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eyelessfaces · 9 months

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please, run away while you still can

llewyn davis x reader

summary: llewyn is used to things turning to shit by now. this time, he tries to anticipate it.

warnings: angst, insecurities, llewyn being self destructive and trying to sabotage the one good thing in his life because he's like that, cigarettes because it's llewyn

tags: gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.7k

I haven't posted any actual fic in like two months what the fuck

This sight is growing to be so familiar to you, and unlike your other friends, you don’t mind. Quite the opposite, actually. It’s early, but Llewyn is up already, smoking his first cigarette of the day by the window like you had asked him to.

“Did you miss sleeping on the couch?” you half-joke, tearing him out of his thoughts, and that’s when he turns to you that you notice the obvious saddened frown over his face.

You had known something was wrong, but your mind had been too hazy with sleep to truly make out what was up. He had left your bedroom in the middle of the night, and when you reached for his arm so he wouldn’t go, he disregarded it, still leaning over to leave a kiss at your temple.

Now that you were fully awake, you were pretty confused as to why he had wanted to sleep on your worn out couch when he could have slept in your much more comfortable bed, now that things were clear between you.

“I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to bother you by tossing and turning all night long.” he mumbles as his gaze shifts towards the couch, a thick blanket messily thrown over it. He sighs as he puts his cigarette out in the ashtray you had specifically bought for him. “I should go. I’ll ask Joy if I can spend a few days there” he declares as he picks up his discarded pants on the floor. You hadn’t even noticed he had brought them with him in the living room. You frown as he puts them on, closing the window before turning back to him.

“You can stay here, you know. I don’t mind.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you as he buckles his belt. “I actually enjoy having you around, despite what you might think.” you nod.

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he looks around for his patterned shirt, which might have stayed in your bedroom. He hadn’t truly planned on leaving yet when he left the bedroom, after all.

“I know you do.” he exhales, “That’s the problem” he mutters under his breath, kinda hoping for it to go unnoticed, but you’re studying him hard enough to make out what he’s saying.

“Llewyn wh– What’s wrong?” you frown and sigh, plopping down onto your couch, reaching for his hand.

“Why–” he sighs, slightly shaking his head. “What are you doing with me.” he rhetorically asks, sitting down next to you. It’s stupid that he sat down with you, it will be even harder for him to leave now.

Your hand settles at the nape of his neck, and your thumb rubs that spot under his ear, just the way you know he likes, just the way it appeases him.

“That has to be the stupidest question you’ve ever asked me.”

“I’m serious.” he sighs.

“So am I.” you say, shifting closer to him. “What’s this about?” you ask, a hand resting at his knee.

“I’m the worst guy you could get” he declares, a small, stupid chuckle leaving his mouth as he says the words. He means it. You can see it with the way he’s avoiding your gaze, with the way he’s trying to pick the loose ends of the seams of his pants.

“Why are you saying things like that? I’d consider myself to be lucky, actually.” you frown, taking a hold of his hands, so he wouldn’t tear apart one of the few pairs of pants in his possession, but especially to show him that you’re meaning what you said.

“No, I am lucky. You, you’re setting yourself up sweetheart.” he declares as his thumbs brush the back of your hands, when one part of him wants to push them away to make this all easier.

"I have nothing to give you." He should have left in the middle of the night. It would have been much easier. No explanations needed, no hard goodbyes. "I'm not good enough for you, I’m a mess.” he fiddles with your fingers, looking down at them as he talks.

You tighten your grip onto his hand, squeezing hard enough to draw a reaction out of him. He looks up at you, making eye contact with you for the first time since you both woke up.

“What the hell are you talking about, Llewyn” you shake your head, astounded that he thinks so little of himself when you have always been so admirative of him, so impressed by everything he does, so enamored with him.

“I’ll hurt you too, I’ll fuck this up like I fuck everything else up” he says as he pinches his lips. You can see the weight of the world in the brown of his eyes. “I’ll say or do something stupid at some point, something that’ll hurt you, that’ll make you regret this all, it’s not too late for you to go.”

“It is”

He frowns, looking confused as if you just said the stupidest thing he's ever heard in his whole life.

“Why?” he snorts, an almost offended expression over his face, and you can see he’s beginning to lose patience; you know how he is, and you know this could quickly turn into a much more complicated conversation if you don’t do something quickly.

“Because I love you, you fucking idiot.” you say squeezing his hand again. “That’s what’s wrong with you. You’re an idiot for not realizing this.”

He closes his eyes, letting go of your hand, shaking his head before he gets up from the couch. You're quick to follow, ready to prevent him from doing anything stupid.

He turns, opens his mouth to talk again, and you know he's prepared to say something neither of you is gonna like, because that's his habit of defense.

“Shut up. I’m not letting you fuck this up deliberately." you stop him, and he sighs as you follow him to your window where he picks up the pack of cigarettes he left there. "I would be a fucked up idiot to let you go. Even more fucked up than you think you are" you joke as you snatch the pack from his hands, and he snorts. "I know what I'm doing with you. Trust me" you nod, and his lips pinch in a defeated smile.

You throw his cigarettes onto the couch, and he tuts and sighs. You grab his arm to stop him from going there. "Hey." you call, gripping his arm tight, and he turns to you. "I love you." you nod, and he falters and huffs out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding, and takes you in his arms.

He holds you, tight. Borderline too tight, but you know he needs it so you don't say anything. You rub his back up and down, your chin settled over his shoulder; you feel his warm breath against your skin as he buries his face into your neck, his beard pleasantly tickling the area.

"I'm sorry angel" he eventually whispers, before letting go of his tight grip on you. His hand comes to settle at your cheek, and he looks at you like he has already fucked it all up. "I know I'm an asshole. But I’d be miserable without you. I'm sorry" he repeats as his dark eyes study your whole face, looking for any hint of how you feel about him at this moment. Your faces are just inches away, and yet he still can't tell what is beyond your eyes.

Maybe that's it, you hate him. Maybe this is the moment this turns to shit.

"Please, say something." he chuckles, helpless. It didn't happen often, but he was pretty sure he could burst into tears at any moment now. He would hate you to see that.

And he would have left already, if this was anyone else.

Now he realizes he probably should have, it would have been easier for the both of you.

He should have thrown a tantrum like he’s so used to, should have been selfish and should have hurt your feelings, so he could leave being angry, so the pill would be easier to swallow.

But hurting your feelings was the last thing he wanted; even though in this case, it would be for your own good, so you wouldn’t have to bear this burden, so you wouldn’t have him slowly poisoning your life like a cancer progressively eating you until nothing’s left, like a wave of toxicity swallowing you whole.

You weakly smile at him, and brush back his curls when you see the beaten expression over his face. He looks like he’s decomposing, his eyes about to fall out from how hard he’s repressing what’s trying to escape.

You leave a kiss at his nose, it’s random and you do it with no forethought, but it’s the only thing you can think of at the moment.

A sigh of relief escapes his mouth when he sees you're not mad at him, and his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“Sorry.” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head as he closes his eyes.

“It’s okay.” you declare as you cup his jaw, your nails softly scratching his beard. "Just don't leave, please."

“I won't” he mutters in a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. “I don’t actually wanna go to my sister’s”

You snort, turning away, and it’s his turn to grab you by the arm, pulling you back to him.

"I'm miserable, c'mon, kiss me. Please”

A small chuckle leaves your mouth, before it comes to slot against his.

His breath smells of cigarette and his lips are chapped and rough from the cold, but the way they move against yours with ease reminds you of why you like kissing him. He hums softly as his hand comes to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer.

"Breakfast?" you ask as you pull away, smiling at him and playing with a curl behind his ear like nothing even happened, because you know that's what he wants.

He mirrors your smile, leaving a quick kiss at your lips before plopping down onto the couch, lighting himself another cigarette.

"Breakfast." he nods, walking to the window when he remembers you want him to smoke there.

Maybe he'll fuck this up at some point, but he'll stay with you as long as you still want him.

—

please reblog and tell me what you thought about this, this helps a lot thank you<3

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @spxctorsslxt @dameronshandholder

#llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis fanfiction #inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis fic #llewyn davis fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #sorry for the tags i just need to reach more people #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight

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joon4eva · 11 months

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drunk in love — kim namjoon.

genre: best friends to lovers. mutual pining.

summary: you and whiskey are never a good combination. or: you've been in love with your best friend for years and you might tell him about it while drunk.

word count. ~2,597

warnings. OC is a stubborn drunk, heavy kissing.

note. swiped two pics from u @doucillies; ur moodboards are adorable (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

masterlist

"Okay, it's time to go home."

"Nooooo," you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm havin'—hic!—the most fun right now!"

“We’re not doing this while you’re drunk, ____. Let's go.”

“I’m not”—you hiccup, hand flying up to your mouth, so ready to barf—“drunk.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and grabs your arm, guiding you towards the exit of the crowded bar.

The room seems to tilt and wobble around you, like the inside of a snow globe shaken by a child. The alcohol in your system clouds your thoughts, transforming words into unintelligible murmurs and making the edges of your vision fuzzy.

You're not one to go out often, but tonight had been a night unlike any other. Drinks had flowed like water, and one had quickly turned into, well… too many to count.

"I c'n walk on my own!" you protest, somewhat indignantly. But as soon as the words leave your mouth, your knees buckle beneath you, and Namjoon is there to catch you before you can collapse onto the floor.

He sighs, shaking his head in amused exasperation.

"Sure, you can," he mutters sarcastically while looping an arm around your waist.

You lean against him heavily, suddenly grateful for his support as the world continues to swirl around you in a dizzying blur of colors. Your own head is swimming with the protests it's trying to form, yet all you can do is let out an indignant 'pfft'.

The cool night air greets you as Namjoon leads you out of the bar. Your senses are assaulted by everything—the sound of car horns honking in the distance, the bright street lights reflecting off shiny shop windows, the smell of old cigarettes and half-eaten takeout littered on the streets.

Namjoon hails a cab quickly enough; it seems as though all yellow cabs magically congregate whenever he raises his hand.

You slump into the backseat next to him and he rattles off an address to the driver before turning to face you.

"Do I have to worry about you hurling in my apartment?"

You shake your head vehemently despite how it makes everything feel like it's moving at warp speed around you. "I wo'nn… promise."

"You better not," he says, but there's no real bite to his words, just a soft smile that makes your head spin more than the alcohol ever could.

The rest of the car ride is a blur, punctuated by stifled giggles and quiet singing along to random tunes floating through the airwaves.

The car finally comes to a stop outside Namjoon's apartment building, and he practically carries you inside, supporting your weight as you half-walk, half-stumble towards the elevator.

His apartment greets you with its familiar warmth and comforting scent.

You shed your shoes immediately upon entering; he always hated when people wore shoes inside.

Namjoon takes you by the hand and leads you to his bedroom. There's no discussion about where you'd sleep–it was never really up for debate. You had spent more nights in his bed than your own over these past few months, sharing the space like it was a natural extension of your friendship.

But deep in your heart you felt the lines of this friendship slowly blur until they were nearly indistinguishable.

You vaguely recall Namjoon going out on dates with other women – discreetly canceling on you for an evening or casually mentioning it over coffee when he couldn't spend time with you.

Each mention was like a dagger in your heart; the mere thought of him being with someone who wasn't you caused a painful twisting sensation in your chest.

Namjoon helps you sit down on the edge of his bed, pulling off your socks before turning around to rummage through a drawer for some pajamas or anything that would fit you comfortably.

He pulls out an oversized shirt and hands it to you, ushering you towards his bathroom. He stands outside the door while you splash cold water on your face, trying to sober up just enough to not become a nuisance.

In the quiet of his apartment, even the steady rhythm of your heart pounding in your ears feels deafening.

Once you're dressed in the soft fabric that smells distinctly of him, Namjoon helps you sit on his bed again while he looks for more blankets.

In these rare moments of silence, your thoughts begin to spiral towards a dangerous territory. A confession, long buried under fears and doubts, bubbles to the surface.

"Namjoonie…" you slur giddily, your words blurred and hazy even as their weight is clear.

"Hm?"

"I love you," you mumble sincerely between hiccups.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. "Oh man, you're definitely drunk. I love you too."

"'m serious," you insist, each word heavier than the last. "Like, really... really love you.

He pauses in his search for a blanket momentarily, looking back at you with furrowed eyebrows but still not taking it entirely seriously.

"And I really love you too," he murmurs back softly, turning away from you again.

Finally managing to locate an extra blanket somewhere, Namjoon walks back over, gently draping it across your legs and sitting on the edge of his bed.

For a moment, the drunken haze seems to clear from your mind- just enough for him to see your vulnerability shining through.

"You don't get it," your voice wavers as you flop over onto Namjoon's pillow, breathing in his comforting smell. "'m sooo in love with you. Can't ssannd it. Tried t' ignore it, but ev'ry day, ev'ry night—it's always you.."

His lips part and his eyes go a little wide. He blinks at you, fighting back a smile though the hint of one lingers around your words.

“You’re drunk,” he eventually says, shaking his head.

“Maybe," you hum thoughtfully, "…but I won’t be in th' morning.”

Namjoon's gaze flickers to the side, his eyes boring into a spot on the wall as though he can shield himself from any potential heartbreak.

He lets out a quiet sigh and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his throat before speaking.

"We can... we can talk about this tomorrow," he suggests softly. "When you've had some sleep and are sober enough to remember it."

"If you still feel this way then, we'll talk, okay?"

You frown at him stubbornly as he starts to settle you into bed. The soft duvet feels heavenly beneath your weary form, but the innate rebellion within you only swells stronger. “I don' need help,” you argue halfheartedly, poorly attempting to push away his supportive grip.

Namjoon just smiles gently, continuing to tuck you in despite your protests. "Of course you don't."

His familiar shape slips under the duvet beside you, close enough for comfort but still mindful of boundaries as you both drift off to sleep.

—

When dawn breaks, the first rays of sunlight creep through the cracks of the curtains, casting a warm golden glow across your faces.

It's only when Namjoon's bedroom starts to steadily regain its color that you wake up, face planted into one of the softest pillows you've ever had the pleasure of sleeping in.

Groggily, the memories from last night begin to trickle into your still foggy mind.

You're half-convinced it was all just a dream—an alcohol-induced haze of emotions and repressed feelings. But as you move to stretch out, stifling a yawn, you come face to face with Namjoon asleep beside you.

His face is relaxed, lips slightly parted as he sleeps. One arm is thrown casually over your torso, the other tucked under his pillow. The warmth of his breath tickles your cheek, and it's both terrifying and exhilarating.

You stare at him for a moment - taking in the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and the dark fringe of eyelashes against his cheeks. It feels like discovering Namjoon all over again - this time much different but just as wonderful to behold.

Namjoon stirs, his arms reflexively tightening around you while he fights the urge to wake.

You catch a stray lock of unruly hair that has fallen across his face with trembling fingers.

His eyebrows crease slightly, and he sleepily opens his eyes to meet yours.

For a few moments, the two of you just gaze at each other, silent as his grogginess fades into a dawning realization. "Hey," he mumbles softly.

Your chest constricts as a half-smile finds its way on your face. "Hey," you respond softly back.

"You stayed."

"Of course."

His arms tighten around you once more as he pulls you flush against him, nestled securely between the heat of his body and the cool cotton sheets.

"I thought you would run away," he murmurs softly into your hair, chuckling when he feels you shake your head.

Honestly, you could easily drift back to sleep like this, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breathing and the soothing patterns his hand traces on your back. But just as your eyes are about to close, his voice rumbles from his chest.

"How are you feeling?" he suddenly asks.

"I've been better," you reply honestly, muffled against his shirt.

There's a beat of silence.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" he asks.

"Not much. I remember you taking me home but everything else is blurry."

"I didn't do anything dumb, did I?" you ask.

"Well, that depends on your definition of dumb."

"Hmm. Anything I would be embarrassed about?"

"Other than the fact that you're a very stubborn drunk, no," he reassures you with a quiet laugh. "...But you did say some things."

"Oh, like what?" you ask, pulling back far enough from him so you could see his face.

There's a slight pause, his gaze momentarily flicking from your eyes to your lips.

"You said you loved me."

You nod, taking a moment to figure out how you were going to respond.

Though those words still linger as truth in your head, hearing them out loud like that is difficult to put into words. You could easily dismiss them as drunken ramblings but Namjoon knows better; he can always read you like a book.

There's only so much denial you can carry on with before eventually being swallowed alive by the chaos of your emotions.

You sigh and retreat back into his arms, nuzzling your face further into his chest. Namjoon doesn't press or push any further. Instead, he holds you tighter. Neither of you says anything for a while.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing, really," you say, swallowing back the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Mm, don't do that."

"Do what?"

He draws away from you, but keeps his hold firm, almost as if you'll slip away if he lets go.

"Lie," he says softly, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "I know you better than that."

He smirks, amused at your stunned silence. He knows just as well as you do that he's successfully called your bluff.

"You already know the answer," you finally say.

He laughs at this, his eyes adorably crinkling at the corners and those dimples you absolutely love coming out to make an appearance.

You can feel your heart pounding with him so close; though the two of you always have been close friends, this new proximity makes your cheeks flush and your thighs press together reflexively.

Through this haze, a sudden surge of self-awareness hits you, reminding you that your hangover has most likely wreaked havoc on your appearance. You nervously lick your lips and rack your brain to quickly come up with an excuse to get out of this situation, and get out of it fast.

Namjoon seems to pick up on your unease, reaching out and taking your hand gently. He guides it towards his chest, placing it right above his heart, urging you to meet his gaze again. His warmth eases some of your anxiety, and you finally meet his gaze again.

You can feel the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips, its rhythm slightly quicker than normal. He looks intently at your lips, and the corners of his mouth turn up into a faint, tender smile.

“I just want to hear you say it. Please,” he whispers.

Fully surrendered to him, to whatever this was, you find your voice.

"I love you," you manage to utter through the tightness in your throat.

Satisfied with your answer, he smiles and leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Now only inches away, his breath is warm on your face and his lips nearly graze yours when he asks, "Do I have permission?"

You give a slight nod, and that's all it takes for Namjoon to cup your chin with one hand and slightly tilt your head back to press his lips firmly against yours.

His lips are warm, surprisingly soft against your own, and as the kiss deepens, every lingering doubt is wiped away with each sweep of his tongue; it's delicate and excruciatingly slow.

You let out a soft sigh against his lips as your fingers slide up to tangle themselves into his hair, gripping it to bring him impossibly closer. You lose yourself completely in it, every inch of your body humming to life as desire courses through your veins.

You can't help but release a gasp against his lips, which he swallows and echoes with a soft groan that reverberates through your chest. Your hands find their way down to his strong arms, fingertips pressing into the taut muscles there before coming to rest at his shoulders.

You shift against him as the kiss intensifies; legs tangling together beneath the cool cotton sheets. The air around you fills with soft moans and exhalations.

Between lingering and hardening pecks on your swollen lips, you feel him whisper against your skin—"My everything...", "...Wanted to do this for so long..."—and each phrase causes an answering shudder to course through every fiber of your being.

The faint traces of stubble on his jaw graze against your face in a way that feels rough yet exciting – a sensation you hadn't experienced before. By now, it seems as if every nerve in your body is on high alert, attuned to every caress and tender touch that passes between you.

His touch remains gentle as his hands slide beneath your his soft cotton shirt, tracing patterns along the small of your back.

Your torso is now pressed up against his so tightly that it would be nearly impossible for a piece of paper to fit between you two. He responds with a low hum of appreciation and he reluctantly ends the kiss but doesn't break away entirely; his forehead rests against yours as both of you try to catch your breaths.

It doesn't take long for your lips to start exploring new territories; they traverse each other's jaws, press tender kisses along each other’s necks, and gently nibble on earlobes – all provoking delightful sighs and moans that fill the room.

Namjoon then gently rolls you flat onto your back, never breaking contact as he hovers above you.

A warmth radiates through the air as he pulls back just enough for his breath to softly brush your lips. "I love you too," he confesses, his eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt.

The whispered words could have been drowned out by the sound of your pounding heart, but they cut through the air like a dagger.

"And I always will."

#bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts #knj #namjoon imagine #kpop imagines #kim namjoon imagine

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alwaysmoncheri · 9 months

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒

pairings ❧ steve harrington x reader

summary ❧ (y/n) spends the holidays with the one and only steve harrington

warnings ❧ female!reader, cheesy & sappy steve, shit writing, holiday romcom, stancy

word count ❧ 2.7k

additional notes ❧ this is basically a cheesy holiday romcom ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

3 Months Later

Before we knew it, the holiday season had come around and it seemed like we were all scrambling to find gifts for each other. Nancy and Jonathan invited me to go Christmas shopping with them, seeing that we'd become very close in the past few months. Our shared trauma had a lot to do with that.

Jonathan had just called me and told me he'd be at my house five minutes ago. I glance at the clock again before returning my gaze out the window.

With a sigh, I trudge over to the phone hanging on the wall, starting to call Nancy's number. That's when I hear a car rolling into my driveway.

I grab my jacket, pulling it tight to my body before opening the front door and walking cheerfully outside. I instantly freeze, not because of the cold, but when I spot the maroon car sitting in my driveway.

Steve sends me a shy wave from inside his car. I hesitantly wave back before walking towards the passenger door and sitting inside.

"Hey," I say as Steve turns the heat up noticing my shivering figure, "I was supposed to be going shopping with Jonathan and Nancy."

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, "Nance called and said something came up and asked if I could step in."

Also in the past few months, Nancy and Steve got back together. He really did love that girl.

"Oh well," I say buckling my seatbelt with a bright smile, "I guess we're doing this together then, Harrington."

"Yeah, I guess so, Henderson."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Steve walks behind me with a smile as I skip around the town while it snows. I stop at every window of every shop checking to see if anything catches my eye to give to one of my friends.

Steve seems to be struggling with what to get Nancy so I have to help him out a bit.

"How about that?" I tell Steve pointing at the pretty bracelet laying in the window of the local jewelry shop.

After a few moments, Steve slowly comes up to stand beside me, his warm presence filling the air as he glances at the bracelet on display. I continue to gaze in the window, my eyes locking on a silver necklace with a ring for a pendant. My gaze lingers there for a moment before I turn my attention back to Steve, who has been watching me this whole time with those eyes.

"Yeah, that's perfect." Steve says, breaking the silence, by referring to the bracelet I'd pointed out.

"Okay, great," I reply walking towards the door to the shop, "Lets go get it."

"Wait," Steve says, grabbing my arm before I can open the door, "I'll get it. You go ahead to the next place, I'll meet you there." He says quickly and I don't question it. I just nod and start my walk to the next store.

As I walk down the sidewalk, my feet crunching into the snow, I think about what I could get for Steve. I glance at the bags in my hands, feeling a pang of guilt and embarrassment as I realize I've gotten everyone something, except for him. He's never been the hardest to shop for, but the pressure of getting Steve the perfect gift is starting to get to me. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to let some creativity in, but so far, nothing comes to mind.

Suddenly, I hear quick footsteps coming from behind me. As I open my eyes I'm met with Steve who slows his stride before stopping by my side with a couple more small bags in hand.

Steve seems to notice something is up as he tilts his head to one side with a confused look, "You okay?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, no, I'm good." I say when we begin to walk through the freshly powered snow. "I'm just thinking."

"About me, I hope?" Steve replies with a smug smile on his face.

"It's always about you, Harrington."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

The next day was Christmas Eve. Today I would be going over to the Wheeler's house to pick up Dustin from the boys' D&D campaign and hand out my gifts. And I still don't have anything for Steve.

I'm starting to freak out a little bit.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts racing with each breath I take. As the words repeat over and over in my head, I can't help but think of Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve. What would Steve like?

I sit up in bed, as the exhaustion builds inside of me. Wanting to take a break from the constant thoughts of Steve, I decide to leave the house in search of some fresh air. I grab my jacket and head towards downtown, finding a quiet bench, wiping the fresh snow off before sitting down.

As I watch the people and couples stroll by, I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace and relief.

Then, I hear soft footsteps crunching through the snow, approaching me. I look up to see an old lady, probably in he 80's, sitting down next to me, her soft and gentle eyes gazing at me with warmth and kindness. She smiles, and I respond with one of my own. The two of us share a peaceful moment, the snow falling slowly around us and sparkling in the light.

"Hey," I turn slowly towards the lady, "Could you maybe help me with something?"

"What can I help you with, honey?" The lady replies kindly.

"Um, so I have this friend, and I haven't found a gift for him yet." I let out a small sigh before continuing, "I just don't know what to do because I want it to be perfect." I finish, glancing back at the lady who just smiles.

"This friend must be very special, huh?" She asks with a certain look hiding behind those soft eyes.

"Yeah." I respond, almost dreamily, "He is."

"If you mean as much to him as he does to you, I don't think it would matter what you get him," The lady says, that soft smile never leaving her face, "As long as it's from the heart." She finishes, holding her hand up to her chest, where her heart is.

I finally know what I want to give to Steve thanks to a sudden inspiration courtesy of a random old lady's brilliant mind. I quickly thank her before rushing home so I can get the gift done before I have to head over to the Wheeler's.

Frantically, I rummage through my room, searching for the old camera Steve and I used to use together. I find it in an unexpected spot, under my bed, before heading back into town to a local shop where I can get the photos developed. I wait impatiently while the pictures dry. When they're finally done, I grab them stuffing them into my bag before going home. I grin as I shut my bedroom door behind me, knowing they'll make the perfect gift for Steve.

I slip the pictures into a small envelope before grabbing a sheet of paper to write a letter to Steve. With a clear and steady hand, I start to write, my thoughts and emotions flowing as I compose the perfect message for the one who has always meant the world to me.

As I write, a flood of memories come rushing into my mind.

"Is it a little strange? Sure, but it's also romantic. When I heard it for the first time, it reminded me of you."

I smile as I remember that night we'd spent on his bedroom floor. I remember his warm smile, the gentle touches, the mix-tape we'd never finished.

"I don't really know who you are anymore Steve."

"Then let me show you,"

I pause in my writing to dwell on the night Steve snuck into my room, all those months ago. That was the night our friendship was truly reborn in a moment of secrecy and trust.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, freak."

A single tear slips out, fueled by the bitter memory of what Steve called me months ago. I let my anger and frustration spill into the paper, letting which lets the rest of my emotions loose.

"Whoa, (Y/n), what are you doing with that?"

"Protecting your sorry ass."

I let out a light chuckle of amusement as my rage from earlier dissolves into a warm flood of happy memories.

I remember the day we made our promise, when Steve and I were just kids. We sat with our legs dangling in the pool, lightly swinging our feet through the water. The water glimmered in the sunlight, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees as we watched our reflections in the ripples of the water. I remember the sense of calm unity that we felt in that moment, our friendship forged in the waters of that pool, our words spoken with so much hope and faith in our hearts.

"We won't ever stop being friends, right?”

"We're in this together, Steve Harrington."

"Always."

With a small smile on my face, I carefully slip the letter into the envelope alongside our childhood pictures. I then gently place the envelope in my backpack, where it lies with the rest of the presents I'll be giving out later today.

Then I realize I've made a love letter in disguise.

Shit.

Oh well.

I hear a couple knocks on the front door and promptly open it, finding Jonathan standing on the other side with a warm smile. As he gestures towards the driveway, I nod and head out the door, putting my backpack on and grabbing my jacket. We then drive to the Wheeler's house to pick up our brothers from their campaign. I'm filled with excitement and anticipation as we pull up, eager to see my friends reactions to the gifts I picked out for them.

As we pull up to the house, I notice Steve's maroon car sitting in the driveway, the sight causing my smile to falter ever so slightly. The thoughts of him and Nancy getting back together run through my mind. But I remind myself that Steve and Nancy are my friends, and I'm going to support their decision, no matter how much it hurts.

Jonathan and I get out of the car and walk up to the door where a very cheerful Mrs. Wheeler greets us, with a tray of cookies in hand.

"Merry Christmas, kids," She greets with a warm smile, "Cookie?" She offers pushing out the tray towards us.

"Ooh, thanks, Mrs. Wheeler!" I exclaim happily, grabbing a cookie before walking alongside Jonathan into the house.

"Nancy is upstairs with Steve and the boys are in the basement." Mrs. Wheeler comments before making her way back to the kitchen with the rest of the cookies.

"Perfect," I say before walking down the stairs to the basement.

"Jeez, what's that smell?" Jonathan says as I bring my hand up to my nose to plug it, "Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?" Jonathan asks, making me let out a snort.

"Oh, that's just Dustin." Lucas giggles, "He farted. Dustin farted." Lucas sings while making farting noises.

"Okay." Dustin replies annoyed.

"Dustin farted." Lucas continues to sing.

"Very mature, Lucas." My brother comments and I let out another chuckle.

"Will." Jonathan says, grabbing his brother's attention, who stand up with a smile, "Come on."

"Shut up." Dustin repeats.

"Dustin farted!" Lucas sings, standing from his seat.

"Bye guys." Will says with a little wave before following his brother up the stairs.

"Bye Will." The three boys chorus at the same time.

"Dust, we gotta go too," I say with a smile as the boys say goodbye to their friend, "But first, presents!" I sing, opening my backpack.

As the boys sift through my bag and pull out their gifts with excitement, I watch them with a smile on my face. They thank me for the thoughtful presents with wide grins, giving me affectionate hugs. I wave goodbye to the boys before, Dustin and I rush up the stairs. Where Mrs. Wheeler is waiting.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Wheeler." Dustin and I say at the same time and I send her a soft smile.

"Merry Christmas, guys." She returns my smile, "Say hi to your mom for me."

"We will." I reply before heading towards the door. I usher Dustin out, telling him that I'll be right there.

Before I can make my way up the stairs to Nancy's room, her and Steve come rushing down the stair. In a flurry of holiday cheer and joy, the two of them make their way towards me, their faces filled with excitement with presents in hand.

"We thought we heard your voice." Nancy says with a sweet smile, handing me a present, "Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Nancy." I say sincerely before she nods, walking towards her mom whose still in the kitchen.

I place the tiny gift box into my backpack grabbing the envelope for Steve before facing the nervous looking boy in front of me.

"I—"

"Here." I say, shoving the letter into his hand.

"Oh, thanks." Steve replies, starting to open the letter.

"Wait!" I say frantically grabbing his hands, preventing him from opening it right now.

"Later?" Steve asks, reading my mind.

"Yeah." I let out a relieved sigh as Steve puts the letter into his front pocket.

I stare into Steve's eyes for a moment, my heart fluttering with every beat. Then he reaches into his back pocket and suddenly reveals a small jewelry box, the sight causing my breath to catch in my throat.

"Uh, I got you something." Steve says, fidgeting with the box in his hand, before reaching out to grab my hand, placing the box into my palm gently, "You can open it now, if you want."

I slowly and carefully open the box, my anticipation growing with every inch it opens. When the lid finally lifts, however, I can't help but gasp as I catch glimpse of the necklace from yesterday, the one with the ring. I stare at the necklace in my hand, eyebrows furrowed as I try to make sense of this gift.

My thoughts run wild as I look up at the boy whose staring at me with excitement and slight worry.

"Read it." Steve says softly, "The ring."

I grab the ring noticing the engraved message on the inside.

Always

My eyes start to tear up when I glance up at Steve.

"Whoa, you don't like it?" Steve questions with a concerned look.

"No, no, I love it, Steve." I laugh lightly at his worry.

"Oh, good." He replies rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can I?" Steve asks, reaching his hands out towards the box.

With blush spreading across my cheeks, I nod as Steve steps closer, his warm hands taking the necklace. He gently moves my hair to the side and quickly fastens the necklace around my neck with a soft click. As he shifts my hair back into place, I turn back around, our faces inches apart.

"Thank you, Steve." I say softly, glancing at his lips, "I really love it."

"Yeah, I mean, I saw you looking at it and I—"

I cut him off with a quick hug, a warm feeling pooling in my chest as I feel his arms wrap around me. We stand there by the front door of the Wheeler's house, our bodies pressed together, the moment charged with emotion. I lean in and give his cheek a quick peck before finally parting ways. I turn towards the door, my hand resting on the knob.

"Bye, Steve." I say, sending him a small wave before opening the door.

"Bye." Steve replies dazed, but still gives me a two-finger wave.

I smile because something changed, and I'm not sure that's a bad thing anymore.

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coopigeoncoo · 1 year

Text

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 3: Through The Hourglass I Saw You

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Drowning, Somnophilia, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

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Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town. He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin. You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest. "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

The harbor grew grimmer by the day as ships disappeared one-by-one, loaded up onto trailers and hauled away into storage for the season. Some of the men joined their ships in wintering away from the town, setting off in the early morning light to visit far flung families until they had long worn out their welcome and the ice began to thaw.

You were helping out down at the docks that morning, accompanying Gramps who insisted on sticking to his usual routine despite the rasp in his chest that he couldn't quite kick. You'd stuck around to keep an eye on him, making yourself useful by stacking up the lobster pots and crab cages in a nearby storage building. The wire cages were hopelessly bent and buckled from years of heavy use, so your stacks were lopsided and wobbly; threatening to topple over if you so much as looked at them wrong.

"Could be worse, I suppose," the Dockmaster tutted, which was pretty much as close to a glowing recommendation as he was capable of giving. "Don't forget to grab the pots near the office too."

"The remaining boats won't need them?"

"Nah. It's starting to get too cold for shellfish. Most of the crabs and lobsters have already moved out into deeper waters where it's warmer. It's not worth the trouble for the handful of 'em that haven't had the good sense to leave yet."

"I see," you mutter distractedly, thinking about the lobster you knew for certain was still lingering near the shore and how cold his skin had grown.

"You need to leave, don't you?" You asked Kirishima the next day as you lay sprawled across his chest and belly, an old quilt wrapped around your upper bodies as you did your best to bring up his core temperature.

"I don't want to," he whispered, pulling you further up his chest so he could nuzzle into your neck as he was oft to do. "I want to stay with you."

"Eijiro-"

"Please. Just a few more days. I'm not ready yet."

"And you will be in a couple of days?"

"No," Eijiro laughs dryly, his upper legs snagging the edge of the quilt and tucking it more firmly around your body. "But I don't think I'll have much of a choice."

Clad in your wetsuit, the murky ocean water too cold for even a warm-blooded creature like yourself to brave without discomfort, you clung desperately to Eijiro in the fading evening light. You had spent the entire day wrapped in each other's tight embrace, treasuring every kiss and caress, knowing that these fleeting touches would have to sustain you over the long months you'd spend apart.

"Promise that you'll come back?" You croak, throat tight with misery. "That you won't meet some lobster lady and forget all about me?"

"That's enough of that sort of talk," Eijiro scolded, grasping your chin in his icy hand and directing your gaze up to his face; his eyes steely and serious. "Believe me, Minnow- nobody can ever compare to you."

"I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm not doubting your sincerity, but it's just so hard and I- I don't know what I'll do without you."

"Can I tell you something? About when we first met?"

"Okay."

"I…wasn't in a great place that day. I had been rejected again for mating rights- the same thing that had happened year after year after year. I thought that I would never get to know what it was like; to be held, wanted, loved," he explained, stopping to press a tender kiss to your furrowed brow. "And then, all of a sudden, there you were."

"There I was, thinking that a lobster man was drowning and making an absolute fool of myself," you snort, that memory summoning up a feeling of retrospective mortification that sometimes kept you awake at night.

"No. There you were, struggling to reach me- to save me. I might not have actually been in trouble, but no one had ever fought so hard for me before, not once in my entire life. Can you imagine how I felt then? When you reached out to me and begged for me to take your hand? When you promised you wouldn't ever let me go?"

You shook your head, the unforgiving loneliness Kirishima described too strange and foreign for you to truly understand.

"It felt like all of my dreams had come true," he grinned, his pale blue lips stretched wide into a dreamy smile.

"Oh, Eijiro," you sobbed, chest bursting with emotions you struggled to put names to; feelings that existed somewhere in the space between heartbreak and bliss.

"And you know what the most amazing thing was? You kept fighting for me. Over and over again, even when the opponent was yourself. I thought for sure when we thought you were allergic to me that you would realize I wasn't worth the trouble and give up."

"But I didn't."

"No, you didn't," Eijiro whispered, disbelief and awe steeped into his words as he cradled your face adoringly between his chilled hands. "And now it's my turn. Let me prove to you that I will always return, that I'll fight to be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Forever, then?"

"Forever," Kirishima readily agreed, sealing his oath with a kiss that lasted until you were both left shivering as the final rays of sun were swallowed by the horizon.

You had arranged for Gramps to spend the day with his friends down at the restaurant where they were celebrating the official end of the commercial fishing season. As much as all the men claimed they wouldn't so much as touch a pole until the Game Warden declared the waters open for fishing next year, you knew you would catch them out on the lake in a few weeks time; sawing through the ice and vying for the best positions to park their fishing huts.

You had begged off from the celebrations, citing a need for a break from caregiving and catch your breath. The men organizing the event had understood completely, assuring you that they would keep a close watch on your Grandpa and get him home safely at the end of the night.

There was an entire list of chores that needed to be done; scrubbing the burnt lasagna sauce from the bottom of the oven, crawling under the porch to shut off the water to the outside spigot before the first frost hit, making sure Gramps had enough meds to make it through the week- mundane things. Important things. Things that absolutely needed to get done.

Instead, you rolled over and pulled your covers over your head, crying yourself quietly back to sleep instead.

"Hey, Gramps?" You called out from your place at the stove, pushing a spatula half-heartedly through the powdered eggs congealing at the bottom of the pan. "You gonna' do anything with the box on the table? It's been sitting there a couple of days and I want to try and get the table cleaned off by dinner."

"What are you talking about?" Your Grandpa huffed, shuffling into the kitchen. "I didn't get a package."

"Check the table," you encouraged gently, turning away so you wouldn't have to witness the pinch of confusion twisting across his face.

"Oh, I- I guess I'd forgotten," he stammered, mind reeling for an explanation as he pulled out the packing slip, a shower of foam shipping peanuts spilling out across the tabletop. "Must have thought it was for you or something."

"Of course," you agreed, shutting off the burner and dumping the scrambled eggs into a shallow bowl. "Here's breakfast if you want it."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks," he muttered as he squinted down at the packing list. "Do you know why I ordered five bags of penis shaped pasta?"

You laughed, a sharp, surprised sound that was wholly inappropriate on such a quiet morning.

"Can't say that I do. But if It were me, I'd make some for dinner so the next time someone told me to go eat a bag of dicks I could say 'Oh, yeah? I already have.'"

"Ha!" Your Grandpa wheezed, slapping his thigh heartily before digging one of the bags of pasta out of the box. "That's a good one!"

"Don't act so surprised," you sniff haughtily, snagging the pasta from his hand and dropping it onto the counter. "I am your granddaughter after all."

"That you are," he chuckled, spooning some of the eggs into his mouth while you rooted through the fridge.

"Do we have any hot dogs left?" You ask as you push a margarine container full of leftovers to the side. "I want to chop some up and add them to the pasta so we can really lean into the weenie linguini angle."

The boys from the dock were over today, crammed around the ancient TV in the living room on folding chairs they hauled around from house to house to accommodate their shifting hangout locations so no one person had to bear the burden of hosting every get together.

You'd thought they would have some sort of preferred sports match to watch, a local football or hockey team perhaps; but apparently the group of them were too competitive to coexist peacefully during play-off season. After a particular explosive brawl a decade or so ago, where everyone limped away with fat lips and bloody knuckles, they had sworn off sports spectatorship entirely for the sake of community harmony. These days they spent their weekends tuned into dog shows, speculating on which pooches would place and cheering on their favorite breeds.

"I don't get how this is any different than you all watching football or something," you huff, slamming a piece of bread down on top of the tuna sandwich you were assembling. "Those dogs are still competing and you're all still picking sides."

"That's true," your Grandpa's best friend nodded, snagging a bag of pork rinds out of the pantry to carry back out to the living room along with his newly opened beer. "But the difference is that we really don't care which dogs actually win. They're all good dogs who deserve to come in first, so there are no hard feelings when your favorite doesn't place."

"Can't argue with that logic, I suppose."

"Nope. And believe me, we've tried!" He chortled, peering around the door frame to sneak a glance at Gramps; perched in his recliner and trying to follow the bouncing conversation with a distant gaze.

"He's not doing well, is he?" His friend sniffed, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay by coughing into his fist.

"No, he's not."

"Right. Okay."

"It's not," you croaked, placing a gentle hand between his quaking shoulders, rubbing soothing circles and allowing him to have a quiet moment of grief while snippets of an argument over the low placement of a group favorite, a sad-faced St. Bernard, floated by.

It was bitterly cold out tonight. You thought you had bundled up appropriately for the season, but it had quickly become evident the moment you stepped outside that you had missed the mark by a layer or five. It wasn't enough of a deterrent for you to turn around though. You needed to get out and fill your lungs with something besides the stale air of your house that was weighed down by the fragrance of your Grandfather's slow demise; thin broths and pain medicine, powdered shampoo and muscle creams.

Body on auto-pilot, you wandered down to the beach, dropping down onto the frigid sand indelicately. You stared out at the ocean for a while, lost in the memories of sunny days and Kirishima's sunnier smile.

"You better come back, Eijiro," you whispered, tears stinging sharply as they rolled down your cheeks in the frigid air. "I don't think I can handle losing both of you."

Gramps had passed quietly in the night during the deepest part of winter; when snow fell more often than not and you had to muscle the front door open from the frozen frame every morning. It had taken the funeral home a long time to get to you with the icy condition of the roads, so you did your best to keep busy and await their arrival.

You had thought that you could be strong and wait with your Grandpa when the time came, but now that the moment was here you found that you couldn't bear to stay in his room a moment longer than absolutely necessary. His face was slack and unfamiliar, body empty of the essence that made Gramps uniquely him; the wise-cracking busybody with more jokes than sense.

Ignoring the smell of cooling excrement that permeated the room, you kissed your Grandfather's forehead, tucked his blankets further up on his shoulders, and left the room. You frittered time away with any distraction you could find, sifting through piles of junk mail and TV guides, straightening the doilies your Grandma had lovingly tatted and draped across every horizontal surface, and cut out coupons from the Sunday paper. Each of those tasks stretched out by you anxiously pulling back the front window curtain every few minutes to check for the hearse's arrival.

After an eternity of chipping ice off the freezer walls, you finally spied the hearse slowly rolling down the street, followed by a beat up sedan you knew belonged to your Grandpa's best friend. He shot out of the car recklessly fast for someone with a bad hip on an icy sidewalk, but you didn't have it in you to chastise him.

Not today.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized as you ran a shaking hand down your face in frustration, watching the people from the funeral home unload a gurney and toss a folded up body bag on top. "I should have called- I didn't, I don't-"

"Hush," your Grandpa's friend interrupted gruffly, pulling you into a tight hug that you didn't know you needed. "You've had enough on your mind this morning. Have you eaten?"

"I- no. I went to ask Gramps what he wanted and I just never got around to it," you say, voice muffled by the downy coat your face was pressed into. "I think I may have left the milk out."

"It's cold enough that I'm sure the milk is fine," he said, pulling back from the hug and pushing you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder while the funeral director and his assistant rolled the gurney towards the front steps. "How about I meet with these gentlemen while you whip us up something real quick? I'm not picky, so whatever you make'll be fine."

You were thankful in this moment for the way the entire town danced around emotionally charged situations, welcoming the distraction of preparing a meal over having to deal with well-meaning sympathies and feelings you weren't sure how to start processing.

"I'll get some coffee going. Come to the kitchen whenever you're ready."

"Will do."

"This is a good turn out," you cried, dabbing at your eyes with a handful of soggy tissues.

"Your Grandfather was a well liked man."

"I don't even recognize some of the people here," you admitted, squinting to the back row that was clogged with women in spectacularly styled church hats and hand-me-down pearls.

"That's the Ladies Auxiliary for the town up the coast. They come to all the funerals around here."

"For fun?"

"No," your Grandpa's friend snorted. "To make sure there's always someone here. Not everyone is as popular as your Gramps is- was."

"Oh," you sob, overcome by their thoughtfulness. "That's so nice."

"It is. They're lovely gals."

Still crying, you peered down into the casket where Gramp's body lay; still and unsmiling for the first time in his life. The funeral director had seemed a bit confused when you had handed him the bag of garments and accessories you had put together for your Grandfather to be buried in, but you were pleased to see he had executed your vision flawlessly.

His only suit, a tasteful tweed affair you had seen him squeeze into for every family wedding since you were a kid, was accented by a novelty squirting flower pinned to his lapel and a motorized bow tie that spun wildly under his chin with a cheery whirring noise.

"You don't think the novelty vampire teeth were too much?"

"This is exactly what he would have wanted," his friend assures you, reaching into the casket and pushing down onto the rubber chicken stuffed into the crook of your Grandfather's arm; the resulting squawk easily heard over the din of the deep sniffles of a group of men who refused to outright cry and were all collectively experiencing an out of season allergy flare up.

"Just wait until the eulogies. I slipped a remote controlled fart machine into his pocket."

The town restaurant was unusually packed during breakfast the next day. The booths that usually sat empty were all full of members of the Ladies Auxiliary, each woman primly sipping coffee and pointedly ignoring each other's deeply rumpled dresses and day-old makeup.

"Do you have something you want to say?" The lady at the counter next to you bristled, apparently taking your curious glances as a sign of disapproval.

"Not at all," you rushed to explain, sliding a handful of bills across the counter to pay for your breakfast order. "I'd be doing something similar if my boyfriend were around."

"Alright then," the woman said, shoulders deflating as the fight seeped from her body. "My apologies."

"It's fine," you say, waving off her contrition as you contemplate a triangle of toast left untouched on your plate. "Besides, I'm sure my Gramps would be thrilled that his funeral was directly responsible for his friends having such a memorable evening."

"Goodness!" The woman gasped. "That was your Grandfather's funeral? I feel even worse now!"

"It's fine! Really! I shouldn't have been staring. I've just gotten used to the same grungy old men that seeing a group of lovely and well-dressed women caught me off guard."

"They are a bit rough around the edges," the woman agreed with a slight grimace, dabbing at the faded remains of her lipstick with the edge of a napkin.

"No judgment here, sister. Any port in a storm, ammirite?"

She snorts inelegantly, the corner of her mouth quirked in delight as she unclasps the top of her practical clutch and pulls out a slightly wrinkled pamphlet for the Ladies Auxiliary that she slides across the counter towards you.

"Here's the brochure for our branch of the Auxiliary. You should consider joining. I think it'll do you good to spend some time away from these old curmudgeons and spend some time in a more…feminine atmosphere."

To perfectly punctuate her sales pitch, one of the men at the back of the diner let loose an astoundingly loud belch that immediately launched all the men into an explosive round of appreciative applause.

"One question: do I get to wear a fancy hat like you do?" You ask, staring at the artfully arranged tower of tulle and feathers piled atop her head.

"Of course. What's even the point, otherwise?"

"Count me in."

The weeks ticked by slowly as you grew accustomed to living by yourself and figuring out what constituted your new normal. The activities that had defined your existence at the beginning of your stay, spending time with Eijiro and caring for Gramps, were both suddenly and dramatically stricken from your schedule and you struggled to fill your days because of it.

Perhaps sensing your ennui, the town council; which was composed entirely of the two brothers who also ran the post office, elected to put you in charge of using the snowblower to clear off the sidewalks on mainstreet and the walkways of anyone who called and asked you for assistance. It kept you busy most mornings, and you were glad for the distraction.

The rest of your time was spent getting Gramp's affairs put in order; contacting banks and sending copies of his death certificate to Governmental agencies you'd never heard of before. When you had a moment to spare you would pick a room in the house and start organizing, carefully packing away bits of family history and discarding numerous shoe boxes stuffed full of faded sales receipts and old batteries.

Gramps friends and neighbors, sadly well-versed in estate cleaning, would often swing by to assist you in lifting heavier objects and driving truck beds full of garbage out to the dump. You were currently glued to your laptop, scanning in old family photos for posterity and considering how much of a bother it would be to put a digital album together when a hand clapped down firmly onto your shoulder, wrenching a startled yelp out from the depths of your soul.

"Sorry!" Your Grandpa's friend winced, removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step away from your person. "Didn't realize I was sneaking up on ya'."

"It's okay," you gasp, heart still hammering in your chest. "I was pretty distracted."

A picture from your Grandparents' honeymoon had just popped up on the screen. With little money and even less time to spare, they had spent a weekend driving up and down the coast, stopping and eating at every pancake restaurant they could find. They'd rated their meals at every location, their food selections identical for the sake of consistency, in a tiny notebook you'd found stashed away in Gramp's desk.

"Good gracious- look at how young he was."

"I know."

"Such a goofy looking fella'," he noted, pulling out the chair next to you. "Good thing you take after your Grandma."

"The small mercies of the universe," you agree, loading up a new picture into the scanner.

He flips through the box of loose photos, pausing every now and then to closely examine a picture of him or the boys around town.

"You don't have to stay, you know," he murmured gruffly as he lifted a delicate sepia tinted photo up by the edges. "You've been helping out a lot this year and while we're grateful for all you've done, we'll get along just fine without you. We always have."

It was kind of him, to give you an out; to not mention the handfuls of people who had left town this year, either in a body bag or shoved into the dedicated minivan from the local retirement home. The townsfolk had gotten by in the past because they were numerous and young. Now they were few and old and struggling to make it through each year. You leaving would likely be the domino that would send the town toppling into ruin with no one around to push a mower without getting winded or shuffle up onto a roof to repair a leak without vertigo setting in.

"This life…isn't what I ever imagined for myself," you admit, mind churning with thoughts of Eijiro as you swap out photos in the scanner once more. "But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy here. I'm just happy in a way I didn't expect."

"You like us old coots that much, eh?" He chuckled, tossing the photo back into the box and turning his attention to a stack of your Grandfather's ledgers.

"Please," you scoffed. "I'm only staying because I just sent a check up to the Ladies Auxiliary and I know for a fact that there's no way they'll refund me that membership fee. Their treasurer is feisty."

As soon as the barometer rose above freezing the town sprung into action, ripping tarps off of boats, changing out oil, and checking coolant levels. It was still far too cold for leaves and blossoms to emerge, but the return of the ships to harbor did more to lift your spirits than a field of flowers ever could. Those boats were a true and indelible sign that spring was on its way.

"What are you smiling about?" One of the dockworkers called down to you from where he was grinding down a rusty patch on the cabin wall with a belt sander. "If you have time to be happy you must not have enough to do!"

"No, no! I'm very busy here," you assured him, smearing a large glob of wax across the hull. "I'm just excited that it's almost lobster season again."

"Again with all the lobster talk? All winter it's been lobster this and lobster that!"

"Well, can you blame me? I think I've spent enough of my life without lobster at this point."

"Fair enough!" The worker laughed, a dry bray that sounded enough like a donkey that it always made you smile. "What are you looking forward to the most? Steamed lobster? Lobster rolls?"

"I'm looking forward to getting me some of that sweet, sweet lobster tail," you giggled to yourself, kicking on the electric buffer to drown out the sounds of chit-chat and swearing, drifting off in a sea of titillating memories you hoped you'd be able to recreate soon.

You were refreshing the paint on a red and yellow striped buoy, hands and arms splotched with an entire rainbow of colors from your work, when the Dockmaster approached the section of overturned crates you had turned into your maritime arts and crafts station.

"You're not completely incompetent."

"Thank you, Sir," you said, setting down your brush to rest across the top of a small bucket of paint.

"Clean up here and come to my office. I've got something for you."

That something turned out to be a set of keys that you had barely managed to catch by the neon orange key float as the Dockmaster chucked them at your head.

"Those'r the keys to your new boat. Congratulations. Don't fuck up," he grunted, snuffing his cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray. "Now get out of my office."

You stumbled out of the smoky room, keys clutched in your hands as you slumped down into a sagging lawn chair the Dockmaster kept outside for his smoke breaks on warmer days when the air in his office became too stifling.

"You okay?" One of the passing fishermen asked, hefting a large coil of rope further up his shoulder. "Dockmaster wasn't too mean to ya', was he?"

"No- he, uh. He gave me a boat?"

"Ha! Did he really?" The fisherman laughed. "Guess you're really one of us now!"

"But I don't even know how to drive a boat!" You screeched, panic quickly replacing the buzzing numbness that had filled you only moments before.

"It's not that hard. Me and the boys will go with you when you take your boat for a spin and show you the ropes."

"That'll be great. Thanks."

It was, in fact, not great.

While the fishermen were correct that driving a boat was technically easy, every other aspect of handling a boat fell somewhere along the spectrum between frustrating and absolute madness. Your docking skills were so abysmal that the fishermen had ended up lashing tires around the entire hull, effectively turning your ship into the maritime version of a bumper car.

But the absolute worst part of the entire experience turned out to be the name of your vessel.

"I'm changing the name," you declared boldly once you and your group of tagalong fishermen had matched the numbers on your keychain to the blocky boat ID numbers printed on the forward half of the ship.

"Oh, come on!" One of the men laughed, doubled over and wheezing for breath at your expense. "You're the perfect choice to captain 'The Nauti Girl!'"

Just saying the name outloud was enough to send the men into a cackling uproar once again. One man with a bushy Santa beard was having a hard enough time regaining his composure that he gave up entirely and laid down on the dock, rolling around on the warped planks as he fought to catch his breath.

"Nope. I refuse. This boat is going to have a nice and respectable name. Like 'Sea Breeze' or 'Wave Breaker'," you huffed. "Something I won't be embarrassed to call out over the radio."

"Boooring!" The loudest fisherman protested. "Besides, it's bad luck to change the name of a ship."

"Of course it is," you mutter disgruntledly.

"Also," the man continued. "If you changed the name then you'd have to get rid of this lovely lady!" He said while gesturing to the cute, pinup style mermaid in a sailor's hat perched next to your boat's sprawling cursive name.

You cross your arms across your chest, thoughtfully staring at the teal haired mermaid holding an anchor at just the right angle to obscure her nipples and keep things family-friendly.

"Okay, fine. But if I can't name the boat I get to name the mermaid," you grumbled, throwing your leg high to make it over the coaming and step down onto the deck; turning back to face the men in the dock when you realized they hadn't followed you onto the boat.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" The man with the Santa beard asked, his cheeks still burning red from his fit of hysterics moments ago.

"Permission granted," you grinned in return. "I need you gentlemen to show me just what this 'Nauti Girl' is capable of!"

As the greenest fisher at the dock, the men had been gradually easing you into performing more difficult tasks while you grew accustomed to piloting your boat. So far you had mostly been sent out to return forgotten items or lunches to boats that had disembarked earlier in the day, but just a few days ago the Dockmaster had started sending you out to check on the farthest flung lobster cages to see if the crustaceans were starting to make it back to the coastline.

The first few had come up empty, so you made a note of their locations and double checked that they were firmly attached to their buoys before chucking them back into the water. Pulling up on the next end line, you were surprised to feel some resistance. The other cages had come up relatively easily, so maybe this pot actually had something trapped inside?

Bracing your legs, you tightened your grip onto the rope and gave a mighty tug, drawing the rope up and over the edge of your boat. Ever so slowly, you drew the sodden rope up from the water, peering over the edge to see what could possibly be weighing down the line so much. Your questions were answered when, with one final pull and a forceful grunt, the grinning face of Eijiro dramatically rose out of the water.

"Would you look at that," you laughed, happy tears rolling down your cheeks as you reached down towards your boyfriend. "The first lobster of the season."

"And from the way you tell it, I'm quite the catch," Kirishima winked playfully as he grasped the side of your boat and pulled himself up to be face-to-face with you.

"I missed you, Eijiro. So, so much," you cried, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as tightly as you could, which you knew was a fair bit snugger than you could manage the last time you saw him thanks to countless hours of unpaid manual labor.

"I missed you too, Minnow," Eijiro said, his voice shaky as he nuzzled into your shoulder and deeply inhaled the scent of your skin. You had envisioned your reunion a thousand times over the last few months, but all of those scenarios paled in the face of the actual experience of being cradled in Eijiro's arms once more. Even the uncomfortable feeling of the side of the boat digging into your belly couldn't take away from the thrum of utter contentment unfurling in your soul.

"Nauti Girl, come in Nauti Girl. Nauti Girl, do you read me? Over." The radio on your boat screamed as it crackled to life.

"Really?" You groan. "They had to call right now?"

"Wait- why is that man calling you 'Naughty Girl'?" Kirishima asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ugh!" You huff, pressing a quick to Eijiro's lips as you unwillingly work to free yourself from the tangle of his limbs. "He isn't calling me that, it's the name of my boat."

"You named your boat Naughty Girl?"

"I would never! It already came with a name-"

"Nauti Girl? Pick up! Over!"

"I'm coming! Hold your horses!" You yell ineffectually at the radio, knowing that they won't hear you until you hold down the button to answer. "Just- hold on one second, okay?"

You practically fly across the deck, slamming your hand down on the call button. "Nauti Girl, here. Go ahead. Over."

"There was a small accident and we're short a set of hands to get the last boat launched. Requesting you return to harbor to assist. Over."

Hissing in frustration, you send a pleading look to where Eijiro is draped across the coaming, watching you with an utterly dejected look settling across his face.

"You need to go, don't you?" He murmured sadly.

"I do. They can't do it without me."

"I understand," Eijiro sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration and sending tiny droplets of water spraying across the deck. "Sometimes you have to help others at the expense of yourself."

"Yeah," you sighed, pressing the button down once more. "Roger that. I'll finish up here and head back ASAP. Over and out."

You hook the receiver back into place and rush again to Eijiro, cradling his jaw in your hands as you press tender kisses across his face. He closed his eyes and sighed happily, basking in the glow of your loving attention.

"I need to head back in. But let's meet tonight at the cave up shore. I'll bring some blankets and snacks and we can spend all night together, okay?"

"Okay," he nods with a soft smile, eyes sparking as his hand drifts down to pat at the top of a tightly woven seagrass basket tied around his hips. "And I'll show you the surprise I brought."

"You got me something?" You gasp in delight, peering further over the edge of the boat to examine the closed lid basket more closely.

"Technically, I got us something," he laughed nervously, glancing down at the basket with a fond smile. "I hope you'll love it as much as I do."

The accident back at dock was thankfully minor; someone had gotten their hand smashed between two crates and while they hadn't broken any bones, Doc had them on lockdown in his living room to make sure they were actually keeping their hand iced and elevated. Doc's concern was well placed because it wasn't unusual for the townsfolk to nod along to his instructions and then conduct themselves as though they were the poster children for medical noncompliance.

With everyone pitching in you were able to get the last boat launched with no real issues and then spent the remainder of the afternoon anxiously watching the sun dip lower on the horizon as you replaced missing weights on casting nets. Once it became too difficult to see what your hands were doing in the fading light, the men called it for the day and you had to endure the Herculean task of trying to casually walk home. You wanted to take off at a sprint to rendezvous with Eijiro as quickly as you could, but knew that running through town would draw unwanted scrutiny from the townsfolk. Going out onto the ocean alone at night was foolhardy and dangerous, and if you were caught heading out you knew that you would be hauled back in and given a stern talking to about your reckless behavior.

So you played it cool, stopping to chat to folks heading down to the diner, dropping into the corner store to grab some granola bars and a couple bags of chips, and slowly made your way home the same as you would every night. But you were off and running as soon as the porch door slammed shut behind you, tearing across the house and throwing things into a large duffle bag as quickly as you could manage before shoving slices of deli meat and handfuls of shredded cheese into your mouth in lieu of an actual meal as you waited for the last bit of daylight to evaporate into inky darkness.

Once the bright pinpricks of stars were the only lights remaining in the sky you made your escape, sliding outside through the kitchen door that faced the ocean and creeping quietly down to the beach, stopping only to grab your inflatable raft you kept under the back deck. Slipping on a life vest, you tossed your bag into your raft and waded out into the shallows, jumping aboard and pushing yourself away from the shore with alternating pushes of your paddle against the sandy ocean floor.

"Just a little longer, Eiji," you whispered quietly into the night. "I'm on my way."

Kirishima was already at the cave when you arrived, paddling nervously around in circles while singing, the strange clicks layering into a haunting sort of lullaby; like crickets chirping late in the night. His song cut off as he caught sight of you, darting to you and grabbing a hold of your raft's tow rope and pulling you to the rocky cave shore as he'd done so many times before.

"Decided to leave the Naughty Girl at home, huh?" He teased, patting a hand onto the side of your trusty raft as you hopped out and pulled it further onto the shore to keep the shifting tide from grabbing it while you weren't paying attention.

"What are you talking about? I'm right here!" You winked back playfully as you unzipped your duffle bag and worked at spreading the large quilt down over the sand.

"Of course," he laughed, watching with fond eyes as you settled into the middle of the blanket. "My mistake."

"I can probably be persuaded to forgive you," you purred, patting the blanket as you beckoned for Kirishima to come and join you on shore. His eyes followed the curves of your legs up as he swallowed thickly, hands darting to the basket at his hip.

"Okay, so, before we go any further I have something I need to show you," he confesses, untying the complicated knots that kept the basket lashed around his hips. "You have to come here. It doesn't- the basket has to stay in the water for now."

"Alright," you agreed readily, concerned for the abrupt mood shift Eijiro was displaying. Cautiously, you made your way down to the water and stepped into the shallows, joining your boyfriend in the chest-deep water.

"Before I open this, I want to remind you about how much I love you. I understand if this is too much and I'm sorry I made such a big decision without you, but I had to do something," Eijiro said, his words rushed and squished together with worry as he carefully pried open the lid of the basket and pushed it into your awaiting arms.

You peer down into the basket, stuffed full of slimy ribbons of kelp and dotted with tiny slivers of fish bones. Confused, you were about to ask Kirishima about what exactly you were supposed to be looking at when a passing wave shifted a tangle of the kelp and revealed a downy tuft of bright red hair. Breathlessly, you reached into the basket and brushed aside another clump of seaweed, uncovering the tiny curled up half-lobster baby within.

"Eijiro," you whisper, trying to keep your voice level so you wouldn't disturb the sleeping child. "Did you steal a baby?"

"What? No!" Kirishima rushes to assure you, his smooth hands sliding to cover yours as you cradle the basket. "It was a really successful hatching season. We hadn't had so many hatchlings survive in, well, ever. And we were struggling to keep them all fed and safe, but it was just too overwhelming."

"This little one was really struggling. They wouldn't eat on their own and couldn't keep up with their siblings," Eijiro murmured sadly, letting loose a couple of comforting clicks as he ran a gentle finger through their fluttering hair. "Their mother couldn't give them the attention they needed without her other children suffering, so she culled them from her nest."

"That's awful," you whispered, hand dipping into the basket beside Eijiro's to gently stroke the little one's pale and pudgy cheek.

"It is," he agreed. "But necessary. She couldn't risk the health of her other children for just one."

It was quiet for a while as you both peered down at the sleeping child as they shifted, curling their tail around their head and rolling up into a ball about the size of an orange.

"They're so small."

"The runt of their pod. Just like me," Eijiro sniffed, a distant and miserable look in his eyes. "It could have been me. If my hatching year had been more successful, it would have been me pushed out and left to die."

"Oh, Eijiro," you sob; angry at the cruelty and unfairness of nature that had hurt the man you loved so deeply.

"I just couldn't leave them. Not if I could help."

"Of course you couldn't. You did the right thing."

"You aren't upset?" Kirishima asked, thin threads of hope threading through the misery woven into his voice.

"Oh, I am. But not at you. And not at them," you said as you ran a finger down the slick, unhardened chitin of their tiny tail.

"Oh, Spirits be praised," he sighed, shoulders deeply sagging as relief flooded his body. "I was hoping it would be okay since it was just one. You told me one baby was normal for humans."

"You could have brought me a hundred babies and it still would have been fine," you assured him, smiling gently when the child sneezed, letting loose a burst of tiny bubbles from their mouth.

"I don't think we could handle a hundred babies," Eijiro chuckled, pulling you into his embrace, the basket sheltered between your entwined bodies.

"Probably not," you agree, dropping your head down to rest on Eijiro's chest as you gazed down at your new baby in awe. "But I think we can handle one."

"Yeah," Eijiro sighed happily, tightening his grip around you and the baby; his entire world, his family, cradled safely in his arms. "We can handle one."

Your life was one of feast and famine. The time spent with Eijiro and your child filled your heart and soul with so much joy that you often wondered how your body was able to contain it all without bursting at the seams. Conversely, the long winter months served as a stark lesson in misery and longing as you anxiously awaited the arrival of spring and the migration of your small family back into your life.

To ease the anxious worries of your heart, Eijiro agreed to wear a tracking tag woven into a band on his wrist. Each night you were bathed in the glow of your laptop screen, lulled to sleep by Eijiro drawing intricate patterns across the screen with his movements; wordless proclamations of love that only you could see.

Your child, who you had discerned to be a girl once her swimmerets had developed enough to tell one way or the other, eventually appeared next to her father on the map; her bright dot carving out wobbly paths that mirrored Eijiro's smooth trails through the water.

The townsfolk had noticed the intense depression you fell into during winter and did their best to keep you in good spirits. The fishermen who taught you how to handle the Nauti Girl met you for dinner three nights a week, The Dockmaster taught you the actual rules to Backgammon and confirmed your long held suspicions that your Grandfather was a dirty rotten cheater, and the ladies at the Auxiliary pooled their money together to buy you one of those sun therapy lamps. You weren't sure of the lamp's actual efficacy, but looking at it made you feel cared for and loved, so you kept it propped up in the corner of your living room anyway.

The longer you stayed in the dilapidated town you had grown to call home the more heartbreak you were subjected to. Inevitably, the people you loved and lived with, relaxed and toiled beside, grew measurably older with each passing year until they very suddenly stopped- stopped aging, stopped breathing, stopped living.

The men assured you time and time again over coffee, returning from vacations, on their deathbeds; that they had no regrets. That their lives were difficult, but wonderful. The hands blistered and their joints were ground to dust from decades of thankless labor; but their eyes witnessed the boundless beauty that nature had to offer and they had the extreme privilege of knowing true acceptance and affection from their chosen family; their neighbors, brothers, and friends.

That's what they wished for you to find as well; a devastatingly beautiful life full of misery and ecstasy and everything in-between. And as you watched two heads of bright red hair breach the surface of the water, speeding towards your boat and a long-awaited reunion, you were fairly sure you already had.

#eijiro x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

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l3visthighs · 3 months

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OC in 10: Ilyana Hoover

Rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you for the tag @topaz-carbuncle I don't have much for Ilyana at the moment so I'm going to keep it at ten. But here's a few pieces of dialogue from an enemies to lovers actor au that's been on the back burner for a bit.

1) “What the hell, you’re actually a genius.” Ilyana opens her laptop and starts typing “Levi Ackerman” in the google search bar. The first thing the girls notice when the search results come back is a movie poster starring Erwin Smith as the main role. “Hold up. I’ve never seen this before. Is it possible this is where they met?” She proceeds to click on the cast list and only has to scroll down a tad before she sees his name. “Levi Ackerman as the assassin. Well, I guess we’ve solved the mystery.”

2) It takes her a few moments to register his response; taken aback once again by his attitude towards her. “Wow, so I work up the courage to come all the way up here, to apologize to your rude ass so things don’t necessarily have to be awkward between us for the next ten months and you still insist on being a complete douchebag?”

3)"Okay, no, Ilyana. The next time you see him you’re going to be civil. Swallow your pride and try to smooth things out so it won’t be awkward between us.” Her inner monologue interrupted by the sound of her cell phone ringing on her nightstand. She reaches over to grab it and sees a picture of her best friend light up the screen. “This bitch.”

4) “Oh fuck off, Levi.” She snapped, attempting to stand back up from her recent failure. “I’m going to keep falling on my “shitty” ass just to force you to have to spend extra time with me today. So, buckle up”

5) “Why does it feel like I’ve just joined the circus?”

6) “Wow, you’re charming. I bet you’re really popular with the ladies with that attitude aren’t you?” Ilyana snaps “After you, grumpy.” She moves to the side to let him pass.

7) Ilyanas face wrinkles in disgust “Ugh, please don’t ever call that man a snack ever again"

8) “Stop being ridiculous” Ilyana resumes the video “Im not going to deny he has a nice body, but a nice body doesn’t make up for a sour attitude.”

9) Ilyanas mind goes completely blank. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest. “What’s my next line? Wait, what’s going on? This isn’t in the script” she thinks to herself

10) She finds herself immensely annoyed by him but chooses to apologize anyways. “I’m sorry. I was distracted by something and apparently didn’t hear you coming. Are you apart of the cast, too? I’m Ilyana”

tagging: @leviscxmkitten @levi-ackermvn @jayteacups (& anyone else who has an OC & wants to participate?)

#she’s so hot headed #levi loves messing with her #my best friends oc is also in this story <3 #ilyana hoover #leviana

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afi-writes · 2 months

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Of All the Women He Could Have

Pairing: Ikki x MC

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: The heroine spends the girls ’evening with Sawa and Mine when she gets a call from Ikki, who is home alone.

Written for @cresu 💙♠︎

"So, how is it like?" Mine asks, staring at me over her glass. She sits cross-legged on a pillow in her pajamas.

Sawa, browsing on her phone, looks up and glances at the two of us in turn. My hands shake and I hurriedly put the glass I am holding down on the table.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, senpai," Mine replies, her lips curving into a smile as a dangerous gleam comes into her eyes. "Sex with Ikki. I never got my turn, so I at least want to know the facts."

Heat races up my neck to my cheeks in a second, and my heart leaps to pound in my throat. I squeeze the pillow under me and wonder how I can avoid answering. It has been two weeks since Ikki said he would seduce me into his bed in a month, but I have not given in yet. What if he does not like me? He has so much more experience, and I certainly do not know how to please him. There are other women who... know what kind of things Ikki likes.

But I cannot say that to Mine and Sawa. I just cannot!

"Mine, that's a totally inappropriate question," says Sawa.

"There's nothing wrong with a little sharing..."

"You can't just ask people that."

Sawa and Mine's argument continues but does not quite reach my ears. Mine's question keeps rolling around in my mind and leaves a warm feeling in my stomach. I would not like to think about it so much but on the other hand I cannot help thinking about it.

"Senpai, your phone is ringing."

Mine's words penetrate my thoughts, and I realize she is right. My gaze glues itself to the name flickering on the screen.

Ikki.

Why is Ikki calling me?

"Aren't you going to answer?" Sawa asks.

I slip the phone into my hand and glance around.

"You can go talk on the balcony," Sawa continues, already handing me a jacket, which I grab.

I slip out, wrap myself in the jacket and finally press the icon for the answering. It is amazing how long Ikki kept on calling. I would probably have given up by now. The autumn air tingles my cheeks as I lean against the wall and lift the phone to my ear.

"You answered."

His voice is as soft as ever, but with a heavier tone than usual. It falls right into my stomach, which starts to tingle.

"I'm sorry. I was talking to Sawa and Mine," I say. "Weren't you supposed to spend tonight with Kent?"

"He left a while ago..."

I smile in response. I can picture in my mind how Ikki and Kent have been joking with each other all evening, and maybe Kent brought Ikki a new math puzzle to solve. I am sure they had a great time.

"Listen..." Ikki breathes into the phone. "I'd love to have you home..."

"I... I can leave. I'm sure Sawa and Mine will understand."

"No... Don't. I can't promise you now that you'll be safe if you come home..."

"Have you been drinking, Ikki?"

A deep sigh brushes my ear and raises my skin hairs. I recognize that voice. I thought Ikki had already let go of the ghosts of his past. I forgave him for his rude behavior, and he put his fan club in check. There is nothing to be upset about now, but...

"We had a few with Kent. Now that I'm alone, I miss you so much I almost cannot breathe."

I chew my bottom lip and lift my gaze to the dark night sky. I would make the last train if I left now. On the other hand, I have promised a girls' night to Sawa and Mine, because the next opportunity probably will not come for anytime soon, due to the pressures of studying and work. I have been so wrapped up in my own affairs lately that I have not given my friends enough of my time.

"I just wanted to hear your voice," Ikki continues. "Talk about something, anything."

"Mine asked how it is like with you..."

I slap a hand over my mouth as soon as I have blurted out the first thought that came to mind. Why? Why did I say that to Ikki? His laugh makes my knees buckle. If I have been able to resist his eyes before, I could not help the pull of his heavy voice.

"What did you answer?"

"I didn't."

"Why not?"

"You know why."

Another chuckle, and I hear a rustle in the background. The same kind of rustle I have heard a few nights, when Ikki have been rolling over on his own futon next to me.

"Didn't you want to reveal to Mine that I still haven't succeeded in my goal? That I still haven't managed to seduce my princess into my bed?"

I do not know what to say. My cheeks are getting hot again, despite the cool night.

"You know it's only a matter of time, right? Maybe tomorrow I'll succeed..."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. When you get home, I'll kiss you immediately. I'll take off your jacket and press you against the hallway wall. I'll keep kissing you until your lips are turning sensitive..."

I press myself tighter against the balcony wall and cannot help the breath that escapes my lips.

"Ikki, that's... a little..."

"Next, I'll kiss your neck. I run my lips along the skin and catch your earlobe between them. I might even nibble a little..."

Ikki has clearly had too much to drink. He is not usually quite so outspoken. But I can imagine everything he says. He has kissed my neck before. Lightly and gently. Finally, he licked me and made me whine.

"You know I won't do anything you don't really want. But you do want me to take off every piece of your clothing in that hallway... Undo the buttons of your dress and drain it off your shoulders, let it fall to your ankles. And when you're in front of me in your underwear, I'll kiss your belly button..."

"Ikki..."

"Yes...?"

"Sawa and Mine are waiting for me back inside."

"Don't you want to know what happens next?"

I swallow and cannot answer. My cheeks are on fire, I am on fire all over.

"I think you want..."

Still the words are a mere whisper, but they still make my skin crawl. I press my free hand against the cold wall and try to calm my heart, pounding against my chest.

"I kiss your belly as I gently pull down your pantyhose. Once I've taken them off, I scoop you into my arms and carry you to the bed. I'd like to do it right now, if only you were here..."

The last word brushes against my ear in a sigh. There is a hot, vaguely shaped lump in my lower abdomen, spreading lower. My breathing sounds as heavy to my own ears as Ikki's sighs.

"We can spend all night tomorrow when you get home. We're in no hurry to go anywhere. I'll go just as slowly as you wish..."

Ikki's voice swims in my ears and makes my knees go limp. I go down along the wall onto the balcony floor. I am burning from places I usually avoid thinking about. Ikki evokes feelings in me that are so obscene I dare not think of words for them. I want everything he offers me, but... what if he disappoints? I do not know anything. I do not know what to do.

"Ikki, I..."

"You want me, don't you...?"

I swallow as Ikki's words make my breath catch in my throat. My own heartbeat almost drowns out his voice as it pounds in my ears.

"I need to hear it. I'll wait, but I need to..."

"I..." I swallow twice. My cheeks are burning hot. Is it even okay to say something like that? But Ikki wants to hear me say it. It is important to him. "I... want... you."

I am sure I cannot breathe.

And at the same moment, the balcony door slides open. Sawa appears at the door and stares directly at me.

"Are you okay?"

"Ikki, I really have to go," I say at the same time as I nod to Sawa and try to get up off the floor.

"I'll wait for you at home tomorrow," Ikki whispers in my ear. "I love you and I want to make love to you in a way you can't imagine anything better."

The heat rushes to my ears as I hang up the phone. Sawa's eyebrows furrow, and she grabs my hand to push me to my shaking feet. The words still echo in my ears as I step back inside under the curious gaze of Mine and Sawa.

Ikki wants to make love to me. Of all the women he could have, he wants to make love to me.

If you like my work, consider reblogging it. That helps more people to find it. Don't feel obliged though. Only do it if you want to, but I do appreciate the gesture.

#amnesia: memories #amnesia ikki #fan fiction #afi writes

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ros3ybabe · 11 months

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August 16th, 2023 Mini Update 🎀

Guess who ended up sick on her first day of classes? Me!!

I remember thinking last week how it would not be fun to get sick when school starts, and on my first day of classes, I wake up with a super sore throat, a mild headache, slight dizziness, fatigue, and just overall feeling like trash. It's either a cold or my yearly bout of tonsillitis. I get tonsillitis every year at least once, and it's been that way for 8 years so far.

I did make it through the day, tho! Went to my first two classes of the semester, and I am pretty optimistic! Luckily, I don't have classes tomorrow, but I do have some appointments, so I'm going to wear my mask all day, as I do not want to risk getting anyone else sick. I'm still going to my nail appointment. I feel like it's the least I deserve right now.

(The picture of nails I included is what I changed my mind to for tomorrow, I feel like almond nails will be a cute change from my usual coffin style and might be easier to work with at my job)

I also found out I'll get to see my boyfriend in the next month and a half (we've been long distance 1000+ miles since early July), and I am so excited about that. Hopefully, it'll be a 4-5 day stay, so I can spend some quality time with him.

I want to sleep and recover as much as possible but I also have a decent amount of homework/quizzes/notes/textbook reading to accomplish by Sunday, and since I work Friday thru Sunday, I know I'm going to have to buckle down and be productive as much as I can. Hot tea with honey, chicken noodle soup, and vitamin C are going to be my best friends these next few days while I recover!

This is really not how I wanted to start my semester, but things will get better, I will still succeed, and I will still stay on top of assignments, attendance, and my work ethic overall. One bump in the road doesn't mean I should come to a complete stop! I have high hopes and high expectations and I truly believe in myself.

Also, I managed to complete a 10 min abs pilates workout (despite knowing I didn't feel too great, silly me) and still did skincare, makeup, and working in my planner this morning. I've also completed several assignments and started notes for one of my online classes, so today was not a complete bummer.

Let's hope that I can return to proper health sooner rather than later, and that it doesn't affect my sleep too much!

Thats all for this update!

Til next time, my lovelies!! 🩷

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amoreeny · 1 year

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Oh Mr.Evans

pairings : Chris Evans & Fem!Reader

synopsis : you get the role to work in a Marvel movie and Chris may or may not have put a good word for you to get the role.

warnings : none i think

*also, english is not my first language so sorry if theyre any grammar or spelling mistakes!*

*not my GIF*

I have been waiting weeks for this phone call I were anxious because they told me they would call and its been over a month now, I were sure that I hadn't got the part so you just gave up. Then the phone started to ring. I look at Chris whose seated next to me on my couch.

-ON THE PHONE-

"Hello" I say answering the phone

"Yes hello is this (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" The random person asks

"Yes this is she. Who am I speaking to?" I ask with visible confusion on my face.

" Hi,(Y/N) This is Joss Whedon and I would love to congratulate you on getting the role of the new love interest for Captain America, Loellie Saint in the new Marvel Cinematic Universe 'The Avengers'.I believe you already know what the backstory of your character is right?" Joss asks.

"Yes I do" I say while freaking out silently while looking at Chris who is more confused from before.

"Great, we'll love to have you come in a couple of days for your screen testing. We'll text you the information" Joss says.

"Alright thank you so much" I have a huge smile plastered on your face while having your back towards Chris.

"No worries, Take care we'll see you soon" He says.

"Bye" I say.

I hang up and start jumping up and down in excitement. Chris is sitting on the couch smiling at me because he knows the news I just received because he's the one who put in the good word about me after my audition

"OMG OMG OMG" I jump around while Chris is laughing in confusion.

"I got the part!" I push back and look at him.

"I know" He smiles while looking at me.

"What do you mean 'I know' Christopher?" I look at him.

"Well, I may or may not have put in a good word for you because I know you've been dying to start acting. That's why I told you about the audition" He looks at me while trying to keep a straight face.

Me and Chris have been friends since high school and he knew how much I wanted to get into acting and get into the Marvel. I've acted in big movies and I'm well known. Well at least in my eyes.

Me and Chris have risen to fame together but Chris is mainly is the famous one out of the both of us. I really didn't mind, but what was mostly annoying was the paparazzi and the media. They would spread false information about me and Chris' relationship. Even though me and him are just best friends. I would join him at his interviews because of his anxiety and mostly for moral support and people kept reading it wrong and thinking we were together because of how much time we would spend time together.

"Chris.. You know you didn't have too right" I kinda feel bad because he had to go through all that pain just to get me this role.

"I know, but I just wanted to give you an opportunity. And you can spend more time with me" He says as he wiggles his eyebrows while getting closer to me and pushing me softly with his shoulder

"Like I don't spend enough time with you already Chris" I laugh at his actions.

"Wow i'm deeply hurt Y/N" He puts his hand on his heart and pretends to be hurt by my 'hurtful words'

I laugh and slap his arm softly

"You're such a dork" A bit of your accent had come out and you rolled you eyes

"Steve Rogers and Loelle Saint, super solider fight crime fighting couple" He moves his hands over his face like he's presenting the newest iPhone or something.

"You're honestly so weird Christopher" I laugh while rolling your eyes

"Yeah yeah" He smiles

I shake my head while crossing my arms again keeping a straight face.

"These few months will be the best" He looks at me with his mischievous smile telling me to buckle up for the pranks he has up his sleeve.

"Oh god" I groan and put you face in your hands

Chris laughs and stands up

"Come on, Me You and Sebastian are going out to celebrate you" He says as he gets up and walks to the door.

"Okay... what time should I be ready" I stand up and look at him. I honestly didn't want to go out. I just wanted to sleep.

"Around 8pm, Ill let Seb know" He says as he walks out the door

"Alright see you soon" I say as I walk to my room having my dog follow me.

------------------------------------------

Hey Guys!

This is my first post so i hope you like it! This is my story on Wattpad with the same title! That story is currently in editing so im not posting there, so there maybe some different things from here and the book. So i hoped you enjoyed it!

#chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #marvel #actor #chris evans fanfiction #cevans #captain america

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hoochieblues · 8 months

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paddock adventures, part ?/?: Chance's Big Day Out

Finally! Chance got to go for another paddock trip!

Unfortunately for him, this meant going on a lead, going in a crate, and going in the car. Will the torments never cease?

"What is this nameless evil? Woe is upon me."

To recap, Chance has been in foster/rehab with me for two years now. He was rescued by accident from a notoriously bad Romanian kill shelter (we did not book him for release, but he was on the van in place of a dog we had booked and went back for later. if it hadn't been for that case of mistaken identity, he'd have been killed, probably either with weedkiller or a blunt object, or left to starve in a pen. The only two possible options for naming him were Chance or Lucky, lbr.)

He is one of the most traumatized cases our small rescue has dealt with, and he is more scar tissue than dog, as well as being petrified of people. It took me six months to touch him, and he's still horrified by the leash due to very severe catchpole trauma. He'd never been in a house before, and had likely - based on his scarring, burn marks, and behavior - been a street or community dog with very few positive experiences of humans.

He's been a surprisingly easy rehab in most respects.

Today, he loves his sofa, playing with his foster sister, tummy rubs, the occasional rope toy, and snacks. He is a phenomenally sweet, soft dog, a friend to cats, small animals, and birds, and he likes to snooze in the sun and listen to music (no, really. Chopin gets tail wags.).

But, his socialisation still sucks, he's still shit on the lead, and he needs training and exercise work, which was the object of today.

So lucky to have access to this. <3 Attached to the kennels we've sometimes boarded dogs at. For some reason they won't let me put up a tent and live here. For shame.

All in all, it went well. Chance crated fantastically on the way out, travelled well both ways, and had a lovely time at the paddock - most of which he spent yelling at an excavator doing landscaping about half a mile away. He could see it, therefore it must be barked at and he must pee in its general direction. The rules are tough but fair.

He was a lot better about tolerating my colleague's presence, did a lot less posturing and defensiveness than usual, and even did a tiny bit of lead work, even though he really didn't want to.

Getting to play offlead in a bigger space with Peppy made it worthwhile, I think, and ofc she had a great time because she loves the paddock, going on Adventures(TM), and basically anywhere she can achieve Mach 3.

Amazingly, she's still not had any further adoption applications. I don't know why.

Side note: yes, his leg is really weird and the whole back end is questionable. It's under observation. Not 100% sure if it's congenital or - more likely - an old injury (probably RTA or human inflicted) that's just healed weird. It doesn't hold him up and doesn't seem to cause him pain, so holding off on x-rays until a) he can handle stressful vet care better and b) we've fundraised for the stupid amount of money it's going to cost.

In the meantime, he gets light physical therapy and a glucosamine/chondroitin regimen that seems to help, so I'm at least mostly confident the cartilage is in okay shape. He's just miscombobulated (affectionate).

Crating him on the way back was... less effective, and he was Very Not Into walking back into the house on lead, but the judicious application of sausages to front end and gently encouraging foot to rear end (very gently) meant we didn't have to spend five hours under the fuchsia bush outside my front door again, with Chance lying down and refusing to move at all. Which is where we were with leadwork this time last year, so I'm calling it a win for now.

By the time one of is eighty, I think we'll have it sorted.

Next goals: introducing the three point harness prototype I'm sewing for him that doesn't include buckles, jangly things, or anything that clicks, but is somehow secure. It's going to be made of unicorn giggles and mermaid hair, too.

Aaaand now, resting time. Oof. It's been a very hard week, but today was a nice break.

Things we're still working on aside, today was the happiest and most engaged I've ever seen Chance outside of the home. He was confident, playful, and - eventually - moderately relaxed, with tail wags and happy ears. And he kept visually checking in with me, entirely of own volition, which nearly made me do a small cry, ngl.

Bonus: behold, Mostly-Black Shuck.

#dogs #personal #foster dog diaries #project dog #peppy le phew #i love him #he's a huge weirdo but in the best ways #it was also very entertaining watch him bark passionately at the digger/earthworks for twenty minutes #while peppy just watched like '....wut?'#something something #their infinite variety

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popculturebuffet · 1 year

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Transformers: More Than Meets The Eye Retrospective Issue 6: Interiors

Hello all you happy autbots and welcome back aboard the lost light. So there's a few bits of buisness to attend to before we hop back on board after our detour with the Wreckers for some needed context, something i'm glad we did as I forgot this issue is essentially a direct sequel to last stand. While Lost Light follows up on some plot points, this one directly follows up on Fort Max and what he went through… and also ties some other threads into it, one being why Whirl is in court mandated therapy in the first place, the other i'll save as if you have context, it's one hell of a cliffhanger. If your me and you didn't, you just scratch your head a bit.

The first is some great news: Brotoman.exe in addition to paying for the wreckers review is now doubling down on patreon, being my first 10 dollar patreon in some time and thus we'll be covering the issues 2 at a time instead of 1.. and sometimes more if he feels like it. While I have something of a schedule ready, it's flexible, so you can expect AT LEAST two issues a month and sometimes more from here on out. We also plan to thread in the two drift mini series, the second wreckers mini series, and the final wreckers one shot as we go.

Threading things in also leads to the second announcment which is a story thing: As a result of how we're doing this the next two months are going to be a bit different barring Brotoman adding any issues as the next three sets of issues are all something diffrent: We'll be covering the two spotlight issues next month. During Phase 1 of IDW Transformers, they frequently did issues like this, little issues to spotlight one character and help widen the story outside of ongoings, the central mini series and what have you. I liked that system a lot, and it's something IDW was really great at and did later again with TMNT, though with Microseries instead (i.e. a one shot with a neat name). There were only two made for the Lost Light side of things and after this phase they stopped doing them, likely both due to both series being so plot dense it was hard to squeeze them in and the addition of Windblade as a third ongoing likely making it finacially tough. We'd still get a few one shots later on with a christmas special and a revolution tie in, but both are more fun side stories.

Then while MTMTE returns in March, it's for our first Scavengers arc. If you haven't read the series, buckle up and if you had, then you know it means our heroes will take a breather so a new bunch of screw ups from the other side of the forever war can take stage. Finally we'll be covering Chaos Theory, which while intended as a prequel to the Chaos arc that ended the Carey era of transformers and ushered in the MTMTE and RID era, it also serves as one ot this series as it sets up cybertron's past, something that will become heavily important to the series and also stealth introduces Whirl. T

So before things change, we've got a hostage situation to deal with so join me as we spend a lot of time in a therapists office under the cut

We open in Rung's office where Fort Max is in therapy. He's not exactly opening up about G9 despite rung prodding, not wanting to relive his trauma… which as we see had Overlord planning to murder someone every second he didn't reveal the truth. We also find out why Overlord was intrested in Aquetius and thus had max plugged in, as in hindsight , and I kick myself for not thinking of this he had no reason to other than to be a dick, which was probable but didn't seem right. Why would a rogue decpticon care about airing the autobots dirty laundry? That wouldn't get megatron to notice him and fufill his death wish any faster. No he wanted something UNDER IT. There was something else there and having forgotten what i'm chomping at the bit to find out. Point is he's not opening up.

What is open , for now anyways is swerve as they play a rousing game of guess who transformed, which Chromedome is great at though Rewind is usually better. Pipes.. is alive?!

Yeah I was floored by this. While I remember a lot about more than meets the eye, some details just slipped so i'd just.. assumed pipes was good and dead last time but other than being shaky about transforming, for obvious reasons, he's fine… for now. As for where Rewind is he's outside as Tailgate finds out when he sits down, having asked Cyclonus to join them and got the response you'd respect

We also get a hint of how the two met .. at a relinquishment clinic but that's all we ge tfor now

Ultra Magnus walks in… and as you'd expect yells at swerve before dragging him off in chains.. well handcuffs, Rodimus hid the chains for obvious reasons. Fort Max then comes in grumpy.. and just up and shoots pipes. Yeah I forgot about this part.. I knew what he did NEXT… but it's one of the only joys of my spotty memory: sometimes you forget a moment or something, and thus you get to be suprised all over again.

So things then went from bad to worse as we find out in the situation room later that day: Max didn't stop with just pipes, shooting 4 robots we've never heard of on his way out and now holding Rung hostage. Thanks to Blaster, Soundwaves sadly undeerultized autobot counterpart, they have visual. Magnus also stops in and naturally is very I told you so.. and has earned it as he's absoltuely right that the recently traumatized POW should NOT have been carring around his big old gun. HE still probably coudl've done what he's done so far WITHOUT one, granted, but it wouldn't be nearly as easy. Our heroes find a ray of hope though someone's in there with him who Rodimus hopes is a beacon of stablity and calm to help defuse this tense situa…

We also find out why he's doing this besides you know, clearly needing the therapy he's refused to actually take seriously

While what he's doing is not right he's holding an innocent man and whirl hostage to vent his anger is horrible… said anger is understandable. G9 went silent for years and while sure, we know part of it was Megatron's invasion left the autobots barely functoning due to a combination of their numbers being worn down to next to nothing and bad writing, he dosent know that and even if he did.. they stilll sent ONE SQUAD two years later. It's hard not to feel for the guy even as he's holding an innocent bot whose using his thumb microphone to broadcast the sound hostage… which backfires as soon as Fort Max catches on.. and immdeitly uses up said sympathy twice in a row. He assholishly demands Rodimus turn the ship around and refuses to talk to him or listen to the fact their FAR too far from cybertron for that to actually work anyway, and then rips out Rung's thumb.

One final touch i'll note from all this.. the fact Rodimus.. looked sad as he figured out what Fort Max meant. The guy has enough flaws to fill several more issues of this very comic, but it shows he does care and does feel horrible about what max went through.. even if he's not about to aquiese to his demands.

In the medbay for a thankful break Ratchet notices a pattern.. he'll say it later but all the victims.. look like overlord. Not exactly, pipes for instance has a cool visor thing, but they all have purple eyes and light blue and dark blue chasis.

Back at the hostage situation

Whirl just says to kill them already and be done with it, especially since as he put earlier, telling Rodimus to do something he dosen't want to do never works. This does get Fort Max curious.. why is HE in therapy and in the dog house and while Whirl being.. whirl refuses to answer at first, it's telling that when Max threatens to shoot rung he instantly complies. Whirl was kicked out of the wreckers, we'll find out why shortly, and took it "shoot up the place" badly, so hence the therapy. He also reveals a key part of his backstory for the first time

We'll get a more fleshed out version of this soon enough, but for now comnand notice rungs pointing at his model of the lost light.. specifically to where he is.. and to it's window.

Outside the unlikely duo of Swerve and Rewind are re-riviting the ship as punishment: Swirl for his bar, which he figures he'll keep since while Magnus naturally hates it, Rodimus will brush it off, and Rewind for those discs we saw him get back in issue 1, one of our first chekovs guns to get fired. I really should've been counting every time this series foreshadows something. Maybe next time. Point is we find out they were essentially snuff films: heavy casualty battles that sort of thing. Though rewind isn't a monster.. .he just wants to find someone. He dosent' open up who, yet another setup for later, but we will indeed find out. For now our heroes are useful as being outside they can reach the window and pull a gun on the guy pulling a gun.

Back at the office, Whirl continues his story…

This.. is where Whirl really grew on me. At first he just seems like a quippy, trigger happy robot dead pool but actually forced to get the therapy needs…. that's not bad.. but like wade himself finding out WHY he's like that and seeing the heart underneath really makes him more loveable. He just wanted to make watches, lost that, became a thug, and while he clearly again needs help… it's easy to see why he turned out like this. He was only an autobot because Prime saw good in him.. while Whirl dosen't phrase it that way.. that's really how I feel it. Optimus may be many things.. but he's a good bot and while i'm sure not letting megatron gain more followers was a tiny consideration, the fact is knowing him.. he just saw a bot who was lost and needed a better purpose and took him in for that. It's also likely why, however misguided, he tried to end springer: he saw a friend in pain. Granted it wasn't the best call and he shoudln't of done that, but given what Springer had been through emotinally and physically on garrus 9, you can understand why he might try to do a one flew over the cuckoos nest.

Him declaring rung his friend is also sweet and reframes his actions this whole issue. Sure on paper he's putting everyone at risk because he dosen't care if he nor anyone lives or dies.. but in practice, it's kept the gun AWAY from rung. It's kept Max, aside from the whole thumb incident, focused not on harming Whirl's friend.. but on Whirl himself, who can not only take the hit (He earlier took two punches to the face from Max, but likely figures if he gets shot, then it'll force the bots outside to rush in. He's trying to sacrifcie himself to save Whirl. Why he considers him a friend, to close this bit out… is also easy: Most people on the ship see Whirl as an unstable screwup and while it's mildly true… Rung so far is the only person to treat the guy with kindness, humanity and as a person and not just the mistakes that person made or his mental illness. He's someone trying to help who genuinely belives hin him and that's likely barely happened in the poor bots life.

Things then deteroiate fast as Fort notices they aren't moving and is somehow suprised Rodimus hasn't reverserd course because you know.. why would he? Swerve tries to take the shot, but with Fort max under a pillar Rewind is forced to use those snuff films to his advantage.. using footage of Garrus 9. We get a truly heartbreaking sequence afterwords: Rung manages to calm a freaked out max down.. but not wanting to take a chance Rodimus orders the shot. As a result rewind accidently hits poor Rung, while Whirl stabs Fort Max for causing all of this.

So we end rather grimly: Rodimus is clearly wracked with guilt, the art doing a nice amount of the lifting to show this, and wants Max locked down tight by Red Alert… while Drift is concerned as Red Alert's been acting paranoid hearing voices.. but as we learned last issue those voices are real.. and as we see at the close of this one we not only find out what he was hearing.. but just what Prowl had the duobots smuggle on board

I told you overlord would be important did i?

On that cliffhanger we close this issue. I'm pausing the soundtrack reviews for now both due to the increased workload a coming, and because they just haven't been clicking. They've felt like an afterthrought and it's better to just roll out when the issue does. So i'll see you next month for some Decpticon Shenanigans, and till all are one thanks for reading.

#transformers more than meets the eye #transformers #fortress maximus #rung #whirl #swerve #overlord

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abridgerton · 1 year

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The Wanting (Bella X Edward)

Prompt: “Sometimes, we have to leave the ones we love before they leave us.”

Characters: Bella Swan, Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen, Charlie Swan

Triggers: getting bit, minor blood, action, romance, kissing, nsfw themes , yelling, arguing, professing love, death, grieving

Word Count: 2.6k+

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"Where have you been?" Edward asked aggressively; he had been waiting for her to come home. An hour earlier he had jumped through her bedroom window and expected to find her in there. When he discovered she was gone, he asked Alice to locate her for him - thats how Edward found out about Bella and Jacob.

Alice's vision had showed a tall, dark Jacob lean in for a kiss in the lush green woods next to his house, and after that she didn't want to see much else. She shook her head in disappointment and spat, "Its her and the werewolf. Bleh." The union left a bad taste in Alices mouth.

Had she continued with her vision, she would've seen Bella reject him and walk herself home.

Edward eyes fixed on Bellas delicate features, scanning the landscape of her profile for clues. Edward was absolutely livid - a werewolf?! She was mingling with a werewolf!

Bella, initially caught off guard by the surprise visit, peered back at him though lowered eyelids, "What, I'm not allowed to go out with anyone?" she snapped, "was I supposed to spend these last six months locked up in my room - weeping my days away?" She shut the door quietly behind her and began to tidy her room.

Edward recoiled at the remark. His eyes drew together, as if he was pondering something. After a few seconds of silence, he muttered, "You don't understand." He hung his head in distress and let out a small sigh, "I didn't have a choice."

Bella looked at him bewildered while fixing her sheets, "You think I want to talk to after you left me for six months?" she yelled. Her face was turning a rosy shade of red and her knees were beginning to buckle. "Welcome home Edward, its so good to see you!" she sneered, "Great to see you after you abandoned me half a year go! Should we throw a party?" The glances Bella was sending his way should have killed him on the spot. It was true - he had broken up with her six months ago on the dot - and he had come crawling back. How could she possibly forgive him for all the pain she suffered through? No letters, no calls, just radio silence.

Seeing him stnading in front of her was like seeing a mirage. Edward looked just as perfect as he had the day he left. Burnt auburn hair, translucent marble skin, and those unforgettable blush pink lips. Bellas heart cried out for him once more, but her head prevailed. She could not let him know how much he hurt her. She had to protect herself first.

Edward continued looking at the ground, his head swirling with thoughts of how he could possibly make this mess up to her. "My darling Bella," he thought, "my other half, how have I let her slip through his fingers so easily?" Remorse crept up his throat and sent a shiver down his spine. He would not so readily forgive himself for leaving her to begin with.

After a few beats, Bellas weak voice broke the silence, "I couldn't live without you." She stifled the sob that leapt into her throat. Edward raised his rigid gaze from the floor below and looked into Bellas emerald eyes with a vision of such great remorse. His dark eyes stared intently into hers, and for a moment, they were silent - trapped in the fervor of a soulmates gaze.

Their moment was ended by a single tear that rolled down Bellas cheek, and her hand, which promptly wiped it away. The sight broke Edwards heart. This was all for her, it had all been for her - surely she should understand. Everything was done so she would not know the cursed name of grief. He would not damn her life to the wastelands of immortal suffering; he loved her too much to condemn her to his way of life.

Bella, now aware of the second tear rolling down her right cheek, surrendered to her emotions, and began to cry. Her tears fell one after another, coming too quickly and too forcefully for her to stop. These tears were the products of months of unrelenting, soul-crushing torture; "How could you?" she cried, "I waited for you ... I waited here ..." Between sobs, Bella hastily turned towards the door to leave but was stopped by a large hand - the same familiar hand that belonged to Edward Cullen.

"Look," he plead, "I'm so sorry. So unbelievably and honestly sorry," Edward took a few steps toward Bella, grabbed her hands, and dropped to his knees at her feet, "Every single thing I do for the rest of my timeless existence is for you. Every breath I take, every morning I wake," he stood up and took a step closer to her, brushing his nose across her cheekbone and whispering into her ear, "every promise I keep - is all for you. My dear Bella, I am devoted to you alone."

His face was stunningly serious while making his speech, and the corners of his mouth turned down in a slight frown. There was a great deal of pain laced between every syllable that tore a hole in Bellas heart. She could hear he had suffered too - and for a moment, she forgot he ever left her at all.

Overwhelmed by his truth, Bella stood - frozen in time. The subject of her thoughts were focused on one thing exclusively: her burning love for Edward Cullen. The evidence of her desire was painted across her face - her expression unmistakable.

Edward laid rested his eyes on her beautiful features, forcing his craving for her to the back of his mind. "Just one taste," his mind begged, "just one..." saliva coated the inside of Edwards mouth, preparing for him to devour.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bella questioned. The sound of her familiar, velvety voice snapped Edward out of his lustrous trance and he was immediately pummeled by shame for his almost-attempt at biting his ex-girlfriend.

Bella stared at him, awaiting a response. She remarked on how confused his expression was, like he hadn't caused this whole mess by leaving her in the first place. Edward stumbled to find the right words, getting out a few, "I-"s , and, "Bella-"s, before finally taking a moment and collecting his thoughts before trying again:

“Sometimes, we have to leave the ones we love before they leave us.” he said. Bella flinched at the notion. A few seconds passed in stunned silence before he began again, "We can't be together Bella. Its only a matter of time before I forget to control myself for just one second, and I'll kill you - I know I will." he looked at her, with a gaze that spoke to just how much he loved her and said, "I would never forgive myself. I would never stop grieving. "

"If I leave you now, you will get over me eventually, Bella. You could move on. But if I lose you," he took a breath, "that would haunt me forever."

Bella looked at him with such a puzzled expression that not even Edward could tell what she was thinking. She stood motionless - as if she was paralyzed by his speech. They just glared at each other, searching to find the answers to their questions in their lovers eyes.

"I can't go on without you," Bella whispered, her eyes welling with tears, "I can't live another day - survive another night-" her voice broke as she began to cry again. "If I must live without you," she took a breath, "I won't live at all."

She took a two steps forward into his chest and grabbed his hands - pressing her palms into his. Bella looked up into his scorched ember eyes and saw her future - god help anyone who tried to take him from her.

Edward looked down at the helpless girl clinging to his waist. "I have to protect her," he thought, "but god, she's so tempting." A quick smirk flashed across Edwards face - the thought of having Bella by his side forever was a pleasing thought; and one that he often found himself daydreaming about.

His train of thought was soon interrupted by Bella kissing the contour of his collarbones, slowly making her way around his neck. She worked slowly, carefully pecking and nipping when necessary. Edwards thoughts were blundered by the welcomed touch, and his breath began to quicken.

His righteous, moral thoughts were being muddled and replaced with lust and wanting. Edwards tried to focus on the words of Dr. Carlisle, "We do not drink human blood. We are not savages." He repeated the quote over and over again, praying for it to overcome his desire for her. Every inhale he took consumed his senses with her scent, leaving him desperate to taste it once more.

While Edward was busy fighting his instincts, Bella continued her journey by standing on her tippy toes, placing her hands on Edwards shoulders to support her, and kissing in the delicate spot behind his ear - occasionally breathing into it and making his heart skip a beat.

When Bella had finally made her way to the corner of his mouth, Edward let out a low grunt and grabbed Bellas face in her hands, "It would never work." his eyes twinkled with fear and apprehension. Bella swung her hands behind his neck and laced her fingers, "I want you Edward," she raised her lips to mere centimeters from his and breathed, "forever."

At that moment, she unlaced her thin fingers and swiftly revealed a small chrome switchblade from her jean pocket, produced the blade, and then made a small indentation into the center of her palm. Hot, sticky blood quickly welled at the scene and began to gush down her wrist. Bella dropped the knife on the floor out of pain.

Edward stood for a moment - stunned by what she had done. The salty taste of betrayal coated his tongue, but was slowly replaced by the unmistakable taste of Bella. His senses quickly welled with her sweet, floral aroma. Feelings of lust, desire, and wanting overpowered him. He closed his eyes, concentrating on Dr. Carlisle, "We do not drink human blood. We are not savages." He repeated it over and over again like a sacred oath, like a plea to god, but it wasn't enough. His tried to think of Alice, of Esme for crying out loud! What were they going to think of him! His chest heaved out of anger - out of fear. Jacob would surely know what he had done and the treaty would be broken!

Her irresistible scent welled in his lungs once more. His rational thoughts ceased and were hijacked by an all too familiar feeling: primal instinct. That was it, the final straw - the straw that broke the camels back.

Edward slowly drew nearer to her, possessed by his primal nature, and grabbed her left hand which was still smeared with blood. He raised her hand to his mouth and allowed himself to indulge in the delicacy of her blood. Her essence was unlike anything he had ever known before - fresh, and full of life. One taste would never be enough. Before he could think to stop, he bit once more into her left wrist and began to drink. His worldly worries were swiftly washed away by her intoxicating taste, giving him the greatest bout of euphoria he had ever known.

Bella flinched at the pain of the bite, but was quickly overtaken by pleasure. The feeling of Edward latched onto her skin was positively thrilling; small volts of energy sparked throughout her body, altering the chemistry of her DNA and rebalancing the chemicals her brain. The sudden transformation brought Bella to her knees, causing Edward to collapse with her.

On the floor, Bella began to lose feeling in most of her body. She became immobilized, and could only feel the sensation of Edward drinking from her wrist. "He is going to kill me," she thought, "this is it."

She began making a mental death note, first thanking her mother for always being there for her, and second her dad for constantly forgiving her when she didn't deserve it. Then, she began to think about Edward. His image was burned into her eyelids, a perfect freak of nature that she was willing to give her life for. She remembered his cold skin, the way it raised goosebumps when he touched her. God, the way he touched her was worth dying for itself.

While Bella accepted her death, Edward continued to drink freely, only occasionally pausing to moan or whimper. There was a small, overshadowed voice in Edwards mind pleading, "Don't do this Edward, think of everything this will change.." but he couldn't be bothered to care - he was drinking from the fountain of life.

After a few moments, Bella began to turn white, and lost her strength to sit up. She slowly withered into the ground and lost color - her already pale skin turning blue and her blush pink lips turning purple. Edward was sucking the life out of her. Bella choked, gasping for air, and captured the attention of Edward who, out of concern and against his instincts, released himself from her.

He took a deep breath in and raised his face to the ceiling. His porcelain white skin was smeared with Bellas rust colored blood - the sight was absolutely maddening.

"You taste so good," he groaned, "theres nothing like it-" he was quickly cut off by the sound of Bella groaning and curling up on the floor - her transformation was beginning. For a moment, Edward felt extreme guilt for inflicting what she was about to endure. His own transformation had been quite painful, and he didn't like to think about it.

Edward knelt down to her head and ran his fingers through her hair, "Shhhh...." he cooed, "you're going to be alright.." thats when Edward realized, she wasn't transforming - she was dying.

Edwards call to reality was gruesome. He sat by Bellas side, looking in horror at what he had done. By the looks of her, he had drank most all of the blood in her body. Her breathing had nearly come to a total stop. It would take a miracle for the venom to work with such little blood to travel through.

Bella laid there, unconscious and unmoving as Edward looked on in horror. "Bella?" he pleaded, "Bella? Please..." She did not stir.

It took all but two minutes for Edward to burst into tears. She had tricked him! He had indulged in the forbidden fruit, and he was paying the price. How could he have known he went too far? She had been fine just moments ago.

He threw his weight across her, and sobbed into the thin fabric of her jacket. The bitter taste of grief swallowed him whole, and he was unable to move for hours.

Sometime around 2am, Edward realized he had to take action. Charlie would be awake soon, and he would realize his daughter was dead on her bedroom floor. He flinched in remorse of what had just happened, and clenched his heart with grief. He pulled out his phone and called Alice Cullen, pleading, "Please, I don't know what to do.." Alice agreed to come, only on the condition that they would tell Dr. Carlisle what had happened right away. After a little convincing, Edward finally agreed.

It only took five minutes for Alice to arrive at the house and leap into the bedroom - not bad for a two mile run. When she arrived, she saw Edward huddled in the corner watching over her limp body; the sight was pitiful. "Oh Edward..." she said, "how could-" he interrupted her, "I couldn't stop," he growled through broken sobs, "I wasn't strong enough."

Thats when it happened: Bella opened her eyes. Edward, who was busy crying, did not notice the action, but Alice did. She screamed, "Oh my god! Bella!" and ran to her side, which caused Edward to shoot up with confusion muttering, "Bella?" in confused whispers.

Bella began to look around, noticing her vision was unnaturally good. She could see the dust on the ceiling, the fibers in the carpets, the threads of Edwards sweater. "Edward," she thought, "thank god he's here."

Edward, amazed at the miracle set before him, sat frozen in shock. Alice however started immediately tending to Bella, making sure she was okay. "Bella .. can you hear me?" she asked.

Bella could her her just fine, if not better than before she was knocked out. It was like her sense of hearing had doubled in sensitivity.

"Oh. My. God." Alice looked at Bella with amazement. In the few moments after opening her eyes, Bella had taken on a new form. Her features were smaller, pointer than before, and her complexion was somehow even paler than normal - she had transformed into a vampire.

"Whats wrong?" Bella asked in response to Alices surprise. Edward looked at Bella, and his jaw nearly hit the ground. "Oh my god.." he said. Thats when Bella decided to stand and look in her bathroom mirror. She centered herself in front of the reflective surface and turned on the light, "Oh my god!" she screamed.

After having a short side conversation, Edward and Alice rose and met Bella in the bathroom. Bella turned to Edward in the doorway and smiled, "It worked," she said happily, "we can be together now." He smiled at her in return, "God, I didn't think you could get any more gorgeous."

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #the twilight saga #breaking dawn #twilight saga #alice cullen #robert patterson #twilight headcanon #twilight fic #twilight scenarios #twilight renaissance

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