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m00nsbaby · 1 year ago

Text

Already over.

Main Steven Grant x F! reader. ( + Marc Spector x F! Reader)

Part 2. Sleepwalking.

Warnings & tags. ANGTS!! Cheating kinda but not really?, hurt, and all of thaaaat.

Word count. 3.4k

Summary.

We been talking for hours About how we shouldn't talk for hours on end. Kissing after a conversation About how we'd probably be better off as friends. Same time here next weekend Say, "We won't do this again" Make me fall where I stand Only like you can.

It had been a while since Steven and you had accepted your positions in Marc's life. Both of you were external parts of something larger, like small protrusions on a road that led nowhere.

You decided to understand it when you realized the burden Marc had to carry. Khonshu had taken hold of his psyche and shattered it as he pleased, although he was aware of his dissociative identity disorder, he had started to lose control a long time ago and this resulted in Steven finding out in the worst possible way. It was as if life itself had decided to break him in every possible way.

Hadn't he suffered enough already? Steven and you weren't going to take away the last thing he had.

The love of his life. Layla El-Faouly.

You envied her in different ways. Living a life of adventures with the man of your dreams sounded like something out of a book. She was a strong woman and the first in Marc's life, and therefore also in Steven's, but if there was something that broke your heart in half, it was knowing that she was happy with him.

It would be a lie to say that you weren't happy with Steven. He gave you all of himself and loved you in a way he never tried to hide. But for years now, you had been the one picking up the pieces of two broken people and putting them back together. And then, there was Layla, who didn't even know about the existence of her husband's alter ego, enjoying the best part.

The carefree part that stood above all the atrocities of daily life, simply having a nice date or the official title of his wife, with a ring and legal documents.

"Do you miss working at the museum?" Steven's fingers traced your waistline, occasionally pausing to press on the moles peeking beneath the fabric of your short shirt.

"You have no idea how much." You could never tell him how much you appreciated that he didn't lie to you. You knew he comforted Marc by telling him that life was perfect just the way it was.

You were face to face. You admired Steven's face in front of you.

Anyone would think that once the issue of his fake sleep disorder was cleared up, he would look less tired. Although there were still hundreds of nocturnal missions, and Khonshu destroyed the mercenary's body until an exhaustion beyond description, now Steven could sleep a few more hours, the ones where he used to force himself to read until the letters danced before him.

Nothing had changed at all. In fact, you could swear that the dark circles under his eyes were becoming more noticeable.

"I love you, Steven." You said suddenly, resting a hand on his cheek. His skin had always been so soft and delightfully warm.

You brought a smile to his face, the one that momentarily makes you forget that both of you feel that time is running out.

The one that makes you forget the slight resentment you have towards Marc.

"I love you…" He whispered before leaning forward, just enough to brush his lips against yours, a gentle touch as his hand rested on your waist, and his thumb traced circles on your bare skin.

He wasn't lying; Steven never lied.

You spent the rest of the afternoon kissing and chatting about what had happened during the week you couldn't see each other. You asked about Layla as you always did, he shrugged, and you wondered if he felt the same resentment towards her that you felt towards Marc.

"The idea of vegan hot wings is stupid," you laughed as you bit into the vegetable in your hand, the one that was trying to deceive you and pass for something else.

"The sauce tastes good!" Steven laughed with you, playfully pushing you with his shoulder. To hell with sitting face to face in restaurants; if your bodies weren't close enough, neither of you were comfortable.

"It's a fraud."

"It's delicious." Seeing you take another bite was enough to feel that he was right without you explicitly saying it.

"Do you want to come to my apartment later?" You sucked your thumb to clean the sauce from it. "Yesterday, I accidentally stumbled upon a garage sale and bought the dumbest movie I've ever seen, I got it for us. It's called Rubber, and it's about a homicidal car tire."

Under any other circumstances, Steven would have laughed with you, but he gave you that look that you already knew too well.

"I'm sorry, love." Suddenly, the fake wings didn't look so appetizing. "Marc is feeling better."

Ah. That.

That was the signal that he would be spending the night with Layla.

"That's fine." You nodded immediately, and you also felt disgusted with the food in your hand.

How much longer could you go on like this?

After a few seconds of silence, you cleared your throat. You had some time to come up with a change of conversation.

"What happened to your hand?" Your index finger touched Steven's injured knuckles.

"Marc didn't keep the suit on long enough; the larger wounds healed, but the rest didn't." He never lied, although this might be the exception. A minor injury to prevent a bigger one; he wouldn't ruin his life over a trivial matter.

You nodded slowly, planted a kiss on his shoulder, and continued with your attempt at a date, which was going perfectly until you remembered where you were standing.

The truth was that the night before, Steven had had a fight with Marc, one of those that hadn't happened since they threatened not to switch bodies back to each other.

"Are you two together, Steven?" He was about to explode, about to go crazy. This was the last thing he needed right now, adding more lies and involving more people. "I already told you, no!" Ever since you considered the possibility that Marc might find out, you had decided that if it was a panic situation, you would opt for the most efficient plan: Deny, deny, deny, deny. "Don't lie to me, not to me!" He never yelled; he was the calculating, quiet, and careful type, but even he had a breaking point, and if Steven was going to shout, then he would too. "Do you think I'm stupid, Steven?" It's funny because he hadn't had any doubts until a few weeks ago, so maybe he was a bit stupid, but he wouldn't say it out loud. "No, no, but…" "But?" "We're not together, Marc; she's my best friend." The second part was at least not a lie. He exhaled heavily and mentally thanked for being in front because dealing with anger, panic, and fear without having control over your body was a nightmare he had experienced before. Why did he ever buy so many mirrors? Marc's accusing gaze followed him around the apartment. "And you like her," Steven completed, another thing that wasn't a lie. "If I lose Layla because of you two, I swear I'll…" Adrenaline rushed through him; he lost control of his hand, which ended up against one of the mirrors, breaking it into a thousand pieces. "Marc!" The other didn't say anything, he watched from the reflection of some glass pieces as Steven's hand now bled, and tears filled his eyes. His body was used to large doses of pain, but emotionally, he wasn't used to seeing himself bleed or handling loud noises well. "We. Are. Not. Together." It was the last thing he said as he stretched his fingers and watched the blood flow between them. Marc was no longer in the reflection. He didn't want to object.

"Will I see you the day after tomorrow?" You could still see him tomorrow, but the idea of him coming to your place smelling of Layla's citrusy perfume always disgusted you. It was as if an extra day would be enough to erase any traces of her from his body.

"The day after tomorrow, without fail." Steven knew; he didn't question you. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you, Steven."

"I love you, sweetheart."

Receiving calls or visits at midnight was always terrifying, especially when you knew your partner was constantly at risk, and this time was no exception.

The strong knocks on the door woke you up, and knowing it could be no one else but him, you opened the door without hesitation. Clad only in Steven's shirt that barely covered your thighs, with messy hair and half-closed eyes because the hallway light bothered you in the darkness.

Marc's tearful eyes met yours, along with the strong aroma of whiskey that Steven had told you about before, the one that stung his nose.

"Are you okay?" It was the first thing you said as he analyzed you from head to toe. He hated you, hated that you looked so good in the middle of the night, and hated that he felt a sense of ownership just from seeing you in a shirt that was originally his.

He didn't answer, he walked straight into your apartment, and you could only step aside to let him pass.

The way he walked past the sofas to sit on the floor was frightening; you had spent time with Marc during bad moments, but you had never seen him like this. You didn't say anything, didn't press, you just walked behind him and sat down beside him on the cold floor.

Your mere presence was enough for his eyes to fill with tears again.

"I didn't know where to go," he whispered, breaking your heart into a thousand pieces with just a few words.

"Oh, Marc." You knelt beside him to have better access to his body, and within seconds, you had your arms wrapped around him, holding him close. "I'm here, calm down."

You didn't get more words from him for a while, just sobs and those annoying chest contractions you get when you try to breathe through crying. You could even feel the fabric of your shirt damp at the shoulder level from his tears.

"I'm scared." His voice was broken, trembling.

"I'm here." You repeated as you held him tighter.

He didn't have the strength to tell you. He was afraid of you. Afraid of the dreams where he saw himself with you, afraid of the way his heart raced the few times you crossed paths, afraid of losing Layla because of his feelings, and afraid of change.

He was terrified of the mere idea of his life changing completely again.

You played with his curls and stayed on your knees until they hurt, with him in your arms whimpering like a little kid.

"Let's go to bed, Marc." He didn't resist, and you led him by the hand.

Nor did he object when you helped him get rid of his clothes just so he could sleep a little better. He almost felt guilty about how comfortable he seemed to be in your bed.

You hugged him from behind, your two hands resting on his chest where you could feel the beating of his heart and the rise and fall of his breath. Your cheek enjoyed the warmth of his back.

When you woke up, there were no traces of Marc anymore.

"Meanwhile, Osiris' wife, Isis, searched tirelessly for his body and then…" The way you were looking at the ground while walking had caught Steven's attention for quite a while, but he didn't confirm his suspicions until he noticed you weren't participating in his narration as you always used to do. "Lovey?"

"Huh?"

"You seem distracted today."

"I'm sorry, I, it's just…" You cleared your throat while forcing a small smile on your face.

"Do you like it here?" He interrupted to finally point out an area in the park that seemed perfect for your plan. You immediately nodded with that fake smile, and both of you sat down carefully on the grass. You placed the book you had been carrying in one hand aside.

Steven handed you your ice cream and kept his own in the other hand.

"Can we talk?"

"Nothing good ever comes out of that, I've seen it in movies." Steven tried to joke, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made him sick to his stomach. Slowly, he rested his head on your lap.

Your hand, as if drawn by a magnet, went straight to his tousled curls. He closed his eyes and smiled; you had always compared that gesture to a puppy seeking more affection.

"We can't keep doing this to Marc, love." Your voice broke as you gave him those caresses he loved so much. "Nor to Layla, it's not fair to them."

Steven was looking at you again, with a terrified expression and a slight pout on his lips.

"And is it fair to us?" he snapped. Needless to say, both of you had long stopped paying attention to your sad ice creams; they were already melting into the grass.

"If Layla finds out, we'll ruin Marc's life." You tried to be the rational one between both of you, but with Steven's puppy eyes fixed on you, it was almost impossible to think clearly.

"And if we end… this, mine will be destroyed." Well, he had a point. "Please." His two hands went to your cheeks and pressed them gently, his forehead now resting against yours. "We can't. You can't." His lips claimed yours within seconds, and you could only respond as if life were slipping away.

Whom were you fooling? You were selfish enough to give in. After all, every night you created scenarios where Layla found out and left Marc, knowing that it would destroy him, but in your scenarios, you were there to comfort him, to prevent him from falling apart.

"I love you, Steven." You didn't get a response, but you didn't need to hear it; feeling the strength with which he held you was more than enough.

You were all he had, and he was all you had.

Life was better when you both pretended to have a life that wasn't yours. When you fantasized and made plans for a future you would both do anything to have.

"What do you think of that one?" You both looked like kids with your foreheads pressed against the glass that separated you from the kittens.

"They say the orange ones are crazy, lovey." The fact that Steven was just as interested as you in this fed your good mood entirely. "How about that one?"

"I like his or her fur." You pressed your index finger against the glass to try to get the attention of the kitty that was completely distracted playing with another.

"Love, love, love." He nudged you with his shoulder, making you laugh, so you looked at the opposite side, another part of the store.

You gasped.

"THAT ONE?" You had to cover your mouth when the tone of your voice caught the attention of other people in the place.

There was only one cat in the area reserved for senior cats. You knew it was harder for them to get adopted compared to the kittens, it was as if he was destined to be there.

"It's just a baby." You pouted slightly as you pulled Steven's hand, both walking straight towards the spot where the little cat was staring at you.

He was white, although half of his body was covered in black spots, reminiscent of a cow's fur. When you got closer, you noticed that the tip of one of his ears was missing.

Love at first sight.

"Hiya, mate." The guy next to you was as enchanted as you with the animal. "Uhm, what do you say?" He tilted his head towards the glass. The meow completed his performance. "Look how curious, he says he's looking for new parents."

You laughed, genuine happiness coursing through you. You didn't give Steven time to react before jumping into his arms; he lifted you a few inches off the ground in the middle of the hug.

You didn't care about drawing attention. In fact, having witnesses to your love made it feel more real, reminding you that it wasn't just a product of your imagination.

After he kissed your lips, you could feel the ground under your feet again. You couldn't stop smiling.

"Come on, let's fill out the form." Steven's heart was about to burst with love at any moment.

The instructions were clear: fill out the corresponding paperwork, a few days of socialization with the cat to make sure he felt comfortable with you, and by the following week, he would be yours.

"We'll come to see you, okay? And then we'll go home."

"See ya, buddy." Steven said his goodbye too. "Next week, you'll have the best home, the comfiest bed, and the best parents, I promise."

"What's wrong, Marc?" There was something scary about the idea of being alone with him without him being intoxicated or injured. You were taking off your scarf to leave it on a sofa while he watched you from his table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was impossible to read his expression because Marc always seemed tense.

"She knows."

Your heart sank in seconds, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Ah?"

"She knows," he repeated. You swallowed hard, and for a moment, you thought this was one of those silly dreams that sometimes distorted your reality.

"Knows what?"

"Please, don't treat me like I'm stupid." His tone of voice was enough to make you tremble. You immediately looked at the bathroom mirror.

Steven had told you that while one had control of the body, the other could be reflected in different surfaces, but of course, that only worked between them. No matter how much you looked, hoping that Steven would appear to save you, it didn't happen.

You didn't even know if he was aware of what Marc was doing.

"I don't…" Your voice died down slowly, and you refused to get closer to him. "What does she know?"

"About you." He took a step closer, and you felt immobilized. "She thinks you're my lover, like any sane person, she knows nothing about Steven."

You swallowed the lump in your throat as tears filled your eyes.

"You have to tell her, Marc, explain to her she…" He interrupted you in seconds; the way he raised his voice made you flinch.

"'She will understand?' Is that what you want to say?" He was getting closer, and you felt like he was taking your breath away. Why were you suddenly so afraid? "Yes, I'll tell her every damn thing that's wrong with me so that you can be happy."

Ouch.

"I-I'm saying it for you, Marc." Tears were already streaming down your face, and you mentally cursed yourself for the mere idea of showing so much weakness. "She has to know, it's best for you." And it was, of course, but you were resorting to your last resort to not lose Steven too.

And maybe, not lose Marc either.

"You don't know what's best for me, you have no idea." His sarcasm cut deep as he took the last step to confront you.

"Please, please, don't do this." You pleaded through sobs; your hands ended up on his cheeks. "Please." You pulled him closer to you.

He seemed to relax under your touch, at least for a few seconds. Your heart stopped when one of his hands rested on your waist.

"Don't make this harder, you're killing me." He was also begging, even as his forehead pressed against yours.

"We can get through this, Marc." You sniffed. "I promise, we can…"

A kiss. A desperate and painful kiss silenced your words; it was the only one Marc and you would share.

"Go," he whispered against your lips, still planting small kisses on them. "Please, I beg you, go."

And that was the final nail to seal the coffin between you both.

His hand made you take a step back, a very gentle push.

"I'm choosing her." He knew you better than he'd like, knowing that you wouldn't stop insisting unless he caused you permanent harm. Besides, how could he convince himself he wasn't in love with you if he didn't do this?

You looked at him incredulously, not believing his act, but there was nothing else you could do.

This time, you begged that Steven was present to hear everything that had transpired between you both because you wouldn't have the strength to end it after this. In fact, you didn't even know if you'd have the strength to live without him.

You didn't say anything more, you didn't look back at him, and he didn't change his mind. You left his apartment, leaving your scarf on his sofa as a final reminder of your presence in his life.

sorry, i got tired of happy endings

Part 2. Sleepwalking.

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blainesebastian · 1 year ago

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new normal (ccg universe)

words: 3,339 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (based on two anon requests) this is basically a 3+1 fic! three times ccg was uncomfortable while pregnant and one time she was perfectly content notes: most of my ccg family series is in 'order' so if you want to read ‘expectant’ before this, you can! this fic also references 'you fit right here' but again, not 100% necessary to read these first :) i just like knowing my universe works well together lmao warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief , @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

When you first found out you were pregnant you were excited and terrified all at the same time. You weren’t exactly sure how it was all going to work even though you were sure it would, everything had to change in ways you weren’t expecting. Not all at once, of course, a slow trickle…but even then it was noticeable. One day, nine months later, the direction of your lives would change forever.

Something to plan for, of course, but the day to day? You often times had no idea how to begin to approach it.

Here’s the thing that seems completely ironic—you finally felt like you had settled. That’s how it always appears to be, isn’t it? Once you tackle one obstacle, something else pops up like a twisted game of whack-a-mole. Not to…completely describe your relationship with Austin like that, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like working over hurdles. You think it’s healthy to acknowledge that your relationship with Austin isn’t normal, far from something ‘regular’ in so many different ways.

You tackled what it was like to date him under the very public eye of everything that had to do with Elvis. Then getting married and realizing that no matter what you did, there would always be ‘opinions’ of you and where you’ve come from, your lack of ‘worth’ automatically being connected to you like cinderblocks attached to your ankles. Didn’t matter how you had dreams of being in the industry before Austin, all that some people saw were rungs in the ladder, you somehow ‘using’ your husband to take those steps into film.

Some days bothered you more than others, but you got through it, because at the end of the day—Austin always saw you for who you truly were. And that’s all that mattered.

Becoming pregnant, as suspected, is a completely new set of hurdles.

-- one

There is really no use in keeping it quiet, the fact that you’re expecting, you’re at a party over Jillian’s when you spill the beans to Austin and things only progress from there. Your family and other close friends learn rather quickly but you don’t post anything on social media. There’s this strange sense of wanting to keep this private that envelops you like a tidal wave. For some reason, it’s one thing for people to have opinions about your relationship with Austin, your career, but it’s another for them to say things about your body like this, about the life growing inside of you.

You feel utterly vulnerable and exposed and don’t want to be in front of cameras or talk to anyone that’s not someone you both know (meaning paps or fans). You don’t stop Austin from doing so, would never demand that of him, but he also respects that you’re uncomfortable and has always been protective of you. That doesn’t change.

The first trimester is the easiest because the baby isn’t bigger than a peach, you’re not really showing, but it all spirals from there. Thirteen weeks turns into fifteen, which turns into twenty-five. And there’s really no hiding a head of cauliflower.

You kinda accept that because this isn’t going away any time soon, you’re only going to get bigger. It’s not like you’re really worried about what you look like? Moreso that your hormones are raging in a bunch of various ways and you don’t like the feeling of being looked at. Like you’re under some sort of microscope, a specimen to be studied.

Paps are nothing new, Austin is pretty good at getting them to keep a healthy distance, but no—you’re really talking about fans.

You’re out to dinner at this Italian place you love with Austin’s sister and Jillian, tucked into a booth towards the back that’s supposed to promote privacy but…throughout eating you’ve noticed that a small table of girls have spotted Austin from their seats. Again, this isn��t new and usually wouldn’t bother you.

But instead of coming over? They’re taking pictures from their seats and because the booth is close enough, you can hear them chattering on about you. It’s not a full conversation but the tailends of sentences and—since you’re on the end of the booth seat they can see the swell of your belly and they’re wondering if that’s a food baby or a pregnancy. You can’t help but bristle, the words feel louder than they actually are, you know this because your table continues on with discussions that are light and funny and easy.

Your fingers dig into the napkin on your lap, trying to lean back into the seat and just enjoy catching up, especially with Austin’s sister. But you feel like your world keeps tilting off its axis, ruining your equilibrium.

It’s really bothering you that they’re taking all these pictures, trying to be nonchalant but coming across like Gossip Girl instead.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Austin’s palm rest on your knee and you blink, turning your head to look at him. His eyebrows draw together a little, “You alright?”

You nod softly, giving him a small smile but your husband doesn’t look overly convinced. You shouldn’t be surprised, you suppose, he knows you.

He’s patient, squeezing your knee as he takes a sip of his water. Jillian and Ashley are knee-deep in a conversation about an actor the make-up artist is kind-of-sort-of seeing. You’re grateful that the attention isn’t on you, which is probably one of the only reasons you turn to Austin and say,

“That table of girls over there keeps taking pictures. I think they’re trying to be subtle about it but…” You trail off, shaking your head, words getting stuck in your throat. Your hand settles on your belly and Austin glances down before looking over at the table.

You don’t have to explain, “Want me to say somethin’ to them?”

“No,” You reply quickly, not wanting to cause a scene or upset anyone. You…you get it, you were and are a fan. There are boundaries, of course? But you’ve seen and experienced way worse. This probably wouldn’t even bother you if you weren’t feeling extra sensitive and vulnerable right now.

Austin hums lightly from the spot next to you, putting his napkin on the table and motions for you to get up. You hesitate for a moment but…he’s not going to go over there when you’ve told him not to. You shimmy out of the booth and let out a soft sigh, waiting for him to stand—and then he motions you to slide into his spot.

A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth as he runs a hand down your back. You eagerly get into the booth, Austin following, his body shielding yours from any onlookers. If Jillian or Ashley realize the switch for a reason, neither of them saying anything, instead Austin’s sister asks you about your upcoming writing project.

Austin slips an arm around your shoulders and you lean into his chest, already feeling a lot better as you begin talking. At some point during the conversation, you kiss his cheek just because and Austin smiles as his other hand gently brushes over your stomach.

-- two

The end of your second trimester somehow feels the slowest and busiest time all happening at once. You suppose it’s because you really feel yourself become the most introspective about the upcoming weeks and everything else after that, and yet, Austin’s life speeds up because he takes on another project. One of your favorite versions of your husband is when he’s working, that brightness in his eyes as he studies to become another character and figuring out what he needs to do to best bring those words on a page to life.

Sitting on a park bench near your apartment, you run your hand over your stomach and take a deep breath. The weather is just starting to turn a little chilly but it’s your favorite season—you’ve just never been a spring or summer girl. You settle back against the bench and check the time; Austin should be along any minute now. He had a lunch with his agent, and of course invited you, but you wanted a lazy day at home in bed. And that’s where you were as of an hour ago.

Stretching your legs out, you open up a small container of fruit from your purse, popping a bit of strawberry into your mouth.

“What’s the fruit today?”

You smile a little, turning your head to see Austin walking towards you. Kind of unfair how unbearably handsome he looks in his black-on-black look, jeans, leather jacket, boots…and here you are feeling like a swollen beach ball.

“Strawberry,” You tease, eating another one. You know what he’s asking.

He rolls his eyes and leans down to steal a kiss, humming at the taste of your lips.

“You ask like, every day,” Laughing lightly, you put the lid back on your fruit container and slip it into your bag, “It’s a rutabaga—we’ve moved into some vegetables.”

Austin crinkles his nose, “Never had a rutabaga.”

He reaches his hand out to help you off the bench and you hum softly, gaining your footing, “Would it help if I said she’s the size of the hamburger phone from Juno?”

Pursing his lips, he nods, “Slightly.”

Walking back towards your place, Austin wraps a loose arm around your shoulders. “How did lunch go?”

He nods, “Good, mostly just event planning, that sort of thing.” He glances down at you as you both pause to cross the street, the light blinking red, “I got somethin’ next week, lowkey schmooze event. Want to be my date?”

You let out a slow sigh and move forward to walk with him, quiet for a few moments as you contemplate. It’s not that…there’s just so many thoughts buzzing in your head about attending an event with Austin. The first one you went to as a couple you nearly had a panic attack in the car, and now you’re…like this? You hate that you’re feeling so cliché about what you look like when you’re pregnant but—

“Feels like I should be glowing but I actually just feel a hot air balloon.”

Austin smirks lightly, shaking his head, “You’re beautiful.”

You roll your eyes even though your cheeks kiss pink—compliments from him never fail in making you feel good. “You’re bias.”

“Absolutely,” He grins and a small laugh rumbles out of your chest as you get closer to the apartment. “You don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it.”

You chew on your lower lip—you know that he wants you to go, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned it. There’s no pressure there, obviously, other than a selfish need to want to spend time together. You can relate to that.

“I’ll go,” You give him a small smile, “Hope there’s good snacks.”

Austin smirks, drawing you close to press a kiss to your temple. “We can leave early if there isn’t.”

And that seems like a good enough plan. You’re about to mention maybe grabbing some sort of snack now, you’re craving chicken tenders of all things, but then someone steps right into your path and nearly has you stumbling off balance. You’re about to apologize, but then you see the camera and—seriously? A minute away from walking back into your apartment?

You know you sort of signed up for this by deciding to date Austin, to marry him, to create a family together but sometimes the lack of privacy drives you utterly crazy. Is it really too much to ask for a little peace? Especially when you’re not feeling your best.

“Not today,” Is all you manage to get out before Austin is stepping in, shifting positions so that you’re in front of him. It’s easier to direct you towards the front door and unfortunately if there’s one pap, there’s usually more.

“Got a name for the baby yet?”

Austin puts his arm up, walking a bit quicker as his other hand squeezes your hip, “What have I said about puttin’ the camera in her face guys?” His voice is calm but firm, not willing to entertain any of these questions.

“When’s the due date?”

You bite your tongue on hissing out none of your business and walk up the steps to the front door. The doorman, Mike, quickly opens up to usher you both inside. Shaking your head, you run a hand over your stomach, back and forth as you make your way to the elevator with Austin.

“Sorry,” Austin says after a moment and he always does this, like he has to apologize for the paps and take responsibility for them.

You shake your head, gently waving off his apology as you lean against one of the walls, “I should start whipping cameras down,” And you’re joking…mostly, “That’d be something to write about.”

Austin smiles a little and you can see the firm line along his shoulders begin to relax. He reaches for you, drawing you close to his chest and presses a kiss to your forehead, the bridge of your nose, and finally your lips.

-- three

You only regret telling Austin that you’ll go to this event with him just once and it’s when you’re getting ready and the zipper of your dress won’t work. For starters, it’s on your side and you…while you know that means it should be easier to tug up, it’s not. You try it twice before beginning to feel the creeping in of frustration and annoyance and god, you are not about to cry over a zipper, you’re not.

“I’m not going.” You snap out, because apparently dramatics make more sense.

Austin turns away from the mirror after he does his tie, a small, handsome smile on his face that you nearly want to lose your mind over.

“C’mere.” He holds out his hand and you so want to cross your arms over your chest and pout instead, but you don’t, huffing as you move closer to clasp onto him.

Austin guides you in front of the mirror which is the last place you want to be, your eyes casting down a moment before just focusing on him instead. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and tries the zipper. When it won’t budge, you just about tear the thing off.

“Take a breath,” He says soothingly, reaching in the bedside drawer for something. Pulling out a small container of Vaseline, your eyebrows draw together as he rubs a very small amount on the zipper track. “Somethin’ my mom taught me.” He smiles a little.

He pulls the zipper down to start over and in one smooth motion, he zips the dress shut. Your mouth opens and closes almost like a goldfish. The dress wasn’t too small for you or anything like that…the zipper was just stuck.

You shake your head, tilting it back a little to rest on Austin’s shoulder. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re beautiful.” He whispers, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. His hand crosses back and forth across your belly, pressing a kiss to your neck. “You tell me you want to go and we’ll go, alright?”

A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you nod, allowing yourself to linger in his embrace for as long as you can.

Turns out the event is just fine—the photos are painless and quick, Austin is as attentive as he’s always been, you’re able to catch up with people you haven’t seen in the industry in a long time and there’s plenty of good snacks.

Doesn’t stop you and Austin from leaving after two hours to grab burgers and milkshakes on the way home, however.

-- plus one

You weren’t really expecting it but Austin pushes things around in his schedule so that you both can go on a ‘babymoon’. You’re incredibly excited because it’s one of things that you found yourself looking forward to when you became pregnant, and it’s right at the cusp of thirty-five weeks (a honeydew!). After this, it’s advised that you don’t travel, even somewhere within the U.S.

Nothing really beats the feeling of your feet digging into sand, the ocean breeze kissing your face, a private-ish beach where no one is going to bother you. Not to mention—

You smile lightly from inside this beach tent you brought, an open-mouthed structure that has a canopy to keep you shaded and plenty of room for beach chairs or just towels. Austin walks out of the ocean so gracefully—you feel like you were never capable of that, even when you weren’t pregnant, tripping on the ground disappearing underneath you and waves hitting the backs of your thighs. He’s got a slight tan going on, freckles kissing his cheekbones and the skin of his shoulders, both his hands pushing his blonde hair back.

Utterly handsome; your stomach doing the same flip-flop it’s always done since the first day you saw him.

He makes his way into the beach tent, sitting down on the towels. Grabbing one, he runs it through his hair and you can’t help but chuckle at the wet dog look, running your fingers through his strands.

“You don’t want to get in?”

“I’ll probably fall,” You reply, “And then float like a buoy or something.”

Austin huffs out a soft laugh, “I’ll help you; you won’t fall.”

Humming at the idea, though very tempting, you look down at the sand right outside the tent and, “You know what I really want?” He raises his eyebrows, “I want to be able to lie down on my stomach, like, I miss that.”

Austin smiles, running his hand over your belly. Then he pauses, his eyes glancing outside the tent and… “I have an idea.”

“That sounds ominous.”

He chuckles and motions for you to get up, “C’mon,” Austin gets out of the tent and helps you stand and you watch him tug the tent aside for a moment and kneel in the sand. He starts digging with his hands and…you have no idea where this is going.

“Buried treasure?” You tease, crossing your arms along your chest. You opted for this really cute orange two-piece, not even worrying about wearing high-waisted bottoms because nothing feels good on your stomach right now.

“Yeah, X marks the spot.” He throws out, laughing a little.

It takes you a moment but…then you realize what he’s doing. He’s digging a deep hole, roughly the size of your stomach and, “Are you—”

Austin hums, standing. He tugs the tent back over the hole and crawls inside, the bottom of the tent easily giving into the space he’s created. Which…that’s perfect because you don’t have to worry about putting your belly right in the sand.

He reaches a hand out to help you back inside the tent and you kinda laugh as you hold onto his shoulder and inch back down, turning to lie on your stomach for the first time in months. It takes a bit of maneuvering and Austin folding some towels so that you can position your head but…once you finally lay down, comfortably?

“I could kiss you.”

Austin smirks, “Still can.”

You grin, “Come down here then.”

He puts down another towel and does so, running his hand along your back and brushing your hair back over your shoulder. He smiles, his nose bumping into yours as he settles close.

You lean up just slightly and kiss him, your hand cupping his cheek, and maybe it sounds dramatic? But you’ve never been happier.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips, dragging your thumb against his cheekbone.

Austin says it back against your temple, both of you settling into the sand and allowing your eyes to close as the sounds of the waves crash in.

Despite not knowing what the future will bring? You can’t help but find yourself utterly overjoyed for it.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg

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boogernotbogger · 1 year ago

Text

Strawberry ice cream

Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Rating: teens and above

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi and y/n meet at calculus class in college and become friends. However, y/n slowly develops feelings for Sakusa.

Word count: 6282

A/N: Please support my works on AO3 here

Weird.

It’s the first thought you have when you see the curly-haired boy poke his head into your classroom. Half his face is obscured by a mask, and you can see two tiny moles peeking out from under his hair.

It’s your second day of college, and first lecture of calculus. People are starting to trickle in, as you’re here early. And yet, the boy looks anxious. He walks in gingerly, and thoroughly sanitises the desk and chair before he sits in front of you, at the window seat. The morning sunlight streams in, and bounces through his curls, making him look like some baroque-style painting. You look out of the window and smile. This is going to be an interesting semester.

~~~

Two weeks later, it is most certainly turning out to be a not fun semester. The workload is already huge, making friends is difficult when your schedule is occupied with purely lectures and sleep, and homesickness, it turns out, is a real thing that you aren’t invulnerable to.

The masked weirdo in your calculus class seems allergic to people, and for some reason, it is really not easy to pay attention to sequences and continuity and what not, when the only thing your eyes latch onto is a halo of perfectly formed ringlets, interwoven with magical drops of sunlight.

You learn that his name is Sakusa Kiyoomi, he is a volleyball player, and a misanthrope through and through.

~~~

It takes time, but you two start to talk.

It is your third week of college, you just spoke to a blond boy more introverted than you, and you finally got your sleep schedule down. You walk into class in high spirits emboldened by your successes, plop your bag down into your seat, and go stand in front of Sakusa. He flinches, but relaxes by a smidge when he sees you not coming any closer.

“Good morning Sakusa-kun, I’m l/n y/n. we’ve never spoken before and that is kind of weird since we sit close to each other. I’m a first-year statistics student. You?”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi, first year economics. Nice to meet you.”

And thus, started your friendship.

~~~

Two months into your college life, you are fast friends with the blond, Kozume Kenma. He introduces you to Akaashi Keiji, and their respective roommates, two incredibly loud and embarrassing second years, with ridiculous hairstyles. Apparently, the four of them had been friends since their school days and played volleyball together, though the seniors seldom hung out with you as they were always busy.

By now you have also had enough time to get to know your own roommates, to watch sappy romance movies with them, and pledge lifelong friendship to them. Your social life has never been better.

And of course, come calculus class, you meet Sakusa, chat with him about whatever novel you last read, and listen to him describe the intricacies of volleyball. You find yourself thinking that you have never met anyone as passionate about anything as Sakusa is about volleyball.

His dark eyes get a glint to them, and though he refuses to take off his mask, his voice comes out clearer than anytime else. He gestures wildly with his hands, and his hair keeps flopping onto his forehead. He pushes it back impatiently each time, but continues to nod his head off each time you understand a concept clearly.

He kind of looks like one of those little dolls with springs on the bottom, that you stick on your car dashboard for amusement, with the way he bounces on his spot with enthusiasm.

It’s cute.

And you notice he has pretty hands. Like, really pretty hands.

You notice the way his eyebrows quirk in amusement when you talk about the second-hand embarrassment you endure, caused by the heroine of whichever book is your newest obsession. It makes you want to see his full smile, maybe elicit a laugh. You notice the way he raises his right eyebrow until his moles disappear under his hair, when you squeal about something especially hot in the story.

You notice that you seem to be noticing a lot about Sakusa.

~~~

One month later and you find yourself hanging out with the oddest group of friends you have ever had. You have your two roommates, one loud and social, the other adventurous and kind. Then there’s Kenma, who’s always got his nose in a game, and his ears peeled for any gossip he may inadvertently come across. There’s Keiji-kun, and he’s your favourite. He loves his studies, and he’s quiet, but he loves reading and oh boy does he have a talent for overthinking. He’s the most relatable person you have come across in college.

And of course, there is Sakusa. He is reclusive, but by now you know that it is only because he cares more about the germs on people than the people themselves. He tends to hang out more with you or with just the other two boys, than with the whole group. You are yet to figure out whether that is because he deems the other two too germy for him, or because he only likes people who like volleyball.

It had been a surprise to you when you’d introduced him to your group, only for the other two boys to just nod as if they knew him already. And then they’d told you about their volleyball history, and how his school always beat theirs.

“Oh yes y/n, didn’t I tell you Bokuto-san considered him his rival, because Sakusa-san was the nation’s top spiker, and Bokuto-san narrowly missed being in the top 3?” was Keiji’s very succinct explanation of the whole situation.

And that’s how you had found out that not only was Sakusa a volleyball-freak, he was the nation’s top volleyball-freak, and had represented the country several times in the under-19 category.

(So had Bokuto-san, the owl-like senior who was Keiji’s best friend and captain, but you found that out only when you went to sit in on your college team’s practice sessions.)

(It had bugged you that Sakusa had never told you this before, but you let it go. Sakusa was a very private person, and the only times he spoke voluntarily were when he talked about volleyball. He had no ill intentions.)

~~~

Your first semester ends, and you celebrate with your group by playing games in Kenma’s apartment. It feels nice, talking and laughing with everyone, but after a point, your social battery dips and you find yourself zoning out from whatever banter was currently happening. Something about whether Kenma’s best friend and roommate Kuroo Tetsuro had a better hairstyle than Keiji’s best friend and roommate Bokuto Kotaro.

Honestly though, that wasn’t even a conversation worth having. They both looked stupid. One looked like a rooster shat on his head, the other looked like an owl sponsored his hair gel supplies.

Kenma had dug out an old Monopoly board from somewhere and that was the game currently happening, with you and Sakusa acting as joint bankers. You had both learnt long ago that it is more fun to incite the players against each other than to be one of them. And this was a modified version of Monopoly that you lot had come up with, having a lot of extra and needlessly complicated rules, so it was definitely more fun to just watch.

Sakusa was strangely quiet too. He generally tended to be quiet, but just a couple of hours ago he had gone into a very passionate speech over how strawberry ice cream is the best ice cream to ever exist. He’d accepted no arguments to the contrary.

“It may be pink and look like something Barbie puked, but it tastes exactly like Barbie’s dreams. Strawberry ice cream tastes like freedom and empowerment: I can be anything! It is sweeter than vanilla, not that vanilla is less good, no, vanilla is also a great flavour; it is just that strawberry is superior. Strawberry ice cream is sweet like syrup, like the drinks your grandmother made for you in your childhood when you came home after rolling in mud the whole day. If ‘happy memories’ had a flavour, it would be strawberry. Yes, my argument is based on nostalgia, and you can laugh all you want, but you have to admit that if you had a happy childhood, it was pink. If you didn’t have a happy childhood, well you certainly wish you did. You wish for happy memories and a future you can look out on with hope and love. La vie en rose, I say! Life in pink! That is the wonder of strawberry ice cream! And not to mention, all your childhood drawings of ice cream had a pink scoop dripping off the cone. Whether you want to or not, subconsciously you have all accepted that strawberry is the default, and hence, the best ice cream flavour. Thus, I rest my case.”

With that, he’d sat back down, and licked off the final drops of his chocolate ice cream, and grabbed the controller for the next round of Mario Kart. You’d clapped, because come on, an impassioned speech like that deserves applause. One single corner of his mouth lifted, and he turned to you to flash you a dimple before his eyes fixed back on the screen. The gesture did not make you imagine what it would be like to poke your tongue in his dimple.

But after that incident, he was mostly silent, the speech probably draining him of whatever social battery he did have. He sat next to you now, calculating the amount each person owed the bank, and adding the penalties Keiji had accumulated from making fun of the strawberry-speech.

Yes, the penalties were for incidents that happened before the game started. You can’t argue with the banker for the banker is God.

You mostly left the banker-ing to Sakusa, while you got lost in your daydreams. Kenma was now in jail because he said that his school’s libero was better than Sakusa’s.

Which reminded you of the last book you’d read. It had had a character who was in jail for most of the story. He’d coordinated his attack plans from there. When the villain came to taunt him, he’d very suavely escaped and kabedonned her. But just when he expected her to swoon from his good looks and his proximity, she’d pulled out a dagger from under her skirt and stabbed him.

You’ve always wanted a dagger to hide under your clothes. Actually, you wouldn’t mind being kabedonned either, but Sakusa had very firmly declared the gesture ‘lame’ when you’d told him about it, and now you remembered that you were supposed to be annoyed at him for it. Because seriously, the audacity!

DHONN!

You jerk upwards to see the group laughing at you. Sakusa had apparently just banged a juice can on the table next to your face to get your attention.

“Huh?”

“You’d zoned out for longer than usual y/n. and you looked pissed. All ok?” Sakusa asks, but he is clearly amused.

“Kabedons are cool,” you declare, and get up to fetch yourself another slice of pizza.

He just snorts.

For some reason, it sounds cute. And now your brain is filled with images of a cute pink piggy with an incredibly curly tail. Like an oinky Kiyoomi. Kiyooink.

You laugh. You are definitely going to tell him this later.

~~~

The next semester starts, and you and Sakusa don’t have classes in common anymore. You see him around campus less, and spend less time together. Now that he has also adjusted to college life, he is paying more attention to volleyball. The end of the previous semester was filled with matches, but this semester he spends less time with the college team, and more time with the national under-19 team. You attend some practices when you can, sometimes with friends. Keiji-kun and Kenma explain various moves to you, and introduce you to other players they know. It is a fun experience. All the boys are like Sakusa, incredibly passionate about the sport, incredibly talented, and at least a foot taller than you. They towered over you when you first went to talk to them, but you soon learn that they are all sweet goofy kids with only volleyballs for brains.

You notice that they maintain a physical distance from Sakusa, only getting closer to him when necessary. But even so, he seems more at-home with his team than in your motley group of friends. It makes your heart ache sometimes, that there is someone right in front of you, whom you want to be closer to, but there is a seemingly uncrossable chasm between you. And yet he would turn towards you and flash a dimple, and you would berate yourself for not being grateful for the attention he already gives you.

~~~

First year ends, and you all go home for the holidays. You make no plans to meet each other, since you will inevitably meet once the new semester starts. You spend your two-month break laying about in bed, watching anime, and reading books.

You also make sure to call and text your friends regularly. Keiji-kun sends you memes, Kenma texts you about whatever anime character you get obsessed with. Your roommate-groupchat is filled with vacation photos of you 3. Life is good.

You notice that Sakusa never texts. Sakusa never calls. Sakusa never reaches out to you. But when you do call him, you both talk for hours, and time passes by in the blink of an eye.

With every phone call, every text, and every laugh you share, you wish and wish he had started it. You wish he had been the first to reach out to you. You wish, for once, he would call you. You wish, for once, he would share something about himself with you that was only for you to know.

You wish, and you wish, and you wish.

~~~

Second year starts, and all your friendships pick up right where they left off. Except that Sakusa is hardly ever around anymore.

When you asked about his absence, he simply said, “I studied hard and played hard during the holidays. Now I do not have to put in as much effort into classes, because most of the hard work is already done. I can focus on volleyball to my heart’s content.”

And that is what he does. You have no idea whether or not he attends his classes, but whenever he has free time, either he is studying by himself, or he is off doing drills by himself. It has been a full year since you became friends with him, and yet, he seems as distant today as he was on the first day.

It hurts. You miss having more free time to spend with him. And yet, you have no right to complain. His first love is volleyball, and he has made it clear to you that his priorities will never change.

It hurts, but you push it aside. You have other friends to spend your time with. On days when all six of you unexpectedly have free time, or on less academically challenging days, your group, including Sakusa, hangs out together. You generally go to the local fast-food joint, he would sanitise the table, and never take off his mask. But he would be there. He would be there for these small moments, and you cherish every mask-covered smile he gives, every sarcastic comment he makes.

You miss your friend, but for now, this is enough for you.

~~~

Second year passes thus: you are swamped with coursework, you hang out with your group whenever possible, you go out exploring the city with your roommates, and you get fleeting moments with Sakusa.

You’re almost happy with the set-up, but each time you talk to Sakusa, you want more. You want to talk to him more. You want him to talk to you more. You want to listen to his excited volleyball rants.

You want the days when your biggest problem was your inability to focus on differentiation because of a head of gold-infused raven curls. You want your friend.

So you call. You roughly know what his schedule is. Sometimes you go meet him when practice gets over, sometimes you call. He is tired, irritable, and excited all at once, but he seems to love gushing over whatever play he tried that day, and you enjoy the moments you spend with him.

He never calls though. He tells you that he appreciates you calling him, because your company is always welcome, yet, he never calls. You know that that in no way implies that he doesn’t like you, and yet, it hurts.

You tell yourself it hurts because he is your friend, and he has a scarcity value attached to him.

~~~

The only difference between second year and third year is that, Sakusa now has an undercut.

The semester starts with your group meeting up to celebrate Japan’s performance in the recent 2016 Rio Olympics. Sakusa and Bokuto had been second-string spikers on the team, and Sakusa had been called on-court multiple times as pinch server. His nasty wrists made it damn near impossible to dig out the ball, even on the international level – the world stage. You were so, so proud of your friend, and your celebrations continued well beyond midnight.

When the party finally ends, it is with Keiji dragging off a mildly-drunk but sleepy Bokuto, back to their apartment, Kenma asleep on the couch, and Sakusa offering to walk you back to your apartment. The other two girls had left already, since they have classes early in the morning and you don’t.

You walk back in silence, and for the first time, it is suffocating. You look up at him, wanting to gauge his mood after such a raucous celebration, and notice that he hasn’t put his mask back on yet. You figured out pretty early on in your friendship that that is a sign that he trusts you aren’t disgusting enough to warrant wearing a mask around. It’s quite flattering really.

“The weather is nice, isn’t it?” he starts, and stops immediately when you snort at the lame conversation starter.

“Well, you aren’t talking, so I thought I could try,” he shrugs, and you smile.

“Not a bad effort,” you answer. “Well, Sakusa-kun, we are being blessed with sunshine these days, and it’s very nice and warm at all times. Although, one could argue that the warmth right now is due to your inherent hotness.”

You look up at him, anticipating his reaction, and he doesn’t disappoint. He throws his head back and laughs, a quiet, precious thing, and you bottle up this moment to keep with you for the next time you miss him.

“I missed this. Training was gruelling, and the matches were exhilarating. I was always so high on emotions that by the time the Games were over, I was just done. Exhausted. Came home and just slept for the next week. I didn’t realise how much I missed your nonsense until just now, when I have to deal with your nonsense.” His eyes are soft, but all you can focus on is-

“Nonsense?! Sakusa Kiyoomi, I will have you know that the only nonsense here is you...”

He laughs again, and you trail off. You’ve never noticed before, but he’s grown. He was always tall and well-built, but there is a softness in the way he speaks now, that wasn’t there when you first met him. The way he carries himself has changed too, shoulders held back and proud. He is still the wary boy you had befriended two years ago, but there is a manly charm that wasn’t there before. And suddenly you want to continue talking. Comforting as it is now, you don’t want the conversation to trail off into the sweet silence it is heading towards. You feel the sudden urge to know him, stronger than you ever have before, and before you can help it, you blurt out, “You could have called me, you know. Or texted. I missed you as well, but I didn’t want to disturb you during the freaking Olympics! But even otherwise, you do know that I would like it if you reached out to me, right? Like on normal, non-Olympic days, you could text just because you feel like it.”

He frowns, and says, “I probably should. Honestly, it’s not like I don’t text you on purpose, I just kind of… forget. I don’t forget you, I just get caught up in stuff, or my brain is filled with TV static, and I don’t reach out to anybody at all. But I’ll try, okay? Yeah, you would probably ditch me if you are the only one forced to keep this relationship going, and that would be a pity.”

He reaches up to ruffle his hair, a rare occurrence because hair is filled with germs, and that’s when you notice it. The back of his head is buzzed close to his scalp, but hidden by the longer curls above. “You got an undercut?”

He frowns at the sudden change in topic, but nods, “Yeah, my nape kept getting sweaty, and other guys in the national team had undercuts and they found it functional, so I thought I’d try it. It does feel very nice actually. I still have my curls, but I don’t have to deal with too much sweat. Why?”

“I noticed it just now. It looks good. Really brings out your jaw. Probably explains why your jaw looks more prominent now. Good going.” You give him a thumbs up as a reassurance that it does look good, and turn around to enter your building. “Thanks for dropping me off, get home safe, okay?”

He waves, and disappears into the night, his own apartment a short walk from yours. You sigh as you climb the stairs.

Good was an understatement. Hot was better. Sexy was probably apt. You wonder if he will let you run your fingers through his shorn locks, and sigh again.

You are a reader. Perhaps all you can do is dream.

~~~

After the party at Kenma’s, college life went back to normal. Sakusa seldom hung out with the group, choosing instead to spend his time on volleyball. But after your conversation, he made it a point to text you every once in a while. True, they were just forwarded ‘good morning’ messages, sometimes memes about clichéd romance tropes, but it was better than nothing. Each text from him made your heart beat just a little faster.

~~~

It does not come as a surprise to you when you realise you have a crush on your friend. On your friend whose heart belongs to volleyball. On your friend who never opens up to you, and who is happy talking to you once every couple of weeks.

You embrace the feeling, and the sadness it brings with it. What else can you do? He’s one of your dearest friends, and he does deserve to know how you feel about him.

But again, you have a crush on someone you already love dearly. Can it even be considered a crush? You’ve had crushes before, and those feelings were always made of just a combination of wild giggling and nervous excitement. This however, this is a warmth in your chest and a smile on your face. This feeling, is a quiet little laugh, dispersing in the night like dandelions in the wind. This feeling is the excited glint in dark eyes when passions are aroused. This feeling is a cute head bobbing along to your words. This feeling is two moles on a forehead, curly hair over a shorn nape, pretty fingers gesturing wildly.

This feeling, it feels like strawberry ice cream on a warm summer day, when you’ve just returned home.

~~~

Obviously, you tell the rest of your friends. You do need people you can fangirl to about him. They’re quite supportive really, given the circumstances. They encourage you to tell him how you feel, but Kenma adds, “You need to remember that he may not reciprocate, y/n. In fact, there is a greater chance he won’t reciprocate. I don’t want you to get hurt or lose your friend, but I do think you would feel better if you tell your friend that you’ve got a crush.”

And that is the problem, isn’t it? You want to tell your friend that you have a crush on somebody. It kills you that if you tell him whom you’ve got a crush on, he’ll probably avoid you. But if you don’t tell him, you’ll suffer in silence, wondering about all the ‘what if’s’.

For now, you bury the matter. You want to enjoy this, this feeling, just a little longer.

And so you simp. You squeal over his voice and his muscles with your roommates, you swoon over every sweet gesture he does, and you endlessly simp over his pretty, pretty hands to Keiji-kun. He’s probably grown sick of you by now, but it is funny to see him annoyed.

~~~

Third year ends with Bokuto signing on to Division-1 team MSBY Black Jackals.

Your last year of college begins with heavy research for your final-year project. On top of that, you now have to study for entrance exams, and college exams, and explore colleges for further studies. You know that you want to go into finance, and for that you now have to deal with an internship on top of everything else.

All of a sudden, you are under more stress than you have ever been in.

And then in the middle of the seventh semester, Sakusa drops a bombshell, “I think I will move to Higashiosaka after my graduation. I want to try out for the Black Jackals. They have Miya Atsumu and Bokuto-san, and I will be lucky to continue working together with those two monsters.”

Your heart stops. You need to tell him. He deserves to know. You had put off your feelings as a problem for the future, but the future is now.

~~~

Barely a week has passed after this conversation, and you call Sakusa crying, “Kiyoomi-kun, please can we meet? My project is going nowhere, and I think I have way too much on my plate right now, and I feel so selfish saying that to a person loaded with the same coursework as me, and is balancing a professional athletic lifestyle on top of it, but I don’t know what else I can do!”

Ten minutes later finds you both sitting on some bricks in an abandoned alley in your neighbourhood.

You rant and rant and cry out all your overwhelming feelings of helplessness about your current academic load. Sakusa sits quietly, and just listens to you cry your heart out, offering water every time you pause for breath.

“… I think that covers everything, I’m sorry for dumping it all on you so suddenly. I think I just got overwhelmed and had to let it all out of my system. I’ll be fine once I sleep,” you conclude.

“It wasn’t a problem at all y/n. And it isn’t selfish to be overwhelmed, or to tell me that you are. I have been balancing volleyball with studies for my whole life, obviously I’m doing fine now. But thanks for trusting me.”

You sniffle a bit more, and manage a small smile. He presses your bottle into your hands, and you chug down more water.

It hurts. He’s your friend, and he’s perfect and it hurts. You hadn’t sought him out today because you wanted him, but because he is your closest friend and his presence comforts you like no one else’s. but he’s sitting right next to you without his mask, despite your disgusting runny nose, and he’s offering to be there for you when you need it, and he tries to message you because it makes you happy, and it just hurts. You need to tell him.

“There’s one more thing. Just hear me out, okay?” you stand up and start pacing and continue without giving him a chance to reply, “I love you. You are one of my best friends and I love you. Except that I also like you. As in, I like you like you. As in, I have a crush on you. Except that you are my friend and I love you, and is it even possible to have a crush on someone you already love so dearly? Therefore, I think I’m in love with you. And it hurts. It hurts that there’s something, no someone, I want so deeply, and they’re right here, but they don’t want me the way I want them. You love volleyball, and you’ll be in Osaka this time next year, and I could try to look for placements there, but then, I should probably just let go, right? I mean, you barely text me because your brain is filled with ‘TV static’, so really, what are the odds you like me the same way I like you? You find romantic stuff lame and you find germs too germy. So yeah. That’s it. I’ll shut up now before I do irreversible damage to our friendship.”

You finally look up and meet his eyes.

~~~

He’s there.

When you’re smiling, he’s there.

When you get excited about your books, he’s there.

When you worry about your fears coming true, he’s there.

And when you’re at your lowest, he’s there.

How could you have been expected not to fall in love with this man? This man who has been there for you through all your highs and lows, who has smiled for you each time you’ve felt joy, who’s laughed with you each time you planned for the happy days ahead, and who’s just been there each time you needed somebody to be there for you; how could you not fall in love with this man?

You look at him. You look at him and you see your best friend, your confidant, your first love. But for the first time, you see beyond his pretty fingers and his soothing smile and his calm rationale. You see the apprehension in his eyes, the very real fear of what is to come.

And even then, he smiles.

He’s there. He’s right there in front of you and you are looking at him, and for the first time, you see a lover.

He must be able to see the hope blooming on your face, for his own tentative smile unfurls into that quiet chuckling laugh you have grown to love.

“I thought it was all in my head y/n. Your weird flirting and the sexual tension that popped up out of nowhere,” he announced, clearly very proud of having figured you out before you announced yourself.

“Weird flirting? I was not trying to flirt…” you started, before he laughed again and started to stride towards you, gleam in his eye as if you were Miya Atsumu’s toss just waiting for him.

“Wha-“ DHHONNN.

You were too stunned to even flinch. Did he just kabedon you? His left forearm was right next to your right ear, and he had a little smirk on his face, probably excited that he caught you off-guard. It was, without a doubt, a kabedon.

Wait. Did Sakusa Kiyoomi just kabedon you?

Did you just experience the first kabedon of your life from Sakusa-I-think-cliché-romance-hero-gestures-are-lame-Kiyoomi?

Holy fuck do you need to fangirl. Right now.

“You really need to work on your flirting skills,” he breathes, his face mere inches from yours, his arm resting so casually near your face that one would think he practised kabedonning as a hobby.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEE-P“

He shoves his palm against your mouth, cutting off your squeal, and very effectively ruining the moment. Obviously, you lick the offending appendage. He looks scandalised.

“One moment. One moment, y/n! I thought I could surprise you with some lame cliché romance-hero move, and you just have to squeal in my face and lick my hand. You think you can look all cool and profess your undying love for me, but I can’t get one moment to one-up you? That’s it, romance over. We are done here.”

He turns away, as if about to leave, his hand still over your mouth. You reach out to grab him, but before you can, he turns back around and scoops both your wrists up in his one hand and pins them above your head in one smooth swoop, as if he practises this stuff every day as a hobby. His left arm has not moved even half an inch from its place near your face.

All you can do is stare at him as his smirk returns, with a light dusting of pink across his pale cheeks, as though he himself can’t believe his smoothness. Clearly, the ruined moment can be salvaged.

Very wisely, you keep your mouth shut and your squeal inside your throat.

He walks further towards you, until you feel your feet touching and there remain only a couple of inches separating your faces.

He deliberately looks down at your lips, before slowly lifting his face to your eyes. His own lips look soft and pink and pouty, and you have no idea what must be happening on your face, but it must be good enough for him to blush harder.

You have dreamed of kissing the pink off those cute pouty lips for ages and now that you actually can, he isn’t moving. He is just looking at you, drinking you in, as if mesmerised by whatever romantic fantasies are unfurling behind your eyes.

Or maybe he is just waiting for you to consent to him kissing you? Your brain very helpfully provides.

You close your eyes and nod, unable to bear the intensity of the moment.

It seems that that was all he was waiting for because you immediately feel his hand cup your face, leaving its place near you head. And suddenly, you feel the softest pressure against your lips.

The moment ends as soon as it begins, and when it becomes obvious that it will not continue, you open your eyes. Sakusa Kiyoomi stands in front of you, your face in his hand, your wrists in his other hand, his face as pink as his lips, and all you can say is, “hey man when you have your moment, you decide to end it even before it starts! Kiss me properly, I seem to be unable to move.”

He starts laughing, and dives back towards your face, muffling his laughs against your mouth. His fingers tighten around your wrists, and you squirm, wanting to touch him properly now that you have got your bearings a bit. His hand doesn’t loosen though, damn volleyball hand training!

He smiles against your mouth, as if sensing the direction of your thoughts, and you feel his knees parting your own. Very weakly, you part your legs, knowing that at this point, you are very pliable putty in his very capable volleyballer hands.

He doesn’t let the moment escalate though. All he does his keep one leg between yours to pull you close. He keeps your hands out of reach of his body, with his other arm somehow magically around your waist as if to pull you into him, and continues kissing you.

You decide to make as much of this situation as you can and let your tongue peek out of your mouth, but he pulls back. It feels like rejection until-

“One step at a time y/n. I need to sanitise my hand where you licked me, let’s not go into both our tongues licking the others’ yet.” You deem this as enough of a not-rejection, your ears giddily ringing with the word ‘yet’, as he releases you.

He steps back, letting your arms fall back to your sides, and caresses your jaw once before whipping out his sanitiser and practically dousing his hand in it.

“Want me to set it on fire? Alcohol is flammable and it has a greater chance of killing all germs,” you tease, as he pulls your hands towards him, sanitising your wrists where his hand had held you.

Once he is done sanitising, he turns to you and says, “In case that wasn’t a clear enough answer- yes, I want to date you as well. I love you, and have, for a while. We’ll figure out the future together, okay?”

And before you can answer, he grabs your left hand again, but this time, simply holds it as you both walk towards your neighbourhood. The sky has turned darker by now, a pretty shade of pink that you think very accurately matches the colour on both your cheeks. All you can do is turn towards him and smile your biggest smile, as your brain finally decides to reboot.

Sakusa Kiyoomi loves you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is yours for the foreseeable future. Sakusa Kiyoomi is holding your hand in his.

Sakusa Kiyoomi just turned one of your deepest kabedonning fantasies into reality with the same hand that is holding yours right now.

You can’t help it. You are a fangirl after all.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE……”

“DAMN WOMAN WILL YOU STOP SQUEALING YOU SOUND LIKE A RAT TRING TO EVADE CAPITAL PUNISHMENT!”

But his smile never wanes, and his hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer.

~~~

“Hey, I’m really in the mood for some strawberry ice cream right now.”

“Hah, so you agree strawberry is superior!”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #akaashi keiji #kozume kenma #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #pining #slow burn #canon compliant #mentioned bokuto kotaro

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carriehobbs · 2 months ago

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i would love to talk about juno 💕💕 !!

(these are probably not the best screenshots of juno but they are also my favourites. the first one because it shows the colour of her eyes and her little under-eye mole (the most important thing in the world) and the second one because i like how her armour looks and the shine on her hair)

juno is my other (and first) redemption durge! she's a wood half-elf ranger (hunter subclass, urban tracker/bounty hunter specs) who romanced gale! she fits very well into the selfless hero archetype she gets cast as during the adventure, but her only talking-to-people stat is intimidation, which i choose to represent as her having an off-putting and kind of threatening energy with strangers. anyone who knows her knows that she's a caring person, but she always reads as just a little bit dangerous to others. i miss playing her so much because she was completely unstoppable in combat (with 3 attacks (two main hand and one offhand that dealt almost as much damage), a cape that turns her invisible, 16m/approx 52 feet of movement speed, and an ac of 23).

juno's post-game breakdown (which is what i said i wanted to talk about the other day) is kind of a two-hander. firstly, it lets me play with one of my favourite tropes of all time: when an amnesiac character is immediately given a new (and often important) job upon entering a community, builds their entire identity around being the person who does that job, and then loses the ability to do the job (either permanently or temporarily). imagine that your entire sense of identity, self, value, purpose, etc., was all tied to one particular thing. the only person you have ever known yourself to be is the person who does this thing, but now you don't have that thing anymore. so who the fuck are you?

in juno's case, she doesn't remember her life leading the bhaalist cult. i know in act 3 you get some memories back, but i prefer to think of it more like she is able to remember some key details of her life that were previously lost to her and can remember some things that happened, but not everything, and that those memories don't really feel like they're hers. she knows objectively who she was and what she did, but it feels more like seeing someone else's memories rather than her own. she feels like her life started with the nautiloid crash.

this means that her entire life (that she remembers) involves solving everyone's problems, saving the day, and stopping the cult of the absolute. it's the only purpose she's ever had. it's the only context for her life that she's ever been given. she's always been needed. she doesn't see herself as "a person who happens to be doing this important quest" but as "the person who does this important quest", which is a subtle but significant difference.

and then she achieves her goal. she realizes her life's purpose. and she's still here, existing, except now she's directionless. she leaves one of the only cities she's ever known for a city she's only ever seen part of in one of gale's illusions. all of her friends (the only people she remembers being close to, the only family she remembers having) go their different directions and find new ways to give their lives meaning. and juno goes with gale to waterdeep.

and juno is genuinely thrilled to go to waterdeep and to marry gale. and at first things are going well, when they're in that honeymoon period as they first settle in. i think things start going south after gale starts working at blackstaff. because now she has empty hours to fill with her day while he's at work. she has no purpose anymore, she's in a brand new city, and her social circle has been reduced to her boyfriend, his mom, and his flying cat (who doesn't seem to like her that much). wedding planning can only occupy her so much. she doesn't even have a job to just fill her time. and given that the last two jobs listed on her resume are "ex-bhaalist cult leader" and "saviour of baldur's gate" and her professional skills are "murder", she's not exactly in a great position to get a job at waterdeep's fantasy walmart.

and, as much as i love gale, he gives me the impression of someone who can get a little too absorbed in their work. considering he's just returned from a year-long self-imposed seclusion followed by a quest to stop the illithid grand design, this is the first time he's been back in a wizardly and academic environment in a while. he's also not had a mortal partner for quite some time and thus not had to balance his professional life with his personal life the way he does now. so as much as he loves juno and wants to be a good partner to her, i don't think it's unrealistic to imagine him getting a little too caught up in his work and having some late nights at blackstaff.

which would be fine, except juno's now the partner who waits all day for him to come home, only for him to be late. which isn't a position she could ever be happy being in. she needs something to do, something to drive her. she's never been idle (or relaxed) before.

all of this (the directionlessness, the lack of purpose and meaning, the almost nonexistent social life, the idle time) is compounded by the second major component of juno's post-game breakdown: redemption durge kind of has harm ocd? it's not a perfect 1:1 representation of what ocd is like, but there are enough similarities that i had to stop as i was playing and go, "does durge have harm ocd? why did no one ever mention that durge kind of has harm ocd?"

(this entire description is going to be somewhat of an oversimplification of what ocd is like but) as redemption durge, you experience intense, ego-dystonic and unwanted thoughts (and sometimes images) that urge you to harm others throughout your daily life. furthermore, you literally have a guy (sceleritas fel) who follows you around, deliberately voicing these unwanted thoughts and trying to convince you that they are real and inevitable (a physical manifestation of intrusive thoughts). these thoughts may target the people or things you care about most, such as your friends or your partner. you may find yourself confessing these thoughts to people around you and seeking reassurance that these thoughts are not real, have not really happened, or that you are a good person.

the only place where this doesn't really fit is in the compulsions themselves: (again, this is an oversimplification, but) with ocd, your intrusive thoughts say "xyz thing is happening/is going to happen" and, in response, you perform a compulsion that ocd says will prevent the intrusive thought from coming true (ex. ocd tells you that, if you handle knives while cooking, you will use those knives to hurt someone in your home. the compulsion could be something like avoiding using knives or performing a particular ritual/habitual behaviour before or after you use knives. ocd tells you that in some way this repetitive, compulsive behaviour prevents your fear/intrusive thoughts (that you could hurt someone) from being realized). in the case of redemption durge, the compulsion kind of is the fear? you fear that you will hurt someone as a result of your urges, and so the compulsive behaviour that results is... for you to hurt people? it kind of falls apart here.

but after juno rejects bhaal and has her dark urges taken from her, there's so much space left over for actual ocd. a lot of her intrusive thoughts involve her urges coming back and causing her to hurt people. she avoids cooking (especially meats) because she fears working with meat will cause her urges to rise again (flesh is flesh, after all). she's terrified that she will kill gale without noticing it, particularly during the night (after all, she killed alfira in her sleep, and tried to kill gale in her sleep once), and so she compulsively checks on gale when he's home with her (things like leaving a room, having an intrusive thought about having killed him while she was in the room with him and having forgotten that she did it, and having to go back into the room she's just left to see that he's safe). things like that. and the thing about ocd is that it can get worse when you're idle, and so juno's empty time during the day exacerbates the symptoms of her ocd, making them much more acute.

but juno doesn't tell gale about these struggles (both to find a sense of purpose and a reason for her own existence after the defeat of the absolute and a resurgence of fears around her dark urges) because she doesn't want him to think she's not happy with him in waterdeep. she's decidedly not happy there (she's lonely, scared, aimless), but she wants to be happy there, and she hates the idea that she could ever make gale think she regrets coming to waterdeep with him or agreeing to marry him (which she doesn't, she does want those things, it's just hard right now). and she feels shame, too, i think, for struggling. everyone else seems to have settled so easily either back into their old lives or into new lives, and she seems to be the only one having trouble.

and so i think she kind of carries on with things getting progressively worse until everything becomes so unmanageable that it comes to a head. i don't know specifically the catalyst for it, but eventually juno has to tell gale about all of the things she's been struggling with. it's explosive, there are a lot of tears (and at least one wail about how tara doesn't even like her. juno has not been taking this well), and ultimately their relationship comes out stronger for having weathered this storm together. because now juno has expressed her needs and, while gale can't fix either of these problems for her, he can support her as her partner when he didn't know she needed his support before.

and eventually juno does find a new purpose: she decides to start doing whatever research she can into bhaal and bhaalspawn. she seeks to understand the information about herself and her legacy that she's been missing since the amnesia, and to be prepared in case bhaal or his other spawn rear their ugly heads again (and, though she and gale are not decided on if they want children, she has determined that she would not have biological children before she knows what happens to the children of bhaalspawn who have been disowned and stripped of their urges - she wouldn't want to pass her urges on, or give bhaal the chance to turn a child of hers into his new chosen).

but it makes the 6 month reunion in the epilogue very bittersweet for juno. though she's doing better by then than she was, she still feels delayed compared to everyone else, and she still feels a lot of shame and embarrassment over the ways she struggled to adjust to life after the absolute when everyone else seemed to manage so easily (especially since everyone keeps asking her what she's been doing and how she is). and just because she's doing better doesn't mean that the spectre of those hard times doesn't linger. at this point, she and gale aren't even married - the game gives you the option to reference your wedding day, but i never choose it because, in my mind, after juno has her big breakdown, she and gale decide to delay the wedding. they've not called off the engagement, but just decided to leave wedding planning until she's feeling better and more settled in their new lives together.

time (and a new direction) helps juno settle in waterdeep. eventually she and gale do marry and she gets used to the city and starts to make friends (and makes regular trips to see the other companions, no matter how far and wide they're spread now). she grows closer with gale's mother morena and finds more family in her. she and tara form an uneasy truce that grows into mutual respect and eventually affection (though juno knows her friendship with tara will never touch what tara has with gale). so, while things are rough for a while, they do get better :)

#tw for discussion of ocd #bg3 tag #other fun juno facts: she fucking hates elminster and mystra but takes it out on elminster bc he's not a goddess #juno's in waterdeep when gale's at work like 'hey tara play girlfriend by avril lavigne'#she also drives gale crazy because she is not at all interested in magic (outside of the fact that it's important to him) and openly admits #that she thinks that people should have stopped making spells after speak with animals (the only spell anyone ever needs)

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theoldsecretkeeper · 1 month ago

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tbh since its this blog first munday imma ramble like a mf. Because..idk i wanna make it special!

history on marg and a "thank you" message under readmore! its long bc i love to ramble lol!

I am very, very glad people like Margarita!! She is one of my oldest OCs that i still have and draw!! She is the main reason why i even made a tumblr in the first reason! I was innn a pretty shitty spot and pizza tower just came out a little bit ago and i remembered i wanted to make margarita into a delivery guy because i thought i was going to be the first lmao!

She was legit, just a self insert for me to ship with peppino legit that all she was. (She even had the mole on my neck lmao) I never even thought about anything. i just drew margarita and peppino constantly for days and days because.. well it was comfort to distract myself from a dark time yk?

My friend was the reason he made me think more on the tower and actually made me think "wait.. she can be a old worker of pizzahead!!" So me and my friend went to rambling about more lore about it and decided she would have been a errand boy who just ran off since she didnt like him or anyone else and befriended peppino!

The only major thing different was my friends oc (the other one in the pic!) was the reason her face was fucked up!! And its still canon out of this blog! (also that she was just a plain old humannnn)

Idk how the hell i got the idea to add secrets into her lore i really dont. I just remember my friend made a secret eye humanoid and they had biblical angel vibes and bam! she was friends with a secret eye and was a angel! because i have the hc of eyes being angels for some reason.. ofc its not canon here dw but its still a major hc of mine! and i wrnt to a discord server that i really liked and got into anton blast for a minute before just.. slowly dropping out of it.

Margarita was now put on the shelf and i didnt.. felt motivated for her. Which was fair i drew her for like... a bunch of months.

and thennn.. well i decided to add her on the blog @/deliveringspookzandtreatz !! and the rest is pretty much history! im like..really glad a bunch of yall like her and made me think of a WAYYYY better backstory for her, made her way more interesting and made me back in my pizza tower hyperfixation again!!!

and im glad like.. yall are very cool and chill with this rookie. Like. I am still surprised people like my writing or like..anything i do with my rp blogs. Like i been made fun of a bunch, been treated like. utter shit from other people and made me scared to talk to ANYONE or post anything. So it just. really means alot how much yall fucking rock.

Yall are awesome and epic and just nice and respectful and dont treat me like shit its just really nice and a breath of fresh air. I can actually see how yall can roleplay for years and years because of all the nice people and the rp partners!! i just hfjd thank yall very much.

I ramble about this shit wayyy too much but good lord. i just. Words are never going to be enough about how thankful i am./gen

#no secrets here! | ooc post #Im being sappy dont mind me

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muni-is-never-ready · 1 year ago

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Hotaru Nakatomi (Eden Producer OC) Information Post!

Picrew image to represent how she looks!

-Basic Info-

Name (last, then first): Nakatomi Hotaru

Grade: third year (es!!), birthday May 10th

Gender: cis girl (she/her)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 172 cm

Quick appearance: Black hair, goldish brown eyes, a hair style kinda like this, and two moles, one just under the lower right corner of her right eye, and another below the lower right corner of her lips

Note: used watashi prior to her second year, and uses boku from her second year onwards

-Intro-

Hotaru is currently enrolled in Reimei Academy, and works as a producer under Cosmic Productions. She's known to be thorough and strict in regards to the safety and well-being of the idols she works with. To many, she is an intimidating figure with a very matter-of-fact manner of speaking, muscular stature and sharp face. However, to those she works with, she is their slightly awkward, but well-meaning friend who frequently worries for everyone and tries to curb her excitement when speaking about martial arts, tokusatsu and magical girl anime. She prioritizes being honest and as straightforward as possible, to the point that when she has meetings with others for her producer work, some believe she must be hiding something from how transparent she comes off as.

She knew of Hiyori and Nagisa through her family, but of the Eden members, she originally properly met Jun first in her first year. She had decided to produce for Eve, before she and Ibara agreed to produce Eden together. She does also occasionally produce for other Cospro idols as well as a unit from Reimei of first and second years, but her first priority is Eden and its subunits. She's also trained to act as a bodyguard!

All further information is below the cut!

-Family Life-

Hotaru was born to the Nakatomi family, famous for their own luxury fashion label. One may think that a big family like that would give Hotaru a push in her career, but Hotaru never really fit into what her parents would see as a worthy member. They tended to raise her older sister, Chisato, to a higher pedestal, and Hotaru was consistently compared to not only her, but other higher-status daughters as well. Her whole life, she had been told and convinced that she was simply subpar at everything she did, such as her decorum and her appearance, especially since she reached a growth spurt early, liked gaining muscle and tended to like either childish or boyish things.

Whenever she was interested in something, her parents would either reject it, or have her try before deeming it a waste of her time and pull her out. Instead, she was expected to support Chisato once she inherited the company. As her parents seemed well-mannered and kind to everyone else, Hotaru internalized that she and she alone deserved to be considered unfit and the worst. Until her high school years, she and her sister were distant due to this, until they reconciled due to realizing each other's struggles and decided that they wanted to become closer. As well, Hotaru wanted to become more distant with her parents, and earn her own money, usually staying at the (headcanon) newly-instated girl’s dorms at Reimei and saving up for her own place after graduation.

-Why She Became A Producer-

At the end of junior high, when Hotaru found herself interested in idols, and fascinated with all the production work that went into her parents' label, she decided she wanted to be a producer herself. However, she was about to give up on it due to a recent incident when her parents convinced her that she should let them pull her out of her recent karate dojo because according to them, they were informed that "her instructor was disappointed with her progress and decided she was not taking it seriously". This crushed her, because she adored martial arts and put all she had into it. She thought she was improving well. It made her believe even her best work would never be good enough for anyone.

However, one day while shadowing one of their assistants after school, she picked up a voicemail to her parents from said instructor. The instructor told her that he was sad to see her go, and he applauded her dedication and found her to be a good student. He then finished it hoping that the new dojo she moved to would benefit her, and thanking her father for letting him know. She was confused, because she thought he was disappointed in her, but it seems that he thought she just wanted to leave?

It dawned on her that her parents lied to her, making her believe she was bad and failed at something she cared about, because it would make her just listen to them and not rebel from what they asked of her. This gave her an epiphany- if she was legitimately good at something when she worked at it, and her parents were willing to deceive her to keep her willing to do what they wanted, then what else could she do? Thus, she decided- she will try this producer thing, and work hard so that she could be the one to support the idols that made her happy even when she couldn't find happiness in herself, and to prove that she can be good enough for what she loves. The minute she could, she enrolled at Reimei for her first year as a producer.

-Hotaru's First Year-

Hotaru's mannerisms had less of the bluntness she has during her later high school years, in an attempt to be more likeable.

As a producer, she was instructed to pay more attention to the special students and propose and produce more opportunities for them

However, especially since she liked being out in the field with the idols, she was treated in a weird in-between where she was simultaneously viewed as someone with power and above others, especially for non-special students, and another servant and tool to success by many special students.

This would throw off Hotaru, especially since she had less idol-related connections/experience compared to fashion and modeling back then, but she grit her teeth and accepted it as this is what she needs to do to prove to herself that her decision against her parents was not a mistake or a childish whim, even when she feels lonely

However, this also gave her a high respect for Tatsumi, as he treated her with kindness and respect

This made her more enthusiastic about her projects for Tatsumi and those he wished to help, as she had to continually face scrutiny and ridicule otherwise to produce for non-special students, which did negatively affect her reputation among other special students.

She also found herself admiring Jun, as she saw him as immensely hardworking, and was looking for the perfect job for him, but found herself having a hard time, fearing that she would mess it up for him, especially since it’s impossible to get school support for a non-special student’s idol work

After Kaname and Tatsumi’s hospitalization, Hotaru found herself not only receiving a more negative reputation for her association with the revolution, but feeling intense guilt for not doing enough for them, and felt that she would just ruin any idol’s chances because she was inept and hated.

She eventually got approached by Hiyori, as he saw her interact with Jun in the past, and she eventually agreed to produce for them after all.

-More about Hotaru, and Current Day Info-

Hotaru tends to be very direct with her speech, as she believes that she should be clear with what exactly she means, so that if she's judged, it's for who she really is

Her main struggle is to reconcile her belief that everyone deserves to be loved and treated with respect with the fact that it applies to her too. She knows objectively that she cannot be the worst on planet Earth and that she deserves to love and be loved, but it's hard to really internalize and believe it

She really values and loves Eden and its members, and will consider them her family

She tends to refer to people as

[Last name]-san

[First name]-san/-kun/-chan once closer

[Last name] or [First name]-senpai (for example, she’s close with the SHIN circle, and calls Kuro ‘Kiryu-senpai’)

Nicknames if she can! She rarely really got referred to with nicknames as she had few close friends prior to high school, so she likes calling/being called by nicknames

Specifically for Eden

She calls Nagisa Nagi-senpai, and he calls her Hotaru

She calls Hiyori Hiyo-senpai, and he calls her Hota-chan

She calls Ibara by his first name, and Ibara calls her by hers as well (one day she will succeed and get him to let her call him Iba-kun, but it's better than when they called each other by their last names)

She calls Jun Jun-Jun, and he calls her Tomi-san

She prefers a nickname on her last name (like Tomi-[honorific], or being called by her first name, but doesn't really share that information until asked because she doesn't want to impose

Has a resting bitch face, and tends to intimidate those who don’t know her too well

Hotaru highly respects Ibara, and wishes to be his equal, but also wishes that he'd be willing to accept her affections and to accept his more lighthearted side (has definitely had a hand in sending Eden to Bogie Time)

In the same vein, she gets flustered and shocked if anyone shows her affection or kindness

While she prides herself on her physical strength, as it's what made her realize she was worthwhile after all, she wants to continually make herself stronger as a person.

She still likes things like pretty clothes and fashion, and is looking to build self-esteem with her appearance (that her intensity can be pretty too)

Used to have long hair at her waist, but cut it before the Summer Live event in her second year to signify that she wants to change into a new her. Jun went with her to the salon to get the haircut

Has a difficult time talking about her parents to others, especially those familiar with the Nakatomis, because they have a good reputation and she believes no one would believe her. She Eventually told the Eden members around her second year

Learned English with the sole motivation being to watch Power Rangers without subtitles

Has a dove named Shimo (word for frost in japanese) that she keeps in her office, then her apartment later. It was originally was one of Wataru’s, but got attached to her one day on a visit to Yumenosaki

She regularly contacts Wataru on how to care best for her bird, takes this 100% seriously

When she caught on that Ibara was changing Exceed's concept to fit Jun, she was immediately on board, changing the set and stylists and acting as a beta listener for Ibara's lyrics :)

Loves buying idol merch, likes to get special edition stuff even for groups she does produce. She loves gifting them too, so she trades and gives some to Aira

Giant Ryuseitai fan :) her favourite is Tetora, even when they became friends through the circle SHIN

#enstars oc #ensemble stars oc #ensemble stars #oc: hotaru nakatomi #producer oc #hope you like her :3

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no-droids · 4 years ago

Text

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay! I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck? Look whenever you want? That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind. You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are? Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look. You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right. You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there? Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means. It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible. Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look. Sort of.

Sort of. Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid. Mostly for him. What if he’s making a mistake? It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you. This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn. Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him. To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around. Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer. Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?” (“I don’t know. Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?” (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?” (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles? Or moles, or birthmarks?” (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?” (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?” (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?” (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look. One right after the other. You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence. You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take. One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally. And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines. He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful. When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib. But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off. He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because. Now he does. Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully. Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch. Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear. At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom. He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door. Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them. Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born. Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide. There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare? He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye. But to you, he’s… his own monument. Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else. A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him? No, that’s not phrased right. What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference. He could be anybody. There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features? Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun. Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would. Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing. Every single time. You feel like you could do it in the pitch black. You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous. Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable. Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous. Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides. He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back. He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over. No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova? For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning. He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it? Din is… different, he notices. He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too. He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around. That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why. You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood. While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes. Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite. Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder? He said you’d say no. Was he right? You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now. It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could. Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself? Where would it be? Naboo? No, that’s too cheesy. One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it. You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels. Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away. You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is. You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated. Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you. “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair. “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it. “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it. “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss. You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs. “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time. You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it. “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around. “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body. The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it. “Be safe. Please.”

But then… well. Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach. You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so. Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned. “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up. You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him. But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you. Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him. You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea. “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

***

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…? You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real. You actually fucking did it. You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey! See that, bug!?” You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms. “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him. “No demon powers necessary, little man! I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two. You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward. You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach. You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious. Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm. It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible. You have company. “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.” He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you. It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still. Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…” You immediately feel yourself get nervous. “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more. The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity. Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits. It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it? But it doesn’t hit. It misses, like usual. Miserably. And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck. You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either. But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect. There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly. However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just…

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point? All that practice and nothing to show for it. If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot? Are they gonna stand still for you? Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk? You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done. It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time. You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him. “I hit it earlier. I did, I promise. You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago. “I know you did. It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center. I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet. Dumb. Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear. “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection. It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things. Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through. You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you. Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it. “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point. I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist. “Try using this one when you do.” And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship. Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand. You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor. Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety. It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look. The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be. The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside? Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot? Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him. Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones. “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs. “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up. He didn’t have to do this. This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do. Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle. You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place. It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly. “They’re… dangerous animals. Fiercely protective, preferring solitude. The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him. It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor. Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel. You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back. “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other. The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right. The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is. What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears. Fuck yes.

“Look at that!” Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory. Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous. You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark. “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot. A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later. “That one.” Bark splinters. “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing. “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous. As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance. So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger. Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress. He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that. Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way. It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back. That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again. “We have to get going. The fifth quarry is far. Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker. You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest. His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight. “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you. After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding. You hope he sees it in your eyes. You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along. It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.” Short. Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay… Um. Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.” Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks. Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now. “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay. I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp. “My fault for being late.” And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive. Aloof. Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help? Maybe?” Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you. “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up. You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known. You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it. “I can be useful. I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—”

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?” He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze. You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how. I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.” He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before. “No. Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry. Quit asking. I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine. Uh. You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then. No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder. Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat. Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting. It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself. It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting. Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him. A choice he made because it just fit him best. You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you. You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence. Not… everything else’s. Now it’s haunting again. Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes. Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance. Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will. You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid. You’re quiet but in a different way from Din. When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to. When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right. What were you thinking, wanting to tag along? Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant. Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though. That still stings a bit. This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time. Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally? You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap. He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there. You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either. The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be. He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is. You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms. There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny. He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull. There’s a good chance he’s already asleep. “I think… he might still be mad at me. Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation. That’s not gonna work, come on. They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips. It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?” You ask him, unable to even fathom. “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength. You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again. It’s just as well, you figure. He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time. You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be. So big, crammed into such a tiny place. You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace. He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time. You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door? The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be. You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?” You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor. A complete mystery again. Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.” His voice stops you dead in your tracks. It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter. “I… hurt your feelings. I’m sorry.”

And… Maker, if anybody else had said it. If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment. But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted. That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it. This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now. Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before. Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him. He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is. “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to. It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before. Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time. “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well. Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet. “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it. “Shit. I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly. “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way. I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel. I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?” He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused. “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…” Now you’re confused. “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything. “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now. “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing. He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all? By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.” He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground. “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor. “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?” He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they? You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little. You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?” Din asks you, the words sounding cautious. Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all. “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this? It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed. Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did. Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier. It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now. At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have. You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second. There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him. Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral. “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that. What are you, an eight year old? Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life? Credits? Time? Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal. Why is he even entertaining this right now? “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words. “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall. Someplace to find for yourself. Explore. Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that. Like he… just inherently understands. He knows.

He knows you. He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying. You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now. “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing. “Ever. And not because you can’t handle it, understand?” He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to. “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars. He’s… too kind. You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve. You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to. Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands. You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it. “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit. Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints. That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din. Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this. Yikes, this is a toughie. “Um. If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words. “Say what you mean. Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain. “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry. It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before. If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week. But only if you want to, you don’t have to. It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise? Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah. Well.” You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that. As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up. You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?” Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest. So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?” You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you. You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip. You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable. One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker. The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you. Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue. “Forgive me. Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed. But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing. Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through. You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours. It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…” You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic. It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good. Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you. “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering. Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes. “There could be, but I don’t know it. I’d use… out of a million million millions. Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier. Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation. How is that possible? You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through. You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t. You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower. You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?” You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth. The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall. Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on. “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…” You blink, surprised. “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay. You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it. He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you. “You’re going to run.”

“Um.” You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised. “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation. “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee. “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves. He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside. “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire. You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start. You’re going to run from me. Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now? You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised. Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?” He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay! Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone. “One. This is a safe world, but things can always happen. You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only. Do not shoot me with it. Do you understand?” You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow. “Out loud, please. For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you. “Do not… shoot at me. Near me. Around me. No, just—don’t shoot. Unless I am… very far away. Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that. You frown, but acquiesce regardless. “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words. “Second rule. Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either. We’re on foot. I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair. “Good.”

“Three,” he says. “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you. Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight. What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod. “Also not really a rule. Please continue.”

“Four.” He pauses for a second. “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back. “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide. “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it. I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious? “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you. “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet. Trust me.”

You… do. Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do. If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin. It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it? It actually sounds right on par for him. “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly. “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright? I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises. Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening. “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too. Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly. It is a very, very stern tilt. “Okay. New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows. “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious. “Us. Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate. “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh. Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting. “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry. You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine. “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator. Not mean or harsh, but firm. “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not. When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground. “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest. There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud. It… really is a struggle for him too, then. You understand.

“Okay,” you nod. There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given. You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself. It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more. “Final rule. I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe. Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies. He doesn’t do that. Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?” You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you. Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself. “This is your communicator. It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance. I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days. If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.” Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other. Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head. His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator. “Gar darasuum.” For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain. You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning. Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here. Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way. The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?” You ask, already clueless. “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side. “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me. You know how I think. I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…” He slowly shakes his head. “See me. Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now. “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time. “Remember what I told you a long time ago? What your best weapon is?”

You… do not. He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast. You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?” Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers. “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet. So…” He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy. “Don’t try to outrun, okay? Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.

Outsmart. Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking. His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know. You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair. Are you going to a city? Would there be one in walking distance? The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals. The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him. He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long. Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement. He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #reader insert #the mandalorian #rough day #no-droids

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peachyysugaa · 3 years ago

Text

scream

― youtuber!park sunghoon x streamer!gn!reader

it's hard to stream horror video games when your neighbor is always filming dangerous mukbangs and screaming.

genre: e2l, neighbors au, angst to fluff, humor

wc: 3.2k

warnings: horror game mentions, cw food and mentions of cooking live things (inspired by this youtuber), sunghoon's a jerk at first :<, one mention of underage drinking (don't follow mc's example pls fisnfkskf), a few swear words

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the last upload! feel free to read on its own! ♞──────────────────────────♞

"AAAGH!" and there it is. your brows furrow upon hearing your neighbor's cry. does he not understand how thin these walls are?! there's a reason only college students stay here! grimacing, you ignore it and move your mouse to look around the dark house.

"oh shoot, i wonder if he's behind me?" you say to your audience while watching your viewers fill the chat with your custom subscriber emojis. "i'm going to do it, everyone, just―"

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD WHYYY?!"

more like why couldn't you be quiet?! you close your eyes in frustration but attempt to keep a straight face for the people watching you. "sorry if you heard that, i guess someone's having a bad day?" you chuckle nervously as you turn around in the video game to see a black slender figure. "oh! whoa, okay, i'm just going to run over here."

you got out of the creepy house and made it to the back of it to see a piece of paper on the wall. "oh, here! okay, this is going to be my last piece unless―whoa!!" the jumpscare comes up, and you're left taken aback as the game over screen appears. laughing at your shocked self, you're filled with glee upon seeing the audience laugh or scream with you. "that was really fun, everyone. i got some homework to do though, so i'll see you all next time i stream! bye bye!" you wave goodbye to the camera and watch as the viewer number drops gradually. after a few minutes, you shut off your stream, place your headphones on its stand, and push back in your secret labs chair with a sigh. "why did i have to live next to a maniac...?" you grumble.

as if on cue, another scream is heard from the other side of the wall. "EEE! oh my god, i'm going to do it, i'm going to do it!"

what on earth was this kid doing that he was screaming every weekend? you didn't even scream that much, and you played horror games for a living! your stomach growls as you're thinking this and as a living human being, you listen to it and get up to make ramyeon. however, even as you're making your dinner and even as you're trying to enjoy it with some show playing on the tv, of course, you have to be subjected to your neighbor's loud yells. once you're finished, you notice how oddly quiet it is and decide to give whoever this guy was a piece of your mind.

marching over with your keys in hand, you knock aggressively on apartment no. 505 until it opens. behind the door is a tall male with a face so well-proportioned you're thinking it's possible that some being above sculpted it themselves. his nose is accented with one mole on the side of his nose bridge and another a few centimeters under the opposite eye. "can i help you?" his rich voice asks with a slight sting to it.

you snap yourself out of it by blinking, incredulous that you almost forgot your mission just because he has a handsome face. "yea, you can help me by being quieter," you boldly state with your arms crossed in front of your chest. "you realize you're not the only one living in this complex, right? the walls are so thin, i can hear you screaming every time."

the male raises an eyebrow at you and scoffs to the side as if he can't believe what he's hearing. "can you just deal with it? some of us have to make a living."

"news flash, dude, that's all of us! the only people who would be willing to live in this place are college students! listen, i stream horror games for my work, and i don't even scream as loud as you," you retort and point your index finger from you to him. "so i think you should learn how to keep your volume down."

"and why haven't i heard these complaints from anyone else?" he tries to debate back.

"maybe because they're just quietly tolerating you. as for me, i can't anymore, so take this as your first warning, room 505." you turn around quickly with a huff and speed to your apartment next door.

as you're above to close the door, you hear him shout back at you. "my name's park sunghoon, room 506. remember it, because i'm going to make your life a living hell."

"l/n y/n, park sunghoon. we'll see about that." with that, you both simultaneously shut your doors with a slam that causes the walls to shudder a bit.

oh, he kept his promise alright. from stare-downs in the hallway, to bringing weird live animals in the elevator at the same time you're in there, to snarky remarks at the entrance that almost always lead to fights, park sunghoon has definitely made your life hell. to make matters worse, his screaming got even louder. you're sure that's a violation of some rule, right? wrong, the management for the building doesn't care all too much, as long as he's not doing anything illegal and nobody else has complained. you get what you paid for is the right saying here.

you were not having it. as a streamer and college student, weekends are your days with the freest time, and he took that from you. you found out that he was not just a college student but a youtuber, one that filmed dangerous mukbangs with live animals that he would then cook and eat, and because of that, he had also chosen to film on weekends. that was exactly why you had always encountered his screaming on days you were streaming, and now, tired of how petty he was, you decided to just cram your weekdays with school and streaming.

at first, it was fine, but as your days became packed with more studying on the weekends at the library to avoid sunghoon, you grew tired: tired of the crammed weekdays and for god's sake, tired of living your life running away. taking out a bottle of peach soju that your upperclassman dancer friend had snuck for you, you pop it open and make your way to the balcony that you barely used.

as you take a swig of the alcoholic beverage, you prop yourself onto the railing and gaze at the buildings before you, their lights blinding you from the stars of the night sky. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your low energy state, but something compels you to scream. "i'm so tired!!" you yell out to the skyline. letting out a sigh, you plop down into the spare plastic chair and go for another drink.

"drinking your worries away? that's not going to solve anything," a male voice speaks up. your eyes catch sight of sunghoon, who has slid open his own balcony door. he's dressed in a casual beige hoodie and sweats as if he had spent the day just relaxing.

"as if you care," you mumble with your lips pressed against the green glass. "you're literally at the root of all my problems."

he scoffs at your statement. "this again? look, i'm getting tired of you placing all this blame on me when i'm—"

"are you so sure about that?" you calmly and sternly interrupt. the alcohol really has unlocked your usually inhibited thoughts. "why did i move my streaming days onto the weekdays when i normally spend them studying? because your screaming on the weekends always got picked up by my mic. why do i get 4 hours of sleep every day and study all night at the library on weekends?" it's like when sunghoon had taken a stick to prod at you, the floodgates burst open. you weren't stopping until you gave him a piece of your mind. "because i have to cram my streaming schedule and studying schedule to accommodate to your filming one. maybe i am blaming you, but i've tried my best to do my job all while studying and having to deal with an asshole like yourself who's so inconsiderate that he can't even do one thing for his neighbor who's practically dying to adjust their lifestyle because of someone else's."

your neighbor goes silent after that, choosing to just sigh and go back inside his apartment. you relish in the silence that comes after he shuts the door and down the rest of your bottle before heading back inside yourself. strangely after that incident, you heard less and less of sunghoon on the weekend and thus were able to return to your normal schedule. even while passing by him, he kept his mouth shut and would just nod a cordial hello. you guess what you said that night really got through to him.

and he proves that because after about three weekends, you hear a knock on your door. upon opening it, you're surprised to see sunghoon behind it, his hands behind his back as he shifts side to side. "oh, hello sunghoon," you greet him awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"hey y/n," he returns. the youtuber stops fidgeting for a moment and bows after gathering up some courage. "listen, i just want to say i'm sorry." he looks up at your face, searching for some sign of hatred and he thankfully finds none, so he continues. "i didn't realize how much of an asshole i was until you said that. i was just thinking about myself and not about you or anybody else. i hope i was able to prove it to you these past three weeks, and i promise i won't go back to my old habits."

your silence is not so reassuring, so sunghoon nervously lifts his head to peek at your face to find an astonished expression. you stammer a little bit and hold the doorframe to keep yourself in place. "u-uh... gosh, i don't know what to say, sunghoon," you stutter. then, you notice another neighbor exiting the elevator, looking at the two of you strangely since sunghoon is still lowering his head. "oh! you can stand up straight now! please."

he does as you say, smiling sheepishly, and you notice how much better he looks smiling than the usual smirks he had sent you before. "apology accepted, sunghoon."

"r-really?"

you nod. "i mean, you really have proven yourself lately, so i don't see why i shouldn't."

"great!" his smile grows wider, making you blush and look anywhere but his face. "then i have a surprise for you to start over." you shoot him a confused look that he disregards out of boyish excitement. "close up, come over to my place for a few."

"o-okay, give me a moment, i'll be right over," you say as he rushes back to his apartment. you hurriedly grab your keys and look in the mirror next to your door to smooth out your hair before you're scolding yourself for caring about looks when he literally just saw you. closing the door, you lock up, head over to room 505, and knock.

"it's open," his voice calls from inside, and with that, you push the door open to find the living space of your own apartment, except totally flipped. to your left is a small living room, complete with a two-seater couch, a tv stand, and a tv. whereas to your right, there was a dining room fit for two, the kitchen right behind it before a hallway leads to the single bedroom and bathroom. you're too busy taking in this opposite room that you don't notice the fish tank on the round table full of live fish. "come over here," he says with an enthusiastic grin.

"yah, park sunghoon. what in the world is this?" you say flabbergasted.

"i'm showing you what i do for a living and cooking you a fresh meal," is all he has to say as you grimace and reluctantly move towards him. "this is my second time cooking it, so it should go a lot better."

"and what exactly is... it?"

"mudfish, way less than what i usually have for mukbangs though." you know, you had completely forgotten what the guy did on youtube since his handsome face distracted you for a handful of moments, but now reality had set in for you: he was going to do this live in front of you.

if you're uncomfortable with cooking live fresh food, please skip to the next italicized line!

"i swear to god, park sunghoon, if you do anything stupid, consider this restart invalid. you'll be hearing from my lawyer," you unsuccessfully warn him as you watch him put on some gloves and grab a cup of salt.

"relax, you're with me. i'm practically a pro," he tries reassuring you, but then he sprinkles the salt inside the tank. the fish start splashing around violently, causing you to let out a small yelp as some splashes of water get on you. "yaaah, this is way better than last time!"

"is this what you do every weekend?!" you shout at a low volume and cover your eyes with your hands.

"you can look now, it's fine," sunghoon says, pointing at the fish. you peek through the gaps between your fingers to see that the fish have stopped moving. sunghoon smirks as you take your hands away from your face. "see? i'm a pro."

coating and deep frying starts here!

he starts to coat them one by one in egg and flour and lays them down on a baking pan lined with paper. you watch as he handles each one delicately with concentration. "do you want me to start the oil?" you offer.

"oh! that would be great, thanks! the wok is already on the stove, just turn it on," he explains. you find the wok exactly where he had told you and turn on the gas stove accordingly, as if you've been here hundreds of times before, but in reality, you just have the same appliances. by the time the oil has been heated to the right temperature, sunghoon has already finished coating the fish. the two of you work together to place each one in the oil, listening to them sizzle and pop.

"we make a good team," sunghoon comments once every fish has started frying. you take care of the tongs and move them around when appropriate. "you should come by and guest star in one of my videos."

"if it's anything like today's, no thank you," you politely reject.

"what if... i invite you to eat after i cook?" he shoots his shot again. rolling your eyes playfully, you see that the fish are all thoroughly fried and turn off the fire. with his own tongs, sunghoon puts the fish on the plate as you go off to prepare two bowls of rice. the small dining room table gets cleaned up, so the two of you can start your meal. "okay, your answer?"

"depends on how good this mudfish is," you reply, holding up a fried fish with your chopsticks. he follows suit, and you two cheer your meals together.

"i'll eat well," the both of you say in harmony. finally, you take a bite of the crispy fish and hum in satisfaction, your eyes widening.

"mm! it's really good!" you compliment as he takes joy in your pleased expression.

"i'll take that as a yes to my question then?"

"hoon, i'll come over whenever you want me to," you exaggerate.

"deal," he accepts quickly so that you can't take it back. and that's how your first meal went with park sunghoon. soon enough, one meal turned into two, to five, to ten, until you're basically spending a lot of time with the youtuber. pretty much every weekend, you and sunghoon set it up so that you would cook and eat together in the afternoon so that you would have the rest of the evening to stream.

at some point, you find out that his major is biology, which is similar to your own in biochemistry, so your time with sunghoon extends to studying together and eventually gaming. one of you is always at the other's place and vice versa like you couldn't be without each other for a single moment.

you're eating takoyaki with said boy in your apartment this time, staring at his well-proportioned facial features as you chew slowly and think. he catches your unwavering gaze and chuckles. "is there something on my face, y/n?"

"i'm just thinking," you vaguely reply.

"about the thing on my face?" you shake your head at this. "then what is it? i know i'm really handsome and all, but you literally see me all the time."

"that's exactly my point!" you cry out as if you hit eureka, shocking him in the process. "we're together all the time. we were literally enemies at first, and now it's like we're dating! what is this, some kind of shitty fanfiction?" yes

"well, do you want us to date?" luckily, you had just swallowed the last bit of your takoyaki ball because that could've made you choke. instead, you suddenly start coughing, and he pushes your water towards you.

the coldness of the water does nothing to help your rising temperature as you take big gulps of it. "wh-what kind of question is that?" you ask, patting your mouth dry with a nearby tissue.

"a serious one," he answers nonchalantly. "because i like you." stream dreamcatcher BEcause

"huh? since when?" you're practically in disbelief. no way sunghoon liked you back. you had just discovered your own feelings not too long ago when you had tucked him in after an intense study session and he whispered your name. ever since then, you got butterflies in your stomach around him, and not because he made it a mukbang. (but you wouldn't put it past him?)

the male rubs the back of his neck. "it's been a while. i just know that i like you."

"st-stop saying that!" you wave your hands in front of your face frantically to hide the redness you know that has spread all over.

"oh? or what, room 506?" he gets up from his seat across from you to prop his elbows on the table, getting a closer look at your cute, embarrassed appearance as he rests his head on his hands. "make me," he prods some more.

reminiscent of the first time you cooked together, you peeked through your fingers to witness his adorable grin waiting for you. as if wanting you to seal the deal, he closes his eyes and smiles with just his lips. you shyly reach out to grab his cheeks, taking a moment to brush the fringe out of his eyes so you can adore the moles that dotted his face, and slowly bring your own lips towards his to press them together in a kiss.

it's short but sweet, and soon you're pulling away and finding your fingers more interesting. sunghoon's eyes flutter open and fondly gazed at you. "be mine?" he speaks up.

"if you stop making my heart scream, then yeah," you mumble, stealing a glance at his smug smile. he laughs, stands up, and walks over to your side of the table. turning your chair around as if you weighed nothing, he places his hands on the table behind you, engaging you in between his long limbs.

"sweetheart, that's the whole point," he says, leaning down to chase your lips and kiss you until your heart can't take it anymore. you're both screaming on the inside as your hearts keep pounding in your chests, but at least this time it's from your pure feelings towards each other.

a/n: omg this is the last of captured on camera EEE thank you all so so much for being here with me on this journey of my first one-shot series <3 this really shows my growth as a writer, and i'm so glad i could share it with y'all! i hope you all look forward to my next one-shot series~

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki @fiantomartell

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fanfiction #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst

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ushidoux · 4 years ago

Text

Good Teacher - Sugawara x Reader

Summary: You meet Sugawara on an online dating app expecting something tame, but get more than you expected. (~3.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, some features are described ***, dom/sub dynamics, collaring, daddy kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, spanking, edging, toy use, restraint use, sub drop

A/N: Again, this was a commission so some features are described!! Otherwise, please enjoy my first longer BDSM fic.

---

Being alone in your bedroom at 9pm on a Friday night may have felt like a loss on any other day, but today, with your phone buzzing non-stop and every neuron in the sexy parts of your brain firing, you could not think of anything else you would rather do.

Well, actually you could think of a few, and most of them involved slipping out of your pajamas and slipping under your new flame.

Sugawara Koushi.

A name like that sounded sweet. Maybe even bland. Safe.

When you’d swiped right on his profile on the tamer of your social media apps, you’d expected someone mild-mannered and easy to speak to. He was an elementary school teacher with soft features, white hair and a cute mole under his left eye. He couldn’t possibly be as forward as the other guys you’d dealt with over the years. A tame, responsible choice.

You’d started texting back and forth quickly, with polite, formal introductions which progressed to cute messages and long phone calls, and you’d even managed a very chaste first date where he’d picked you up at 8pm on the dot and taken you to a fine restaurant on the water.

You normally would have expected to be dicked down that night, and had paired sexy lingerie under your silky mauve dress for exactly that, but you weren’t too surprised when he left you at your doorstep with a peck on the forehead.

The only unsettling thing about the kiss was the way his eyes had lingered on your lips, just as his fingers trailed the curve of your jaw as he tucked your hair behind your ear. It was too practiced, too… dominant.

You suspected he was holding something back.

And he was, because once you’d ventured to call in the middle of the night, a little bit tipsy and yearning for a little bit more than a smile and a gentle touch from him, you’d broken some sort of dam.

He’d called you a needy, desperate, pretty little slut, desperate for Daddy’s cock but needing to prove herself that she was willing to ride with Daddy’s very, very strict set of rules first, and you’d practically cum at the sudden turn of his voice.

Now anything was fair game.

I have… particular taste. Are you sure you can keep up, princess?

The warmth between your legs and the image of full balls and a weighty, rigid cock told you, you would absolutely be ready for anything he had in store for you.

Yes, daddy. I’m up for anything you want.

You, of course, couldn’t see the wide smile spreading across his face on the other end, as he palmed his cock slowly while reading your texts and admiring your nudes, and texted back:

We’ll need a shit ton of rope.

---

Sugawara’s hands are much larger than you’d anticipate, and rougher, and you wonder how much of it is due to high school athletics or from the fact that he’s quick to slap or spank you at any chance he gets. Your skin is sometimes red, sometimes bruised, and always marked, and it’s exactly the way you like it.

The first time you have sex, he starts you off as though you are the most shy of virgins even though you claim that you’re not exactly inexperienced.

“I wouldn’t want to break you, pretty girl,” he teases, as his hands worship your body, tracking down your waist to the center of your legs, and patting your cunt softly. Today, he’s promised to focus on your pleasure only because he wants to “break you in.” You wonder how many he’s “broken in,” then you realize you don’t really care. You’re his one and only princess right now, and you intend to be for quite a while.

The pleasure of being a good dom is that he can choose to serve - he can choose to be doting and he can choose to be harsh with punishment. Since it’s your first day since you’ve entered this contract with him, he’s decided to focus on the catering part of his personality, and familiarize you with his desires.

The rose-gold Turian collar on your neck compliments your skin well, he takes note, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and leans you against him while you are seated on the edge of the bed and he’s kneeling just so before you, fingers deep in your cunt.

“You’re gonna keep that pretty little thing around your neck, aren’t you, pretty baby?”

His fingers move so fast that it’s hard for you to speak, and the arm that’s wrapped around your waist and keeping you flush against him is tightening the longer he continues. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, you know from every heavy spank he’s given you.

“I-I will, daddy, every day and every night,” you pant out, your tongue lolling as his fingers curve upwards and his lips leave your nipple with a soft pop and make their way to your quivering mouth.

“Good,” he whispers as he bites your lower lip. “You’re so obedient… I like that in a little one,” he affirms.

---

He’s kind when he teaches, patient even.

He’s also generous; he gifts you with your first corset, a dark, lacy and tight thing that almost takes your breath away initially, especially when he tightens it onto you himself. Even if it’s constraining, you feel empowered from the very moment you look in the mirror. Your breasts sit high, and you spin once in a gesture of delight; he kisses down your neck as you admire yourself.

“This is only to get you used to a little bit of restriction,” he reassures, as he pulls you into his lap. “But I can’t deny that you look breathtaking.”

---

Since you’ve been so bold as to take his breath away, it isn’t too long until he decides he wants to see what you look like when you’re truly struggling for air. After all, the little shiny thing around your neck catches his eye way too often for his comfort, and his pants suddenly feel too tight for a casual grocery store run.

Your safeword is red, like the blood that courses through your veins as his fingers tighten around your throat.

He thumbs your pink, puffy lips, and it would be loving if he wasn’t calling you a stupid little cocktease.

“Pretty little bambi, prancing around like you’re free to be with anyone other than me.”

The breath that tickles your face is a taunt, because you’re slowly getting lightheaded, barely able to focus on the long index finger he’s commanding you to suck.

The pressure he puts on your neck is varying; for moments you can draw a single staccato breath, which encourages him to press his lips to yours and absorb you in a kiss before he reapplies pressure; his naked body presses against yours, rolling painstakingly slow. He hasn’t even entered you yet.

Breathplay, he calls it.

You gasp as his cock slips into your wet entrance just as fast as his hand leaves your throat, and he too draws a deep breath as he fills you to the hilt.

He lets out a soft laugh as he caresses the hair that is sticking to your face, and readjusts himself yet again - of course, he’s also better endowed than you’d expect him to be - before he picks up speed and chokes you again.

---

“I… Kou-”

“Daddy,” he stresses, unphased as he continues to press a small clitoral stimulator to your tender, overworked bud.

“D-Daddy~” you cry out in a soft, drawn out whine, and you shift a little bit because the ties that keep your ankles attached to the legs of the chair, your pussy exposed and vulnerable with your crotch wide open, are starting to dig into your skin. But you can’t move all that much, there’s additional rope around your waist that keeps you against the back of the chair and you think the soft satin that keeps your wrists behind you is probably overkill, even if you have to admit you like the color.

“Yes, sweetheart~” he whispers in a voice accented with assertive sweetness, his eyes still lowered and focused on the heave of your chest as he watches you drip before him.

“I-”

You scream.

He’d angled the toy upwards, and somehow within the small bundle of nerves he’s targeted an even more precise cluster of endings - there’s a flash of white you see before you cum practically violently, lurching forward so rapidly that he has to keep the chair steady so that you won’t fall over on the pretty little face he adores.

It’s possibly the fourth time he’s had to ground you in the past hour, and it’s an act of mercy because he had been edging you repeatedly, forcing your pussy to clench desperately around nothing but air.

The way you gush and spray so lewdly onto the chair, onto the floor, onto the hand he plays on your sopping wet pussy reminds him he chose very, very well.

---

It’s nearly silent and it’s dark now, far too dark for you to see.

Your Koushi has prepared you for this next step lovingly, sometimes not so lovingly over the past couple of weeks to build up to this.

The blindfold that obscures your vision is soft and slightly sweet smelling, as though spritzed with a floral scent about a day ago prior to this. Again your hands are bound, but he’s used lined handcuffs instead of ties, and your wrists are before you, not behind you.

But you’re lying on your belly, a spreader forcing your thighs apart. He must really love the way your pussy looks staring him in the face.

“You seem to be a glutton for punishment, princess,” he says, accenting his words with a hard slap on your inner thigh. You gasp, but his hands linger tighten, and are then followed by what can only be the press of his tongue against the stinging portion.

“Daddy, I’ll behave, I’m so sorry,” you moan as his hand grips a generous portion of your asscheek.

But you won’t behave, because you’ve learned that Suga likes just a touch of bratty behavior and that gets him quite physical with you. He knows this just as much as you.

He slaps your ass fervently, the slight jiggle drawing a pleased sigh from his lips.

“You’re a silly little slut, though…” he starts, rubbing a hand along the length of your thigh, “how can I trust any of your promises?”

His finger travels to your open center, and when he sees you tense up, he stops.

“You need a firm hand to guide you always…”

His right hand curves again around your cunt and his middle and ring finger finds its way into your slippery hole, while his index taps your clit and his little finger (he’s dexterous like this), taps ever so lightly around your asshole.

You shudder.

“Arch your back, you little cumslut. Make it easy for daddy.”

As you inch backwards slowly using your elbows and knees to rise up, his right hand continues to move with you, but then his other hand lands heavily on your other asscheek.

It breaks your concentration and you almost fall because it takes quite a lot more energy than you would expect to move this way with your hands bound and your legs spread, but you persevere.

For him.

Before you can whine once you’ve gotten into position, he withdraws his hand from your cunt.

“No!” You find yourself shrieking before you realize. You can’t have him edge you again, he’s absolutely cruel, you can’t…

“Oh, I thought I called the shots here, princess,” Sugawara reminds you, voice honeyed and cruel. You can feel his fingers weave into your hair and the warm tip of what must be his cock prod at your entrance.

“Sir, please~”

“Beg.”

He spreads you open with a hand massaging your ass, again tapping teasingly all around your vagina, but he won’t push in to give you the pleasure of having his cock inside you.

Your heart is pounding with desire.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please fill me up, daddy!”

That statement of desire earns you an inch, an inch that makes you swallow saliva hard and your muscles tense with need and want.

“M-more, more please!”

“You’re so demanding. I would say your eyes are bigger than your pretty little pussy, but you can’t see, can you?”

He laughs, but he pushes in further another inch, than another, moving painstakingly slow, slow enough that you’re biting your lower lip until blood is drawn. The stretch is achingly delicious but it leaves you starved for more.

You’re begging and whining, and soon you’re trying your best to sink onto him further but he’s got you restrained for a reason.

“Greedy little bitch,” he murmurs, but he kisses your neck lovingly as he fills you to the hilt.

The unmistakable noise of flesh hitting flesh and minimal friction fills the room but you care less about sound, only about the slap of his balls against your cunt as he thrusts into you from behind.

More. Deeper. Faster. Harder.

He’s a master at drawing desire out of you, you wonder if you even needed these toys and ties and other accoutrements. You’re already so utterly wrapped for him.

---

There’s a movie playing on your screen that you had both been pretending to watch, cuddled together on the couch, your legs resting across his lap. You had barely gotten through the opening credits before he pulled you onto him fully and had you straddle him.

“You want a snack, pretty baby?” He whispers, as though it weren’t just the two of you staring in each other’s eyes.

Your eyelashes bat and you nod.

He doesn’t break eye contact while he reaches for a strawberry, fresh from the farmer’s market you’d strolled through this morning, from a bowl set on the table.

This one is drizzled in chocolate, and he runs it along the length of your collarbone, eye contact still heavy and unflinching before he dips down to catch it in his mouth.

It hangs out halfway from his teeth and he cues you to take it from him mouth to mouth. You split half of it, letting the sweet tartness permeate your senses.

His arm hooks around your waist and pulls you in close as he presses his lips against yours. You weren’t aware of the glob of strawberry-flavored saliva he’d collected until he draws away, tilts your head back and tells you to open up wide so he can spit directly into your mouth.

---

“Swallow.”

Suga’s relentlessly pounding an erect, frustrated and thick cock into your mouth, past your teeth and down your poor throat, and he’s close to his release now, you can tell by the way he’s now pressed your face so far against him that his carefully cropped pubes prick your face.

He’s warning you beforehand, and you’re thankful for the warning because when he cums with a soft, almost angelic moan, his penis jerks inside your mouth ever so slightly, and there’s a gush of hot, slippery liquid that slides down your throat.

You breathe through your nose. He tastes sweet, maybe it’s because of the strawberries from just earlier today, but nevertheless it’s a pleasant liquid you gulp down around his cock.

He loves the way your throat feels when it clamps around him, especially when you initially gag once accepting his cock.

You’re perfect.

“Come up, darling,” he bids you, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“Are you gonna fill me up, daddy?” You mewl softly as he lifts up and carries you before laying you on your back.

“Yes, pretty baby, but let me taste your juicy little cunt first,” he says before he dives in between your legs.

---

“You’re so good for me, you know that, don’t you?”

He kisses your neck softly as he holds you close to him while you lay in bed together. It’s close to 1am and he’s focused on aftercare, caressing your arms and waist and the curve of your hip gently. You’re facing away from him, not because you’re upset, but because you’re exhausted.

He’s worried you’re having a sub-drop; after all, he’s spent the last two hours slapping your face and calling you disgusting. He wonders if you forgot to use your safe word.

You’re new to this and he’s put you through a lot in the past few weeks.

“Sweetness,” he whispers, directly into your ear. “Look at me?”

You turn, cheeks still flushed from particularly hard slaps. His heart aches a bit for you, because those sweet lips are pulled downwards into a frown and he’s not sure if those are fresh tears that wet your eyelashes.

He kisses your eyelids then rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Are you doing okay, my princess?”

You nod and reach for his face with your fingertips. Your dom softens under your touch because you are so precious to him. His fingers close around yours and he kisses your forehead.

“The most important thing is your comfort,” he asserts. He taps the collar around your neck that suggests in some way that you are his and he is yours. “You can take this off at any time.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest. It’s been fun and it’s also been freeing to have him take care of you. There’s a soft haze that wafts around your brain lately as you surrender to him. You are in love with him, deeply, in such a short amount of time.

“I would never,” you say, finally.

His heart skips a beat.

“Unless you want to buy me a nicer one, of course.”

He chuckles.

“You’re a feisty little one, aren’t you?” He remarks. He’s glad to look down at you and see you smiling again, eyes bright and brown. He reaches for your ass cheek, then raises your leg so that it lies across his hip.

Your eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, that’s why you picked me to teach, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow, and the cheeky grin on your face is enough to make him get absolutely hard again.

Of course, only if you’re up to the task.

Suga bites gently on your lip again, his hand on your thigh.

“I didn’t expect you to learn so quickly.”

“Maybe you really do have the gift of teaching,” you reply, as you stick your tongue into his mouth.

#sugawara x reader #suga x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara smut #haikyuu smut #fic: good teacher #not sfw #commission work #mae.writing #hqintheclub

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autumntete · 3 years ago

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the art of silence | kim taehyung (TEASER)

pairing: taehyung x male!reader

au: college student!taehyung x high school teacher!reader

summary: you decide to teach your loud ass neighbour a lesson in the art of silence

word count: TBA

warnings: explicit smut (18+), unprotected sex, age gap (tae's 20, reader's 28), dom!top!reader, sub!bottom!taehyung, voyeurism + exhibitionism, + more

The door flew open.

He was more or less what you'd expect. A skinny college kid with dark, curly hair, his under eyes dark from lack of sleep. What you hadn't expected was how attractive this guy was going to be. As a gay man in your late-twenties, you could always appreciate a pretty face and this kid really had one. He was definitely hot, a nice sculpted nose and stunning, high cheekbones. Delicate moles dotted his face, one below his left eye, another on the tip of his nose, and the last placed cutely on his lip.

What caused you to be quite taken aback was his attire. He was wearing... well, nothing. Not too surprising considering what you were here about. A sheet was draped haphazardly around him, covering his sensitive areas but not at all well. You quickly averted your eyes from below.

"Uh, did you need something?" His voice was pleasant but cheeky, a low rumbling as he held the sheet around his waist.

"Y-yes actually," you replied, suddenly remembering why you were here in the first place. You stood tall and tried to come across as authoritative. "Tell the girl you're railing in here to be quiet. A lot more quiet. Some of us are trying to sleep here." You crossed your arms in defiance. Also because you were beginning to feel very uncomfortable in front of the basically-naked 20 year old in front of you.

The boy didn't reply for a moment, his face morphing into an expression of confusion. He raised an eyebrow. "You... you think I'm fucking a girl in here?" He asked incredulously.

You rolled your eyes. "Duh, what else would you be doing? Believe me, I think anyone within 10 miles are also well aware of that,"

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you. However, this didn't last long.

The interruption came in the form of a man coming out from the dark apartment. You could see that he was a great deal taller than the guy you were currently talking to, as well as far broader in the shoulders. He was also significantly older, perhaps by around 10 years. He had a muscly build with a rugged face, definitely not your type. But also not the type to be making those kinds of sounds in bed.

What the hell was going on here?

This guy wrapped his arms around the dark haired boy from behind before whispering seductively in his ear.

"Baby, come back to bed..."

The curly haired boy looked at you with a smirk. You prayed that your mouth hadn't fell open in shock.

"We'll try to be quieter," he giggled. Quickly, he latched onto the older man's hand and lead him back into the apartment, slamming the door in your face.

That was the day you found out your neighbour was gay.

And a bottom.

#taehyung x male reader #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts x male reader #bts x reader #sub taehyung #bottom taehyung #taehyung x you #bts x you #kim taehyung

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thatharringrovehoe · 3 years ago

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Mob AU Nancy and Steve ✨friendship✨!!!

- Nancy Wheeler introduced herself to Steve Harrington in sixth grade. Cuz Steve was handsome and more charming than any eleven year old had any right to be and Nancy's mother had taught her that it's important to secure your future at a young age. And while she wasn't going to enter into a marriage of convenience, she was definitely vying for a spot in King Steve's court. Because this Nancy is.. not bad. But spoiled. Accustomed to a certain lifestyle. Isn't used to being told no. Watched her mother wilt under the weight of a loveless and stagnant union with her father. So she wants her own power. And that means making friends with Hawkins royalty.

- Steve imidiatly likes her. Sees her bushy curls and sharp teeth as she holds out her tiny bird bone hand. She's got a firm grip. Got fire in her eyes. Steel in her spine. He's pretty sure Nancy could take Steve's crown if she really wanted. But Nancy doesn't want to rule. She wants freedom. Freedom to say and do and be whoever she wants. And Steve? Steve can respect that.

- They didn't really become friends until a year later on Steve's birthday. It was expected that Steve's parents wouldn't be home. Wouldn't call. Wouldn't bother to send a gift since they had scheduled an extra bit of cash in the monthly payment for the account they had opened for him. And while Steve would throw large parties in highschool later, right then he was only twelve. All alone in an empty castle. So it was a suprise when the doorbell rang. And there stood Nancy Wheeler, dressed in her Sunday best and holding a truly hideous birthday cake. Lopsided and crumbly, with a "happy birthday Steve" written in neon green icing because that was the only color she could find before her mother discovered what she was doing. It's burnt all to hell and Steve's got tears in his eyes because he knows Nancy HATES baking. Had never taken to it no matter how hard her mother tried. So it's no surprise that Karen Wheeler has a back up cake in the backseat of her car that she's parked in Steve's driveway. And as delicious as it is, he likes Nancy's better. Keeps the hand drawn card she made him in a place of honor up on his bedroom wall.

- They grow up being each other's cheerleader. Steve doesn't brush Nancy off when she tells him she wants to enter into politics. He thinks she has exactly what it takes. Pitties the poor idiot who thinks they can take on Nancy Wheeler in a debate. And Nancy doesn't bat an eye when Steve tells her he likes boys just as much as girls. Sits with him at lunch sipping her juice box as they rank the boys in their class from hot to not.

- And you see Tommy is 100% Steve's guard dog. But while Tommy protects the body, Nancy protects the Kings heart. Because that's Steve's only weakness. He loves so easily, so deeply. Is a gentleman to a fault. Will never use his influence and power against someone he's taken to bed. And that proves to be a bit of a problem because it means people try to take advantage. Means that people lie to get what they want from Steve. And Nancy? Nancy HATES bullshit like that. Can snuff it out like a bloodhound from a mile away. And when she finds it. Boy howdy you better fucking run. Cuz Nancy Wheeler is good at cutting people down. Is almost as good as Jonathan when it comes to finding secrets. But she likes to twist them. Make a mountain out of a mole hill that sets your reputation on fire. Steve doesn't encourage this. But he also doesn't put a stop to it.

- Nancy knows Steve is in love with Billy Hargrove before he does. Knows the signs. Watches him fall fast and hard. And at first she brushes it off. Just another in the long line of flings for Steve Harrington. Bright and explosive like a firework and over just as quickly. But before long she catches her mistake. Because this isn't a firework so much as it's a forest fire. All encompassing and dangerous. She doesn't want to watch Steve get burned.

- But she also watches Billy hold Steve's hand under the table in the cafeteria even though he's shaking. Sees this angry boy go soft for her best friend. And she can spot the bruises. Knows through Jonathan where they came from. Knows Billy still risks it all just for Steve. Because he loves Steve maybe almost as much as she does.

- Steve and Nancy have ALOT in common but are total opposites in other areas. Because while they're both dominant in personality they differ in how they show it. Steve is possessive. Doesn't like anyone LOOKING at Billy let alone flirting with him. Will cover his neck in hickies and buy him new clothes as if to say "This is MINE. Do not fucking touch". But then Nancy? Nancy likes to show off what's hers. Knows that even if people vyed for Jonathan's attention like they do Billy's it wouldn't even matter. Because Jonathan is GONE for Nancy Wheeler. She has him on a long leash but she yanks it sharp whenever she feels like it. No one else gives it to him like she does. No one else will take him under the bleachers and edge him till he cries so so pretty. No one will scratch claw marks into his back till he bleeds so right. And no one will put him back together so perfectly. Card their fingers through his hair. Tell him they love him for everything he is. Even the weird parts. And she means it.

- Mike Wheeler respects Steve Harrington. Because it's because of him that El is in school with the party instead of locked away in Hopper's cabin or a lab cell. Has been babysitting Mike and his friends for years with Nancy. Never once made fun of any of them for their DnD campaigns. And he suspects Steve is probably the reason him and his friends NEVER get bullied.

- Karen Wheeler DOES NOT flirt with Billy. Just. No. The Duffer Brothers did her so fucking dirty. Karen DOES cheat on her husband though. Like. Alot. (WITH CONSENTING ADULTS). Ted doesn't notice. Steve doesn't think highly of her. Above all else hates disloyalty. Watched his mother's heart break with every one of his father's sordid affairs so while he can see why she feels unsatisfied, he can't respect her.

- Nancy was going to give Billy the shovel talk but every time she tries, Max shows up out of nowhere snarling. Cuz Steve isn't the only one with a protector. Looks at this little spitfire who's ready to put Nancy's head on a pike for her brother. Reminds her so much of Nancy herself at that age. A little girl who will not bend. Isn't afraid to get blood in her teeth. It's the reason Max hasn't threatened Steve. They have a mutual respect. And as those two idiots fall deeper and deeper in love they worry less about heartbreak. Find a comradery in each other. Max teaches Nancy how to skate board while Nancy shows Max how to draw eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man.

- Billy was really jealous of Nancy at first because her and Steve are so close. Was convinced Billy was just a distraction while Steve waited for Nancy to get bored of Jonathan. This resolves itself when Billy accidentally walks in on Nancy riding a tied and gagged Jonathan's in the photo development room and the tone that she uses when she tells Billy to lock the fucking door on his way out makes it obvious that Nancy and Steve are NOT compatible in that way. Billy will never admit it but he is low key intimidated by Nancy Wheeler. Steve laughs so hard he shoots soda out of his nose when Billy tells him about it.

#in this house we stan dom Nancy Wheeler #don't worry she's very thorough with aftercare #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy hargrove/steve harrington #billy/steve #Nancy Wheeler/ Jonathan Byers #Max Mayfield #Mad Max #Nancy Wheeler #Jonathan Byers #I'm sorry guys but i think Karen would still cheat #JUST NOT WITH MINORS WTF #Mike Wheeler #i love this Steve/Nancy friendship #jancy #Mob AU

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curly-bangtan · 4 years ago

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Heatwave Anniversary Drabble: i miss u like ... a lot (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! but this drabble can be read alone

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: One night until Taehyung is back from his boys’ trip but you miss him too much.

Genre: fluff, smut, kinda crack?, boyfriend/established relationship au

Warnings: unprotected sex (oc on contraception so don’t u do it), teasing over the phone, riding and grinding, just kinda vanilla i-missed-u-so-much sex, a particular selca

Word count: 5k

A/N: It was Heatwave’s one year anniversay on the 17th so I decided to write a quick(?) drabble for this. I fully intended on posting this on time, but wanted to change up some stuff so only managed to finish this now. Happy birthday to my first fic and forver my baby!

MOSTLY UNEDITED

The absolute one thing you hate most about your boyfriend being away from you is your boyfriend being away from you.

You have never been the clingy needy type, that is more his role in this relationship, nor are you really one to show affection. In fact, you would hate for that false image to be perceived of you because all that sappy shit makes you want to throw up your dinner. But one thing you’ve learnt since Taehyung had gone away on a week-long boys’ trip down by the coast is how cold the house feels in his absence, despite being in the middle of a sizzling summer.

Everything is so eerily quiet without his random outbursts into song and fits of laughter. Having spent 3 years living together, you have gotten so used to his constant presence that you had even caught yourself several times calling out for him only to remember that he isn’t here. Waking up without his arm draped around your waist, slided up your top at some point during the night, impacts you more than you’d like to admit.

Are you glad that he’s having a great time with his friends by the beach, relaxing all day and drinking all night? Of course. Are you having a great time all by yourself over here in the absence of your boyfriend? Certainly not.

Though, of course, this isn’t something you would confess to out loud, especially to him. He doesn’t need to know how often the thought: ugh fuck, I miss Tete is crossing your mind, lest you want him to rub his smugness in your face.

It isn’t just that. Your relationship hasn’t been without its tests in the course of its years and things have only finally stabilised. It’s not that you don’t trust Taehyung to be with his ladish friends for seven days, shirtless dusk till dawn, intoxicated to the point where he calls you thinking that you’re the pizza delivery guy but…

A hammered Taehyung at a beach full of girls who are no doubt thirsting over him leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You trust him to be loyal to his core, but you don’t trust anyone else to keep their hands from copping a feel. No matter how you look at it, you would just so much rather he be at home with you right now.

You have endured this for six days. Six full days without Taehyung. Six full days with no sex, no tummy kisses, no clammy hand holding even though you’re only to get groceries. Just one more night and this torture will fucking be over, praise the lord. But you also don’t know how much more you can hold back that I miss you text because you’re combusting from the need to see him again.

It’s almost 4am. Your sleep schedule is fucked and it’s really his fault.

The bright screen of your phone offers the only luminescence at this hour. Your messages from him in the past week have not been shy of your daily dose of Taehyung - clips of the beach (always mischievously caption with something along the lines of “thinking of Mykonos ;D” where you went on your first holiday together), selfies that you dwell way too long staring at because you miss that face buried in your neck, drunk videos of the antics him and the boys get up to that you’ll definitely chastise him for when he comes back yet can’t help but laugh at. You find yourself scrolling through them every single night.

Your personal favourite: a pouty selfie he sent you after he dropped his ice cream, the picture you always go back to and the one you’re staring at right now. His hair is frizzy from the sea, lips jutted out childishly and cheeks puffy. Your chest constricts, fuck...

Just one more night, you remind yourself. And then he’s back and all yours again.

Then suddenly, the phone in your hand vibrates, short and abrupt. The bar slides down from the top of your screen reading New Message from Tete. Surprised, you scramble to open it, maybe a bit too desperately for you to be proud of.

04:11

Tete: bby

You blink at those three letters, lips pressed together because your heart is cinching.

Tete: ur prob aslep rn but

Tete: i missu

Tete: <334

The typos indicate that he is wasted, and you take a guess that he has just returned from their last night out of the holiday. The corners of your lips turn up knowing that he is thinking of you right now.

You: no im awake

Your fingers are itching to reply with i miss u too, and it takes all your willpower and stubbornness to stay true to your steadfast self. There is just something so unpleasantly moist about these kinds of texts, something that makes you cringe and gag when you read them. You refuse to be one of those people. A heart is all that you allow yourself to reply.

You: <3

You: r u drunk?

Tete: drunk in love

Tete: yes

A giggle escapes you at his god awful cheesiness - drunk, sober alike. Insufferable. But probably Taehyung’s most endearing quality.

You: did u have fun!!

Tete: yeah

Tete: but i miss u

Tete: more than i had fun

God, you feel like a teenager again, suddenly overcome with this gushing urge to roll over and scream into your pillow. You’re glad he’s merely texting this to you right now because if he had said this to you face to face, your skin would most definitely stain scarlet from neck to hairline, scalding to the touch. Even months into officially being his girlfriend, these curveballs of overwhelming affection throw you off guard.

Again, the compulsion to tell him you miss him too yanks at your heartstrings. You truly don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to say how you feel, let yourself be soft and vulnerable. You know it’s one of your flaws so it’s something that you’re working on, but you can’t say you’ve made much progress.

But just as you decide that maybe you should take the plunge, suck it up and just text him those three words, he sends you a picture.

Tete:

No, not just a picture. A selfie, of him in bed, shirtless under the covers. “Oh, fuck…”

Hand clasped over your mouth to prevent any sound from involuntarily escaping, it takes a moment for your breath to return to you and for you to stop gawking. At this hour… Really? Is he seriously doing this to you right now?

His sleepy eyes. His messy curls. And his fucking nose mole.

The undoing of your existence.

Tete: this boy misses u :]

You: bruh

You: bruhhhhhhh

You: taehyung

Tete: oui my lady :))

You: 👁👄👁

You: can u not do this to my heart

You: y did u send me this </333

You: what was the reason

Tete: coz i miss u

Tete: do u like it

Tete: :D

‘Do u like it’... Actually, you have tears in your eyes, albeit mostly due to staring at a screen for too long so late at night, but it’s certainly contributed by this selfie. You tell yourself you’re acting out because it’s been six days since you last saw him. Perhaps Taehyung Withdrawal Symptoms is the explanation behind why you want to print and frame this picture because that is definitely not a normal reaction to a picture. But this is a masterpiece.

You: taehyung my soul left my body

You: like i could weep

You: u look so soft and fluffy

You: :’(

Tete: lollll

Tete: simp

This boy has some nerve?! Simp! He called you a simp?! Laughing like a maniac, you can’t even pretend to be mad at him, not after this picture he sent anyway. So you guess you are a simp. This selfie is your kryptonite.

Tete: jkjkkkkk

You: hahahaha

You: y r u doing this to me

You: its 4am

You: u can’t send me this rn

You: i won’t be able to sleep

Tete: o yeah how come ur still up?

Tete: go to sleepppp

You: can’t sleep

Tete: aw no whyyy

Because you miss him that’s why.

You miss Kim Taehyung. You miss Tete. You miss your boyfriend, your best friend, your other half. You miss his touch, his smile, his wide eyes when he’s confused. You miss his morning snuggles and late night kisses. You miss the way he hugs you from behind as you prepare your meals. You miss the wandering hands that he can’t help when you’re out in public. You miss playing PUBG together until the sun comes out then both sleeping past noon. You miss taking baths together where bubbles would get into your mouth as your kisses get heated.

You just miss him.

It’s only been six days and you’re in this state. What has he done to you?

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you let out a great sigh and deflate. No other reason offers itself for you to be awake at this hour; he knows you cherish sleep above anything. Teeth digging into your lip, you inhale long and hard, then exhale the gust of your cowardice. It’s not that deep, stupid. Fuck it.

You: coz

You: i miss u

You: like … a lot

You: 🙄

It’s final - you guess you’ve become a mushy wet sap. Truly it is embarrassing how big of a step this is for you; but the sense of pride and accomplishment feels oddly validating. Baby steps. The eye-rolling emoji right after is subconscious because you could only betray the core of your character that much. Forgo it and taehyung might not believe that it’s you.

Tete: omg

Tete: :D

Tete: rrly?

You: *blank kissy emoji*

Tete: wow

Tete: u actually don’t know how hard i’m smiling rn

You: simp

Tete: ofc that’s my middle name

Tete: i miss u a lot too

Tete: like a lotttttt

Tete: i’ll show u how much when i’m back

Ah… Of course, the Taehyung specialty - smothering you with his affection. You freeze at the thought of his wildfire kisses and head between your thighs. Nothing screams of how much you’ve missed each other more than a good dicking down, climax after climax until you’re both panting messes of sweat and entangled limbs. The anticipation makes you squirm under the sheets, legs pressing together.

You: pls do

You: i need u

It’s uncertain what spirit has possessed you at this ungodly hour for these words to come out of you. There’s an instant flash of ickiness, but you let the self-cringing simmer and dissipate into the realisation that this is okay, this is normal. Taehyung’s your boyfriend, couples text like this. You need to grow some.

Tete: fuck baby

Tete: i’m so not used to u texting like this, it's driving me crazy

You: crazy how *cat smirk*

If you weren’t smiling before, you’re definitely grinning like an idiot now. His reaction is predictable, yet oddly still, an incredible wave of satisfaction hits you. And because you want to savour this moment, maybe give him a taste of his own medicine, you send him a picture of yourself.

Camisole strap slid off your shoulder, hair splayed out, bottom lip deep red from biting down on it too much. Just to return the favour.

Tete: y/n

Tete: call me now

-Incoming call from Tete-

Laughing to yourself, you wait a good few seconds before picking up to prolong his torture. “Yes, Taehyung?” You put your thumb between your teeth to suppress the laughter.

“Fuck.” Against the silence of the night, the low rasp of his voice permeating into you from the speaker of your phone sends tingles up your toes. You’ve fucking missed his voice more than you thought. “Y/N… You can’t do this to me.”

“I told you, I miss you. Like… a lot.” The saccharine tone in your reply is foreign to your own ears, but you like the sound of it and the deep rumble it elicits from your boyfriend.

“How much?” Taehyung eggs you on. His words are barely slurred, so you gather that he has sobered up at least for the most part by now. Yet there is still a slowness to it that suggests

“Hmm, like… I touched myself every night at the thought of you a lot.”

A sharp inhale. Then silence. But you know better so you give him a moment to gather himself.

“You shouldn’t be putting that image in my head.” Exasperation is evident in his voice, desperate and yearning. You can imagine him now, one hand on his phone, the other sliding over his pants that are getting a bit too tight for comfort. Your breath hitches.

“Then you shouldn’t have sent me that picture, Taehyung…”

“You said it was soft and fluffy. What you sent me back was not soft and fluffy.”

“Just because it’s soft doesn’t mean it doesn’t turn me on. You do things to me… okay?” Heat trapped beneath the skin of your cheeks, your grip on the phone against your ear slackening as your thighs rub together.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard, baby…” Nothing gets him going more than the knowledge that he turns you on, it’s his weakness but somewhat his strength.

“That’s… unfortunate. Are you going to do something about it?”

His gulp is audible even over the phone. “Uh…” A sigh. “Um. Maybe. Thoughts are being thought.”

“What kind of thoughts? Thoughts about me touching myself and moaning your name? Thoughts about how much I wish my fingers were your cock thrusting so deep into me that I feel it in my guts? Or are you thinking about what you’ll do to me when you’re back tomorrow? Fucking my mouth until I’m crying or filling me up with your cum first?” Your hips buckle at the filth leaving your mouth. This is more like you; you haven’t abandoned your nature after all.

“Oh, fuckkkk.” His moan resonates into your skull, not quite as if he’s here with you but good enough to fill your desire. “Y/N… I need you so badly.” Breath ragged, you hear movement of his sheets in the background as he adjusts into a more comfortable position.

“Are you stroking your cock right now?” A warm slick oozes out of your own entrance. There’s something about Taehyung masturbating to you that elevates you to a different kind of high.

“What do you think, baby?” As you listen closely, you hear the slow rhythm of his pumping, and your fingers ache to pleasure yourself. ‘The things I’ll fucking do to you when I’m back.”

“Mmm, but it’s late, Taehyung, why don’t we go to sleep.”

“Wait, what?” The stroking stops instantly and surprise in his voice releases a smug satisfaction into your veins. The equivalent of pouring a bucket of ice water over his head right now. Teasing is an old undying habit, what can you say? “You wanna end the call now?”

“Yeah, we should sleep, babe.” Grin unsuppressed, you turn over onto your side, probably a bit too pleased with yourself at your success. Taehyung is an easy victim always.

“What the fuckkk?” Your boyfriend groans. “You’re seriously going to tease me this hard then leave me high and dry?” When you offer no more response than a sly chuckle, he add, “You’re so evil.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Taehyung. Think about it, we’re one sleep away from seeing each other again.”

“Fuck, I know. But you just got me so fucking horny, bruhhh. I thought we were gonna have phone sex.” You are still laughing at his whining, basking in the victory you’re holding over him.

“Taehyung, save it for the real sex.” The idea of phone sex crossed your mind several times to be honest, but you really want to collect every single drop of desire and longing and unleash it tomorrow. Raw and pent up. Nothing to dampen the fire.

A sigh of defeat down the line. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know?” You know. “How am I supposed to sleep now though? I’m so rock hard that it hurts.”

“You can figure that out yourself, big guy.” Your cheeks ache from smiling for too long; they often do during calls with him. “One sleep away, okay?”

“Ugh, fine, you demon. I can’t believe you sometimes.” He lets out another sigh. Your heart skips at the anticipation of how he will punish you for this. “Good night, I miss you.”

“Good night, I miss you more.” There’s a sudden change of tone with these words. Because you truly mean it. Sex and physical intimacy aside, you really just missed his voice, his banter.

You fall asleep almost immediately.

You don’t think you’ve heard a sweeter sound than the keys rattling at the door the next day. Practically leaping off the couch where you had been awaiting him in your Taeyhyung-less boredom, you run to the door.

As it swings open, heat courses to your chest when your eyes land on his, so full of comfort. Your boyfriend is home. Handsome as ever, much more tanned than your memory of him and much more attractive. White t-shirt and loose black shorts, a mundane outfit that only he could make look exceptional.

And as much as you want to sprint up and throw yourself onto him, your feet stay planted on the floor.

“Hey.” You barely breathe out.

Stay calm and composed, you tell yourself. It was only one week without him, it’s not like he’s returning from war.

But Taehyung doesn’t even reply, because in two long strides he is standing before you, bags tossed to the side, a sign of their insignificance in the presence of you. His arms find their home circled around you, face buried in your hair before you can utter another word. You don’t hesitate to return his embrace, holding his waist as you let yourself fall into his chest. He smells like what summer should, the ocean, sweat and young love; his familiar musk greeting you as if he never left.

Your lips meet his, strong and full of intent. He’s so unexpectedly soft when he kisses back, a timeless romantic dance like he is saviour your taste on his tongue.

With your weight leaning on him, he slowly topples back, stepping hastily until your bodies land on the couch. You fit your legs on either side of him as you burrow your nose in his neck and breathe him in, memorise him. In nothing but a large shirt, your bare thighs are exposed for his roaming.

When you pull away and face each other, you are struck by his beauty. His skin is sun-kissed and glowing, hair an effortlessly beautiful mess, the slightest hint of a stubble peeking through below his nose. Your heart belongs to him forever, you know it without a doubt.

“You smell so good. I missed you so much, baby.” And his voice… That deep baritone honey that you have taken for granted all this time - music to your ears.

“Imissedyoutoo…” You mumble, shy under his undivided attention and mercilessly unbroken eye contact.

With your chests pressed together, his chuckle rumbles into you. “What was that?”

“I missed you too… I guess.” Face flaming, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at your admittance, fingers twirling around his curls to preoccupy yourself.

But he cups your chin and turns your face to him, forehead pressing up to yours until your noses are touching, breaths mixing. “That’s not what you said last night.” Taehyung smirks, hands sliding down to your waist, the material of your shirt bunching up in his hands. “Do I need to remind you?”

“No…” You find yourself unable to keep your eyes open, your core pulsing mercilessly as you grind onto him. “How are you already hard, Taehyung…” And though you mean to scold him, it comes out breathless.

Lips hovering, he traces the edge of your jaw, tingling the sensitive little hairs on its way to your ear. When he reaches the shell of your ear, warm breath infiltrating so relentlessly into you, you almost lose yourself right there on his lap. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” He whispers.

“Show me.” Is all you make out.

His hands are already beneath your shirt before you even notice, palms kneading into your breasts as he takes your nipples between his two fingers and rolls. As he kisses you again, the same tenderness exchanges between your lips. It’s a different kind of desperation to be so slow and gentle, one that means so much more than sex, one that’s telling of how much you truly missed each other. Your hips roll with a mind of their own over him. One hand of his comes down to your ass, guiding the waves of your rocking. And each time his stiff clothed member digs into your clit, you whimper into his mouth.

Carefully, Taehyung rolls you over onto your back, sucking your bottom lip to keep the seal from breaking. He pulls away when he’s on top of you, and a string of glistening saliva bridges between your mouths. “Foreplay or no? Tell me what you want?” Compliant as ever.

“I need you to fill me up right now. Anything else can wait.” You watch the devotion ignite in his eyes. His fingers are in a hurry as they pull your panties off, knees spreading your legs open as he kneels between your gaping entrance. He tugs his shirt off from the collar, such smoothness in his action that your insides coil up. His newly-bronzed rich skin revealed, you can’t help but reach up and run your hands down from chest to navel, revelling in his blemishless ridges.

A low sound reverberates from the back of Taehyung’s throat as your touch travels down to unbutton his shorts. They fall loose. His hard throbbing members springs free, a glistening bead oozing from his slit. “You didn’t wear boxers?”

When you glance up, you notice his sheepish grin. He presses his mouth onto yours, still smiling, guiding you back onto your back. “I just couldn’t wait.” Taehyung whispers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, especially since last night… Ah, fuck.” Another deep groan erupts from him as you reach down and slather that bead of precum all over his tip. His head falls onto your neck, writhing under your merciless stroking.

His tip brushing against your clit, your toes curls at the teasing of your weakness, hips jolting up involuntarily and perhaps a bit too violently. You’re so embarrassingly sensitive after this many days without Taehyung, and he notices from your breathless reaction. Smirking, he takes his shaft in his hand and runs his stiff head over your clit mercilessly. And as you roll your head back helplessly, he nibbles onto your exposed neck, faint stubble grazing your skin.

“Quit the teasing…” You whine, unable to withstand the build up of twisting pressure begging to be fulfilled between your legs. “Just put-”

Taehyung pushes himself into you so abruptly that you yelp. And there it is, that mind-melting stretch of your walls that you’ve so much missed. “Fuck, Taehyung…” Your entire core feels ablaze, so numbing that your nails dig into the leather of the couch before they find grip on his arms.

“Like that, baby?” His voice his strained, as if he’s struggling not to lose his mind as well.

Nodding because you can’t make out a word as he slowly pulls out, you grab his face and pull him up to meet your lips. You whimper into him mouth when he rams into you again, hitting your walls in full force, no mercy. His kiss doesn’t lose its sincerity despite the juxtaposition of his vigorous thrusts, though you can’t say that he is quite as gentle with as before. You pinch his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it as your fingers get lost in his hair.

After seven days of deprevation of his cock, your cunt is leaking with the fluid of your arousal, aiding in the ease of each plunge. You feel the stiffness of his ridges pulling you open as he slides in and out of you. “Fuck…” He pants, mouth hovering over yours.

“Let me get on top.” Taehyung’s eyes flash at your suggestion, instantly rolling onto his back. He slips out during the switch of position and the wetness of your cunt is assailed by a sudden rush of cool air.

You swing your leg over and mount him, watching him watch you pump his dick, your own liquid slathered over him sticky in your hand. Letting his member fall against his abdomen, you grind over him between your folds, hands splayed out over his chest. The friction created each time your clit would slide over the thin pinch of skin where his tip unfolded into his shaft has Taehyung a groaning mess.

He looks remarkable under you.

You push his sweat-dampened curls out of his forehead, eyes half closed in euphoria, half watching you roll your cunt so lewdly over his length. You know you could make him cum like this if you continue. But you want him to cum inside you first, you want to feel that thick hot spurt of his desire shoot again and again into you until his cock is twitching.

So slowly, lubricated by your wetness, you sink inch by inch down until the skin of your ass meets his thighs. This angle fuck with your mind; you think you feel him at your cervix. Then your hips start to do what they know best, pounding over him with a rhythm that you’re proud of.

Taehyung grabs hold of your waist, your breasts, fury in his eyes as he watches you ride him with such determination. “I love you so much.” He heaves between heavy breaths.

“I love you, I missed you more than you could imagine.” You huff, thumb running over his red swollen lips.

“I love when you admit it.” He sits up and takes the swell of your breast in his mouth, making his way to your nipples where his tongue relentlessly flickers over.

Your thighs are starting to burn, core aching because his cock is thrusting up into you so deep that you feel it in your guts. The signs are appearing - your vision is going hazy, walls squeezing tightly around him, tangle upon tangles knoting in your stomach. His are too - his head is slumped against your chest, arms crossed behind your back as he holds you close to him, whole body starting to tense as he begins to curse.

Pace quickening, you don’t let the tire of your muscles stop you from your chase. The slap of your skins ringing in your ears, you keep riding, cunt swallowing his cock whole each bounce. Taehyung breaks first. “Fuck!” He calls out into your neck. His cum squirts into you, pulse after pulse, your boyfriend’s hips jolting each thrust.

“I’m so close, babe, keep going for me.” You plead, knowing how sensitive he is right after his climax. He nods wordlessly, face still buried in you hair. The lubrication of his cum abolishes any resistance, letting you slide over him easier than sitting down. And not five thrusts later, your own coil snaps. You through your head back at the wave of pleasure that drowns you, your entire core on fire as your moans echo through the room. It takes maybe twenty seconds for your walls to stop throbbing and for the orgasm to slowly die down.

Taehyung is already growing limp inside you after his orgasm. “Thank you.” You whisper against his forehead while you dismount. His cum flows out of your slit and down the insides of your thighs, but he refuses to let go of you.

When he looks up, you are struck by an overwhelming sensationf of adoration. His long dark curls fall slightly over his eyes, in disarray but just the way you like it. His eyes are so full of genuine love and gratitude of having you that you can’t help but capture him with your lips. “No, thank you.” He mumbles against you, falling back onto the couch with you in his embrace.

After a long kiss of after-sex affection, you pull away before it leads to a second round. “I want you to know that I really missed you a lot. I can’t even call you a big baby anymore because I stared at all the pictures you sent me every night till the sun came out.”

Taehyung’s boyish smile melts your heart. You’ve missed him way too much. His smile, his goofy comments, his tender kisses. “My heart… is squeezing…” If his smile doesn’t tell how smitten he is, his eyes definitely do. “I missed you so much too. All the boys made fun of me for being such a wettie ‘coz I couldn’t shut up about you.” The thought is so endearing that you can’t help but hide your face.

“So how was your trip? Plenty of hot girls drooling after you?” Trick question of course, you know that for a fact already.

“Haha, it was good, fun. Bet you couldn’t sleep ‘coz you were trembling from jealousy.” Scoffing you land a smack on his chest. “But nah, no hot girls. Nowadays there’s only one hot girl in my eyes.”

Your own lips spread like a cheshire cat. “Shut up, cutie.”

“Rachel McAdams.”

“Let go of me. Don’t even touch me.”

A/N: Moral of the story, never sit on their couch if you’re a guest at the Heatwave house.

24/08/20

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