#i hit that guy with the stranger things beam | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokissweater · 2 months ago

Text

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can—”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

2K notes · View notes

sunsburns · 4 months ago

Text

the great gig in the sky

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x reader

summary: you had come to the library with only one thing in mind; to finish your final paper for class. but then there's this cute forgein lawyer asking you for help finding a book, and you think you're hitting it off with this guy but then the next thing you know, the world is ending.

—or: the world ends when you least expect it

word count: 2.3k+

contains: fluff (at first), angst, horror implications, alien invasion, the-end-of-the-world kind of scenario, blood, graphic gore & violence, mentions of death, death, a lot of angst lol

author’s note: one thing about me is that i love a good old angsty apocalyptic fic (this is coming from my wattpad days and my stranger things fics on there). i wanted to see if i still had the hang of writing horror and i think i've still got it! just a bit out of practice i guess. but anyway, this fic is for the small quiet place fandom! i see you guys! enjoyy

DAY ONE

The library is one of the few places in New York City where you can find a semblance of peace. In a city that never slept, with its constant cacophony of sounds and vibrant atmosphere, the library offers a stark contrast. It’s a sanctuary where time seems to slow, where the world is reduced to the soft rustling of pages, the gentle thuds of footsteps on hardwood floors, and the muted whispers between friends and peers, occasionally punctuated by the sharp "shh!" from the librarian.

You lean back in your chair, your laptop open in front of you with a half-finished report on the screen. Textbooks lay scattered across the table, pages open to the sections that cover your syllabus. You remove your glasses and rub your temples, tilting your head back to gaze at the grand ceiling of the library.

The smell of aged wood and parchment fills the air, a comforting scent that evokes a sense of calm. The high ceilings elevate the space, easing the claustrophobia you often feel in your cramped dorm room or crowded cafes.

Sunlight streams through the tall, arched Victorian-style windows, casting warm, golden beams that chase away the usual aura of stress associated with studying.

After about an hour with your earphones in, a movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention. You jump slightly and glance up from your book to meet a pair of warm, brown eyes. The man standing before you looks a bit anxious, shuffling his feet nervously.

You take out an earphone and look at him questioningly, recognizing him vaguely from one of your classes.

"Hi, uh, sorry," he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, "Do you know where the Crimes and Investigations section is? I tried asking the librarian, but I think she hates me."

His accent, foreign and charming, catches your ear, and you find his awkward smile endearing. He stands in front of your wooden desk, slouching slightly to your level. Up close, you notice the faint stubble on his face and the soft, dark brown of his eyes, reminiscent of oak bark.

"Yeah, it's in the west wing, I think," you whisper back, offering a friendly smile. His curly brown hair is slightly messy, likely tousled by the wind outside.

"Uh," he hesitates, "What wing are we at exactly?"

He looks genuinely clueless and anxious, his brown suit neatly pressed, and his blue tie impeccably straight, giving him a professional yet approachable appearance.

"We're actually at the center court, but I can show you where it is if you’d like?" you offer, feeling an unexpected blush creep up your cheeks. You silently chide yourself; you really need to go out more. You wonder briefly if your friends are still planning on heading to a club this weekend.

A look of relief washes over his face, making him grin. "That'd be really great."

You shut your laptop and stand up.

"Are you okay with leaving your things?" he asks, moving around the table to stand next to you.

You snort, "Please, I doubt there are people in the library with a knack for stealing things. One thing New Yorkers won't steal are books."

"I don't know, I heard college books are getting pretty expensive these days," he says, a hint of humour in his voice that makes you smile.

"Come on, I'll show you," you say, motioning for him to follow you.

As you lead the way toward the other side of the large library, you head toward the tall bookshelves that stand like dominoes. Through the muffling of the windows, you can hear the distant wail of sirens from ambulances and fire trucks, the honking of cars—sounds of the city that usually blend into the background but seem more persistent today.

"You're a lawyer?" you ask, making conversation as you walk.

"Working on it," he replies. "I'm still attending school. I think you're in one of my psych classes, though."

You beam, realizing that was where you remember him from. "Yes, I remember now. Are you taking it as an elective or something?"

"Yeah, sure, something like that."

"And how's American going for you?"

"Not what I imagined, honestly," he admits with a pout. "Don't get me wrong, the teachers are great and all but—"

"The students suck ass, right?" you interject with a smirk. "Yeah, we're pieces of shit here in the States."

He laughs, a rich sound that makes your stomach flutter. "No, I wouldn't say that. I mean, you seem pretty nice."

You feel your face heat up at the compliment, your heart racing. You want to smack yourself with a book; all this guy did was call you nice, and here you are blushing.

You slow down as you approach the section, walking between two bookshelves. There aren't many people in this area, but the sunlight glows into the space through the massive windows, illuminating the lined books. Some are old and dust-covered, inviting you to run your fingers along their spines, the dust clearing off and leaving a grey stain on your finger.

"Anyway, you have a specific book you're looking for?" you inquire.

He opens his mouth to answer, probably something smart and a book you've never heard of before, but your saving grace is the sudden rush of footsteps. People in the library are clamouring toward the windows, the usual calm shattered by a sense of urgency.

Someone runs between the both of you, knocking against your shoulder and making you stumble. You trip over your own feet until the guy in front of you reaches out, his hands steadying you. You thank him briefly before turning to the person who ran into you, "Hey, watch it—"

"Look!"

He's pointing at the window.

You both notice the uproar of people crowding closer, drawn by an unusual sight. From the window, you see that the world outside has nearly come to a halt. Cars are pulled over haphazardly, their doors flung open, and drivers and passengers alike are standing on the sidewalks, staring upwards. Street vendors have abandoned their carts, and pedestrians are frozen mid-stride, all eyes turned to the sky.

You rush to the window and press your hands against the cool glass, gazing out in disbelief. The sky is filled with what looks like falling stars, bright and burning, hundreds of them streaking through the atmosphere with alarming speed. Their fiery trails paint the sky with a chaotic tapestry of light and smoke, plummeting fast into the islands of New York.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the vibration startling you. The piercing sound of the emergency broadcast alert follows, echoing through the library. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you see one of the falling stars crash into a building just blocks away.

The impact sends up a plume of fire and debris, leaving a fiery trail of destruction in its wake. You watch in horror as the building crumbles, a section collapsing in on itself, and the surrounding area is engulfed in flames.

You jump back from the window, stumbling as you try to process what you’re seeing. The people outside are no longer standing still. Panic has set in. They're running, shouting, seeking shelter wherever they can find it.

As you turn, you crash into the arms of the guy from earlier. His face is ashen, all colour drained as he stares out the window in terror. His eyes are wide, reflecting the fiery spectacle outside. You can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he struggles to comprehend the magnitude of what’s happening.

You move around him, your movements hurried and unsteady. Your mind races, a single thought cutting through the fog of fear: get the hell out of here and go home.

Your breaths come in short, panicked gasps. Around you, the library descends into chaos. People scream, their voices a cacophony of terror. The building is now a hive of frantic energy as others rush inside, seeking refuge from the outside.

The ground beneath your feet trembles violently, the walls groaning under the strain. The windows shatter with explosive force, glass shards spraying like deadly confetti.

You instinctively hold your hands over your head, ducking as one of the fiery objects crashes into the building with a deafening roar. The impact throws you off your feet, the world tilting crazily. Bookshelves topple like dominoes, their heavy wooden frames crashing to the ground and sending a shower of books and debris into the air.

You're thrown to the ground, landing hard. Pain explodes through your body, sharp and unrelenting. Your vision blurs, dark spots dancing at the edges of your sight. The air is thick with dust and smoke, choking you, making each breath a struggle. You cough violently, the acrid taste of ash filling your mouth.

You try to move, but every attempt sends a new wave of pain shooting through your limbs. The world around you starts to fade, the edges of your consciousness fraying as darkness creeps in. Just before you succumb, the last thing you hear is the distant, terrifying roar of something monstrous.

When you come to, the library is unrecognizable. The once grand ceiling is partially collapsed, with jagged pieces of wood and plaster hanging precariously above. The air is heavy with the smell of burning paper and wood, a thick, suffocating haze. Your head throbs with a relentless, pounding pain, and as you push yourself up, a horrifying sight meets your eyes.

Few mangled bodies lie around you, some partially buried under rubble, others sprawled in unnatural positions. Blood soaks into ash, coating whatever it touches. Panic surges through you, a cold, paralyzing fear that grips your heart and refuses to let go. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a physical force.

You hear someone scream, a desperate cry for a name, a beloved perhaps. The voice cuts through the smoke and chaos, filled with raw agony and fear. He's shouting, coughing through the thick, acrid air, tripping over his own feet in his frantic search. There's an open wound on his head, a deep gash that dribbles blood down his face, mingling with the dirt and sweat.

"Amy," he sobs, "Amy," he spots you sitting in the rubble and hurries towards you. "Help me—help me find—"

It comes in fast, a blur in the shadows that moves with terrifying speed. Before he can finish his sentence, it's upon him, dragging him away with a ferocity that leaves you frozen in place.

You jump, a silent scream stuck in the back of your throat as you watch the horror unfold. You're trembling, unable to see the creature clearly but acutely aware of the sounds—bones snapping, the dreadful crunching, and the sickening drip of blood hitting the ground.

Tears well up in your eyes, and a cry almost escapes your lips before a hand suddenly clamps over your mouth, stifling your instinctive scream.

It's the guy from before, his face now smeared with dirt, his eyes wide with terror. He holds his finger to his lips, a silent plea for you to stay quiet.

You can feel his hand trembling against your skin, his heavy breaths and anxious pants betraying his own fear.

When you finally calm down, you can sense his fear is even greater than your own. He slowly removes his hand, his eyes searching yours for understanding. Despite the terror, you feel a surge of determination. You nod at him, too terrified to speak.

He helps you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle, and guides you underneath a heavy, wooden table similar to the one you were sitting on earlier. The table's legs are sturdy, and it offers some measure of protection

Your eyes, blurred with tears and the strain of fear, lock with his. The dim light from a nearby, flickering emergency lantern casts deep shadows across his face, revealing the sheer magnitude of his terror. His expression reflects a fear that seems almost palpable, magnifying your own sense of dread.

Despite his visible fear, there’s an unwavering loyalty in his gaze while he presses his hands to a wound on your leg you haven't noticed until then.

You open your mouth, a silent gasp escaping as you instinctively want to speak. However, you remember the perilous situation and close it again, forcing yourself to remain silent. Your trembling hands fumble in your pockets, retrieving your phone.

The screen is cracked and spiderwebbed, but it still lights up, its soft glow a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the library. With a shaky breath, you type a message, each keystroke feeling like a thunderclap in the stillness.

You press the phone towards him, the words “What’s your name?” barely visible through your shaking hands.

He takes the phone from you with deliberate slowness, his movements calculated to avoid making any noise that might betray your hiding spot. Every creak of the wooden floorboards and distant, muffled noises from the library only heighten your anxiety.

The silence around you is almost tangible, filled with the collective holding of breaths from other hidden survivors. They are scattered throughout the library, huddled in various corners, doing their utmost to stay hidden and silent.

The fear of being discovered is a constant, oppressive presence, and no one knows how long they will need to remain in hiding—whether until help arrives or until they are discovered by the monsters stalking within the shadows.

He studies the screen briefly, his eyes flicking between the shattered glass and the message, before handing the phone back to you. The single word “Eric” is typed in, but the simple introduction does little to ease the tension.

The sincerity in his eyes is clear, though his own are brimming with tears that begin to trail down his cheeks silently.

You type your own name quickly and show it to him, your fingers trembling as you tap out the letters.

The strained smile he offers is far from comforting, and his tears make yours burn at your skin. The library remains eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of shifting survivors and the distant, ominous sounds of the monsters prowling outside.

That's when you realized, you were going to die here.

#it is 2:30 in the morning #i hope this reaches the right audience #eric a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place #joseph quinn #a quiet place day one #joseph quinn fandom #joseph quinn x reader #eric x reader #eric x you #eric a quiet place x reader #eric a quiet place day one x you #eric a quiet place x you #a quiet place #eric aqpdo #eric aqpdo x reader #eric aqpdo x you

774 notes · View notes

donatellawritings · 8 months ago

Note

you should totally do boxer!rafe with shy!reader.

love you stinka 😘

love you more <3

you were as shy as they came, your palms hummed with nerves as they glazed over with clammy sweat, eye contact made your tummy swirl with anxious butterflies, and your chewed on your bottom lip or the smooth gummy inside of your cheeks, more often than not. so, it was pretty routine for people’s eyes to widen in obnoxious shock when you decided to take up being a ring girl — it was fast money that paid your bills and would get you through finishing college. although, you weren’t all too familiar with the sport of boxing, you figured that at least the cute outfits, no matter how skimpy they were, and the caked on makeup and bombshell hair could help you get out of your introverted shell.

you couldn’t help but blush, each time you strutted your tight little ass into the ring, your perked up ears not missing the inappropriate hoots and whistles that came your way. your plump lips swelled into a beaming smile as made your way around the ring, you tiny hot pants wedged between your soft ass cheeks and swollen tits pushed up in your skintight crop top, your pedicured feet slightly aching in your elongating shiny black pumps. before returning back to your ringside seat, your doe eyes flickered over to rafe cameron, the up and coming boxer from kildare island who seemed to have each and every girl wrapped around his bruised fingers.

you licked over your swollen lips as he sent you a wink, the blood that dripped from his gashed eye rolling down his structured cheekbone as he smirked at you. you couldn’t ignore the subtle ache that pulsed between your oiled and shiny thighs as he flexed his broad shoulders, before sinking his sharp teeth down into his dark red mouth guard.

“damn girl, y’look good!” a spectator whistled, breaking you from your trance as you exited the ring, prancing over to your cushioned folding chair, flipping your shiny tousled hair over your shoulder.

boxing had never been your thing, but you had to admit that there was payoff when it came to the eye candy you were subjected to watch, day in and day out. however, there was an unspoken rule that came with your job: do not date any of the fighters — it would make things muddy and far too complicated. i mean, what good could come from adrenaline-filled men who fucked as many girls as they won championships?

so, you took rafe’s lustful gaze with a grain of salt — you wouldn’t subject yourself from having to deal with the inevitable heartbreak that would come from having intimate dealings with a man, like rafe cameron.

pulling up the hem of your uncomfortably clingy top, you let out a small huff and you mushed your sticky, gloss-coated lips together. you loved your job, it gave you an escape, an in to be the girl who wasn’t pathetically timid and shy, to the point where you were flustered when holding even the most basic of conversations. yet, you still found yourself a bit secluded from your coworkers, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want to make friends — your coy nature and sheltered upbringing just made it that much harder for you.

taking a small breath, your swollen tits expanded against the fabric of your top as you took in the sound of rafe’s gloved fists cracking into the face of his pathetic opponent. you quickly got lost in the roaring crowd as rafe sent a blood-curdling punch across his weakened counterpart’s jaw, sending the ill-fated man to the floor as rafe cockily flexed his muscles, sticking out his blood-coated tongue as his bright pink lips stretched into a cocky grin.

𝜗ৎ

rafe loved the spotlight, he craved it — to hear people scream and clamor for him was such an aphrodisiac for him. you see, he was no stranger to being fawned over, he’d developed quite the reputation for being a hit-it-and-quit-it type of guy, a one-time lover that you could never seem to forget, or want to forget. but, he too, had his demons. rafe was hopelessly tethered to violence — it was the only fix that truly allowed him to express himself, in a way that thoroughly satisfied him and curbed his anger. i mean, shit, the young man fought so much, he figured he’d might as well get paid for it, not that he needed it, being the heir to his father’s hefty trust fund.

now dressed in light fresh sweats that loosely hung off of his hips, rafe watched with hooded eyes as the ring girls made their way through the dimmed halls — he’d fucked majority, if not, all of the girls, but you, you were new and fresh as a daisy— this was only your second fight. he could smell how nervous you were, a little shaky thing, but oh so fuckin’ pretty.

you just needed a little … conditioning. but, that was okay, rafe could help with that, no problem.

“hiii, rafe,” the cluster of girls sang, each of their enhanced lips spreading into ditzy smiles as rafe entered their line of vision. licking over his lips, rafe nodded in return, before flicking his fingers towards one of the girls.

leaning his head down, rafe sighs with feigned interest in the bottle blonde who stood cheerily before him, “y’wanna help me out, doll?” rafe smiled, watching as the blonde furiously nodded, before he could finish his sentence, “y’so sweet — uh, tell me, where’s that pretty spanish girl who works with you, huh? the real quiet one?” he questions softly, his eyes low as the blonde swallows down her jealousy, before taking a quick breath. rafe could smell the envy that loomed over the blonde — she was a quick fuck from about three months ago, who just couldn’t seem to take the hint.

“um, sh-she shouldn’t be that far behind — is there anything else i can do for you?” the girl answers swiftly, her bright eyes wide with hope as rafe’s eyes fall on you.

softly nudging the blonde’s chin, rafe maintains his million-dollar smile, “nah, thank you though, sweetheart,” rafe declines, his bruised and sprained knuckles stretching against his skin as he makes his way over to you.

a pretty little thing, like you, should never walk with her head down.

breathing out a sharp whistle, rafe can’t help but breathe out a laugh as you flinch, your doe eyes wide as you finally make direct eye contact with the tall man. you were way shorter than him, and he couldn’t help but steal a shameless glance at your deliciously pushed-up tits. rafe’s strained blue eyes didn’t miss the way your wiped the palms of your hands against the skimpy fabric of your tiny black shorts.

“y’don’t need to be scared of me, princess — just wanna properly introduce myself, yeah?” rafe coos, cocking his head to the side with parted lips as your throat bobs with a light swallow, before your dolled-up hair bounces with a subtle nod. “ah, gonna have to break you out of that little shell of yours, yeah?” he comments, gently nudging your chin as your swollen lips part with blushed cheeks.

with a low and mousey tone, you allow your name to roll off of the tongue, your eager bambi eyes set on rafe’s bloodshot blues, “i just, i am not used to putting myself out there,” you force out a laugh, your skin-hugging attire suddenly becoming too tight for your comfort as you find yourself fiddling with the hem of your ridiculously cropped top.

with a tilted head, rafe drinks in every part of you. from your introverted nature and nervous quirks, to the slight sing of an accent that coats your every word.

he couldn’t ignore the way his blood rushed to his cock as you crumbled under his unwavering eye contact, you were new territory for him and he needed to experience you in your entirety.

leaning in a bit closer to you, rafe allows his soft lips to ghost over yours, “want you to stick with me, princess — gonna have to show you how the world works,” he decides, lightly nudging your jaw, before pulling away from you and making his way back to his locker room.

you were left a blushing and slightly embarrassed mess as you found yourself mindlessly following rafe’s path — each and every one of your inhibitions dissipating with each step you pump-clad feet took.

little did you know just how underprepared you were for rafe cameron’s world.

#divider: milkware #asks #anon #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx #rafe cameron smut #boxer!rafe #shy!reader

1K notes · View notes

itaintgojover · 3 months ago

Text

COMPATIBILITY TEST

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ feat. !Frat Boy! Gojo fucks you outside at his party. douchey gojo asks to see how compatible you guys are after you tell him you cant stand him. i wonder what he means...

-`♡´cw: 18+!!!! unprotected sex (be safe guys lol), creampie, oral m and f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm denial, mention of threesome, voyeurism ??, panty thief, drug usage

-`♡´word count: 3.8k

ps. i did not proofread this

The hot, bright beams slowly clouded your vision with dark green spots. The scent of sweat and pheromones filled the air while you and some stranger attempted to dance, but too far gone to worry if anyone was watching. It was simple: Night after night, the douchiest of the frat guys would hit you up and practically beg for you to show up at their “rager”. If it weren't for your friend constantly begging, you would spend most of your nights probably scrolling through your phone. This night didn't feel particularly different, not until you saw him.

Earlier

“Y/N pleaseeeeeeeeeeee, this is my one chance to get laid” Your friend cried out almost in tears.

“Shoko, come on. You said that every other night, we just finished with midterms. I'm fucking tired.” You groaned, exhausted from the weeks of studying.

“Hey, maybe you’ll find someone too. You haven't been with anyone else since Nanami. What even happened between you two, he was literally the perfect man”

The long dreaded question finally popped up. Your ex boyfriend- if you could even call him that- and you had split. He was indeed the “perfect man”. Nanami would always make sure that you were taken care of, always there for you on those late nights when you felt you had no one else. Ideally, you would have liked to end up with him, but unfortunately the stars didn't align for you two. You know he loved you, and you definitely loved him, but you weren’t the one for him, nor he the one for you.

The two of you had realized it early on in your relationship, yet decided to continue whatever you had. It was mutually beneficial, you both got to fill the void of a loved one without being exclusive. It wasn't until recently when you had felt the need to let him go, he felt like a safety net. You weren't ready to completely open yourself up to anyone, but you still wanted the comfort and understanding he provided. It felt like the right thing to do. He told you that he’d always be around if you needed him, and with that you were content.

“Listen, it's complicated. But me and him are on good terms, happy?”

“Somewhat, but I'm worried about you babe. I'm not saying you need someone to be happy, but you don't even seem open to the idea. I think it would be good for you to meet someone tonight. Just promise me that you’ll try, okay?”

The look in Shoko’s eyes seemed to be of genuine concern. You begrudgingly nodded your head in affirmation, although doubtful that such a thing would occur.

You hastily got ready, and you and Shoko arrived at the house. Couples on the lawn shamelessly displaying heinous acts. A myriad of trash thrown around, waiting for the poor sucker the next morning to pick it up. Upon entering it didn't get any better, the same as every other party you’d been to recently.

“Hey, Y/N!!!”

A voice suddenly calls your name and you whip your head around to see your friend Itadori along with your other friends Megumi and Nobara. They come over to embrace you and share pleasantries after not seeing each other for a while.

“Sooooooo, I heard through the grapevine that Y/N’s on the market now. Megs, I think it's finally your chance”

An obviously wasted Nobara says while elbowing Megumi in the ribs and receiving a playful punch back.

“Hahaha, yeah but don't worry, me and him are good. I think i’m gonna get a drink though I’ll be back soon”

You escape the conversation as soon as you can, the only way you would survive tonight was to get shit faced as fast as you could.

Hours go by, and instead of you being absolutely wasted, you’re watching Shoko play beer pong with random people who won't stop laughing. Shoko had-to your terror-informed you that your DD for the night bailed. She didn't outright ask you to be mom for the night, but her passive aggressive whines would say otherwise. Being surrounded by intoxicated people while sober was not how you were expecting the night to turn out. You leave shoko alone for a bit, attempting to go and find a restroom after all the soda you had. You wander upstairs passing at least three couples making out, and start rattling each door handle hoping to find a restroom. Most of them were locked or had a tie around the knob signaling that whoever was behind that door, was getting busy. At last though, one of the doors finally opened and instead of seeing the restroom you see a women straddling a man.

You stand there in shock for a moment. The man had his hand gripped onto the woman's ass, tenderly kneading the flesh beneath her skirt, while sucking on her tit ravenously. The two continued to grind onto each other seemingly not aware of your presence. The man’s gaze slowly turns to you and your breath hitches. Blue was all you saw. As bright as a summer day yet he seemed so far away. Almost as if there wasn't currently a women he was ravishing, all his attention was on you. His eyes remain on you while the women in his lap squeals and shoves her fingers into his snow, white hair seeking something to grip for stability.

The sight immobilized you, you knew you should have walked away as soon as you saw them, but something held you back. Your body subconsciously takes a step back creating a loud squeak from the floor to echo through the room. The woman all of a sudden yelps in surprise and covers her chest yelling an angry “get out” at you.

You rush out of the room feeling your face heat up at the sight you just witnessed. Something about the way his long, slender hands slid up her ass sent shivers through you. It was quiet a foreign feeling, you never would have thought you would feel envy especially over him.

Gojo Satoru. The well known president of the most famous fraternity on campus, Alpha Beta Kai. He was at the top of everyone’s “people to bang at least once” list. There was not a single girl or guy on campus that didn't want to be involved with him in some way. Stories about him reached far and wide, which is why you (who tried your best not to involve yourself with drama) even knew about him. Last 4th of July, the guy has supposedly fucked every girl apart of the sorority next door, Kappa Deltha Phi. Along with the rumors that he was part horse. There were many eye witnesses that came forward, sobbing saying they’d never find a man like him again. To you, Gojo Satoru was a mess who you didn’t wanna associate with. You knew you had mutual friends like Shoko and Nanami, who swore he was a nice guy deep down, but beyond that, you didn't hope for anything more.

Instead of dwelling on it too much, you go back to find Shoko. She's giggling over some dumb joke when she notices that you’re there and runs over.

“Heyyyyyy, Y/N. I missed you sexy, come dance with me”

She hiccups after that last words, and starts dragging you over to the dance floor where house music was playing. You don't even protest, too overwhelmed from what happened just trying to distract yourself. Shoko starts grinding up on you and you give in and do it back desperate to have some fun. The sweat and scent of cheap perfume suffocates you and holds a vague sense of nostalgia. No matter how many times you tell yourself that you’re done with these shitty parties you always come back. Sure, you could blame it on Shoko, but you could easily tell her no. honestly, it didnt make sense to you, but deep down you knew this cycle would keep continuing. All of a sudden, Shoko doubles over and starts gagging. Great, your night just keeps getting better. You place her arm over her shoulder and guide her upstairs to the bathroom (which you now know the location of). You do your best to look away while holding her hair back and assuring her that it’s okay. A ray of orange graces your eyes all of a sudden, and you swear that you cry a little.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N is Shoko okay??? Here, I got it from here. I can tell you’ve gone through a lot tonight.”

“Awww, Nobara i’m going to kiss you. You’re literally my angel, I’ll be back in a little i'm just gonna clear my head. It's been a weird night…”

Getting a sincere nod from Nobara, you walk outside to the backyard, where surprisingly not a soul in sight. You head over to a far couch and sit down for a bit. Maybe you would go inside in a bit, talk up some cute guy then head home. Hell, maybe you could even call Nanami, you know he would answer and rush over in a heartbeat if you even mentioned being lonely. It was tempting, the night would end on a good note and you’d have him to comfort you. The idea didn't seem too bad and you let out a little chuckle.

“What's so funny, voyeur?”

Holy shit. You turn to the voice to see Satoru walking towards you. When did he get here? Last time you saw him, he was almost balls deep in some blonde chick. Now you had to deal with the embarrassment of walking in on them.

“Nothing, just thinking. I’m sorry about earlier, hope you know I’m not a peeping tom or anything like that”

“I mean, if you asked nicely you could have joined. Haven't had a threesome in a while.”

Your eyes widen, surprised he would even insinuate that. Offended couldn't even explain how you felt, does this asshole really think you’d fuck him? He was delusional. Whatever feelings of envy or jealousy you had earlier were long gone, and you were prepared to get up and leave until he came to sit by you. the proximity between you was too close for your liking. You could see him. Not in the way you did before, every minor thing you wouldn't have noticed before was magnified. His perfectly, straight teeth and soft, smooth lips smirking at you. His soft, voluminous hair perfectly being pushed by the wind. His muscular arms being hugged in all the right places by the shirt he was wearing. His eyes. Seeing them up close was another experience entirely. It was almost as if you would drop to your knees right then and there. They gleamed with radiance and temptation, drawing you in the more you stared back at him. Hadn’t you known anything about him, you would have let desire overcome you.

“No thank you, you’re not really my type, plus I can't really stand you.”

Lies. You’re flat out lying, partially. It was true that you couldn't stand this guy, but he was gorgeous. But you couldn't give in and feed his fat ego even more.

“ouch, you're harsh. I heard from a birdie though that you and Nanami broke up, and plus the look in your eyes earlier said otherwise. I could see the way you rubbed your legs together, it's okay to admit you were wet”

He places a hand on your leg, seemingly challenging you. He starts to rub circles with his thumb on your inner thigh while continuing to talk into your ear. It didn't surprise you that he knew about Nanami, they were close enough to each other for him to have mentioned it.

“I would really enjoy myself with a pretty girl like you. I know you don't like me, but that's okay. Doesn't mean we aren't compatible in other ways.”

His hand trails up even higher, climbing further and further towards your drenched cunt. You wished desperately that his words didn't have any affect on you, but they did. There was a war happening in your mind. Did you really wanna fuck this guy and give him something to boast about? The sensible part of your brain was screaming at you to leave and leave him but hurt, but when he was this close to you and saying all the right things, how could you refuse?

“Prove me wrong then.”

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, he gives you a boyish grin and extends out to litter nibbles up and down your neck. Obviously intending to leave marks, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care in that moment. Satoru brings his hand up to your panties and starts to slowly palm you. The sensation against your clit makes you release a low sigh of pleasure. You could feel yourself becoming wetter the more time went by between you- if that was even possible. Sensing your neediness and urge for more, Satoru chuckles and lays you flat against the couch. The fabric from your skirt slowly slides down your legs and then he quickly discards it, leaving you completely vulnerable. A burst of panic runs through you, you exposed outside. Anyone could come outside and see you in this compromised position.

“Don't worry your pretty little head, those fuckers are so shit faced I doubt they’ll come out here”

It eased your worries a little to hear him say that, but you were still on edge. You were taken out of your thoughts though when he bites onto the fabric of your panties above your hip bone, and takes them off with his porcelain teeth. He was taking his time playing with you, and you were unsure of whether to simply enjoy it or punch him in the face. Satoru brings his face close to your pussy, he blows a breath of air right at your clit making you tense up. He laughs at your response then places a tender kiss on your fold. Following it along with licking a stripe on the other, touching everywhere but where you wanted him.

“Satoru, please I need it”

A vulgar whine comes out of your lips in frustration. He smiles at you before giving into your requests and lapping at the sweet juice your pussy had been collecting for him. As soon as he got a taste, he felt like he would cream his pants right then and there. Your whines had gone straight to his dick and he wasn’t sure he’d felt anything like this. He brings up a finger to your wet little entrance and slowly sinks in his long, slender finger earning a moan from you. The more he slides in the more you see stars cloud your vision. You felt the need to close your eyes. Just looking at him made you feel like you would come from the sight alone. His eyes were playful and he would occasionally let out a moan while eating your pussy knowing the vibrations made you spasm each time. The wet squelching becomes louder the faster he pumps his finger while sucking on your clit. The combination of the two makes you wrap your legs around his head while panting and begging for more.

He pulls away sensing your impending orgasm and sits down with his leg spread, his bulge on display. You eagerly get up and crawl over in between his legs. Not wanting to waste any time, you slide the band of his sweatpants down along with his boxers, and your mouth salivates. It brings you back to the rumors about this man being part horse, you had never seen anything remotely as perfect. A large vein running down the side, paired with an angry red bulging tip that was leaking with precum. You slowly bring your tongue to his tip and lick up all the precum that emerged. Parting your lips, you spit all over his cock and bring your hand up to slowly jerk him. His breath starts to become unsteady the more your hand grips his shaft and sends chills through him. You gag a little the more you try to fit him into your mouth, you reach out to his hand and guide it to the top of your head. Satoru blinks a bit in astonishment but takes the hint right away and grips your head leisurely guiding your head up and down his cock. You feel him throb in your mouth the quicker he shoves you down onto him. The more he pushed you down the more you felt the urge to choke all over him, and the more saliva you produced. You could feel it dripping down all over your chin onto him, making lewd noises as you bobbed up and down.

"ohhhhhh fuck, Y/N. holy shittttt, just like that. such a good girl, sucking my cock nice and good."

hearing his whiny groans send a wave of realization over you. you were sucking the gojo satoru's dick. and he was fucking loving it. never in a million years did you think you'd let him see you in such a vulnerable state.

He pulls you off to your shock and bends you over the side of the couch. Realizing what he was gonna do, you arch your back and lean back to tease him.

"woah, patience now gorgeous. you want my big cock that bad?"

Satoru teases, slightly chuckling while admiring the view you give him and landing a light slap to your ass.

"mmm, need it so bad. please 'toru."

Egged on by your little nickname for him, he jerks himself a little before aligning his cock with your plush folds. He slides his tip up and down your entrance preparing you for what's to come before inserting himself little by little. The two of you release a groan of pleasure at the feeling of him sinking into you. As he bottoms out, he pulls out a tad then pushes right back. he continues this process, gradually increasing the speed. the more and more he pumped into you, you could hear the wet noises from him fucking you. it was driving you crazy, you never knew you could be so wet. you start pushing back against him, desperate for even more. he takes the hint and props up leg up to fuck you even deeper. you squeal from the pleasure coursing through your body. it felt too good to even think, you lay against the couch letting satoru take control over you.

A sudden loud creak brings you back to your senses.

"Yooooooo, dude did you see that hot ass chic playing beer pong. ughh, i needa tap that for sure tonight"

"hahaha, you wish. by the way, you seen satoru? That guy is usually always around during parties."

"hey, now that you mention it, you're right! Maybe hes fucking some girl upstairs or something?"

Two boys had come outside, and started laughing and talking loudly. They were close enough to hear, but it would take them walking around the corner to see you two. Terrified at the sudden possibility of getting caught, all the color drains from your face. This is it. These drunkard are gonna see you then go blab to everyone proudly about how satoru has "secured another body". Your immediate thought is that Satoru is gonna pull out and have you guys get dressed, but your eyes widen when he keeps going, if not faster.

He then pulls you up against his back and puts his hand against your mouth tightly. The grip he had on you was intense, one hand keeping your mouth shut while the other crept up to hold your waist against him. You can feel his hot breath against your ear, as he mutters

"Gotta keep you quiet, Princess. Wouldn't want them to see you acting like a slut, would we now?"

you nod your head in agreement, praying that they wouldn't hear you. the only noises heard outside were the loud conversation from the two boys and the obscene noises coming from Satoru rutting into you. It was a miracle they didn't notice.

Satoru picks up the pace, not being able to endure your tight pussy any longer. The feeling of your bare cunt dripping all over his cock sent him spiraling. He'd be silly to think he could last any longer. He brings his arm around your waist down to rub tight circles on your clit, stifling a moan when he feels you clenching hard around him. You cant take it anymore, muffling into his hand and squeezing your eyes shut when you come all over his cock. Feeling your orgasm, Satoru suddenly halted when he feels his balls empty everything they have into you. After a moment, he pulls out of you seeing as his come slowly starts to dribble out of your pretty hole. It burned into his mind, making him almost want to initiate another round.

You both begin to dress yourselves, and when you stand up to put your skirt on, you feel his warm come leaking out of you down your thighs. It makes you start to look for your panties but then you see him putting them in his pocket. He looks over at you and realizes that you've caught him and flashes you a toothy grin.

"Sorry sweets, gotta keep a souvenir."

You feel your face heat up in mortification. The idea of him keeping your panties would have overjoyed you, had you not imagined him doing that with every girl he's hooked up. you mutter a quiet "whatever" and sit back down on the couch refusing to look at him. In the end, you got involved with Satoru and as much as you hated to admit it, you really like it. You felt the couch dip right next to you and you realize that he came to sit next to you.

"hey."

you turn your head towards him, and he raises his hand up to your cheek to softly caress it. then lifts his head to place a swift kiss against your forehead.

"that was a lot of fun, lets do it again, okay?"

With that, he stands up and leaves, turning the corner.

"Oh my gosh! Whats up, Satoru??? Haven't seen you all party dude."

"I know, my bad. I was having a really good time, haha. Lets go back inside, hmm?"

You hear the three go back inside, as you sit there in silence thinking. Not once did he kiss you on the lips while fucking, but he gives you a forehead kiss after? What kind of guy is he, does he always get sweet with every girl after fucking their brains out? So many questions ran through your head, but there was one thing you were sure about.

You wanted to fuck Gojo Satoru again.

#help this took too long to write #been missing gojo a lot lately #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #jjk gojo #gojou x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut

239 notes · View notes

brunnerasposts · 6 months ago

Text

"wait in the truck"

S.H. x Female Reader

Summary: Steve gets lost on a rainy night and finds you bruised and bloody on the side of the road. You get in his truck, and he drives to find who hurt you and make them pay.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: OUTSIDE OF ST STORYLINE, mentions of physical, verbal, and mental abuse, swearing, slight fluff, references to violence, strangers to friends

Additional Note: I haven't written any fanfiction in a hot minute so please bare with my writing ;(

"Thank you for listening to 94.7!" The radio suddenly blared once the static had stopped. Steve immediately reached for the volume knob, turning it down. He could barely focus with how loud the rain was pouring and how fast his windshield wipers were having to move. There hadn't been any indications that it would be raining soon, let alone a whole storm. "Jesus," He muttered under his breath, throwing his high beams on. What was worse than being stuck in a storm? Being stuck in a storm and having no idea where the hell you are.

He couldn't remember when he had gotten off track from the directions being repeated consistently by the GPS. Maybe it was when he needed gas? Steve gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, agitated with himself for being so careless. His eyes squinted as he leaned forward, hoping that would help him see the road in front of him better. He was mainly concerned with hitting anything or anyone.

His eyes suddenly stopped squinting as he noticed a figure in the distance. It was a person. Maybe they could help him find out where he was. Relief washed over him as he drove closer. His relief soon turned to confusion as he began to realize this figure was walking away from him in the rain. It didn't look like they had a coat or anything.

He drove a bit faster to catch up with them before slowing down to a stop. He rolled his window down, realizing it was a woman. "Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if you could help me out here." He asked, hoping to sound as nice as he possibly could. After all, it was the middle of the night and he was a man in a vehicle while she was alone and in the rain.

"I'm a little lost," He admitted, "I could drive you to wherever it is you're going in return. You could get sick being out there like that."

She stopped walking, keeping her head down so her hair blocked her face. "You're being awfully nice for a guy stuck out in a storm." Her voice was shaky, her accent thick. Steve couldn't help but smile, shaking his head. "Just trying to be nice."

The girl lifted her head to look at him, causing Steve's breath to hitch.

The first thing he noticed was that she was absolutely fucking beautiful. He had never seen such eyes. If it weren't raining and dark, he'd probably end up staring a lot longer than he had been. Her eyes were wide, tired, and had little life to them.

The longer he looked at her, the more his smile fell and turned into a scowl. Her lip was swollen with a bleeding cut going from the bottom to top lip. She had bruises all along the sides of her head and near one of her eyes. Her tank top did little to cover the cuts and bruises lining her arms. She held herself, shaking, eyes and nose red from the rain and from crying. She had been through hell. It didn't take long before Steve was reaching across and opening the door, having made up his mind. "Climb in,"

She complied.

He turned the car lights on, watching her as she buckled herself in. Her tank was torn up, dried blood splotches near her stomach area. "What happened?" He couldn't help but ask. She stared at him and was silent for a while. Her whole body trembled, so Steve reached for the heat and turned it on. He then reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket, handing it to her.

"I..uh," She sniffled, "I was home and trying to fix this light. Couldn't reach it, so I grabbed this ol' ladder and ended up falling down the stairs." She told him, avoiding eye contact as she bundled herself up. "Thank you."

"Stairs, huh?" He asked, not really believing her story. She nodded a little, fiddling with something on her hand. He glanced at it before shifting into drive, turning the light back off in the car.

"This probably isn't any of my business, but couldn't your husband have fixed the light?" He asked, looking for any other roads besides the one they were on.

He slowed the car as he heard her begin to shift, pulling at her finger. She continued to pull until the ring came off, shakily placing the ring on the dashboard. Steve turned the light on again, looking at the blood covered ring. His attention shifted to her hands, seeing bruises of all sorts.

This wasn't just falling down a flight of stairs.

He inspected her face, noticing the watered-down blood that surrounded her mouth. Her watery eyes focused on the ring she had set down. "He's no husband of mine." She whispered.

Steve wasn't one to get involved in other people's business, but too many clues were adding up. He turned his GPS off, accelerating ever so slightly. He found a point in which he could make a u-turn, hand gripping the wheel. They didn't talk for a while. Not until they reached roads that branched off.

"Where is he?"

There was silence for a while, the woman hesitant to speak. "Home." She soon admitted, looking at her lap. "Drunk."

His suspicions had been correct then.

Some light came into view as they approached scattered "landmarks." A gas station, a diner, and a bar. Steve still was unsure of where he was, but he could tell it was a very small town.

"Make a right near that gas station." She spoke quietly, Steve putting his turning signal on. "Which house?" He asked, turning onto the road. "It's at the very end of the road." She told him. Steve nodded and continued driving.

His eyes moved everywhere as he drove. He looked at the road, his rear view mirror, his speedometer, the woman next to him, pretty much anything to keep his mind occupied. The idea of what this woman could have gone through was sending his blood pressure through the roof. He didn't care that she was a complete stranger to him, he just knew she needed help. And he was more than willing to put her mind at ease.

"Are you gonna hurt him?"

He could feel her eyes on him now, but he didn't look over. "It depends." He spoke, spotting the house in the distance. He turned his lights off, driving slowly. "Do you love him?" He asked as he parked, now turning to look at her. Even in the darkness of the car, he could see her uncertainty. He gently reached his hand out, palm facing up so she could put her hand in his.

The woman was hesitant, but she placed her hand in his. "I promise he isn't going to bother you again. Now, wait in the truck." He said before opening the car door. Steve shut the door behind himself and opened the door to the backseat.

"What if he hurts you?" She asked in a panic as he grabbed his pistol and his baseball bat.

"He won't."

Steve went to close the door, but she quickly exclaimed, "Wait," and Steve stopped. "What's your name?" She asked, gripping the blanket around herself now. He couldn't help but smile a little, glad she was finding comfort in his things. "Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Y/N Letcher." She introduced herself. "Mr. Harrington, why are you helping me?" She asked, Steve simply shaking his head in response. "Just wait in the truck." He told her, closing the car door. Rain continued to fall, making his once nicely kept hair into a mop on his head. For once, he couldn't care less. He walked up the gravel driveway, each crunch under his shoe, giving him the confidence to walk up and pound on the door.

If he was being completely honest, he couldn't even answer her question. He wasn't entirely sure why he was involving himself in another person's business other than the fact that she was in trouble and needed help. He didn't approve of this kind of behavior, and he needed to make sure this man never hurt anyone ever again.

The door cracked open, a man in a white wife beater and jeans standing with a cigarette in his mouth. "Mr. Letcher?" Steve asked.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mr. Letcher asked, scratching at his beer covered stomach. At least Steve thought it was beer. Steve grinned at the man through the screen door. "You got company?"

"Who's askin'?" The man spat, his accent thicker than his wife's. Steve twiddled with his baseball bat, opening the screen door which startled the man. He then held the baseball bat against his shoulder, grinning.

"Harrington. Steve Harrington."

---

"Harrington, you've got a visitor."

Steve rolled his shoulders before sitting in his designated chair, glaring at the officer behind him. He adjusted his wrists, looking to the phone on the wall. Taking it, Steve held it against his ear and looked through the glass.

"Your bruises seem to be almost healed."

"I hardly even notice them anymore." She smiled, more lively than he had last seen her. Steve took the time to really look at Y/N. Bruises almost gone, no blood, no cuts, just healing. Healing in so many ways.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Me? I'm doing perfectly fine, Mr. Harrington. I should be asking that."

Steve chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright in here. If I can survive one month, I can survive another eleven." He grinned a little until he noticed that her eyes cast down to the handcuffs on his wrists. "I'm proud to be here, Y/N. Please don't blame yourself." He said, watching as she slowly nodded.

"I won't. I just...I still don't understand why. Why help me? You could've just driven me somewhere and dropped me off and...that would be it." Y/N whispered into the phone. Steve's eyebrows furrowed with concern, leaning closer.

"I helped because I couldn't imagine what would've happened to you if I didn't." He frowned, gently placing his finger against the glass. She did the same. "He won't hurt you anymore. He can't," Steve promised, "And I promise the second I'm out of here, I'm gonna make sure you never have to worry about him again."

The woman laughed softly, gazing at Steve. "You've done more than enough for little ol' me, Mr. Harrington." She promised. "It's funny, when people ask me about what happened, I never know how to describe you. I keep wanting to call you an angel, but I don't know if an angel would've done what you did."

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure they wouldn't."

She stared at Steve for a little, glancing to the officer who gave her a minute warning. "Steve?"

Slightly surprised by the use of his first name, he sat up. "Yes?"

"Because of you, I can sleep peacefully, knowing I'll never be hit again. Thank you, darlin'. Thank you." Y/N smiled, eyes watery.

Steve nodded before they both returned their phones to their places. Steve didn't want to move. He just wanted to keep looking at her to know that she was okay now. But he knew.

As he watched her walk away, he knew that she was going to be just fine.

The End.

#Spotify #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve stranger things #steve #harrington

135 notes · View notes

paradiseprincesss · 5 months ago

Note

hey, how about a drabble/short fic inspired by the song "paper bag" by fiona apple with neil lewis?

he couldn't stay | neil lewis

hi anon, absolutely. i hope you enjoy this little drabble! here's something little to hold u guys over while i work on a few other longer requests.

summary: you watch your childhood best friend who you've been in love with for years, fall for someone else.

warnings: angst of course, friends to strangers, overall sadness

word count: 720 words

masterlist

you stared at the time on your phone mindlessly, feeling like you had just hit rock bottom. you felt alone and miserable, but also numb at the same time. life was unfair. love was unfair.

3:47 AM.

another sleepless night.

neil lewis had been your best friend since childhood and you thought that would never change, but it seemed that the universe had other plans. you never wanted things to end this way, but your friendship came to a screeching halt in the last few months.

you liked neil since you were in high school. the two of you were inseparable. you thought that your relationship would turn into one of those "friends to lovers" tropes, but it never did. maybe it was his fault, maybe it was yours - i guess you'll never know now, though. you felt like maybe if you had said something before, things could've panned out the way you hoped. but now it was too late.

he was with someone else now - he was with violet.

you remembered when neil broke the news to you a few months ago, and he broke your heart at the same time. you'd gone over to his place like you always did, ever since you were younger, and you two watched a movie together. about halfway through the movie, he turned to you to tell you something important. he called your name softly, causing you to pause the movie and listen to him.

"yeah, neil?" you asked softly, smiling sweetly at him.

"i forgot to tell you," he says, "do you remember that girl i went out on a date with a few weeks back?"

your smile slowly faded, and your heart silently broke as you started to lose hope. this couldn't be happening.

"um, yeah..." you say, trying to sound at least a little bit happy for him.

"i asked her to be my girlfriend and she said yes," he beamed, "she's great. i want you to meet her soon."

you thought you were going to go crazy when he said these words to you, but you kept yourself composed even though you wanted to burst out into tears. you plastered the phoniest, fakest, most forced smile onto your face and "congratulated" him.

"wow," you say, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces, "i'm so happy for you, neil. i'd love to meet her."

and that was the last time you two hung out - months ago. you hoped, and pleaded, and prayed that they wouldn't last, but your prayers went unanswered. they lasted, and on top of that, they were getting pretty serious. you heard from lucien that apparently neil thought she was the "love of his life."

you stopped visiting gumshoe video all together, and jonathan and lucien both texted you to see if you were okay, but after a while, you stopped responding. you started to hangout with your other friends, becoming closer to them and distancing yourself from neil, jonathan, and lucien. it hurt too much to be around neil, anyways.

as much as you tried to force yourself to get over it - you were still struggling to. it should've been you that he ended up with, not her. but you were the one who was too scared to confess your feelings to him; you knew that this wasn't really his fault because you should have said something. but now, you'll never know what could've been between the two of you because he was with someone else.

he was happier with someone else.

you stopped reaching out to him, and he stopped reaching out to you. it's not like he really tried, anyway. he was busy now - with the love of his life, or whatever. so, that was that.

maybe things were meant to fall apart so that they could fall back together again in the future, or maybe not. you hoped that one day your paths would cross again, but for now, you slowly faded into the background and became a stranger to someone you loved dearly, and he became a ghost to you.

even though they say time heals all, it seemed that all time was doing was just crushing your heart even more, along with any hope that you had of neil seeing you as anything more than just a friend.

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h

101 notes · View notes

iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 2 months ago

Text

The Motorcyle Mishap (or, Our First and Second Six-Way Fight)

~ set in a modern Vesuvia and not-so-subtly based off my accident last week, have a fic with my self-insert "Drue" and his motley friend group! xD written for @vesuviaweekly ~

My hands are shaking in the damp, misty air as I type out my next message to the group chat, my right fingers already swelling as a car drives by and shatters one of my lost taillights behind me.

Drue: hey, can somebody come pick me up? i'm okay i promise

I sigh and look down at my discarded helmet on the sidewalk, right next to my crumpled gloves and the absolute beauty that was my motorcycle currently laid out on the pavement. A well-meaning stranger pauses and calls out from the other side of the street.

"Hey, you okay? Can I get you anything?"

I smile and wave, hoping they can't see the shake in my arm or the grimace I'm fighting back. "I'm good, thanks though!"

"You sure?"

They look ready to cross the street. I don't have it in me to talk to strangers right now - "Yep! I've already got friends on the way!"

At least, I think I do. Judging by the incessant buzzing of texts flooding my phone, I'm almost certain I do.

Asra: omw, where r u

Portia: what happened??

Julian: Are you okay? What do you need? Are you hurt? Where are you?

Lucio: he said he's okay guys wtf

Nadia: Drue saying "I'm okay I promise" is precisely why I know he's probably not. Does anyone have his location yet? I expect to finish this early morning meeting in another ten minutes.

Drue: i'm at the corner of -

My keyboard is cut off by a new call screen, which quickly splits into two and then three incoming calls. I pick up on the one that I haven't heard from yet.

"Heyyy, Muriel, what's up?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the intersection of Gladiator Ave and Market St, just past the canal. You know, where the cobblestones have the old tram tracks in them?"

"Good. That's close. What happened?"

"Uhm - okay - so, I'm okay ..."

"You bold liar ~"

I pause at the second, considerably airier voice on the line. "Muriel is - is Asra with you?"

"Yep!" I can hear the engine of his hippie van hitch as he shifts gears. There's a moment of eerie silence broken by nothing but the clinking of their mirror hangings and their quiet hum of turning right here until Muriel pipes up again.

"I asked him to drive me. Keep talking."

"Oh - yeah - right, so I - I think I crashed my bike."

I hear a sharp inhale and the engine protesting as Asra slams on the gas. Muriel grunts out a quiet "don't speed" before turning back to the speakerphone.

"Continue."

I try to replay the events of ten minutes ago, taking a deep, calming breath and ordering my thoughts. "I was taking a sharp turn uphill from a standstill, and the roads are pretty slippery right now, and I think I rushed myself trying not to hold up any cars. My back wheel slid out from under me -"

The gears churn on the other end of the line again and I swear I can feel Asra's tense attempt at not coming across too concerned. "Did you hit anything?"

I rub my throbbing shoulder. "Just a lamppost. Thankfully I was able to stay upright long enough to get out of the intersection."

Two slow exhales on the other end of the line. And then there's Asra's classic relieved chuckle, mixed with the near-silent scrape of Muriel rubbing his hand over his stubble in anxious thought.

"Well, it sounds like you handled that really well! Faust would be proud."

"Where are you hurt?"

"I'm not seriously -"

"Hmph. Better hope you're right."

Sure enough, I glance up in time to see the yellow beams of Asra's headlights in the early morning fog. The next thing I know they're pulling up next to me and hopping out of the van. I'm ambushed in a flurry of white curls and a warm, relieved hug before Muriel gets close enough to lay a cautious hand on my shoulder.

"You're wearing armored leather. Good."

"You don't look hurt either, but - oh Drue, your hands are shaking."

I nod, suddenly tempted to choke up now that I'm not the only one facing the problem. "My fingers got mashed between the handlebar and the lamppost, but otherwise I think I'm okay. I'm more worried about Bonnie."

"Muriel will help with it," Asra interjects, earning a grudging don't volunteer me like that but also you're right look from him before turning back to me, "and Ilya should be here any minute now."

"Thanks." I sit down on the nearest curb and give my friends a once-over. Muriel's already hefting the 500-pound machine back onto its wheels, not minding the smudges of grease that wind up on his hiking boots and trousers. Asra, on the other hand, is proudly standing in the middle of the sidewalk in rainbow crocs, fluffy leopard print socks, paisley-printed boxers, a shredded second-hand sex pistols band tee with old paint splatters on it, and a starry purple bathrobe. They turn back to me quizzically as if they can feel my stare.

"Hm?"

"Did you just wake up?"

Muriel grunts as he finishes maneuvering my battered motorcycle into a proper parking spot. "Do you ever see him awake this early?"

"Only when it's because he hasn't fallen asleep yet ..."

"Exactly."

"Oh, speaking of sleep deprivation -" I point with my right hand out of habit and immediately wince and grimace at the pain that shoots up my arm. "It looks like Julian's -"

"I'm here! Where is he?"

Two car doors slam shut a little ways up the street and the Devorak siblings come running down the sidewalk with their characteristic enthusiasm. Julian looks about as disheveled as usual, with his younger sister already dressed and done up for the day and carrying several large bags on her shoulders. He drops to a crouch in front of me and reaches straight for my eyebrows.

"No immediate signs of a concussion, that's a promising start - where does it hurt?"

I squirm at the focused attention as he checks my pupils for a good response, suddenly aware of all the parts of me that really want to lie down, and seized with the need to seem like I've got it all together.

"It doesn't hurt anywhe -"

One stern look from Portia over his shoulder and my mouth clicks shut. "Drue I swear to all that is good and holy if you dare to keep us from helping you I will make you regret it."

I nod and turn back to the doctor gently tugging my leather jacket off my shoulders for a better look. "I hit the lamppost on my right side, but the only thing that really hurts right now is my hand."

"Let's have a look then, shall we?"

I can see a familiar brow furrow and chin wobble appear on Portia's face when Julian gently lifts my hand in his and everyone present sees the way my knuckles are slowly disappearing into the swelling, reddish-purple bruise. He slowly bends my wrist this way and that.

"Does this hurt?"

"Nope. Just my fingers."

He nods and sets my hand back down. "An X-ray might be a good idea, but in my professional opinion, you're going to be right as rain. Given that you - ah, take proper care of it."

"As if." Portia rolls her eyes and holds out an instant cold compress, fishing in her bag again for what turns out to be a hand wrap. "You don't have a great track record with doing things the 'proper' way."

"Hey -"

"Seriously though!" She crouches down next to me and shoves a pastry against my chest. "You just got your bike, and you took your first trip out in weather like this?!"

She gestures to the hanging fog and slick roads and I feel my face flush with embarrassment. Asra steps in, still on high alert from seeing me injured and trying to lighten the mood.

"What, do you expect him to control the weather now?"

"Pasha's right," Julian cuts in with an afflicted sigh, "riding a motorcycle is already taking a risk. Perhaps I should've warned you better when you were planning to buy one. If only I'd -"

Asra bristles. "Perhaps you should let Drue make his own decisions, Ilya -"

"Don't you talk to my brother like that!" Portia squares up to the bathrobe-clad DJ, shaking off her older brother's feeble attempts to tug her back. "At least he has something helpful to offer here!"

Asra snickers. "And you're doing ... what, exactly? Shaming him when he needs help?"

"Enough." Nadia climbs out of the sleek towncar none of us noticed pulling up. "Is an ambulance needed?"

"No -"

"Can you secure your bike?"

"Yes -"

"Then get in."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sit back on the plush sofa in Nadia's penthouse, watching sheepishly as she clicks back and forth in her heels. Portia hands her phone back to her with a playful smile.

"Your schedule's cleared, milady."

"Thank you, Portia." The city mayor graciously extends her manicured hand to accept it, and then turns back to face me with her polished nails tapping thoughtfully on the dark glass. "Now then, about the bike. Portia tells me it's currently enroute to the mechanic's, but whether or not you should ride that beast again is my greatest concern."

I look at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Julian clears his throat from where he's seated next to me on the couch, readjusting the cold compress he's currently holding against my hand. "We're not sure a motorcycle is - ah - wise."

"Ha! Do you think he cares about 'wise'?" Lucio appears from where he's somehow successfully invaded Nadia's liquor closet, an obscenely large amount of liquid sloshing in the glass he extends to me. I eye it cautiously.

"What kind of alcohol is that?"

"Does it matter? It looked like whiskey to me ..."

"Drue," Portia interjects worriedly, "what if it had been worse?"

I accept the glass with my good hand and take a hearty sip to avoid thinking about it. This tastes like a single malt. I'll have to remember to ask Nadia which bottle this is -

"C'mon, you're all overreacting!" Lucio flops onto the couch on my other side, flinging an arm casually around my shoulder. Asra and Muriel both stiffen slightly where they're occupying the nearby armchairs. "Everybody's gonna crash at some point! He just got it out of the way early, right? Besides, you gotta admit having one of those things is cool as fu-"

"'Cool', perhaps, but not safe." Nadia's eyebrows draw closer together the longer she ruminates on what's happened. "If he hadn't been able to keep the bike upright those extra seconds - if he hadn't been able to react in time - I fear to speak such things aloud, but he could have been trapped underneath it with a broken leg in the middle of an intersection. I don't take that scenario lightly."

Asra looks slightly queasy. Muriel, in typical fashion, goes right for the point.

"You could be dead."

"But he's not!" Lucio spreads his hands wide, grinning at his own truthful point. "He's fine! All he needs is some ice and he'll be zooming around town again in no time!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Lucio." Asra drags his hand through his hair, the curls practically standing on end. "Life is full of risks. I'm not going to stop him from living ... especially when, all things considered, he handled it really well." They finish their thought with a reassuring smile in my direction. I start to smile back, and then wince when Julian crushes the compress against my hand in protest.

"I see motorcyclists come into the hospital every day -"

"Exactly!" Portia interrupts, "It's one thing if you want to live on the edge, but something that dangerous is just stupid."

"Portia says it with more fervor than I would, but I must agree with her." Nadia sits at Julian's other side with a thoughtful hum. "You're inviting a level of risk you could be avoiding with a different vehicle. If it's a matter of purchasing power, I do have a vehicle or two that need a new owner."

I avoid saying anything out loud with another hearty sip of what's quickly becoming my new favorite liquor. Knowing Nadia, if I took her up on her offer, I'd be getting a brand-new car delivered to my basement apartment with a singular obligatory scratch somewhere on the back and a charge of five dollars for the transportation fee. Julian, getting antsy from the pause in conversation, turns to the one person who's barely spoken since he showed up.

"What, ah, what do you think, Muriel? You're - er - quiet."

Muriel's hum sounds suspiciously like a grumble as he shifts in his seat. "I'm not making his choices for him."

Portia, dissatisfied, fixes him with her blue-eyed stare. "And?"

"And ..." he shifts again, uneasy, "And if this is the riskiest choice he's making in his life right now ... I'm okay with that."

That leads to a longer, heavier pause. I can feel several pairs of eyes on the different set of faded, old scars further up the arm Julian's treating, and I hear a few quiet hums. Lucio squirms from the abrupt seriousness.

"I can drink to that, Scourge!"

"Don't. Call me that."

"Okay!" I jump to my feet, reeling from two six-way arguments in a row and what could easily be considered a triple shot of whiskey. Julian catches my wrist in protest and reapplies the compress. I swivel slowly to look my gathered friends in the face. "I appreciate all your thoughts and opinions and I will think about them seriously - as soon as thinking is easy again."

Julian stands to check my pupils again, smells the alcohol on my breath, and sits back down with an amused snort. I collect my thoughts and continue.

"Thank you - all of you - for rushing to help me. You've each helped me today in ways I wouldn't have been able to help myself."

There's a round of murmured "your welcome"s and one disbelieving "is he sober or isn't he?". I ignore the last remark.

"That said, I am ready to go home and lie down. I'll decide what to do with the bike while it's at the mechanic, so ... can someone drive me home?"

Asra's already rolling out of their seat, a collection of keychains jangling in their hand. Lucio holds up my empty glass.

"Want another?"

"No," I turn to Nadia, "but I would love to know which bottle that came out of."

She tuts graciously and stands up to walk me out. "I'll send you one of your own. You may need it as you recover."

Portia walks over with a kitchen towel to tie the compress to my hand. "Ooh, save me a sip!"

"And make sure not to mix it with any painkillers!" Julian calls from the couch.

"Let me know if you get the good prescription stuff, I'll buy some off you!" Lucio smirks at his unsubtle dealing request, earning a scolding look from Muriel as he escorts me out.

"Pretty sure that's illegal..."

Asra playfully holds out his keys with a teasing grin, waggling their eyebrows when I sway slightly on my feet. "So. Wanna drive?"

#vesuvia weekly #our first argument #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana fanfic #the arcana #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

51 notes · View notes

21wanderer · 11 months ago

Text

Strangers on a train

Body a day - #25: Choice

Five stations left… It was 20:32 and in about twenty minutes the train would arrive at Alex’s destination, where he had planned to meet up with his friends to hit the town.

For a Friday evening, it was unusually quiet in the train. Alex had the whole compartment to himself, and just stared out through the dark windows at the indistinguishable landscapes and buildings that passed by.

Down the aisle, he could see two young men walking towards him, they were laughing very loudly. They passed Alex, but from the corner of his eye, he could see, that they stopped right as they walked by. One of them poked the other with an elbow and whispering: “that one.” Ominously they sat down on the vacant seats in front of him.

They didn’t say anything, so Alex pretended he hadn’t noticed them, and just continued staring out the window. Alex were starting to feel uncomfortable. For a sliver of a second he got eye-contact with them, they were staring right back at him, one with the arm around the other’s shoulder. Alex didn’t know what it was…

Their cocky smiles or sinister stares, nevertheless he felt a sense of unease. Why would they sit here, when the rest of the compartment is empty? They have done that by choice. They looked like bad news…

”That’s not a nice thing to say.” said the guy in the tracksuit jacket. Alex was shocked. Had he really said that out loud?

The guy in the tracksuit jacket leaned forward towards Alex, Alex tried scooting back in his seat, but the guy grabbed Alex’s chin with his thumb and index finger, then with one swift move he yanked his arm upwards, Alex felt a sharp pain in his face, and everything went black.

Alex had no idea, how much time had passed, or what he had just experience was just a bad dream, he was laying sideways across the train seat, his face was still hurting, though he wasn’t sure why.

He pulled himself up in the seat, then almost fell out of it again as he almost died of fright, he couldn't believe his own eyes.

The two guy were still seated across from him, but now he saw his own face smiling fiendishly and laughing at him. Alex was deeply horrified at the display, he couldn't think, all he felt was fright and panic, and then he fainted again.

“Good choice,” said Jacob to Adam, as the two young men disembarked the train at the next station.

Adam couldn’t stop admiring his new face using his phone camera as a mirror, gently rubbing his face and running his fingers through his lush golden hair, there was little doubt that Adam was beyond satisfied with his new model-like face.

”Do you wanna go try and find his friends? Maybe you could get yourself a new face too?” Adam said, his voice now more akin to Alex’s.

”Nah… I like my face the way it is,” Jacob said calmly, “but I would like to get myself some abs and some pecs,” he added mischievously.

”Holy shit! You can do that too?!” Adam shouted unable to contain his excitement, it beamed off Alex’s face.

Jacob chuckled: ”Probably. Why not? I already discovered how to read thoughts, and how to steal people’s faces. Why shouldn’t I be able to take ’other’ things…”

”That’s so rad! Let’s go do it! I want to be bigger, something to go well with this face!”

”Sure thing, bro, let’s hit the town and see what we find!”

The two friends, Jacob and Adam Alex, headed for the station exit, looking forward to who they were going to choose next.

#male body transformation #body a day #male transformation #identity theft #male masking #attribute theft #muscle theft #male body swap #male body switch #face swap

155 notes · View notes

sillyblues · 2 years ago

Text

the ocean and the wind. (3)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: y'alllll i am so sorry i'm like a week late. we had like a fuck ton of tests that really made me want to die and we still have more coming up next week aside from our projects. anyways!! part 3 is here. the awaited angst!! hope you guys enjoy this i pulled this out of my ass so quick because i felt bad for leaving you lot for almost two weeks. hope you guys enjoy!!

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 (here!) ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 ✩ part 6 ✩ part 7 (final part)

Ronal and Tonowari first met when you introduced them to each other after things had calmed down with Tonowari.

They knew each other from the stories you tell of them when you spent time with each of them when things had calmed down with you and him. You told Ronal of Tonowari of who he is to you, of who he actually is behind the title of future Olo’eyktan, with fondness and giggles. You told Tonowari of Ronal of who she is to you, of who she actually is behind her cold and intimidating exterior, with admiration and grins.

They were close and very much dear to you and you’d want nothing more for them to be close to each other as well. You want them to see each other as they see you.

And they did.

You were on the outskirts of the inner island, exiting it as you had just come back from gathering plants with Ronal for your class. Flat and circular baskets full of herbs, plants, and flowers rested against the side of your hips as you two walked. Sands and soil that were beginning to mix pushed back under your steps, leaving light footprints. You could faintly hear the waves of the sea hitting the sands on the shore and the fresh wind that softly nipped at your skin, almost ticking you.

The silence between you two was comforting but a familiar and welcome voice interrupted it.

“[Name],” Tonowari called out to you in a soft voice as he walked to you. He placed his fingers to his forehead and opened it towards you and Ronal as he said his greetings.

“Tonowari! What perfect timing!” you beamed at him and gestured to the girl beside you with your free hand, “Meet a close friend of mine, her name is Ronal.”

They introduced themselves and you watched as Tonowari’s blue eyes slightly widen before they quickly softened. How his ears twitched and the genuine smile on his face displayed his dimples, unlike the usual polite smile he shows to others. You watched as Ronal looked at him in curiosity, her forehead never furrowing nor her green eyes glaring. How her gaze didn’t look away quickly and her tail swayed lightly.

You grinned.

“Come, let us put away our baskets first and talk more.”

The two finally broke eye contact and smiled at you.

There is an island a bit far from the central island of your clan, the distance just enough to see its outline from afar and near to a village. It was more of a sandbar rather than an island and quite bare compared to the others. There were no trees nor any shrubs, maybe a few seaweeds that would wash up ashore.

Despite its bareness, you never found it boring. This was your’s and Tonowari's island, after all. You found the place in one of your little adventures, swimming far away to see where the way of the water would take you and it led you to the little secret you two would keep for years. You two spent most of your time on this little island of yours, from countless days when you braid each others’ hair and decorate it with the prettiest shells you found and nights when you both lay down and stare under the moons, letting its beauty shine upon you two.

Now, this little secret has been shared with Ronal. It was not a heavy decision unlike it should have been, to let a stranger know something so close to you two. But Ronal is not a stranger. You see her. She sees you. Tonowari sees her. She sees him.

It was amazing to see how fast their friendship grew. Perhaps, they grew closer faster than she had with you. You thought it would take them a long time with Ronal’s shyness and Tonowari’s politeness, but they proved you wrong and you were happy about it. From the very first they met, they had gone along well like an instant connection that has been made from the moment they saw each other.

“You act like a child. A grown child.” Ronal frowned, almost hissing in annoyance as she braids his hair. You two were on the little island, taking a break from all the classes that exhausted you three. You giggled and continued to inspect shells, keeping the ones you approved of in your left palm and placing back the others. Tonowari snorted.

“I am not a child. Which child have you seen is as big as me?”

“I see one in front of me right now.” There was a quick sound of a harsh slap on the skin and you turned at them, giggling once more. Tonowari let out a small hiss of pain and grumbled.

“No, Tonowari is not a child,” you walk over to them and sat in front of him as you placed the collected shells in the small pouch you brought with you. He grinned and before he could reply something along the lines of you being his supporter, you quickly crushed his hopes. “I think a baby would best describe him. A big babe who is lost without anyone to look after him.”

You teased him while you pulled his cheeks and pinched his arms. He let out an exaggerated gasp and you laughed. Even Ronal cannot help but let out a chuckle.

“What betrayal is this, [Name]?” Tonowari let out a groan when Ronal tugged a section of his hair in place when he flailed his arms around.

“Stay still, skxawng!”

“Not until [Name] explains herself of this betrayal!” his arms suddenly engulfed your figure and leaned his weight behind on Ronal. You squealed as you all fell while he just laughed boisterously. Ronal groaned at the heavy weight on top of her and hit Tonowari.

“You id—”

You try to get away but his arms were tight, not giving you a slight chance to escape. You felt bad for her knowing her hits don’t really hurt Tonowari and his ridiculous big muscles and she most likely knew of this as she gave up with a sigh after a few slaps with no effect on him.

You just giggled and leaned down on Tonowari’s chest. Your smile was so wide it was almost hurting your cheeks.

You would never exchange this for anything in the rest of the world.

“Ronal is such a freak, what does Tonowari even see in her anyway?” You heard a voice say in disdain and disgust as you walked towards the creek where you, Ronal, and Tonowari would meet one night. You had already asked for your parents’ permission and they didn’t mind that it is already evening. Giggles and murmurs followed after. When you heard that, your head immediately turned to the source of the voices.

They were girls who you recognized and there was one in particular whose name you remember. Her name was Letsakx. She had short wavy hair that reached up to her collarbones and was a bit taller than you. She was known for being loud and a bit mean but you never really paid mind to her that much because she hadn't done you any wrong until this moment.

“What did you just say?” You asked her after you walked towards her, confronting her for what she had just said. Her head turned to meet you slowly with her forehead raised and her friends did the same.

“Who even are you?” She sneered.

“I asked you a question. What did you just say about Ronal?” You hissed.

“Oh, how surprising. I didn't expect that freak would have a little friend.” She scoffed. “Surely you would know what an arrogant thing she is, making people cry and pissing them off just because she can.”

“You shut your mouth, she is not arrogant!”

“Pff, what? Poor girl, you must be under her manipulation.” One of her friends said. She had wavy hair braided into a big one with her hair strands poking out. She looked at you in ridicule.

“What manipulation? How dare you say I speak of nonsense when she is truly the nicest girl in this village. How dare you speak of such things about her when you have no idea what she truly is?” You walked closer and closer to her, leaned up to her face and bared your teeth at her.

She hissed at you and you hissed at her as well. You heard her friends circle around you. One glared at you.

“Maybe she's just a freak like Ronal? You can't be friends with her if you aren't one,” the other giggled.

“Wait, I think I know you,” the latter of her friends suddenly said, “You're [Name]. You used to stick to Tonowari’s side before, didn't you?”

“You did?” Letsakx looked at your form up and down before she cackled. “How pitiful, are you clinging to Ronal just for him to have his eyes on you once more?”

“No, what are you talking about—”

“What a sad little thing, can't you see that he’s done with you?” The one who used to glare at you now looked at you with eyes full of mockery.

You opened your mouth to say anything back to them, to snap back at how wrong they were. You three were just close friends. How could Tonowari be done with you and move to Ronal? It doesn't make any sense.

“No, we're all just friends,” you said in a firm voice, trying to steady yourself and not let their words affect you. They speak of lies, they are the one's themselves trying to delude you into thinking of your friends leaving you out.

“Just friends? Don't they make us laugh,” Letsakx scoffed and rolled her eyes before she pointed her finger at your chest and poked it harshly a few times. “I might not like Ronal but at least I know that they are together. They will choose each other when their Iknimaya come.”

You almost stumbled back whether from the harsh pokes or harsh words, you don't know, but they rendered your legs weak. The others came closer to you too.

One put her hands on your shoulders from behind, “Poor [Name], their so-called friend who keeps tailing after them like an annoying little thing.”

“Wake up, [Name]. You will never be with Tonowari when he is with Ronal.”

“We can help you with that, you know? How could Tonowari choose her, a freak—” you pushed them away. You will not tolerate any disrespect to Ronal and Tonowari. You will not tolerate the lies they feed you. You will not tolerate the mock they have of you.

“You three do nothing but assume and assume! Have some shame!” You bared your teeth to them and hissed for the third time. Your ears were pinned back and your tail raised in anger. The anger in you boils stronger than the seed of doubt they planted in you. You walked away from them and you still hear their laughter and scoffs.

“Do come back to us when you finally open your eyes! We promise we won't laugh!” You hear Letsakx say one last time.

You walked away until you heard their laughter faded into nothingness. Until you could only hear the soft crunches of the grass and sand under your feet. The soft whispers of the wind and the trills and chirps of the animals. The soft splashes and the pitter-patter of the water against the rocks as they stream down.

You let out a small whimper at the sight in front of you.

Beyond the creek, they lay so close to each other. Their chest rose and fell, signs of their peaceful rest with one another. Ronal’s head lay on Tonowari’s arm with it wrapped around her head. Her hand was placed on his chest and under his other hand. Their freckles glowed so brightly and — oh, how peaceful and content they looked.

Letsakx’s words rang in your ears and finally, you see it now. The way Eywa’s beauty shined so brightly to them, the way the bioluminescent lights of the plants and the water reflected on their skin. The way the water trickles softly as if not to disturb them and the way the wind provides them with enough coolness so they wouldn’t be hot as they embraced each other.

Memories of them flashed to your head. How Tonowari looked so bright and shined with the sun behind him as he comforted you with your legs halfway in the sea. How he wouldn’t let you go despite your struggles to do so for the best of you two. How Ronal finally saw you as she embraced you, her forehead against yours. How she smiled at you with such softness and gentleness.

You see it now. Why you loved being with them. Why you loved them. You didn’t see them just as your friends. You saw them for who they were. You saw—see—them. You are reminded of your greed. Your envy. It all comes back to you now.

But you are also reminded of how Tonowari and Ronal grew so close so fast, an instant connection that sparked between them. How they see each other so brightly, so gently, so lovingly. It was like they were made for each other. And maybe they were.

You bit your lip. Tonowari wasn’t just enough for you, you also wanted Ronal. You wanted her time and attention as well, why you kept her closer to you than any of your friends. You wanted him, why you avoided him in fear of him knowing your greed for him.

Your teacher’s words rang in your ears. Greed. Selfishness. You are so greedy and selfish. How disgusting you are. And so foolish. So, very foolish. Why have you still not learned your lesson? Were you complacent in Tonowari’s belief in you? Stupid, stupid! It is him, Tonowari. He would never mind it because he is your friend. He is soft. He is kind. He is gentle.

And oh, Eywa, how could you even involve Ronal in your mess? She does not deserve this. He does not deserve this. She needs not anything or anyone to ruin her peace in life once more. Ruin her happiness. How dare you do this to her? To both of them?

You are angry at yourself. Angry for wanting her. For him. For both of them because of your excessive greed that knows no bounds. For roping them into your useless desires.

Your heart thumped so loud and heavy, wanting to rip out of the cages called your ribs and rip out through your chest and bleed so openly. Your ears are pinned back and tears welled up in your eyes. You let them fall, helpless against the raging emotions that you drown in. Your legs were weak and you have never wanted more than to open your mouth and wail but you dare not ruin their peace just because of your ruined one.

You took a step back and turned so quickly. One step. One more. Another. And more after another until your slow steps turned into a run.

Run and run, [Name]. Run and don’t look back. Never look back again. Never dare want them again. Never dare be greedy again.

Oh, Eywa, you begged, is this my punishment for the thoughts and ugliness I have borne in my soul?

I’m so sorry, Great Mother.

I am so sorry, Tonowari.

I am so sorry, Ronal.

You are reminded of how Tonowari is the ocean and how Ronal is the wind. You are reminded of your place.

Between the ocean and the wind, where does it leave you?

series taglist: @totesnothere04 @ducks118

#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar angst #ronal x you #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #atwow #atwow angst #avatar 2

489 notes · View notes

jaimeslanisters · 1 year ago

Text

dominoes cascading in a line — the library

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

You beam, bright and happy, and he wonders if the real treasure in the Rock wasn’t in its gold or its wealth but rather in the daughters it produced. or moments in aemond's life with a lady of house lannister

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 2.5k notes: surprise bitch. i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me i promised you guys a dominoes before pawn, didn't i? (: pawn will be coming up and i will be hitting 100k with the next chapter lol sos

Aemond had been six when he first realized his father didn’t love him. It hadn’t been a momentous occasion or anything like that. There hadn’t been an offhand comment or a particular action that had prompted this realization, no big dramatic scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He had just looked up one day and looked at his father, at the rotting king in all of his glory, and known that Viserys Targaryen would never care for any of his children with Alicent Hightower, that he would be a stranger to all but one of his children.

He had been six and it had been his birthday.

The children of Viserys Targaryen had had differing responses to that disquieting truth. Aegon lashed out, drinking and whoring and failing at being anything resembling a leal son. Helaena turned inwards, closing herself off from everyone except her brothers, focusing her attention on caring for her insects in a way their father would never do for her. Daeron was inarguably delusional about the whole thing. Father loves us! He’d used to cry, face bright and red, fists clenched at his side. It’s just really hard for him to show it! He loves us! He loves us! He loves us!

At least, he had been delusional. Across the continent in Oldtown, perhaps he had come to terms with it. Father hadn’t gone along to accompany him and say goodbye even if Lord Hand Lyonel Strong had tried to insist on it, had wanted to frame it like an act of goodwill and diplomacy.

Father had said no. He hadn’t given a reason or tried to excuse his behavior. He simply hadn’t wanted to.

Even Daeron couldn’t be foolish enough to try and twist that truth.

Aegon strayed. Helaena hid. Daeron lied.

Aemond couldn’t afford to do the same.

If his siblings couldn’t confront the truth, couldn’t face it, he would. He would be their shield, their sword.

That involved training with the knights in the yard, focusing rather than goofing off like Aegon and their Velaryon nephews. It involved learning all the warrior arts and practicing until he felt like he was about to collapse and then continuing to train past that point until he actually did.

But mostly it involved studying.

Otto Hightower no longer lived in King’s Landing - he hadn’t since even before Aemond had been born - but that did not mean he had relinquished his tight control on his family that still remained in the capitol. His grandfather must have exhausted the ravens and the couriers with the long journey from Oldtown to King’s Landing, sending a couple of letters every month. Sometimes there would be one for Helaena and those were usually accompanied by an ivory statue of a bug or a book that he bought her as a present. Rarely there would be one for Aegon and his brother would always read it as soon as it was handed to him and tear it to shreds as soon as he was done. Once, Aemond had managed to snatch it from him before he could and, in the seconds before Aegon had tackled him to the ground in an uncharacteristic fit of violence, he had managed to catch onto one line.

The greatest curse onto this family is that you were born before Aemond.

It had been easy to let Aegon snatch the letter away after that. He hadn’t tried to get a hold of another letter since.

His grandfather had plenty to say to Aemond directly as it was.

There was always a letter for Aemond from Grandfather. Otto Hightower was not an affectionate man and the letters were always dry and straight to the point, outlining lessons and books that Aemond needed to read if he was to be a good and faithful son of House Targaryen. Rarely did he ever express any emotions in his words and, if he did, it was always shadowed by a sharp reminder of his duty to his family and to the realm.

Still, reading his letters always made Aemond desperately wish that his grandfather was still the Lord Hand, that he was still in the capitol to personally supervise his studying, to give him critiques and the rare praise.

Otto Hightower was a cold father. A poor father if his mother’s neurosis was anything to go off of.

But a poor father was better than no father at all.

It didn’t matter at the end of the day. He didn’t need anyone to hold his hand through the process, certainly didn’t want anyone to. Years of being on his own with only books for company had trained him well. He was used to holing up in the library, hidden away in the back by stacks and stacks of books with only an old, half-deaf septon for company. People didn’t usually come looking for him but people never came looking for him in the library.

Which is why it was especially a surprise when you stumble onto his hiding spot, eyes wide like a doe.

Since the week of your arrival, admittedly, Aemond has been avoiding you. If he thinks back to it, about how his cheeks had flamed red with embarrassment, how you had smiled and he had thought there was never anything as beautiful in the world, he wants to throw himself off the highest tower in the Red Keep out of pure and utter shame.

As sweet as you are and as kind as you can be, you’re a Lannister.

People always said that there was no limit to Lannister pride or ambition and that certainly had to be true for even a little lioness like yourself.

You might be kinder and sweeter than Aemond had thought you would initially be but that didn’t change the fact that there was only one reason that a daughter of House Lannister would stray so far from the Rock.

You were looking for a husband and, if there really was no limit to Lannister ambition, you could only have one goal set in mind.

Aegon.

With the image of you turning your pretty smiles onto Aegon playing before his eyes, he straightens up in his seat as you slow to a stop in front of him.

“My apologies, my prince. I did not expect to find anyone else here.” You say, stumbling slightly over your words in your rush to explain yourself. In your arms, you clutch a book tightly to your chest and it’s only the fact that he’s read that specific book more than a dozen times over that he can recognize it without seeing the name.

His throat is dry and there’s nothing he wants more badly than to just nod and turn back to taking extensive notes on the history of the Andals landing in the Fingers and stubbornly ignoring your existence.

Instead, he rises to his feet, bowing his head, wishing desperately he didn’t feel that slight warmth inside of his chest. “It’s no problem.” He looks down at the book in your arms and, before he can stop himself, he blurts out. “Are you reading Watchers on the Wall?”

You nod, smiling, and Aemond wonders if this is how animals feel when they first stumble into a trap, when their feet land into the snare and they’re yanked upwards to dangle defenselessly.

It can’t be. He doubts they enjoy it as much.

He starts pushing you on the book, carefully and cautiously. You may have just convinced someone else to give you a summary of it, after all, in order to endear yourself to the royal family.

But just as you had when you had first met him, you catch him off guard again.

You’re sharp and quick-witted and, if the fact that you had asked Maester Rodrik to give you further insight on Brandon the Breaker meant anything, you were just as voracious with learning as he was.

He wants to resent you.

He wants to resent you so bad.

But he can’t, not with the way your eyes light up as you talk about the Wall, about the Night’s King and his corpse queen. You lean in close to him, closer than anyone who wasn’t a member of his family has ever done. It’s not inappropriate, nothing that someone would scold or deride you for, but it’s closer than anyone has ever wanted to be to him.

It’s intoxicating and, for once, Aemond understands why Aegon is constantly imbibing, why he drinks more wine than he does water.

If it feels as nice as this does, some of his brother’s behavior finally makes sense.

When you finish your conversation, and you rise to your feet to leave, Aemond feels an unfamiliar panic rise up in him and, before he can think it through, he speaks. “If you’re not busy, you can stay and read some more. There are other stories in the book that I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts on.”

You smile as bright and lovely as ever.

You settle back in your seat and Aemond turns back to his notes except now, he can’t think about the crossing of the Andals, can’t make his mind focus on all of the petty kings that had fought in vain against the invaders. All he can think is about how the two of you are sitting close enough that, when you flip a page in your book, the sleeve of your dress catches on his tunic.

It’s all appropriate. You’re both ten. You’re children sitting and reading in a library. Not even the most pious septon could find fault nor could the most insidious gossip find any fodder for their rumors.

But it doesn’t stop his heart from beating loud and hard in his chest.

No one ever wants to be this close, save his mother.

There must be something wrong with you. There must be. Perhaps you think that he’ll tell Aegon about your sweetness, about your cleverness, and your desire to learn.

He won’t care, he wants to tell you. He won’t care about anything except for what’s between your legs.

But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits with you, listening to the sound of you turning the pages quietly and the rustle of your clothing.

Eventually, he turns back to his notes, forcing his eyes to focus on the book in front of him.

House Shell was only one of several Houses to ally with the Andals when they first arrived, believing that their only chance of survival was capitulating to the vastly stronger invading force. Their faith was ill-placed.

Eventually, he gets a fraction of his focus back but you’re still there, teasing at the periphery. Occasionally he’ll get a whiff of the fragrant oil that you must use in your hair or you’ll hum or mumble about something you read. You don’t just fade into the background. You seemingly are impossible to minimize, impossible to shove into a box.

Aemond sighs, wishing he was stronger. How could he be a loyal and brave son of House Targaryen if the first pretty girl to give him attention made his head spin like this? What would his mother say? What would Grandfather say?

He continues to read, burying his head deep into the book until the only thing he can think about is the Shells - the Shells and the complete and total destruction of their House. He focuses on the story of Dywen Shell, about how the Andal warlords roasted him inside his own longhall. He focuses until he can hear the screams and wails of the Shell family as they watched their patriarch burn, until he can almost feel the flames licking up his sleeves.

He scratches down his notes, pretending that he doesn’t notice you similarly keyed in on your book.

What part is she at?

If you had stopped at the Night’s King and his corpse queen… next up was the Rat King. After that was Symeon Star-Eyes. They were both popular stories, ones that people told to their children without ever having touched Watches on the Wall. The book went into slightly more detail, particularly with Symeon. The songs liked to say he was blind and that he had placed sapphires in his eyes to show his devotion to chivalry.

The maester who wrote the book had a starkly different opinion. Symeon Star-Eyes was, more likely than not according to Maester Lewys, a sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch, renowned for both his skill in combat and his abnormally bright blue eyes. Chivalry, the maester postulated, would not be introduced into Westeros until after the coming of the Andals, well after the death of Symeon.

You hadn’t been wrong when you had said that the truth was remarkably less interesting than what the singers liked to peddle out.

Far off in the distance, Aemond hears the belltower ring, indicating the turn of the hour. For the first time in his life, he feels a flash of relief that he has to meet up with his brother and nephews in the yards for sword training. While their words could be cruel, they at least were easier to understand than you were.

“I have to go,” he says, gathering up his books and notes as quickly as he can.

You hum, rising to your feet. “I should also probably go and meet up with Princess Helaena. Our septa can be awfully strict about punctuality.”

“It’s a virtue,” he replies, more out of instinct and a desire to fill the air with something than truly believing his words.

He regrets it immediately when you snort in laughter. “Perhaps you could teach us instead of her. You might be less inclined to rapping me on my knuckles when I slip up on a proverb.”

The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. “You can come to the library at this same time tomorrow if you want to avoid her. I wouldn’t mind.”

He would mind. He would mind very much if you showed up tomorrow with your easy smile and your bright eyes.

You don’t notice this internal conflict, though. You blink owlishly up at him, as if stunned by the offer. The silence drags on and Aemond feels that all-too-familiar sensation of humiliation and shame creeping up his neck and he opens his mouth to apologize, to take it back, but then you grin broadly at him. It lights you up entirely, brightening even this dark corner of the library.

“Thank you for the offer, my prince,” you quietly reply. “I think I might just take you up on it.”

You bow your head, dropping into a slight curtsey. Your manners are impeccable. Everything about you is designed to endear, to paint the picture of a perfect lady, one gracious and honest and kind.

He knows it's a lie. He knows that you’re hiding something fierce, something mean within you. He wishes he didn’t know that you were. He wishes he didn’t remember that snarl on your face when he had scared you, the way you had seemed ready to claw out his eyes.

He wishes you had never left the Rock.

Aemond doesn’t say any of it, doesn’t poke and prod until he can see that flash of rage that you had shown. He simply nods and prays that you don’t take him up on his offer.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond's pov is so fun to write #you just listen to mitski on repeat until you're so deep in that you start questioning whether or not anyone likes YOU

179 notes · View notes