playing with a doll, showering it with with care and affection.

For an executive of the Port Mafia this was something beyond embarrassing for him. He was being treated like a little kid again. He thought of how this would look to people if they knew the fearsome Port Mafia executive that dazai was, was laying down in the lap of a prostitute with his eyes half-closed in pleasure. But the only thing he could really do was enjoy the moment as he lay there. It felt a little bit shameful, how much this affected him. He even felt his stomach flutter as her fingers ran through his hair and she spoke in that soft baby voice.

Dazai couldn't help but consider that she had an ulterior motive from all this, that she was putting up an act to deceive him. But the thing that scared him even further, was that he couldn't find any proof for his assumptions.

The smile on her face seemed so genuine, so sincere... like she was showing him a glimpse of her conscious, how it feels when she loves somebody.

While he was looking for a sign to tell that she was acting, he noticed her smile. Her smile was soft and gentle, full of fondness. As childish as it was, her smile was beautiful. It was so enduring the way her cheeks had a red hue to them, when she looked at him like that. It was a rare moment of vulnerability on both sides.

He kept staring at her. He let everything sink in. He took in all the beauty of her smile, of her blush, of her eyes. This simple, silly little gesture was causing him to feel so much. He couldn't get enough of her eyes. He could have stayed like this forever- just staring up at her, as she stared down at him. It was something unexpected, but also not unwelcome. He felt like, for the first time in such a long time, he wasn't a cold-hearted outsider. He was feeling human again.

Tsuneko leaned closer to his ear.

"I promise... Tonight, there wouldn't be any nightmares..."

She whispered, her voice filled with a sincere certainty, she knew that tonight he wouldn't be seeing any nightmares. Before muttering something else under her breath, which he couldn't quite grasp what it was, perhaps, 'good night'?

That was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep...

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pikahlua · 5 months

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I've been in the dkbk fandom for 3 years and my husband is an anime only. We just watched the new episode and he was disappointed. He predicted that Star will die and the plot won't really move forward. He's a sci-fi fan and he's seen many a series fall apart after more characters, complexity, and a war are introduced. I've been avoiding spoling the manga for him but since he's lost interest, I spoiled him and confirmed that the manga has been in a holding pattern for 2-3 years with this final arc. I told him what you said about Bk's death and Deku losing his arms as being symbolic but he said those actions being reversed lowers the stakes and it's hard to maintain emotional investment if you know that major plot points will just get reversed. I wanna believe in Hori but I'm waiting for payoff instead of enjoying the story. Is what's happening really good storytelling if this final battle has been dragging on so long and Deku's characterization has come to a halt?

I’m hesitant to answer this. I said I wouldn't answer any asks that were looking to me for reasons to keep liking MHA, and I really don't want to encourage more asks like this--and yes OP, I don't know if you realize it but that's basically what you're asking. You've framed this question around your husband's opinions, but you're couching your own thoughts inside.

If your issue is that you and your husband like different media, then that's a marital issue to resolve; accept that you shouldn't always watch all media together, particularly if doing so isn't fun for both of you. But your husband doesn't like what's going on in MHA, and this is enough to make you doubt whether or not MHA is written well? Despite the fact that many, many people like MHA in its current form? That sounds more to me like you agree with your husband. It certainly doesn't sound like you tried to sell this story arc to him.

I decided I'll answer a question like this this one time because it'll help me summarize my feelings on these topics, though I'm sorry to say the topics I address may not be what you expect.

"We just watched the new episode and he was disappointed. He predicted that Star will die and the plot won't really move forward."

Is this really a surprise? I don't remember anyone being all that into this arc when it first came out. Everyone was saying Star would die, and yet most people did not correctly predict the actual outcome of this fight--that Star's quirk would be eliminated and Tomura would be weakened. Most guessed Tomura would steal Star's quirk and become overpowered.

"He's a sci-fi fan and he's seen many a series fall apart after more characters, complexity, and a war are introduced."

You mention sci-fi but uh, has your husband watched like...any other anime? Ever? At all? MHA is far from the first shounen anime to do this. You can't really make your husband like MHA if his problem is that he came to an anime restaurant and got upset when there was nothing but anime on the menu.

Seriously, MHA is not doing all that much different with its ending than what Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood did, and that's one of the most critically acclaimed shounen anime of all time. If he's predisposed to dislike the stuff anime does, that's not a writing problem. That's a mismatch of anime with his tastes.

It strikes a nerve with me because I grew up loving anime and was bullied for it by people with opinions such as your husband's. Now, the mainstream-ification of anime has drawn those same sorts of people to anime for whatever reason, and all they seem to wanna do is complain about anime being anime. Take sci-fi for example: I typically hate outerspace-themed media and the concepts such media often explore, and you know what I do? Not watch it. I've decided such media is not for me. Honestly, the same is true for a lot of anime too. I am very picky about anime because there are some tropes or themes I'm just sick of.

"I've been avoiding spoling the manga for him but since he's lost interest, I spoiled him and confirmed that the manga has been in a holding pattern for 2-3 years with this final arc."

This is where it sounds like you primed him with your own feelings, because it certainly doesn't sound like you were selling him. I don't even know what this means. "A holding pattern"? Do you mean the arc has just been going on a long time (see: welcome to anime being anime)? Or do you mean not much has happened with Izuku? Because I am getting a bit of a sense that your issue is you're an Izuku fan and his growth has been slow because the arc has had to wrap up all the other characters' arcs first. Because a lot HAS been happening with all the other characters (and we recently got some Izuku progression too).

The only other thing I can think of is an opinion I've had for a long time. I think a lot of anime fans don't realize they're not actually manga people. You watch an anime you like a lot and you wanna get up to speed, so you go to the manga not understanding that the manga is different from the anime. The pacing is different, as is the presentation and focus on details. The manga presents one or two story points per chapter, whereas anime episodes are 2-3 chapters compressed into one sitting. The anime's major selling point is its fast pacing, but this is not a selling point of the manga--of ANY weekly manga. "2-3 years" means very little in the context of a 15-page-a-week-AT-BEST manga.

"I told him what you said about Bk's death and Deku losing his arms as being symbolic"

The symbolism angle is one thing. I've never really understood why people like any media without symbolism--that's what gives a story its flavor, isn't it? If we're talking about tropes and familiar story structures, the artist's approach to familiar items is precisely what makes it unique and interesting to me. I wouldn't become invested enough to care about Katsuki's death if all that mattered to me was the surface-level event.

But are you saying you spoiled the fact that Izuku lost his arms? That's...not that big of a plot point to spoil if you ask me. Certainly not one I'd bring up as one of the greatest hits of this arc. This is another detail that makes me feel like you're particularly focused on Izuku, which is not a bad thing nor is there anything wrong with that, but Izuku doesn't actually feature very much in this anime season all things considered. It's hard to sell anyone on what's currently happening with Izuku in the manga since we just got to his stuff and it's not complete.

Again, this was what happened with Fullmetal Alchemist. The last arc covered the events of one day that ended the final war. The main characters were only occasionally featured and didn't do all that much in the season until the very end, as one would expect. When it was coming out in manga form, the pacing was admittedly very weird because of this storytelling choice, albeit it felt a bit different from MHA since it was a monthly manga and covered more ground per chapter. But when the same arc was adapted to anime, the feeling and pacing were very different, and a lot of iffy elements improved on me as a result.

"he said those actions being reversed lowers the stakes and it's hard to maintain emotional investment if you know that major plot points will just get reversed."

Is your husband someone who watches things only once and then can't rewatch and enjoy them ever again? Does he only watch stories for plot twists and once he knows the twist he stops liking it?

I don't understand this general obsession with consequences and stakes a lot of people have. Sure, they are elements that can contribute to a mood or feeling in a story, but they're far from the make-or-break linchpins so many people make them out to be. The "reversals" are major plot points too. I find much more enjoyment in trying to follow why a writer would do such things and what they're trying to say than wondering how likely some character is to die or how many people will be brutalized.

I'm in the camp that believes spoilers should not make a difference in whether or not I find a series "good" or whether or not I can invest in it. I personally have played video games specifically BECAUSE they were spoiled for me and it sounded like I would like them, and having those major things spoiled for me did not detract from my enjoyment at all. I'm not saying everyone has to be like me, but I do certainly think a story's ability to persist as an impactful and memorable work has very little to do with its stakes and everything to do with how it handles its story and characters. Was Star Wars memorable and beloved because of how many people were at risk of dying in it? Was something taken away from the story when Luke got a robotic replacement for the hand he lost?

Goodness, didn't the MHA fandom predict for years that Dabi was Touya Todoroki? And wasn't everyone just waiting for the reveal to fucking happen already so we could get it over with? And wasn't the entire fandom surprised and enthralled when the Touya reveal did happen precisely because it was handled in such a unique and cool way with Horikoshi's flair? Did predicting that twist really ruin anything for the story?

A good story is a good story.

"I'm waiting for payoff instead of enjoying the story."

I can't know what payoff you're waiting for. I've enjoyed all the events and details along the way, even if there were some expected dips here and there. When I went back and reread the entire arc in one go, the pacing really hit me differently and I got a lot out of it. If you're not enjoying the story, that's not about whether or not the story is employing "good storytelling." I've enjoyed plenty of stories that were told poorly and sloppily because there were other redeeming features that appealed to me. This is about preference. You and your husband have your own personal preferences, and that's okay! But you both have to manage your preferences with respect to each other and to yourselves.

"Is what's happening really good storytelling if this final battle has been dragging on so long and Deku's characterization has come to a halt?"

If you're actually interested in whether or not MHA has "good storytelling," I'd suggest you take a creative writing class or otherwise learn about the way stories are told in different media i.e. novels vs comics vs TV shows vs movies vs video games. But I honestly don't think that's what you mean. I think you're looking for permission to keep liking MHA even if you personally don't like its storytelling or how Izuku's character is currently being handled. I can tell you from experience that yeah, you can. Plenty of people do it all the time. Some people get so frustrated with the stories they like they write fix-it fanfiction. Some people appreciate the way a story is so perfectly written that they cannot build a fandom around it because they can't come up with anything to add. It's going to depend on you and how you want to approach the situation, and while I'm happy to talk about what I like about MHA and which writing choices I think are well made, that's not going to get us very far if you don't like the same things.

I do often find media that I personally think is not written that well, and like I said, sometimes I like it and sometimes I hate it, but if it's a piece of media with a large fanbase like MHA, I have a hard time calling its writing universally "bad." If it speaks to that many people in some way, clearly there's something about it that reaches people effectively, and who am I to judge? I'm certainly no expert in quality of writing. All I have are what I've taken away from my education in literature/writing, my years of experience with many anime that came before MHA, and my thoughts on all the other media I've enjoyed. My experiences will lead to different conclusions than others'. I know I don't like a lot of what's popular with most people, so I certainly can't hold myself out as some paragon of good taste.

It's okay to like or dislike whatever for whatever reason. I don't always stay with the same fandom. I move around when I find new and good things. I sometimes come back to old things I loved and like it anew or find it underwhelming as I currently am. As of right now, I'm actually willing to say something I never was before, which is that MHA might be one of the best-written manga if not the best manga I've ever read. While FMA is top-tier, its themes are a lot safer than MHA's ambitious goals. MHA was always going to be controversial in some ways just because of what it attempts to do, such as telling its story through comic book-themed superheroes. It also says a lot of political things that risk alienating readers. The levels of risk MHA takes are part of what makes it amazing to me and what makes it a worthwhile piece of art to enjoy. I'm so happy it exists, flaws and all. No story will be universally loved, and that's something I accepted a long time ago when I decided I wouldn't let the bullying stop me from liking anime. All I can hope to do is have the courage to love the things I love and the grace to leave alone the things I dislike for others to enjoy.

#anon ask #ask pika #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers

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