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deceptive-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Four - Boiling Point

W/C: 7.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, slight SA (groping), drinking (if I missed anything please let me know)

A messy night and several unfortunate events.

A/N: This one got a little long but it was so fun to write, chaos is really fun to coordinate but my poor babies are taking the brunt of it all woops

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Working nights had flipped your entire sleeping schedule upside down. Two weeks had passed since that first evening where you worked an entire shit show and you still weren’t accustomed to resting in the afternoon in preparation for the night shift. It didn’t seem like such a big deal seeing as the bar thrived around three nights a week and remained quiet to steady the rest of the time but with a staff of only four, the workload piles up. Tossing and turning on the couch, you groan, longing for a peaceful sleep that would energize you. The bed wasn’t doing you any justice which is why the couch sounded that much more appealing but as it turns out they both had the same effect.

Keeping you awake.

Now, there wasn’t anything remotely wrong with either one however, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to find that blissful sleep you were yearning for.

You were restless.

What didn’t help was the incessant shredding of an electric guitar next door. The high pitch clawed at your ears and echoed throughout the canyon your house was settled in. You could either suck it up and muffle the sound as best as you could with a pillow, or you could confront your noisy neighbor and politely let him know you were trying to sleep in order to fuel yourself to run his bar. Confrontation was not your specialty and you would avoid it by any means necessary. But it couldn’t hurt to just ask him to stop. The worst he could do is laugh in your face and slam the door.

And that would be enough to turn your blood hot, not in rage, but in shame and embarrassment. Maybe it was best to tuck your sweaty and fidgety body back into the couch for long enough that the imprints of the rough fabric would show up as indentations on your skin. Hopefully the shrieking of the guitar would eventually fade away and become background noise in your dreams.

It never did stop.

–

“Jett, could you please toss me that rag? Major spill at table four.”

It was 6:00 PM, Friday night. Just about every table and every stool was occupied, a competitive game of pool provoking many men to yell at the top of their lungs, causing your ear drums even more grief than the endless guitar solos you had to endure earlier. On top of it all, drunk people on a Friday night were not easy to clean up after, several spills inevitably happening on your watch, with more than enough evidence to back your claim up.

“I’ll get it, you go on your break.” Jett advises.

The Bourbon was nearly at capacity, a majority of the town’s regulars seated along the bar and even more of its residents engaging in their pre-weekend activities. The people of Knife’s Edge were rambunctious or at least, that’s the only side of them you’d seen so far. Most likely because they were all getting hammered. Maybe you should get out more? Then you could see their personalities sober and not glazed over with the confidence of alcohol.

“You sure?” You ask sincerely.

Jett didn’t even have a second to glance up at you from the beers he was collecting, a whole round of them for a table of five men roaring with laughter.

“Yeah, if you don’t take it now it’s only going to get busier and you never will.” He yells over the booming music.

“Okay.”

You’re reluctant to leave him alone but you trust his judgment, seeing as he has no issue making that call. And customers seemed to love him, joking back and forth until he practically dragged himself back behind the bar. They hadn’t seemed to take that kind of liking toward you quite yet and the only compliments you received were gross comments from older men that slurred their words, you respectfully dismissing yourself to tend to other customers just to escape.

Quickly, you make your way toward the back through the narrow hallway that leads out to the alley. The bar had become stuffy, too many humans populating the small space, prompting a much needed break for a breath of fresh air. Almost reaching the door, a haven that would relieve your sweat coated skin with a crisp breeze, you collide into something firm, a deep grunt coming from the source.

“Watch it, Bambi.” Eddie barks, glaring down at you. He holds an unopened bottle of tequila, knuckles white as he tightens his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter, taken back by his stern voice. It was for the most part, always stern but this time it was especially disapproving.

“Where are you going?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“My break. Jett just–”

“Your break? Now? I need all hands on deck right now, take your break in like thirty when it calms down.”

A vein in his neck looks as if it’s about to pop, stress evident in his entire demeanor. Even his lips are bitten and red from what seemed to be constant tugging from his teeth. Maybe he needed a toothpick to chew on instead? Maybe that’s why he chewed on them in the first place?

“Well I–Jett just sent me on break.” You reason.

“Jett?”

“Yeah.”

He breathes in deep, head tilting toward the ceiling as he exhales through his mouth, clearly trying to maintain his calmness. Although it always seemed like he was going to blow up and cause a scene when he got like this, he never did.

“Jesus Christ, kid’s gonna give me an aneurysm.”

Walking down the hall toward the commotion of the bar, he shakes his head, curls bouncing and that famous frizz framing his head like a halo. You keep your movements halted, feet glued to the floor in confusion as to whether you’re meant to follow him or actually go on your break.

“So do I–do you want me to take my break or–”

“Just go.” He calls back, this time a calmer tone detected in his voice.

If you were meant to do the opposite in some sort of reverse psychology moment, you didn’t. The cool air called to you and you were going to use all ten minutes to bathe in it, and reset your nervous system. Eddie could sweat in your place for the time being.

Things had been easier since that first shift; the cook, Randy, had returned and said that he left in the heat of the moment, explaining the following day that he lost his cool and was so certain he was going to quit. Then he came back to his senses and realized how unrealistic that was and that he was in no position to be searching for a new job right now. He was on the verge of begging for his job back but what you’d heard from the back office was Eddie telling him not to ‘pull that shit again’ and to ‘get back to work’. No further discussions or arguments on the topic ensued since that day.

The chilly Autumn air brushed against your cheeks upon stepping out the door, not too much of a bite to it yet but enough to warrant a slight shiver. The sun had already set just over an hour ago, darkness already enclosing the surrounding world. It felt empty and devoid of life, but not in an apocalyptic way, but rather in a serene kind of way. It was quiet except for the whisper of leaves of the birch trees in the wind.

This place still felt so far from home and your loneliness was still as prominent as ever. You worked, went home, slept, woke up at around 10:00 AM, fixed breakfast, attempted to go back to sleep, failed and sometimes visited Donnie at the supermarket, and repeated. The routine was sad and you might as well have been a grouchy old woman that no one spoke to or went near, not a twenty something year old who should be making the most out of her life. The locals weren’t unfriendly, you just couldn’t seem to fit in. Jett was the closest thing you had to a ‘friend’, although he was your coworker and some may see it as mandatory that he remains friendly with you. Outside of work you had little to no interaction with others, usually opting to stay in and clean or watch reruns of some shows you had pre-recorded on a collection of VHS tapes. It’s not to say you didn’t enjoy your nights in, you just wished you had the option to call someone up to hang out or make plans every now and then.

Ten minutes flew by like it was seconds, the door leading inside swinging open unexpectedly and smacking against the concrete wall, Eddie’s head poking out in search of you.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” He asks sarcastically.

You control the urge to roll your eyes, having a better sense of his antics in the past two weeks and knowing that no real consequences would apply to you under these circumstances. You still maintain the need to react to his dramatics and remind him that you were helping him out just as much as he was helping you. But you push it down and straighten your posture.

“Yes.” You reply, eyes staring up at him with a hint of resistance.

“Could’ve had me fooled.” He snaps, ducking back inside.

Following him, you finally give into the urge to roll your eyes behind his back.

“I timed my break just right.” You notify him, glancing at your watch. “I was about to come back.”

“You’re a minute late.”

Instead of allowing you a chance to argue with him, he jumps right back into action and starts clearing off a vacant table. The rush hadn’t stopped all night, table after table being cleared only to immediately seat a new party.

After he strides off with a pile of glasses and a few plates, you get to work on wiping everything clean. It was a newfound system, a plan that hadn’t been agreed on by either of you but was understood regardless. With how understaffed the bar was, it worked like a charm.

Jett’s main role was behind the bar but every now and then he would catch onto whenever you and Eddie were running behind and he would swoop in to take care of a table or two. Recently, you learned that the other bartender, Pete, had quit and skipped town about a week before your arrival, making it that much harder to keep up with the demand of the customers who regularly chose The Bourbon to decompress at. So now it was only you, Eddie, Jett, and Randy running the whole place. It turned out not to be too bad of a gig, weeknights were slow enough and Sundays the bar was closed, leaving Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as the busiest nights of the week. The tips were decent enough as well.

Especially from those creepy old men which was an unfortunate situation you could do without but hey, it helped pay the bills. If you ignored their advances and didn’t completely reject them, they’d leave behind a nice tip. It felt icky, pocketing the money but the more you thought about it, the more compelled you felt to take their money. If they were going to waste your time, you might as well be compensated for it.

One man in particular had been lurking at one of the corner tables, purposely opting out of the bar seating to instead have a higher chance of you waiting on him. He must have been in his sixties and had an unnerving stare that just made you want to hide back in the kitchen. You failed to inform Eddie, simply because he didn’t need further reason to see you as dainty or incapable of holding your own.

So you gulped down your fear and put the blinders on as best you could.

Just take his order and get it over with. Then you can move on with your night and hopefully he’ll be out of here soon.

And right off the bat, his disgusting mouth started running. Something about ‘can a pretty little thing like you get me a drink?’. Then a few more unsolicited nicknames with a smirk and some remark about how good your body looked. Something you didn’t care to hold onto in your mind, you only felt the need to take a shower.

As you rounded the corner of the bar and got to work making the pervert’s drink, you found yourself lost in thought. Thoughts about if he found out where you lived, you may be done for. It was a small town after all and it wouldn’t be difficult.

“Hey, you good?” Jett asks, shaker in hand, concern obvious in his knit eyebrows.

“What?” You’re pulled out of your mind, shaking your head as if to lure yourself back to reality. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You assure him.

He nods but his expression shows that he’s not very convinced. You finish off the drink you’d been absentmindedly making, a scotch on the rocks while offering Jett one more reassuring smile before making your way out from behind the bar.

Like you were throwing yourself back into the lion’s den, you approach the man’s table, hoping to quickly drop off his drink and be on your way. If only life were ever so kind to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” A disgusting grin paints his face and just before you can mumble an ‘mhm’ and rush off, an unwelcome hand gropes your ass, sliding down, down, down. You can’t see his face but you know he displays the most revolting smirk following his actions.

With a yelp followed by a gasp, you freeze. Paralyzed, you aren’t sure how to move forward, how do you recover from being reduced to a piece of meat? Flesh to be gawked at and held onto without permission. An object to be handled.

“I-I’m sorry but—“ You begin to stumble over your words but never get the chance to say much more when the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floors, arguably worse than nails on a chalkboard, is heard behind you.

Upon turning around, you’re met with the sight of your boss shoving the repulsive man toward the door by the collar of his mustard stained shirt. Eddie's strength shows despite his lean figure, appearing to have no trouble in maneuvering the man where he wants him against the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie bites, nostrils flaring as his cheeks seem to heat with a hue of red.

“Listen—“

The man’s hands are thrown up in surrender but it’s apparent that wasn’t the true intent behind his actions. An excuse was on the tip of his tongue before Eddie cut him off, not an ounce of patience left.

“What. The. Fuck. Was that?” He repeats, grip tightening on the shirt collar, face inching closer to the man as a means of intimidation.

“Just a little flirting, she was into it.”

You can’t help but grimace at the pathetic attempt to cover up what had actually happened. And it seemed that Eddie didn’t take too well to that answer either, further pushing the man into the door if even possible. The scene had drawn the attention of almost the whole bar, a sea of eyeballs glued to the altercation about to happen, your very being flushed from embarrassment from the mere idea of being the source of all of it. Had you walked away quicker, it would’ve gone unnoticed and you could’ve gone on with your night, leaving everyone else undisturbed.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, his chest heaving. “Didn’t seem like she was into it to me.”

“She was—“

“I wasn’t fuckin’ asking. She wasn’t into it.”

If looks could kill, the guy would be erased from existence with no trace of life left behind on Eddie’s account. His big brown eyes showcased pure rage, a distinct difference from the annoyance and the fiery glare he’d cast on you every so often, especially when you would forget to pile up the dishes his way. No, this was far more devastating and should you one day be the recipient of his aggressive stare, you’d be reduced to tears on the spot.

“Now you’re gonna get the hell out of my bar. I never wanna see you again—“

“Listen man, I’m not—“

“I’m fucking talking.” Eddie growls. “You get the hell out of here and never come back, you hear me? And you better fucking hope I don’t catch you pulling some shit like that again, I will kick your goddamn teeth in.” He promises.

Confrontations like this were not something you were familiar with, always running off before things got too far. You suppose that’s why people feel it was okay to use you as a doormat. It always feels easier to drop it and walk away, ‘be the bigger person’ or whatever they say. Even if it actually meant making you feel like the smallest person on earth.

All the back and forth and frequent swears with intention of aggravation had labored your breathing, your chest struggling to allow movement, feeling like a straw was delivering air to your lungs. Just when you’d attempt to swallow a big enough breath of air, it would all go to waste and only provide just enough oxygen to get by. A cold sweat threatened to spill from your hairline, your palms clammy to match. The murmurs and whispers of witnesses had your eyes darting from person to person, suddenly all too aware of the life you were living.

Too human.

You don’t remember another word exchanged between the two men and you certainly don’t remember how you managed to claw your way to the bathroom amidst the turmoil. But here you were, staring into the dingy mirror with no purpose other than to escape. And it wasn’t working. Suddenly the lights were too bright and the room was too small, but it was secluded and that's what mattered. Having some kind of an episode in front of the entire bar would be far worse, having an episode alone where prying eyes cannot dissect your every movement and reason for being is the better option. It wasn’t often that your mind went to this extent when being faced with a challenging situation but when it did, you didn’t find it easy to come out of.

You heard your name floating somewhere in the bleach scented air but couldn’t quite bring yourself back enough to recognize who required your attention. There was a head peeking in at the door after some frequent knocking and though you kept insisting you were okay and just to give you a few minutes, the individual seemed to have reason not to believe you.

“Hey, Ed!” He called behind him. It was Jett. A sweet and scared out of his mind Jett from what you could decipher through squinted eyes and blurred vision. He was obviously being faced with unfamiliar territory, I mean who is ever prepared to talk someone down from an anxiety attack in the middle of a shift? Panic was evident in his voice just as much as it was evident in your whole body.

“Eddie, I need some help!” He yells again. “Hey, you okay? What happened? Do you need–”

“Move over.” You hear Eddie mumble before the door swings open, the hinges squeaking painfully. “You’re asking too many questions.”

With a swift shut of the door, Jett hurries back to attend to the several customers awaiting service.

“Listen to me, Bambi. You gotta breathe.” His voice is smooth, a huge contrast to what you’d just heard moments ago.

When your legs begin to feel wobbly, as if you were a calf taking its first steps, you slowly lower yourself to the ground, a sturdy hand wrapping around your upper arm to support you.

“In.” Eddie inhales, though you can only hear him since your eyes are shut so tightly, your eyelids might rip. “Out.” He exhales. “C’mon, breathe in–”

“Is she oka—”

“Jett, fuck off for a minute. Please.” Eddie begs, clearly fed up before returning to his newfound gentle tone. “Can you look at me?” He diverts his attention back to you, Jett taking the hint and shutting the door, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eyes squeezed shut, you shake your head. Your body shakes involuntarily, the anxiety becoming even worse when you try to contain it, like it wants to jump out and strangle you.

“Okay, okay.” He attempts to soothe. “You wanna get some air?” He asks just above a whisper.

“I-I dunno. ‘M sorry.” You manage to choke out, sniffling.

“Okay, no big deal.” He sighs, running a hand down his face, not out of irritation but more so exhaustion. “Let’s get you outside, it’s too hot in here.”

Before you can protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting the majority of your weight against him, walking you out of the bathroom and out the door into the alley. The chilly air bites at your skin and thankfully, reality slowly starts to return again.

“Try breathing again, in and out.” Eddie encourages.

You nod, jaw locked tightly both from the cold and from the paralyzing anxiety coursing through your veins. Your teeth feel as if they could crack at any second, the pressure from you biting down too immense but you can’t bring yourself to unhinge your jaw.

“In.” Eddie coaches, exaggerating a large breath, his chest rising with the motion. “Out.” He exhales through his mouth, his breath visible in the air.

He continues the breathing exercise a few more times, you following carefully as things become clear again. And from all that had just happened, all you could gather was that you were a huge baby who couldn’t handle a rogue customer. You weren’t capable of holding things down when it got rough.

Pathetic.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know–I don’t know what happened–” You try to make sense of it all, failing miserably.

“What happened was some pervert copped a feel and we don’t play around with that shit here.”

Anger is obvious within his expression, even more so when he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one hastily.

“Did you…”

The question is on the tip of your tongue however, you won’t let yourself say it at the risk of sounding even more like an injured bird.

“What?” He asks, kicking around a few pebbles, the cigarette hanging from his lip before he brings his fingers up to grab it and inhale. His brows are knit together, still beyond bothered by the dispute that just occurred.

“Nevermind.” You mumble.

His gaze meets yours, lashes casting perfect shadows just over his cheek bones in the warm lighting of the street lamp and once again, among all the darkness that pools in those chocolatey irises, there is a twinkle. Barely noticeable but still there.

“What?” He urges again, voice monotone.

“Did you…did he…?”

“Did I fuck him up?” He asks, brows raised.

You nod bashfully, a hint of fear flashing in your eyes.

“No.” Eddie scoffs. “I should’ve though.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette toward the ground. “Motherfucker.” He mumbles.

“Why didn’t you then?”

It was too forward and you had no business asking. Really, it just tumbled out, off of your tongue, barely a thought behind it before it was too late. Now you were just asking for a reaction, not a good one at that.

“It was either that or let Bambi suffocate in the bathroom. Gotta pick your battles.” He gestures toward you, shrugging.

It wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, you were bracing for a bigger explosion. Waiting for him to tell you to get back to work and to stop asking questions. But he didn’t. He just continued to kick little pebbles around on the pavement, his boot scuffing along the surface as he smoked. He looked relaxed for once.

“Oh.” You reply, staring down at your own shoes. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Is apologizing like…your hobby?” He questions, shoving his other hand into his pocket.

“Well–uh no, no–”

“I love that you’re out here having bonding time but I’m a one man show in there and I need some supporting acts.” Jett interrupts, the door creating a gust of wind and then flooding you with temporary warmth from the air inside. “I at least need Eddie.” He pleads.

Nodding frantically, you begin to make your way back inside, Jett already speeding off to resume his duties.

“Hey, you okay to go back in there?” Eddie asks, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out. “You can take another minute–”

“I’m fine.” You insist. He didn’t need further evidence that you were frail and incapable. Whether it was intentional or not, he had bruised your sliver of self-confidence.

–

The rush was finally over, the last of it being a party of ten which left a table full of dishes to be delivered to the kitchen for washing. Each plate was stacked in your palms, piled high as you worked one hand out from underneath to add on a few cups, cutting down on the amount of trips you would need to make. You’d blocked out the vile events that occurred earlier in the night, at least until you had time to cry about it to yourself which when working at The Bourbon, there was never time for that. So it would have to wait until the drive home. Maybe you’d even save it for the shower where you could truly release all of your emotions in peace, no judging eyes or risk of a car accident.

Successfully stacking a few cups among the tower of plates, you spin on your heel, making your way toward the kitchen as the others cleaned up, Jett wiping down the bar and kicking out the lingering drunks, and Eddie cleaning up the mess that the pool table had become. It was 1:00 AM and if everyone did their part, you’d be out of here by at least 1:30. Tensions had been high all night, one inconvenience after another occurring, only adding onto everyone’s stress and only giving more incentive to clean quicker and go home. A broken glass here, a messed up order there.

The kitchen door is just in reach and when you push into it with your shoulder, all of your calculations fail, the pile of plates collapsing as they hit the door frame rather than dodging it like you intended. Each plate crashes against the floor, shattering into pieces, a few of the cups also breaking on impact. It was the icing on the cake of a bad night, the final straw and your reason to burst into tears and yet you don’t.

Not yet.

Not here.

A total of four eyeballs watch in shock, two more joining in as Randy, the cook peeks out from the kitchen door. Though the tears didn’t burst from your eyes quite yet, they did sting, they stung horribly. You could feel them brimming at your waterline, just a centimeter away from trickling down your cheek and exposing you as the biggest crybaby in the world. If it wasn’t already apparent.

Do not cry.

And if it wasn’t already bad enough, Eddie seemed to completely reverse his gentle attitude you’d become suddenly accustomed to earlier.

“What the hell.” He glares, slowly approaching as he sets a few glasses back down on the pool table. “Do you watch where you’re going? Do you have eyes?” He asks.

You don’t dare answer, frozen in place as your nerves tingle in panic once again. You don’t feel real. You feel as if your spirit has risen from your body and is watching over the conversation playing out.

“Now I’m out what–ten or so plates? Do you know what it costs–”

“Eddie.” Jett tries to take control of the situation, taking notice of your watering eyes. And unfortunately so does Eddie.

“What–oh, you’re gonna cry? What did I tell you? I told you this job wasn’t for someone like you.” Eddie snaps.

He was bitter, unpleasantly bitter like a shitty cup of coffee.

“Eddie, stop it.” Jett tries to defend you, though you wish you could defend yourself so you didn’t seem so pathetic.

“I told you I can’t babysit you–”

“I know.” You manage to quietly sob, bending down to start collecting the broken pieces. There’s an awkward moment of silence, the air thick with tension and anticipation of more insults. All you can do is wait.

“Just leave it, just–leave it.” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his bangs. “Just go home.”

The demand isn’t necessarily an insult like you’d imagined but it still feels backhanded. Like he was telling you ‘I told you so’ and rubbing it in your face. As if he gave you a chance with the means of preparing for this moment, the moment you fucked up even slightly.

“I’m gonna get the broom.” Jett says, eyes wide as he scampers to the back.

Staring up at Eddie, large pieces of plate collected in your hand, all you can make out in his eyes is outrage. Downplayed outrage that hadn’t fully escaped yet and you didn’t want to hang around long enough to witness it. He was capable of much more than he was letting on.

“If you can’t handle–”

“You know Eddie, you’re just mean. You’re being mean.” You declare through a frown, internally screaming at yourself to keep it together, to not let a tear spill over. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of watching you cry.

“Did you know you never even asked for my name?” You swipe underneath your eyes, catching any tears that longed to trail down your cheeks, displaying your distress, instead wiping them on your apron.

His unkind stare lets up, eyes softening ever so slightly.

Too late.

“I’m not a person to you.” You drop the shards from your hands, standing up to head toward the back for your things.

“Wait–”

If he kept talking, you didn’t stick around to hear it. You scooped up your bag from the rusting lockers toward the back of the kitchen, tucked away in a corner before striding to the front, toward the bar. If he thought you were some kind of an entitled brat that needed babysitting then you were going to give him more than he bargained for. Granted, you weren’t thinking straight either, the stress of the night only adding up and creating an outburst you would otherwise bottle up.

Grabbing a shot glass from under the bar, you reach for one of the nicer tequilas, something smoother that wouldn’t burn as much. Tequila always put you in a good mood and never gave you a hangover. Filling the shot glass, you don’t even bother looking over at Eddie or Jett, who was now sweeping broken plates into a dustpan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Eddie hurries over, staring you down. All you offer him in response is a shrug before tossing the liquor back.

Refilling the glass, you sneak a glance over at him from across the counter, his jaw dropped in shock and his face red and flushed with anger. Steam was nearly shooting out of his ears. The second shot is thrown back and your muscles begin to relax, anxieties melting away even at the basis of creating more problems.

If that wasn’t enough for him, you finished it off with a third shot, hoping it wouldn’t be too much all at once. You were brave enough to look right into his eyes, daring him to say the wrong thing.

“What are you doing?” He asks again, calmer but still heated.

“I’m just acting how you think I should.” You answer, a fake smile painted across your lips.

“I’m not comping those.”

His focus burns into you, lips in a tight line as he watches. If looks could kill. For the second time that night. Except this time, you were on the receiving end and had you not been three shots in, it would’ve terrified you and had you apologizing profusely.

“Well, I’m not paying for them.” You say, pouring yourself one more for good measure, swallowing it like it was water.

As you go to make your big exit, you’re faced with a harsh reality. You’re definitely drunk, or at least very close to being drunk as the alcohol consumes your body, and you’re definitely not driving home like this. You did not think this through. But you kept walking anyway through the kitchen and out to the back just to lean against the concrete wall pathetically. You were starting to wish that you’d gulped down some water before leaving to aid in sobering up.

If the sight of you leaning against the wall behind a bar at 1:12 AM wasn’t sad enough, tack on the fact that you had finally let the waterworks flow, your drunk self especially susceptible to your muddled emotions.

“Bambi, what the fuck. You gonna drive?” Eddie emerges from the kitchen door leading outside, seemingly cooled down but you still don’t trust it.

“Don’t call ‘m Bambi.” You slur.

“What are you doing out here?” He ignores your protest.

“‘Jus gimme a few minutes.” You whine, eyes shut as if it would make him disappear.

“No, not a few minutes. You’re not driving.”

You never intended on driving but you were finding it difficult to fight him off in your discombobulated state, willing to say anything to get him to leave. Obviously he had the upper hand at this moment, clearly able to outsmart you.

“I know.” You wail, tears on full display for him.

“I’ll drive you, let me get my keys.”

“Nooo, wha ‘bout Jett?” You ask, wiping away your tears, mascara coating your fingertips.

“Jett doesn't live right next door to you, you’d just be making him go out of his way for no reason.”

Snot dripping from your nose, you glare up at him, earning an expectant stare from him. All you can do is roll your eyes, too drunk to care anymore. You still preferred having Jett go out of his way, at least he respected you as a person. But the argument was lost among gargled thoughts and a short term memory.

“Still mean.” You insult, finger poking at his chest harshly. It doesn’t do much.

It feels like hours that you two are staring at each other, likely due to the alcohol running through your system. He hesitates in running back inside, even if just for a few seconds to grab his keys, his eyes looking you over in concern. A muttered ‘be right back’ is heard and then he’s gone.

The stars catch your attention, drastically brighter than they would be back home, many more of them too. A few stand out, gleaming in the sky and making them that much more admirable. Your mind drifts off to thoughts of the Milky Way, swirling around the universe and ultimately making you feel infinitely smaller and more insignificant.

What was your place?

Eddie steps back out, keys twirling around his fingers, straight-faced, not an ounce of amusement in his handsome features. Glancing at him briefly, you then tilt your head back up toward the sky, dazed and almost in a trance. If you weren’t careful, you could’ve been staring at him like that. But you weren’t that drunk.

Or so you thought.

Thinking about it, you must have been the spitting image of insane; mascara smeared across your face, tears glimmering in the moonlight, and your bottom lip set in a perfect pout like a child waiting to get their way. Your bag was twisted around your body in the most uncomfortable way but you couldn’t find it in you to untwist it and realistically, you should be wearing your jacket but instead its clutched in your fist, the cold pricking at your skin and eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms. The chattering of your teeth interrupted the silence and played as the soundtrack of your hazy daydreaming.

It also let Eddie know that he needed to either force you to put your jacket on, or get you in the car. And he knew he wouldn’t win that first battle so ushering you to the passenger seat it was.

“C’mon.” Is all he says, huffing out a breath.

You vaguely recall being helped into the passenger’s side but you don’t remember walking a few yards to actually reach the car or if you were even able to do so on your own. From what you could tell in your state, his car was a beaten up thing, kinda old but it smelled like those little pine tree air fresheners.

Once the scenery outside started to move, all thoughts subsided, the only one left was solely to keep yourself from vomiting all over your boss’s car. You would stoop as low as to drink his most expensive tequila but vomiting all over his carpeted floor was another low you wouldn’t dream of wishing upon anybody.

Trees zoomed by and you were sure you were going cross eyed from trying to keep up with each and every one. Some metal song plays through the speakers but in your own little world, you hardly hear it, still subconsciously bobbing your head to the fading beat.

One minute you were sitting content in your dream land, the next Eddie was shoving something into your hands while urgently pulling over. Your mind hadn’t caught up to what was happening yet however, you could vaguely make out Eddie yelling at you to aim for the bag while you stared directly into said bag. When you glanced over at him, everything felt as if it were in slow motion and again, he was panicking while yelling at you to ‘puke in the bag!’.

The perfect cocktail of a situation for an individual so reserved and so inexperienced with this much attention. At least most of it would be a blur by morning.

–

“There you go, just grab my–shoulder! Ow!” Eddie complains, your fingers a bit too comfortable with digging into his skin through his cotton shirt as you attempt to hoist yourself up into a standing position from the passenger seat.

Home was only steps away and then you could collapse wherever you pleased. Forget about this stupid night. At least until you awakened as your regularly anxious self. You’d have a few hours of drunken bliss to forget about life but that’s all you were allowed. Then you would need to face your consequences, whatever they may be. Come the morning, you most likely wouldn’t have a job anymore, Eddie would probably come knocking at your door and let you know that you blew it. And he’d probably laugh in your face at the fact that you proved yourself to be too weak, too dainty, as he so adamantly proclaimed before.

“Oh no.” You mumble, feeling yourself wobbling, knees giving out underneath you.

“Whoa, whoa, okay! You’re fine, you’re fine.” Eddie stabilizes you, arms around your waist.

Your limbs might as well be Jello at this point, rendering you a useless human unable to even stumble to your destination. It dawns on you that you can’t remember if you even actually puked in the car or not. Was it coating his interior or had you shoved your head in the bag just in time to spew your guts? Or did you bravely swallow it down? Whatever the case, Eddie doesn’t seem to currently have any grievances or any trouble touching you so you must have been somewhat responsible about it.

Your weight depends on him, leaning into his chest as he practically carries you toward the house. Your eyes flutter repeatedly and—your question of whether you had already puked or not is quickly answered as the contents of your stomach spill out and onto his shirt before you’re able to aim for the ground. Humiliation was starting to look like your middle name.

As you dry heave and allow a long string of saliva to drip from your mouth while hunched over in the dirt, you hear Eddie muttering several curses. You think for sure he’s going to ditch you for creating such a stir up throughout the night until his boots come into view in front of you, his hand pulling the hair away from your face as you finish emptying your stomach.

“Okay.” He sighs. “Puke it out.” A hesitant hand smoothes over your back, the lightest touch.

The smell of putrid vomit invades his nose, nausea threatening to take over him as well if he didn’t hold his breath. Try as he may to ignore the chunks of god knows what on his shirt, it was still all that was on his mind. He didn’t even want to chance looking down if there was the slightest possibility that it had also gotten in his hair. Even being covered in your sick, he knows he should be fuming. But he’s not and it's all so puzzling.

You marched your ass behind his bar and consumed more tequila than you could handle which in turn forced him to drive you home and then you vomited all over him. If that’s not enough reason to be pissed beyond belief then he doesn’t know what is. Yet he remains calm and collected, running his hand between your shoulder blades as he soothes you throughout your dry heaving and gagging.

“It won’t–oh god–it won’t stop.” You sob, looking up at him, a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva coating the lower half of your face.

You look repulsive and yet he can’t tear his eyes away from you. The prettiest definition of repulsive he’d ever seen.

“Don’t hold it back, let it all out. You’re only gonna feel like shit if you hold any of it in.” He instructs, kneeling down to meet your eye level.

With a few sniffles and hiccups, you nod. Only now you’re hyper aware of being watched. It was a sobering experience, puking right in front of your house, not able to even make it to the nearest toilet while your boss spectates and–oh.

It hits you that the front of his shirt is caked in your puke, bile soaking the fabric while remnants of your late lunch displays itself on his perfect black shirt. You would never live this down and you would certainly never work another shift at The Bourbon again. Even if he did scream at you for no good reason, you took it a few levels too far.

“Y-your shirt, oh no–”

“Relax, okay, Bambi? I can handle a little puke, now where’s your key?” He asks.

It’s not that he could handle a little puke, he had to. Because what good would it do if the two of you were both throwing up in your front yard?

Attempting to answer him, the rest of your stomach interrupts and unexpectedly spews all over his combat boots. As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

“Shit.” He mutters under his breath.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.” You whimper, glassy eyes staring up at him with regret. “I din’t mean it, I swear, m’ just–”

“I know.” Eddie exhales. “You done puking, is there anything else left in there?”

Shaking your head in sorrow, a few more hiccups escape your lungs but there are no further signs that you’re going to be sick again. Even if you were, it didn’t matter anymore, Eddie was already well acquainted with your vomit, what harm would a little more do at this point?

As you start shuffling through your bag and patting at your pockets, panic settles in and you can only recall that the last place you’d seen your keys was at the bar, where you set them down to spitefully gulp down as much tequila as you could. Now it was biting you in the ass, hard.

“Left my keys at the bar.” You pout pitifully.

Eddie glares at you, rightfully so. The man was covered in foul smelling vomit, kneeling on the ground, taking care of you.

“Fucking christ.” He mumbles.

~end~

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levi-venn · 7 months ago

Text

The First Toothpick

Chapter Seven: Blasterslingers

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair, Tech (Flashbacks), Jango Fett (Flashbacks)

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: For the first time in his life, Crosshair disobeys orders

Read the previous chapters here:

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Also Available on AO3

Night stalked the ranch, smothering the last orange sunlight with a glittery indigo blanket.

Cad and the kid sat in the belltower, their sniper rifles side-by-side as their scopes scanned the only road in or out of the ranch, waiting for Skatter’s gang.

The wheat field flickered blue as stalker lizards tested their luck, hoping to get at the fabools for an easy meal.

“How long will that shield last?” Cad quizzed.

“All night,” the kid said. “Or until someone shoots out three of the sensors.”

“Which Skatter will,” Cad added.

“Because he was the one who set them up,” the kid answered.

“Where will I be?”

“You’ll be on the ground, drawing fire away from the house and steer them into the mines we set up today.”

“And you?”

The kid sighed. “I will stay here in the tower and wait for your signal”

“Exactly.”

Of course, Cad had no intention on giving any signal. This was Cad’s fight, not the kid's.

"Are you sure the fabools will be okay?" the kid asked.

“Skatter knows their value, he ain’t goin’ anywhere near those fabools and Todo’ll take care of the stalker lizards. They'll stay right here n' aim for a short fight.”

The kid fidgeted with the settings of his scope. “When are they gonna be here?"

“No idea, but he’s comin’. And we’ll be ready.”

“Roger,” the kid said.

Cad fished a toothpick out of his pouch and…paused when he saw the kid pull a piece of brittle wheat from his jumpsuit pocket.

“Trade ya,” Cad said, offering his toothpick.

The kid’s eyes doubled in size like Cad just handed him a hundred credits. He took the toothpick and gave it an experimental pressure test between his thumbs. It held firm.

“Kashyyyk wood,” Cad said, flicking the piece of wheat out the window. “Takes a lotta punishment before it breaks. When you line up a difficult shot, clench down on it, then relax your jaw as you pull the trigger.”

The kid put the toothpick in his mouth and immediately wiggled it with his tongue.

“Don’t fuck around with it too much,” Cad huffed, showing him a second toothpick and putting it between his left main incisor and his front fang. “Rest it on your lip, slide in, let it hang. If ya gotta tongue it, just don’t be obvious. Too much jostlin’ makes ya look fidgety. Ain’t good for negotiations.”

“When will I need to negotiate anything?” The kid asked.

“When you take on your first bounty hunt,” Cad sneered.

It was a joke, but the kid’s eyes went round again with hope, then his whole expression deflated. “I'm a soldier. Soldiers don't hunt bounties.”

“Wouldn't count on anything bein’ a sure thing. Ya never know what life's got planned for ya, no matter what the Kaminoans say.”

The kid shrugged, the toothpick moving around a little, but no longer wiggling.

“Here,” Cad huffed and pulled out a cluster of toothpicks. “In case ya swallow that first one.”

The kid shot him an annoyed look, but Cad could see the underlying smirk. He took the toothpicks and opened up a pouch on his utility belt.

Cad spied a familiar wrapper in the pouch. A wrapper he would see littering the Firespray , when Jango was particularly stressed.

“That a starsbar? Thought you didn’t like candy.”

“It's not for me, it's for Tech. He has a sweet tooth when he gets stressed.”

The kid’s expression went dour and he tucked the toothpicks away next to the crumpled up candy bar.”

“You’re gonna see him soon,” Cad said, though he wasn't being paid to make the kid feel better.

“I’ve never been away from my brothers this long. Someone was always within touching distance. Even when Pynk pulls one of us into his office for reprimands, Hunter or I sneak into the vents to let our brother know they aren’t alone.”

“Who’s Hunter?”

“My oldest brother. I have three. Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech.”

Cad waited to hear this kid’s name.

The kid seemed to sense it and shrank away.

“Where do y’all get these names?”

“We just get them. Wrecker breaks things, Tech likes to say things like ‘technically’ plus he’s good at slicing. Hunter is a natural tracker. These names stick, and sometimes you can’t get rid of them. There is a cadet who got scared in training and ran screaming from a training droid. They call him Droid Bait. He’ll never be called anything else.”

Cad was starting to get it.

“So someone gave you a name ya don’t like, huh?”

The kid focused real hard on everything except Cad’s studious gaze.

Shit, I hit a nerve…not that I’m paid to- aw who am I kiddin’.

“Hey, kid,” he said with a gentle tone that was odd to his own ears. “ just tryin’ to-”

“Misfire.”

Cad blinked. “You’re shittin’ me.”

The kid shot him a look. “It’s not my name…or I mean…it isn't what my brother’s call me, but…it’s what everyone else calls me.”

“Well, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. When you get back to those cadets, you can shoot that name right between their eyes.”

The kid raised a salt and pepper eyebrow.

“Metaphorically speaking,” Cad sneered. “I ain't callin' ya Misfire. You're 'Kid'.”

“I like…Kiddo too,” the kid murmured.

Bane pointed his toothpick at the kid. “You're Kiddo only if you ain’t bein’ a lil shit. Cursin’ me in Mando’a when ya think I ain’t listenin.”

The kid’s sneer looked a whole lot like Bane’s.

“Roger that,” and the kid gave a sarcastic salute.

That little gesture he definitely got from Cad.

Call ‘em soldiers all you want, Jango, Cad thought. They’re still just kids n’ they deserve better than threats of retirement and bullies who're probably scared too.

“Am I your son?”

Cad almost swallowed his toothpick and he coughed it out into his palm. “What?”

“Skatter called me your son. You didn’t correct him.”

Cad knew that Skatter was trying to rattle Cad. Arguing would've made him look defensive.

But to this kid, Cad thought, born out of some fuckin’ test tube…shit, guess it looked like somethin' different.

“Do you want kids, Cad?”

Cad lifted his hat off his face. Jango always managed to ask him the damndest questions just as started to doze off.

“What?”

“Just a simple question from a simple man,” Jango hummed, gazing up at the stars.

“Ain’t nothin’ ever simple with you,” Cad snorted. “And no. Hell no. The hell am I gonna do with a kid in tow?”

“Start a legacy? Pass on what you’ve learned to someone who can grow beyond you?”

“There ain’t no legacy to be made,” Cad said. “I’m an orphaned Duros with whippin’ scars and a handful of bounties under my belt. No one’s gonna look up to this fuckin’ disaster.”

Jango turned his head towards Cad. He looked…disappointed. “You have more to give than you realize.”

“Yeah,” Cad frowned. “So ya keep tellin' me.”

"It's the truth, Caddy."

“Tell ya what. You make all the kids ya want and I’ll just be the fun uncle that hypes ‘em up with candy and a loaded blaster. Deal?”

It was supposed to be a joke.

But Jango still looked disappointed.

“Kiddo...” Cad started. It is was hard at those big watery human eyes. “If…you were my son, I’d tell ya that in this galaxy ya don’t have to be anything you don’t wanna be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a soldier now, but that don’t mean you gotta take any orders blindly. Question orders. Don’t walk in blind. If it don’t sit right, don’t fuckin’ do it. Trust no one. Keep your guard up. And…”

Caddy, seriously, don’t say it…Jango ain’t payin’ you to turn this kid into an anarchist like you.

“And...fuck the establishment.”

“What’s an Establishment?”

The woop woop woop of the alarms flashed on Cad’s gauntlet.

“Focus up, kiddo, we got company.”

***

“Technically,” Tech said, “Our father is Jango Fett since he supplied the DNA.”

“And our mom?” Crosshair asked.

“Hmm…I suppose she’s the pre-natal tank that preserved us during gestation.”

“What about Nala Se?” Crosshair asked. “She feeds us, tutors us, and she hums to Wrecker when he has trouble sleeping.”

“She is our caretaker.”

“In your book, the mom sang to the children.”

“What book?”

Crosshair pulled up Little House in the Big Field on his datapad.

Tech looked at the book, then looked at Crosshair. “We are clones, Crosshair,” he said, adjusting his brand new goggles that didn't quite fit his face yet. “We do not need parents like the children in that book. Our path is one of military efficiency. Those natborns are far more helpless than we ever were. They need nurturing to survive, we only need what is provided by this facility.”

“Oh,” Crosshair said, scrolling through the pages. He stopped at his favorite illustration, the little girl riding her father’s shoulders. They are both laughing.

“Does that make sense?” Tech asked.

“We’re clones,” Crosshair murmured. “We don’t need parents.”

“Crosshair...” Tech said.

Crosshair didn’t look up. The father in the book would do anything for his kids. He hunt puma, he built them toy forts, he gave them piggyback rides.

Tech leaned forward until he was in Crosshair’s vision. “We don't have parents. But we do have each other.”

Crosshair looked at his brother. Older than him, technically, but inseparable since birth. Crosshair liked to call them twins. Tech never corrected him.

“I know, Tech.”

Tech leaned his head against Crosshair's shoulder. “These goggles make my eyes hurt. Will you read tonight?”

“What book?”

“Whatever you want.”

Crosshair held up Little House in the Big Field .

"Acceptable."

Tech wrapped the blanket around both of them and Crosshair began to read.

Crosshair chewed on his toothpick, mindful not to move it around too much like Bane said. His aim was steady, the scope spewing out readings of the distance, speed, and predicted trajectory of the speeders charging down the winding road towards the ranch.

A month ago he’d be nervous. A month ago he’d hear “Misfire” echo in his mind.

Tonight, his mind was quiet. He was ready.

And more importantly, Bane believes I’m ready too. Just have to wait for his signal.

“Why can’t we shoot them now?” Crosshair asked.

“You got Skatter in your sights?” Bane asked.

“I do.”

“Shift your scope a little to the left, nearest speeder.”

Crosshair moved to the next speeder. It was full of dowutins.

“His people are loyal, and two of his cousins are in this gang. Killing Skatter ain’t gonna cut the head off the snake. It’ll only give away our position. Far as Skatter knows, this is still an ornamental tower with a weather vane.”

“I won't strike until you give the signal,” Crosshair promised.

“Atta boy.” Bane said.

Crosshair cracked a smile.

"Show time." Bane stood up, his spurs jingling as he walked backwards towards the fake chimney's chute. “See ya soon, kiddo.”

And with that Bane gave a sarcastic salute and dropped backwards and disappeared out of sight.

So wizard, Crosshair thought. He turned his attention to the rows of surveillance cameras.

For a few long moments, everything was quiet except for the distant hum of speeders approaching like an angry swarm of bees.

Crosshair could practically see the fight in his head. Any moment, Bane would appear, wide-brim hat lowered, hands resting on his blasters, maybe a tumbleweed rolling by. Bane would say something intimidating and badass that shook up the bad guys, then he'd give Crosshair the signal! Crosshair didn't know what the signal looked like, but it was probably equally badass. Then Crosshair would shoot the hats off all the outlaws and they’d run for the hills.

That’s how it happens in the holofilms he and Wrecker liked to watch.

And Bane was practically a living, breathing Wild Space holofilm star.

And I'm his trusty sideki-

An explosion rattled the fantasy out of Crosshair’s head. His chest shook, the whole house vibrated, and suddenly only four speeder were hurdling towards the ranch house. Three more explosions followed and Crosshair saw the shield flicker then die just as the speeders entered the wheat field.

Black smoke billowed out of the speeders, mixing with the gray plumes from the sizzling wheat stalks, filling the moonlit night with black and silver humorless clouds. Like blood red lightning, blaster fire pierced the night in a relentless barrage.

Todo zoomed by the tower, thrusters searing Crosshair’s vision as he dove towards the Fabool enclosure brandishing a pair of pistols. Stalker lizards hissed and skittered away as soon as he approached. Todo would keep the fabools safe for now, but this also meant Bane was alone.

The signal!

Crosshair looked at every monitor. There was no sign of the bounty hunter.

He peered through his scope, searching the field, the porch, everywhere and found no one.

Did I miss the signal? Is he waiting for me? Does he think I abandoned him?

There was too much smoke, too much blaster fire in too many directions. It was loud and bright and confusing. He tried to peer through his scope again, but another explosion turned his night vision a glaring white. He hissed in pain, blinking away the dancing lights in his retinas.

This wasn’t the plan. He and his brothers had ninety-nine plans, but none of them applied to Bane and this situation.

The only plan Bane ever gave him was…keep firing and keep running.

Keep running. I can do that.

Crosshair went to the control panel and flipped every switch attached to a mirrored panel on the field, then slung his rifle over his shoulder and slipped out of the tower.

“There’s someone on the roof!” An instant later, the blaster fire surrounded Crosshair. He was used to live blaster fire during training, but he wasn’t used to this much coming from so many directions. He kept running, his eyes trained on the trellis on the edge of the roof. That was his first mission. Climb down. Reassess. Don’t stays stationary for long.

“Kid! Down!”

Crosshair didn’t think.

He didn’t look.

He acted.

Throwing himself belly down onto the roof, a rocket whistled overhead and exploded the back porch in a fiery blaze. The hiss of Todo's fire extinguisher coming a moment later.

Don’t stop. Keep moving.

Crosshair slithered towards the ladder, then descended awkwardly, nearly twisting his ankle in the thick vines. As soon as he landed, he spied Bane pinned by blaster fire behind his speeder, shooting his twin blasters blindly overhead. The top of his hat was smoking from a blaster bolt that had narrowly missing his head.

Crosshair stared wide-eyed at him.

They shot Bane.

Then he narrowed his eyes.

They fucking shot Bane.

Crosshair peeked around the corner. One speeder had hit a sensor mine and was smoking. The four remaining skidded to a halt and they were carefully making their way forward. Two more explosions went off. Crosshair counted ten outlaws remaining.

The speeder that shielded Bane was also blocking them both from using the mirrored panels.

Crosshair needed to draw the blaster fire away from Bane. If he could get to the field, he could regain his line of sight. All he had to do was run and not stop running.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Bane shouted over the blaster fire as if knowing what Crosshair was thinking. “Get back in that tower. Now. ”

Crosshair almost obeyed the order.

He should have. Bane was his mentor. His word was law.

But leaving Bane behind was not an option.

He took the rifle off his shoulder.

He gave Bane a sarcastic salute.

And he ran.

If he saw an outlaw in the reflection of a mirror, he fired. If he missed, he fired again. If he hit the target, he kept running to seek the next target.

He fired one blaster bolt and hit three outlaws. Two of them went down.

That was so wizard…wait, shit, I’ll celebrate that later…

...But I hope Bane saw it, too.

“Down!” He heard Bane shout and he slid just in time to watch a rocket sail over his head. He rolled forward and kept running and dodging.

He glanced behind him only once to find Bane standing atop the speeder, firing his blasters. One...two...three...four weequay went down in quick succession.

Crosshair took down the last weequay and that just left the dowutins and Skatter who was holding that damn rocket launcher that tried to blow up Crosshair twice.

The dowutins turned their attention back on Bane who ran towards the porch, ducking behind one of the pillars, his skinny form practically vanishing except for the flash of silver from his blasters.

One of Skatter’s cousins fell over onto Skatter who shoved him away.

“Bane!” Skatter roared, struggling to reload the launcher which seemed to be jammed. “You’re just wastin’ time. You can either leave now and the ranch survives or I just blow y’all up with this here launcher. Neither one of us wants that. Last warnin’!”

“The ranch’s mine, sleemo,” Bane shouted. “And your runnin’ outta boys a lot quicker than I am.”

“Then let’s even the playin’ field,” Skatter grinned, throwing down the launcher and pulling something small from his pouch.

Crosshair heard the familiar beep of a thermal detonator before he saw the red and blue flicker streak through the night sky.

It landed with a dull thud next to him.

Crosshair didn’t think.

He didn’t look.

He acted.

It was like he was outside of himself, instinct taking over as his hand snatch the det and flung it right back towards the dowutins.

Oh shit.

Crosshair rolled behind one of the mirror panels which provided...no cover at all.

Shit.

He hugged his rifle against his chest protectively.

The concussive blast hit him before the deafening sound slammed against his eardrums. He was airborn. His body went into cold shock, then screamed in pain.

He landed hard on his back, his vision was doubling, quadrupling, there were too many stars in the sky and they were all swimming at nauseating speed.

Through the ringing in his ears, he thought he heard more blaster fire and then nothing at all.

Everything had gone quiet.

Which meant either he went deaf or the fight was over.

A figure loomed over him, blacking out the blurry stars.

“Looks like your bell got rung, kiddo,” he heard Bane say, a flash of white fangs told Crosshair he was smiling.

“Is it over?” Crosshair coughed.

“Well ya blew Skatter and his cousins to pieces. So yeah, I’d say it’s as over as it gets.”

Crosshair started to sit up to get a better look at the carnage. Bane blocked his path. “Ain’t no reason to see that shitshow right now. Can ya stand?”

“I am standing,” Crosshair said only to realize that not only was he still sitting, but the ground felt like it was made of mashed potatoes.

“Climb up.”

Crosshair blinked up at Bane. “What?”

“Climb up.” Bane repeated, kneeling down and patting his own back. “Up.”

Crosshair’s eyes went wide. “I can have…a piggyback ride?”

Bane’s head tilted, one brow ridge raised “A what?”

“Nothing!” Crosshair lunged forward and clung to Bane’s neck. Bane hooked his arms under Crosshair’s leg, lifting him easily.

Pressing his cheek against the rough leather collar of Bane’s coat, Crosshair looked over at the smoking speeders. There was a piece of…something charred on the ground. He quickly decided to look the other way, towards the Fabool enclosure where Todo had managed to chase off the rest of the stalker lizards and was repairing the shield.

Bane crossed the threshold into the house and the smoky night air was replaced by the warm scent of wood and remnants of the stew Bane made them that afternoon.

Crosshair wondered if this is what the house from Little House in the Big Field smelled like?

Bane knelt beside the floral couch that neither Bane nor Crosshair used since he arrived. The couch was stiff and smelled musty, clearly for decoration. Bane pulled the quilt off the back of the couch and draped it over Crosshair's shoulders. It was surprisingly soft and warm, and unlike the couch it smelled clean, faintly of fabric softener and lavender. The weight of it felt like a gentle hug.

For the first time since the bell tower, Crosshair felt like he could breathe.

Bane pulled out the med kit hidden under the couch and examined Crosshair’s wounds. There were scrapes all over his body, his head was sticky with blood, and apparently a piece of shrapnel stuck out of his calf that Crosshair didn’t feel until Bane tugged experimentally at it.

Bane left the shrapnel alone and started with the cut on Crosshair’s head. “Well, my contract didn’t say nothin’ about bringin’ ya back unharmed, but think this’ll be gone by the time I do bring ya back.”

Crosshair lowered his eyes and said nothing.

Waiting...

Bane stopped dabbing at the cut on Crosshair’s forehead. “Kid? You get your ears blown off?”

Crosshair kept waiting.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about your fuckin’ percentages tonight of all nights.”

Crosshair raised his eyes briefly. “I disobeyed your orders.”

“Ya sure did,” Bane hummed, dabbing bacta over the wound and then pulling out tweezers to pull the shrapnel from Crosshair’s leg. “And it was a fuckin’ dumbass move. I had a pair of traps I was gonna spring on the dowutins, just needed them to come a lil closer. You runnin' out into the field like a wild heaadless chicken stopped 'em in their tracks.��

“I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because,” Bane pulled the shrapnel out slowly, then soothed it with bacta gel. Crosshair hissed, but didn’t complain. “I didn’t count on Skatter forgettin’ those traps were there. He’s the one who planted them in the first place, the idiot. But that’s the thing, ain’t it? Can’t account for everythin’. Ya gotta be ready to improvise even in the best laid plans.”

“Oh…” Crosshair deflated. “I’m sor-”

“Shut up, kiddo,” Bane said, but his tone was gentle. He carefully wrapped the leg up in a soft bandage. “Don’t you go bein’ sorry for listenin’ to your gut. Fool decision or not, ya went for it. I had to improvise when you went runnin' and you improvised by blowin’ up Skatter and his cousins to smithereens. Woulda liked to pull the trigger on Skatter myself, but hell I ain’t interested in a vengeance plot unless I’m gettin’ paid for it.”

Crosshair was quiet for a moment. “So I did good?”

Bane threw Crosshair a sideways smile, baring his pearly fangs. “Ain’t no good fishin’ for compliments in shark-infested waters, kiddo.”

Crosshair smirked. “Fine.”

“How do you think you did?”

Crosshair immediately went to the numbers. “My percent-Ow! Haar’chak !”

Bane shot him with antibiotics without warning.

“Fuck the numbers,” Bane said. “How’d it feel?”

Crosshair rubbed his sore arm. “Good. Scary, but good. Didn’t stop when I missed a target. I lined the shot up again and again until I hit my mark. I drew fire away from you. That was my main mission. I don’t leave my own behind.”

Bane threw Crosshair a look, confused maybe, but Crosshair thought he saw a twinkle in those glowing red eyes.

"Huh..." Bane said thoughtfully, then sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. It looked like he was catching his breath, and Crosshair realized he had a few cauterized blaster bolt burns and some shrapnel in his own leg. “The lesson you should get outta this experience, kiddo,” Bane said as he tended to his own wounds. “is that you listened to your gut. It worked out this time and maybe that ain’t the case next time. Don’t matter. I’d rather die listening to my own instincts than risk my life on someone else’s orders that don’t sit right.”

“A good soldier follows orders,” Crosshair said. It felt like someone else’s words, but he didn’t remember where he’d heard it.

“Yeah, well, the best mercs often make the shittiest soldiers,” Bane said, and stood up with a pained groan. “Sit here and stay awake. Ya got a concussion and I ain’t lugging a comatose kid back to Jango.”

Crosshair’s heart sank. “You’re sending me back?”

“In a couple of days when you’re healed proper.” Bane raised an eyebrow. “I’d say taking out Skatter’s Ferocious Fourteen is about as good a test score as any. After tonight you’re ready for anythin’ Pynk throws at ya.”

Crosshair felt his heart twist in confusion. He missed Tech every day he was gone. He missed Wrecker and Hunter too, but…

...he missed his twin the most.

“Okay.”

Bane looked at Crosshair for a long time, brow furrowed, but not angrily. It was the kind of thoughtful look he had on Kamino when he talked to Jango about Crosshair’s future.

“Sit tight. Watch a holo. Don’t fall asleep. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“Bane?” Crosshair asked as Bane started to walk away.

Can I be a merc?

Can Tech be a merc?

Can I bring my brothers with me and we can all be mercs? And not soldiers? And live by our guts and not by what Lt. Pynk says?

“Yeah, kiddo?” Bane asked, toothpick moving lazily in his teeth.

Would my brothers come with me if I asked them?

Crosshair already knew the answer.

He sank back into the couch.

“Thanks for training me.”

“I just did it for the credits, kiddo,” Bane said, tilting his head up and giving Crosshair a wink.

Crosshair rolled his eyes with a grin, then snuggled under the blanket and turned on the holoprojector.

He watched the entire Duros with No Name series before he was finally allowed to sleep.

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch #tbb tech #bad batch tech #star wars the clone wars #cad bane #tbb #jango fett

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 1 year ago

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greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for bg3?

I use they/them pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.

Im about 4’11..not to happy about it. I’m kind of introverted, and can be considered not a people person. I find life a little nihilistic. I’m into dressing in all black (trad, mopey, mall, black-metal, and hippie goth styles mainly, both fem and masc) or and taking a liking to gruesome and morbid things like slashers, analog horror, witchcraft, true crime, necromancy, anatomy, etc. I typically consider myself a "gorehound" ig. I participate in "Vulture Culture"; and I also like to visit abandoned places just for fun, along with playing quite a few escape rooms. I just have a genuine comfort in the uncomfortable.

I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start talking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.

when I become comfortable with someone I start to become really sarcastic and joke around with them with witty banter. most of my humor comes off really insulting, and I’m brutally honest, but I’ll apologize and say it’s a joke or I didn’t mean it if it becomes a problem. even though I do have a hard time understanding social cues.

lots of people don’t like me or stay away from me because of my rude behavior. I’m not good with overly sensitive or overly annoying people at all because of that, and I can’t stand kids. Idiocy can get on my nerves too sometimes. I’m a huge animal person though, and I own four guinea pigs that I protect with my life. I have my moments where I can get really feisty, or very quiet and closed off. I’ve been told I’m also a laidback person. I’ve also been told I never know when to quit, and I find I hold grudges for certain things. It’s not as common now but I used to get called a vampire by other kids when I was younger since I had oddly pointy canine teeth. I find it funny, seeing how I am today. I also have an inside joke with my family where they call me "Irl Daria" which I find funny.

I’m the type of person that has lots of opinions on things but I keep them to myself and bottle them up. If pushed far enough I’ll become unforgiving, and aggressive. especially with the types mentioned above.

I find the most comfort in just being in my room drawing, listening to music ( the cure, pierce the veil, deftones, soad, cannibal corpse, slipknot, rob zombie,,,, sometimes radiohead, insane clown posse, jazmin bean or mother mother, etc. ), or even occasionally playing video games, reading, writing, or talking about a random conspiracy theory I have. I do acting in my spare time as a small hobby too, and I’m learning how to play electric guitar. I also work as a scare actor.

I’m a plushie maniac and when I fall asleep you can always see me cuddled up to one of them. I find it because I’m really touch starved. I also have this specific blanket I can literally not sleep without. Im also a caffeine addict, and I’m guilty of being very submissive and maybe even masochistic- and a bit of a pyromaniac. I dissociate or daydream a lot, so you can often catch me starring.

I suffer from a handful off mental and physical syndromes like asd, insomnia, asthma, depression and anxiety. These have all been diagnosed professionally, and I’m definitely not trying to make myself "quirky". unfortunately health problems run in my family.

I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.

you do get to this, thanks for your time. <3

A/N: Thank you so much for all the details!! It helps the process. Because you said you’re pansexual but didn’t specify whether you wanted a male or female companion or both, I gave you both just in case. So feel free to pick the person who feels the most accurate to you!

TW: Mentions of Gore, Horror

For you @br4inr0tx I think you’d be a good romantic match for either Astarion (Male) or Minthara (Female)!

⭒ Astarion is drawn to your mysterious and rather nihilistic nature. He is seen as intimidating or scary due to his immortal condition, and because of this, he puts up walls to keep himself safe from judgmental people. That being said, he doesn’t necessarily hide his true nature: he’s very upfront about his more, morbid opinions, and makes it clear that he disapproves of unnecessary altruistic choices, especially when those choices involve having to appear more “normal” for the comfort of other people in the game.

He finds your gorehound interests fascinating, and oddly calming in a way. After a lifetime of being exposed to so much gore, there’s something familiar and controllable about watching or reading about fictional simulated gore that puts him at ease. So he one hundred percent understands how it is you find comfort, as you said, in the uncomfortable.

Astarion is also pansexual, and very fond of the more dramatic ‘gothic’ styles in clothing. He loves getting to experiment in both fem and masc styles with you. He might even ask to borrow something of yours, as long as he could fit it. He is taller than you, but still fairly thin. I honestly don’t think he’d mind wearing one of your tops as a sort of crop-top thing, so long as no one else was around. I think he might take pleasure in flaunting it, just to get a reaction out of you. He thinks it’s adorable when he teases you, and you just ramp up all the sarcasm and wit. He’s very glad to have a ‘fast’ partner- someone who can quip back at him in the blink of an eye. It keeps him on his toes, and confirms that you feel comfortable with him- two things he likes.

And if you like abandoned or liminal places, just hold on to your hat. He knows tons of them in and outside of the city. Being a vampire had him hunting on the outskirts, and he knows them all rather intimately. When your relationship reaches that serious level, he’ll take you to where his headstone rests, in a cemetery in Baldur’s Gate. He’s not buried under there, but his family must have put it up to commemorate his life after he went “missing”. It’s sacred ground to him. And you’re one of the few people he loves enough to take there. Mainly because you are his partner and because he knows you won’t run at the sight of such things. Knowing he has a partner who doesn't shy away from the darker, more twisted stuff is reassuring. Especially when so much of your past is complicated.

He too is rather intimidated by people. Although he may not always admit it. So much of his feistiness comes from fear. In the past people have hurt him, so now he walks the line of nice and jerk to keep people at arm's length. He’s not really an ass though, and he’s appreciative, you know that. He knows you’re not rude or cold, just introverted and a little insecure. He’ll gladly defend your behavior to anyone who dares complain. No stranger better dare cast judgment on you when they don’t know who you’re really like when they have no clue what either of you have been through. Seriously though, just say the word and he’ll take care of them for you.

Teeth twins! Astarion jokes that you’re obviously his soulmate because your teeth match. And seeing pointier teeth on you, someone he sees as beautiful, makes him feel less self-conscious about his.

Having to shield from the sun, he’s more of an indoor activity sort of person. He loves staying inside and listening to music or reading with you. Just the two of you and your pile of plushies. Astarion enjoys their comfort as well, even if he won’t admit it outright. It’s a way for him to get physical comfort when he desperately wants to touch/hold you but is too upset or raw to do so.

In some ways, he shares in your submissiveness and masochism, but those are still very touchy subjects. It takes him a while to communicate that to you. He dissociates often as well, so he’s thankful you understand what a dissociative episode is like. Most people just assume he’s ignoring them, but you know the truth. The two of you look out for each other in that way.

As a Taurus Intuitive, you’re prone to contemplating the long term, and as a Taurs Judger, you’re often determined and work hard to make your dreams a reality. This works well with Astarion, who I think is either an ENTJ or ESFP- both signs that tend to be go-getters in their own way.

He’s not a very fidgety person, his anxiety forcing him to be anxious inside but still on the outside. But he does understand the root feelings. He doesn't think it’s annoying at all. If anything he finds your leg bouncing comforting. It reminds him you’re still by his side.

And for that, he is eternally grateful.

☾ Minthara would also be a good match for you! Although she is a lot more abrasive and rough around the edges, I think she’d be very appreciative of your darker interests. At camp, if you take a look in her tent, she actually has what looks like a deer or horse skull candle holder. So she would actively join you in your Vulture Culture escapades.

She also finds great joy in the gorier aspects of life. As a drow, violence is almost second nature. It doesn't scare her off or intimidate her in any way. And if you like abandoned or liminal places, you’re sure to enjoy the Underdark- which is basically a giant spooky underground liminal space.

Minthara is the farthest thing from a people person, so she has absolutely no qualms about you not being extroverted or especially inclined to make acquaintances with strangers. She’s glad you scare people off, if you didn’t, she’d have to. (I mean she still does naturally, but she doesn’t have to put as much effort into it, because no one is gonna mess with the two of you combined.)

Being an INFJ, and Minthara being an ENTJ, you are similar in that you can contemplate various topics- both realistic and abstract. However you have to be careful and remember while ENTJs may sound insensitive, they’re just very direct communicators. Based on what you told me about your personality, this shouldn't be a problem for you, however, as you’re very brutally honest yourself.

Minthara herself is funny. It’s just that her humor is more sarcastic, a little morose, and very situational. She doesn’t find your humor offensive, and if anyone has a problem with it, they will answer to her.

Despite what others may think, Minthara likes animals. When Scratch is gone, she’s noticeably sad. I think she’d like to be a co-parent to your guinea pigs.

She’s not very laid back, preferring action to inaction. But that’s okay. You remind her to take breaks and time to chill- just sit and rest or read or write or listen to music. Not everything has to be full speed ahead. On the other hand, she helps motivate you to do things outside of your comfort zone. She’ll pull you out of your room, to go on walks with her around the surface. The two of you are sort of yin and yang this way.

She’s impressed with your work as a scare actor. In Drow culture, being able to intimidate others and strike fear into the hearts of your enemies is an admirable quality. She sees your talent as an impressive hobby to have, one which many people are not capable of.

She’s rather touch starved as well- having to expect betrayal everywhere she goes in Drow society. Because of this, she finds the idea of sleeping with plushies useful. It’s unexpected, but she finds a good deal of comfort in them. And she finds a great deal of comfort in you.

And don’t be shy about your masochistic side with her. She has one as well. She pushes herself to her limits, causing herself intentional pain and suffering. For her, it is like a religion in some ways. The more she can endure, the stronger others believe she is. Of course, it’s always nice to not have to push, to be able to take it slow and enjoy your company in the moment. That’s where you come in.

Minthara may not have the kindest tone, but she tries her best to reassure you that despite your many ailments, she loves you all the same. She thinks you’re strong enough to be able to not only endure life with so many invisible burdens but to live life in ways you wish. To her, it’s an exquisite quality to have in a mate. You are marvelous in her eyes.

She can’t imagine the rest of her life without you.

...

Please Like & Reblog!!!

#astarion x reader #minthara x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 imagine #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate matchups #bg3 matchups #baldurs gate x reader #matchups #bg3

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flaringfoxsoul03 · 2 months ago

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greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for welcome home? Feel free to send a matchup my way in return.

I use they/them pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.

Im about 4’11..not to happy about it. I’m kind of introverted, and can be considered not a people person. I find life a little nihilistic. I’m into dressing in all black and taking a liking to gruesome and morbid things like slashers, analog horror, witchcraft, true crime, necromancy, anatomy, etc. I typically consider myself a "gorehound" ig. I also like to visit abandoned places just for fun, along with playing quite a few escape rooms. I just have a genuine comfort in the uncomfortable.

I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start taking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.

I find the most comfort in just being in my room drawing, listening to music ( pierce the veil, deftones, system of a down, slipknot, rob zombie,,, sometimes radiohead, insane clown posse, jazmin bean or mother mother, etc. ), or even occasionally playing video games, reading, writing, or talking about a random conspiracy theory I have. I do acting in my spare time as a small hobby too, and I’m learning how to play electric guitar.

I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.

you do get to this, thanks for your time. <3

It was kind of a pickle trying to choose who’d be best for you, but I think I choose a pretty good one that matches up well with who you are!

—————————————————————————————————————

I match you up with…

Julie Joyful

———————————-

Julie Joyful would love to have a partner like you! Her best friend is Frank Frankly, so it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to add another grump into the mix. Unhappy and in the blues? You’re getting dragged into another one of her made-up-on-the-spot-games! Frank will try to run damage control, but you’re going to end up laughing with the sparkling joy it is to be around Julie!

A new Neighbor has been added to The Neighborhood, and it’s a gloomy bat puppet! You’re often secluded on the edge of The Neighborhood nestled right at the crest of the woods surrounding The Neighborhood in a cryptic cottage and was introduced just in time for Halloween! Unfortunately, no one was bold enough to try and approach you and your unsettling attitude, your terrifying demeanor, your intense glares… Except Julie Joyful of course! She thought it was a game and immediately dragged your booty out of your cottage to play bowling hopscotch with Sally and Frank, which both were immediately scared of just how oblivious Julie could be when she thought it was another game to win! Luckily, this allowed your relationship to blossom forth and create an intense emotional bond between the two of you!

Julie loves to play, play, and play! If you have any active games from your personal hobbies, she would adore to learn and how to play them. This is good for a few reasons, mostly because you can set the rules and Julie will follow them to the T! Even foraging for wild flowers and herbs in the nearby forest will be a game she plans to win, though you often show her going slow and steady wins the race.

Julie, more often than not, ends up tuckered out playing her own games and watches you doing whatever little thing you’re doing, whether it be witchcraft or reading your necromancy books, she just enjoys spending time with her favorite person. She’ll even want to get in to playing the analog horror videos with you too, though expect a few scared shaking cuddles while you’re at it.

She will make plushie forts out your plushies and you will have a plushie war with them. It’s not even an if, it’s a when. Be prepared to have your entire day derailed when she gets ahold of them for more than an hour.

Sometimes you can’t do much other than dissociate, functioning effectively through life is tough. Even Julie can’t pull you out of those trances sometimes. What she does, instead, is she’ll do quiet activities nearby you. Julie refuses to let you out of her sight as well, wanting to make sure you’re doing alright once you come out of your dissociation. Whether she’s styling hair, coloring a color book, or even reading your books stacked nearby, she won’t leave you. She’ll start leaving her flowers around your place so they can keep an eye on you, letting her know the next time you wander nearby them. She worries about the times she can’t take care of you for all the times you take care of her energy.

Loves it when you play your electric guitar for her, loves how the sounds of the strings make her feel like she could make games to this depending on the best of the tune. Julie will always beg you to play if you’re feeling well enough to pluck away at the chords. If not, she’ll buy you more strings and guitar picks to match your aesthetic (the picks only if you use them of course)

She now has to avoid certain Neighbors in The Neighborhood, especially if you’re currently beefing with them because the messed around with you and were finding out what that meant with you. Especially Barnaby, he did not know when to stop and you certainly didn’t mind showing him what’s good. She had to go get Eddie and Howdy to pull you guys apart once you started brawling with him because he insulted your beautiful Julie over a joke she made trying to connect with him. That was intolerable and you even were nice enough to call him out and insist he give an apology or else. He left that fight with more spots than he came with after you pummeled him. Julie was grateful you called him out on being mean, but that did not mean you needing to bruise up Barnaby. You were lucky Wally wasn’t there to witness it outright…

While you and Julie are on different energy spectrums, you both still draw each other in completely and entirely. You show people their inner darkness while bubbly Julie shows them their inner light! You draw in the quiet and slow and peace while she brings the fast and chaotic. While she’s a slight people pleaser, you are not tolerable of other people’s issues with the two of you. You often enjoy spending time together regardless if you’re both present for it or not. You wouldn’t choose another sun to rise with.

—————————————————————————

The follow ups are:

Frank Frankly

And

Eddie Dear

====================

That’s all folks!

~Fox

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vicfoundapen · 3 months ago

Text

Here's some more of chapter 1 I hope it answers questions ;-; ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's funny, I went to school with all of these people and yet I don’t remember their faces. It’s loud, really really loud. Voices ring in my ears and my heart thuds in my chest. People bump into me and keep on laughing and talking way too close to my ears. I decide to go upstairs, because it looks less crowded and at the least I’ll have a place to wait for Vashti without being trampled over by drunk freshmen. I’m walking to the stairs when someone runs into me, tripping over my foot and sloshing a drink on my shirt. A guy with messy brown hair and a letterman jacket straightens up and looks at me, an awkward smile spreads across his face. “Sorry!” He says quickly, sucking in a breath and looking at the stain on the front of my shirt. “It’s fine..” I say, rolling my eyes. “Maybe watch where you’re going?” “Yeah… I’m sorry…” He says again. “I could get you some paper towels?” He offers. “Yeah no, I’m cool.” I say, studying his face, he kind of looks like- “Hold up.” The guy smiles, giving me a once over. “Ace?” His smile widens, showing the dimples in his cheeks. Oh. That’s where I know him from. “Logan?” I look him up and down, he still looks pretty familiar. He’s taller though, way taller. He’s got to have at least three inches on me. “Wow! Oh my God!” His voice raises a bit. “Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while, not after you moved! How are you?” Logan then looks at my shirt again. “You should really clean that.” He sets his drink down. “Come on, I think there’s some stuff in the bathroom somewhere.” “It’s cool I can just-” I say, but he’s already got hold of my forearm and is weaving us through groups of people and up the stairs. We stop in the bathroom and he shuts the door, kneeling down to open a drawer under the sink, then he pulls out a roll of paper towels and hands them to me. “Here.” He stands back up, bumping into me a bit before taking a step back. “Wow,” He says again, smiling. “Is Vashti here too? I haven’t hung out with her in ages.” Logan leans back against the sink counter. Come to think of it, I never really heard much from him after I moved, and Vashti never mentioned him. “She’s here somewhere, hanging out with some of her friends,” I say while wiping at the mysterious liquid soaking my shirt, even though it's not doing much to help. Whatever it was has already sunk into my clothes. “Then why don’t we hang out?” Logan asks. “I know a place where we can catch up and talk n’ stuff, if you don’t like it here.” He offers. “And you’re not going to kidnap me?” “Naw.” Logan laughs. “Unless you want that? I mean...” He gets a bit fidgety. “That was a joke, Logan.” I smile. “But yeah, lead the way.” “Great,” He breathes. “Come on then.” Logan starts to walk towards the stairs, going up two stairs at a time. He leads me to a bedroom at the end of the hall, opening the window on the far wall and swinging his legs out it. “C’mon,” He smiles at me before he disappears, climbing up onto the roof.

#lgbtq #creative writing #original writing

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chuuyasfanboy · 1 year ago

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greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for genshin? With possible nsfw headcanons if you’re feelin sassy, up to you.

I use they/he pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.

Im about 4’11..not to happy about it. I’m kind of introverted, and can be considered not a people person. I find life a little nihilistic. I’m into dressing in all black (trad, mopey, mall, black-metal, and hippie goth styles mainly, both fem and masc) or and taking a liking to gruesome and morbid things like slashers, analog horror, witchcraft, true crime, ghost hunting, necromancy, anatomy, etc. I typically consider myself a "gorehound" ig. I participate in "Vulture Culture"; and I also like to visit abandoned places just for fun, along with playing quite a few escape rooms. I just have a genuine comfort in the uncomfortable.

I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start talking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.

when I become comfortable with someone I start to become really sarcastic and joke around with them with witty banter. most of my humor comes off really insulting, and I’m brutally honest, but I’ll apologize and say it’s a joke or I didn’t mean it. though if I’m right a become a petty bitch..and quite honestly I’m vengeful to anyone who’s really wronged me. even though I do have a hard time understanding social cues.

lots of people don’t like me or stay away from me because of my rude behavior. I’m not good with overly sensitive or overly annoying people at all because of that, and I can’t stand kids. Idiocy can get on my nerves too sometimes. I’m a huge animal person though, and I own a herd of four guinea pigs that I protect with my life. I have my moments where I can get really feisty, or very quiet and closed off. I’ve been told I’m also a laidback person. I’ve also been told I never know when to quit, and I find I hold grudges for certain things. It’s not as common now but I used to get called a vampire by other kids when I was younger since I had oddly pointy canine teeth. I find it funny, seeing how I am today. I also have an inside joke with my family where they call me "Irl Wednesday Addams" which I find funny too (if not a little annoying at the wrong times).

I find the most comfort in just being in my room drawing, listening to music ( the cure, london after midnight, pierce the veil, deftones, soad, cannibal corpse, slipknot, rob zombie,,,, sometimes melanie martinez , insane clown posse, jazmin bean or mother mother, etc. ), or even occasionally playing video games, reading, writing, or talking about a random conspiracy theory or shower thoughts I have. I do acting in my spare time as a small hobby too, and I’m learning how to play electric guitar. I also work as a scare actor.

I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.

you do get to this, thanks for your time. <3

I match you with Albedo!

Random little note before. I think we're both Taurus's and infj's (or I'm smthn like that) which is so funny LMAO

This was SUPER FUN people request more matchups!!!

He definitely doesnt believe with your nihilistic views, he thinks absolutely everything has a meaning and a science behind it. But he does agree with you in a sense that those meanings aren't very traditional. As mentioned before, he's an avid believer that there's science in everything, that includes destiny, life, and anything similar. Even the most minute things hold something worth inspecting further to him.

Thankfully for you, he's not too much taller, so he does not bully you about your height! Even if he was a giant, I really don't think he'd care all the much enough for it to bother him. The worst he does is offer you his little geo flower to stand on when you're struggling to reach for something. And while it is embarassing, it IS also very helpful. You win some you lose some.

Albedo has a certain fixation on your fashion that he cant really place, something about how alternatively you dress really attracts interests him. He thinks its a very nice show of individuality. He definitely wouldn't wear anything like that, though, no matter if you beg or not. He thinks its impractical, and he wouldnt want to get the expensive fabrics dirty during his experiments. Hair dye, though? It's on the table, you may get to see black/purple/rainbow haired Albedo, take your pick.

He's not very offput by your interest in death, even though he has more of an interest in the opposite. It's a crucial part to the cycle of life he's so obsessed with studying, and you're his go-to when he has any questions. Likely being immortal or long-living as he is, he has a hard time really wrapping his head around the concept of just- not existing. I think specifically your Vulture Culture would be a good way for him to think about that in the scientific way he desires. He finds it to be such a respectful way of presrving things, similar to paintings or photos. He may ask you to teach him at some point, but at first he's just content with watching. He may even sketch it when you finish!

Your humor is insulted, and while he can't exactly reciprocate it the same way you do, he definitely isnt offended by it. Albedo isnt always in on joking, but the few times he does crack out something, its brutal and VERY funny. Reference those poor Paimon jokes. He definitely likes your humor, though, he likes all humor. Just look at how well he handled Cyno. He can handle you too! You two can be brutally honest and socially inept together <3

This is where the first issue crops up. If you really dislike kids, then Albedo really just has to hope for the best when introducing you to Klee. She's a NIGHTMARE to deal with, and he'd never leave you alone with her (or anyone), but he does hope you two can at least get along. If worst comes to worse, he just does his best to keep you away from her shenanigens. If you do, somehow, enjoy her though? He's over the moon, even if its not very obvious.

A lot of 'dates' are really just the two of you cooped up in his Dragonspine camp, settled next to a fire and drawing in complete silence. He finds it comforting that neither of you need to speak to be entertained. Being the obvious autistic he is, he asks you to body double him a lot like this, Whether he's drawing, researching, or graphing down results, he's always working best when you're nearby. Hr doesnt really have any dedicated music he likes, so he tends to just let you play whatever you'd like during these times. If you watch close, you can catch him tapping his pen to the beat!

On the topic of your plush obsession, he definitely doesnt follow, but he thinks its rather cute. The first night you two got stuck in a snowstorm and you were left without your blanket, he felt so bad. So, he resolved himself to stay awake the whole night with you. Thankfully, all of the winds cleared up by early morning, and the two of you were able to get back to Mondstadt before anybody worried. He settled you down in your home and made sure you warmed up properly afterwards.

Albedo has no problems with your stimming or any anxiety attacks or the like. In fact, he stims pretty often himself (as mentioned before, he's definitely autistic). He finds himself picking up some of your habits only weeks after meeting, and thats how he knows youre someone he wants to keep tabs on. If an asthma attack hits, he's careful to calm you down and find your inhaler. And once he starts spending more time with you, he asks to keep a backup on him just in case you may need it. Long nights in insomnia, he's happy to be by your side and stay awake, scribbling away.

Before any nsfw, I wanna just note down a few more little romantic headcanons! You're defnitely his muse. When he's not drawing the strangest creatures or swapping experimental interests like wild, his warmups always include you. Doodles of you in the corners of his personal notes, his sketchbook full of detailed scenes of you playing in the snow, he's smitten. At some point, probably after asking you to move in or vice versa, he'd develop a sudden interest in exotic pets, and would ask you to get one with him. It's great, but now you have that and Klee to manage. He's happy to do the work, always good at keeping the crazies under control!

Finally what you've (probably) been waiting for! I'll keep this part short cuz its totally awkward writing nsfw about someone i dont know LMAO-

Albedo is definitely one to try anyhting you'd like. I dont think he'd take any particular interest or dislike in your masochism, but he's happy to bite and bruise if that's what gets you going. I think he's far more interested in your reaction to these things. Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, tensing around him when he runs his nails down your spine. He's almost tempted to document every single sound, if he wasnt afraid somebody would find them and be traumatized by the detail.

You've definitely caught him in the progress of painting you in.. particular ways; likely after you wake up from a session. He has fairly decent aftercare, but he really only cleans you up and tucks you in before he's right back to work. You should probably get him to stop that-

And I know you totally only said genshin but I'm in the bsd mood so I'm giving you a short little extra at the end to take out my fixations on! Enjoy, even if you have no clue what bsd is!!!

I'm also gonna give you a quick match with Akutagawa!

Your aesthetics already match so well, but he dresses more victorian gothic than anything. And he definitely shares your nihilism and weird interests. He spends quite a bit of time indulging you in your ghost hunting, watching shitty old slasher movies and pretending like he's not scared of the analog horror. He's also got a shitty habit of scaring people off, but he's moreso just straight up rude rather than snarky. I don't think he's ever even cracked a joke on purpose, really.

He's definitely the "they asked for no pickles!" guy for you. Except instead of yelling he's just impaling the poor McDonalds worker with Rashoumon. SPEAKING OF! You TOTALLY love Rashoumon, it's basically his little built in dog. He treats it like one too!

Alrighty, that's enough of the extras, enjoy your matchup and have a good time with your emo bfs <3

#x reader #requests open #albedo x reader #albedo x reader smut #matchup #matchups #matchups open #x reader smut #smut #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #akutagawa #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x reader #gave you a little extra matchup to quell my bsd brainrot<3

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rhythymicwriting · 5 months ago

Text

Salpêtrière - Thirteen

Art supplies threatened to fall out of their grasp, their sketchy jenga tower of items bundled in their arms teetered as they walked. Solomon might still be in the studio if they got there soon, but as long as he didn’t lock it, they didn’t really care.

Rope creaked above their head as MC rounded the corner, freezing at the curtain of purple hair obscuring the rest of the hall. A nervous chuckle sounded from the woman, her face flushed. She swung steadily, hugging a knee to her chest as she reached for her other ankle. Thirteen was suspended by her ankle in the middle of the hallway. “A little help?” She laughed, dropping back toward the ground. The rope bounced at the sudden jerk, her swing increasing ever so slightly.

MC sighed. This woman really was hopeless. They’d lost count of how often they’d helped her out of one of her traps. They worked better on the reaper than any of her targets. MC flicked their pocket knife open, dumping their supplies to the side and finding where the rope was tied to a cauldron filled with rocks. Instead of untying it or letting her down slowly, MC opted to saw through the rope, letting the reaper careen to the floor. She plummeted face first to the rug.

“Ow, shit.” Thirteen groaned. She seemed alright at first, pushing herself onto her knees before collapsing back to the ground. She fell hard onto her shoulder. “Shit!”

The human’s smile dropped. They flipped the knife shut, running over to the reaper. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine just…” She winced, massaging her hand. “I fell on my wrist.” She laughed softly. She took the hand they offered her, climbing to her feet. MC walked her to the cafeteria, buying a cold drink to ice her wrist. It seemed not even RAD could keep a nurse on campus more than twice a week. They ducked into an empty classroom, Thirteen hopping on a desk as she clutched the bottle to her joint. She talked about anything and everything that came to mind as MC rooted through the teacher’s desk for a first aid kit. They looked at her strangely when they returned with athletic tape. MC chuckled and shook their head, taking both Thirteen’s hand and the bottle, setting the soda to the side and applying the supportive tape to her wrist.

“What was that trap anyway?” MC asked, not looking up from her mummified joint.

The reaper’s feet kicked between them, the movements just barely avoiding hitting MC’s knees. Her eyes danced around the room. “Solomon likes to paint there so I thought I could get him on his way out, but he came out when I was looking the other way and pushed me into the loop.” She laughed, a breathy one that your throat stops too early and kinda chokes itself out.

MC had never seen Thirteen this fidgety before and they had calculus with her. Something was clearly wrong. They set her hand gently on her lap, tilting their head to look her in the eye. She side eyed them briefly, before becoming too interested in what was probably the most boring poster in the room. “Hey,” The reaper tensed at their gentle tone. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She giggled again. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Thirteen.” MC’s voice was stern, the reaper still avoiding their eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” They sighed, falling quiet. MC climbed on the desk beside Thirteen, sitting in silence with her for what felt like ages.

“MC,” Thirteen began, her voice solemnly quiet. “Do you know where reapers come from?”

“Storks?” The human joked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “In a way, yeah.” Thirteen’s face tightened again. “We, uh… Reapers were human…once.” MC straightened, giving the woman their full attention. Thirteen picked at the edges of the tape, ignoring the ache in her arm. “Reapers are… humans that killed themselves…”

“What?” MC’s voice was barely a whisper, their eyes wide.

“Technically.”

“Diavolo told you they’re ‘between realms’ right? That’s because we don’t classify anymore… We interfered with our lifelines, so we can’t go to ‘heaven’ or ‘hell.’” She talked with her hands, rambling quickly through the incredibly complicated technicalities that would naturally lead to the creation of a new species of supernatural being. MC didn’t seem to be taking any of it in, but Thirteen couldn’t seem to stop herself. “We’re punished for that interference by having to monitor the lives of others and harvest their souls when they die. It kind of sucks, really, having your sentence be to watch others living out happy lives after you chose to end yours early, but I guess it’s fitting and I really don’t mind, I mean, it’s kind of fun and I like to see people that are happy.”

“Thirteen, you…” MC interrupted. The reaper fell eerily quiet. “You’re dead?”

“You,” MC’s eyes looked like shimmering pearls, tears threatening to breach their surfaces. “You killed yourself?”

The reaper didn’t answer for a moment, her own eyebrows drawing tightly together, the corners of her mouth pulling upward in a strained smile. “I don’t like to think of it that way.”

MC’s voice was tight and low. “You don’t like to think of it that way… What does that mean, Thirteen?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds really bad.”

“How am I supposed to say it?”

She hesitated. “...I’m not sure.”

“Why?” MC’s voice cracked. “Why would you do that?”

Thirteen breathed deeply. “I… I couldn’t take it anymore. I hated the world. I hated every moment. Every ‘hello’ felt like sandpaper in my throat. Every face was like candles on my retinas. Every pill felt like a new bar on a cage, forcing me to be something I’m not. Every smile, forced to keep the crazy girl from lashing out. Every feeling I had looked like an atom bomb to the people around me. My family sent me away. They said I was crazy. Maybe I was. They sent me to an asylum. They gave me pills, shocked me, left me in cells by myself for weeks at a time. It was hell. I don’t think they wanted to help me. I think they just got a kick out of it.”

“I never got a single letter when I was there.” Tears started to run down her face, paving wet trails against her burning cheeks. “I didn’t know patients even got letters for the first two years I was there. My roommate told me the day before she left. She’d been getting them the whole three months she was there. For two years no one even told me.”

She was gesturing wider, her voice coarse and loud now. “I was tired of being an exhibit, a freak show, something to look at to feel better about the world they lived in. I was tired of people’s faces changing when they looked at me. Their smiles were never real. I wasn’t human to them. Not anymore.” Thirteen wiped at her face, the skin stretching and pulling under her hands. She dug her palms into her cheeks, as if trying to scrape off the water. “I started cutting when my roommate left. There wasn’t anyone left to stop me. The nurses never looked if no one told them to. I chewed my fingernails until they could grab skin and it helped me cope for a while. Not long enough, I suppose. They really should’ve had overnight staff in asylums. Maybe it would have been a little harder to get to the roof.” She smiled grimly.

“It was only dark for a moment. I remember I was angry at first. I didn’t believe in an afterlife, and I'm sure you understand that when someone chooses to die, they aren’t excited about living again. But a voice called out to me. It told me that what I had done was against the laws of life and the natural order and I would pay for it with my afterlife. It told me I was reborn, a reaper, and I would spend eternity watching others enjoy what I gave up and they would beg me to keep it when I came to collect their souls. And I would have to take them anyway. That’s the part of the job I hate, you know. I love watching people live, people with shiny, beautiful, happy souls. Seeing people that live happy, fulfilling lives is a perk. I never got that. I like that others can. I don’t want anyone to suffer how I did. But when they beg me. I hate that. I don’t want their lives to end either. Really. But I have to do it. If I don’t, they become like me. They become an anomaly, an outlier, a reaper.”

MC stared at her, stunned. “That’s… wow.”

“Sorry, it’s a lot.” She laughed.

“Yeah,” MC’s voice was still quiet. They continued staring at her, cheeks damp and mouth agape. Her face was still red, eyes burning, dry, and sore. She took another breath.

“That’s… uh. That’s why I don’t trust people. I can’t keep friends and I’m…” She trailed off.

“Scared.”

“Yeah.”

MC set their hand on the desk, palm up, inviting Thirteen to take it. Hesitantly, she did. They didn’t say anything, letting the quiet fall back over them. Still uneasy but no longer tense, the silence was welcome.

“When you were human,” MC began, turning their attention to the woman. “Were your eyes always that green?”

Thirteen laughed. “No, I think they were blue. I don’t remember that well.”

“Blue?”

“Maybe.” She smiled.

“Do all reapers have pretty green eyes?”

“Most. Some are kinda ugly though.” MC laughed this time.

“What about your hair? Do you dye it?”

“Yeah and it’s a bitch to keep up on.”

“What color is it naturally?”

“Grey.”

“Grey?!”

“Yeah, like old lady grey.”

“Gross.”

“Tell me about it.”

The two laughed loudly. The conversation bounced between them like a tennis match for another hour, though it only felt like minutes. The two talked with their hands, talking animatedly atop the desks. However, on the desk between them, MC’s hand lay perfectly fixed, palm up, and Thirteen’s hand rested atop it, long, polished fingernails shimmering under the lights as her fingers curled around MC’s, steady and still.

#writing #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #wattpad #obeymeswd #oneshot #thirteen #thirteen obey me #obey me #cw sh #cw sui mention #grim reaper #black butler reapers #angst #writers on tumblr #seriously angsty

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strikersexhaver · 1 year ago

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greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for bg3?

I use they/them pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.

I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start talking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.

I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.

you do get to this, thanks for your time and feel free to shoot me a request in return. <3

I pair you with…

Shadowheart 🖤

You two both have a similar style, albeit her’s isn’t traditionally gothic. It’s definitely in some ways alternative.

Granted, it’s probably due to the fact people of Shar’s embrace enjoy a darker style in order to represent her.

She also understands the idea of being more quiet and on your own lonesome, she too indulges in that pleasure.

It’s something she’d probably enjoy having with you. Quiet sweet moments in the dark or- well anywhere.

She also prefers straightforwardness than anything to get to the point quicker.

Life is a ticking time bomb with the tadpole after all.

Animals are something she loves too, sure she dislikes some- but she has shown to embrace nature’s gifts. Which include- animals.

She’d honestly offer to watch your guinea pigs if you happen to be busy on occasions. Probably further down the line however.

Shadowheart has a poor past, she suffers from as well. Depression alongside anxiety is something she too faces, she can sympathize with your pain.

Albeit even if you dislike kids and she doesn’t as long as you two can see eye to eye on goodness for children it’ll be fine.

#shadowheart #shadow heart #shadowheart hc #hc #headcanons #shadowheart bg3 #bg3 #bg3 posting #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 x reader #shadowheart x reader #bg3 x you

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imjustabeanie · 10 months ago

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greetings and salutations, hope I don’t bother you too much by sending in such a random ask. may I please have a romantic matchup for hazbin and helluva?

I use they/he pronouns and I’m pansexual. my myers briggs type is INFJ and my star sign is taurus.

Im about 4’11..not to happy about it. I’m kind of introverted, and can be considered not a people person. I find life a little nihilistic. I’m into dressing in all black (trad, mopey, mall, black-metal, and hippie goth styles mainly, both fem and masc. chill days I settle for dark street wear. ) or and taking a liking to gruesome and morbid things like slashers, analog horror, witchcraft, true crime, ghost hunting, necromancy, anatomy, etc. I typically consider myself a "gorehound" ig. I participate in "Vulture Culture"; and I also like to visit abandoned places just for fun, along with playing quite a few escape rooms. I just have a genuine comfort in the uncomfortable.

I’ve come to the conclusion I just scare people off. In reality, I’m intimidated by everyone around me and find it hard to start talking, which may or may not come off as rude to people.

when I become comfortable with someone I start to become really sarcastic and joke around with them with witty banter. most of my humor comes off really insulting, and I’m brutally honest, but I’ll apologize and say it’s a joke or I didn’t mean it. though if I’m right a become a petty bitch..and quite honestly I’m vengeful to anyone who’s really wronged me. even though I do have a hard time understanding social cues.

lots of people don’t like me or stay away from me because of my rude behavior. I’m not good with overly sensitive or overly annoying people at all because of that, and I can’t stand kids. Idiocy can get on my nerves too sometimes. I’m a huge animal person though, and I own a herd of four guinea pigs that I protect with my life. I have my moments where I can get really feisty, or very quiet and closed off. I’ve been told I’m also a laidback person. I’ve also been told I never know when to quit, and I find I hold grudges for certain things. It’s not as common now but I used to get called a vampire by other kids when I was younger since I had oddly pointy canine teeth. I find it funny, seeing how I am today. I also have an inside joke with my family where they call me "Irl Wednesday Addams" which I find funny too (if not a little annoying at the wrong times).

I find the most comfort in just being in my room drawing, listening to music ( the cure, london after midnight, type o negative, deftones, slipknot, rob zombie,,,, sometimes melanie martinez , insane clown posse, jazmin bean or mother mother, etc. ), or even occasionally playing video games, reading, writing, or talking about a random conspiracy theory or shower thoughts I have. I also like to play D&D with my friends when I can, it’s super fun. I do acting in my spare time as a small hobby too, and I’m learning how to play electric guitar. I also work as a scare actor, and in the future I have a dream of being a theatrical actor.

I suffer from a handful off mental issues like asd, insomnia, depression and anxiety; plus chronic conditions like gerd, asthma and fibromyalgia. These have all been diagnosed professionally, and I’m definitely not trying to make myself "quirky". unfortunately health problems run in my family.

I’m very fidgety, and often bite the inside of my cheek or bounce my leg rapidly. you don’t need to rocmantasize this stuff ofc, but I think it’s good to know so the person can tolerate me.

for your requirements, there’s not really any characters I can’t stand per chance aside from maybe Adam? in a person I just specifically hate stupidity that goes beyond the normal amount, and people who make fun of me on a personal level.

you do get to this, thanks for your time. <3

Hi! Again sorry for the delay. Here's my part of the matchups exchange

Your match for hazbin hotel is....

Husk

Okay so based on what you said, you’re rather introverted and I think that husk would suit you as he is someone who can read the room easily and would make you at ease.

Husk has a lot of secrets and is not exactly free due to his contract but as we could see with angel dust, he seems to have become calmer and willing to help out his friends the best he can. Contrary to you, he doesn’t bottle up his feelings and opinions, even if it could get him in deep trouble. Husk is someone who can make anyone feel at ease (his words not mine), your behavior doesn’t bother him at all because he will take the time to get to know you. He doesn’t judge people after all. He can feel when you’re getting awkward or having communication issues and he will be here to your rescue. Guard dog energy from him lol.

Husk will always join you for your urbex adventures so he can protect you just in case. He’s not into it but will participate for you. He will let you pet him or touch his wings (in private, he doesn’t want to get teased by other demons) but in public you can often see him covering you with a wing or something similar. Both of you are really laidback but he doesn’t hold grudges. Doesn’t mean he won’t help you get back at someone who wronged you (he always flip them off or something before you can even answer). He is also the type to go and do things for you and (sometimes) buy antique accessories for you that he finds beautiful, it’s not uncommon to see him saving for an expensive gift.

He loves listening to your opinions and always tries to get you to express them more. At the end of the day, you two can be seen enjoying a drink and having deep discussions or just weird thoughts you have (or bitching about people together. He will share the gossip with you). I think that it does happen that Husk can be considered too pushy for your standards and when you lash out he also defends himself but less violently. In the end, he knows he is in the wrong and will come apologizing to you with a dinner date (I am sure he can cook well). He won’t give you gifts in these occasions because he doesn’t want them to be associated with a fight if you catch my drift. He will give you all the space you need and is ready for you to come back anytime.

You two have different music tastes due to the period he is originally from but I think he’d enjoy your tastes. Heck you’d inspire him to look into new hobbies and music tastes. He sucks at video games but is a very good DnD narrator. In the beginning, he’d be reluctant to give you feedback on your writings because it’s not his domain of expertise. But when he accepts he tries to give you the best feedback he can (especially plot related). When you start doing plays, he can always be seen at the front row. Husk is someone who gets annoyed easily, especially when alastor is involved due to his deal, so there are days when he wants to be left alone to not lash out. He also has gambling issues that he’ll fight for you. These are problems you will face when dating him.

You know the meme of here is my lover and their 3ft plushie? Yeah that’s him about you, sometimes he regrets gifting you plushies when you cuddle with them instead of him. He adapts to your touch starved self rather slowly but surely and is jealous of the plushies (when he is drunk he will scream at them lol).

So in conclusion, you and husk adapt rather well to each other. He is laid back and learning to love in the place that is hell.

Your match for helluva boss is...

Loona

This match was rather difficult ngl, she is a tsundere in plain terms but once both of you get past wall at the start, you’ll find out that you’re similar.

Loona is cynical, snarky and street smart. I believe you both met while you were doing urbex and she was just looking to be away from the IMP. I believe that your style and culture are similar and this is what you both bonded over. She likes you music and your type, you don’t scare her at all as sinners are ruder. How did you two who bottle up their real thoughts get together? Well, you can thank Blitzo who made it so obvious she just confessed out of frustration.

Both of you are a very sarcastic duo, in public people would honestly avoid you both because Loona is rather rude with no reason to strangers. She doesn’t push you to talk about your feelings but is always here to listen or give an advice. I think the main relationship issue here would be communication. She’ll have to learn teamwork and how a relationship work and you’ll have to be more direct about what you want. Because she’ll try to guess and do things for you but she often guesses wrong. Yeah it’s ironic that I say that but…you two will have to confide more in each other. Once you get past that all is cool and you two can be found cuddling and sharing your thoughts (in private, if someone tried to intrude loona will give them a piece of her mind). Also I hope you don’t mind smoking and drinking or else it’ll be an issue (I personally can’t handle smoking)

Loona will find your love for plushies rather cute and will often gift you one (you see those plushie gacha? She will keep trying till she gets the one you want). Also I think that you two will get a new pet to raise together (would be so cute lol) and you’re the only one who can freely touch her. She also likes getting you matching clothes or lending you her clothes. Loona will tease you about your height. Sorry I don’t make the rules that’s just how she is. But if you get hurt over her comments she will stop and cuddle you as an apology (as well as whisper compliments in your ears). She also does that when you get fidgety (I can completely understand you over bouncing your leg or biting your inside cheek)

I think Loona is rather interested in human culture and being with you will get her more into it, you’ll be like her reference. I believe she would enjoy games and perhaps could even learn the guitar alongside you (I think she already knows how to play. Could be wrong tho.). She isn’t much of a book smart but will hype you up. Same for your acting career, consider her a bodyguard (scary wolf privilege). Loona loves sleeping, when she wants to nap she will just pick you up and lay down lol.

#matchups #match ups #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

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