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leemacher · 5 months

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You're Enough For Me | Astarion x Gn!Tav!Reader

Summary: Shortly after making it to Baldur's Gate, a moment alone with Halsin reveals how he truly feels about you. In talking to Astarion, you realize the true extent to which his time with Cazador affected him, and his relationship with you. OR In which you and Astarion have a conversation about you rejecting Halsin because I don't like that you can't bring that moment up unless you imply that you said yes to Halsin

Word Count: 2,343

Content: fluff, slight angst, mentions of sex, Astarion's trauma, established relationship

Sliding down a tree trunk to sit, resting against it, you didn’t even begin to take in the river before you. Instead, you closed your eyes for the first time in what felt like days. Listening to the river rushing by you and the birds chirping around you, with a deep breath in your muscles began to relax.

For once there were no goblins or shadow monsters to watch out for, there were no cultists trying to kill you or the gods chosen to deal with, and no one needed saving. In that moment it was you and the calm, peaceful world around you.

Unfortunately, like all good things, your perfect serene world melted away at the sound of light footsteps behind you.

“If you're here to kill me, bargain with me, or ask for a favor, come back tomorrow. I’m taking the night off.” At your voice, the footsteps abruptly stopped, and instead came a laugh that you would know anywhere.

Astarion moved to stand next to your sitting form, leaning up against the tree on his side. “Darling, if that was your attempt at intimidation it needs some work.”

You found yourself chuckling with a light smile before looking up at him. “Maybe you can teach me.”

He hummed, casting his eyes towards the river. Taking the moment to admire his features, as you often found yourself doing in moments like these as of late, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten lucky enough to be involved with someone like him. No matter how often you knew he thought himself unworthy of your affection, or any affection really, you felt the exact opposite.

This man who had been through so much, fought for so long, had chosen you. Astarion’s past was one both of you battled nightly, so while you didn’t know all of the little details, you knew enough to understand how deeply his time with Cazador affected him. How much of himself he had lost. The idea that what little of himself he had left he was willingly given to you sent shivers up and down your spine every time you thought about it. He chose to be vulnerable with you, he was open with you, eventually, and he could find safety and comfort in your presence. You were definitely the lucky one.

“C’mon, love.” His voice brought you out of your thoughts. By the look on his face, you could tell he had been thinking of the same things.

Grabbing his hand and pulling yourself up and towards him, the two of you began your walk back to camp. Tomorrow you would finally reach the city, and all of the chaos and stress would fall right back onto your shoulders. Tonight though? Tonight you were going to lie down, curled into Astarion’s side, and have the best sleep you’ve had since this nightmare had begun.

Filing back into camp after a long day of wandering around the city, you couldn’t help but feel joy when you saw Gale making something over the fire out of a few ingredients he had bought during the day. It had been a while since any of you have had food that didn’t just consist of whatever animal you had come across during your journey.

Setting your things down, the first thing you noticed was that most of your companions hadn’t come back yet. Only you, Shadowheart, Gale and Halsin had had their fill of the city it would seem.

While sorting through the items you had bought and… well, not bought, a hand landed on your shoulder and you jumped in fright. Whipping around you came face to face with Halsin, who had a guilty look upon him.

“Sorry, I did not mean to scare you.”

Laughing it off, you shook your head and pulled yourself together. “It’s fine, Halsin. Is there something you needed?”

He nodded, then. “I’d like to talk to you about something actually.” Nodding for him to continue, you watched as the man who stood strong in the face of everything you had faced together became somewhat nervous, though no less serious.

“I never quite realized how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove.” He trailed off for a moment before regaining his words as you tried to figure out where this conversation was leading. “I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you”

You smiled, softly. It seemed everyone in camp had a habit of thanking you for things they did all on their own, albeit with a little support. “I wouldn’t claim to be responsible for all of the things you’ve accomplished, but you’re welcome nonetheless.”

At your words, he laughed lightly in what seemed to be disbelief. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. But I do.” Your heart felt as if it had stuttered in your chest. He wasn’t implying… Was he? “I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly, but it does now.”

Oh. He was. A thousand thoughts swam through your head. Thoughts of Halsin and the moments between the two of you at the party after the grove, of the feelings you had felt grow slightly at his willingness to risk everything, do anything, in order to remove the curse over the shadowlands and restore Thaniel to his former self. “What are you saying, exactly?” Your words came out in a shocked breath, no doubt picked up on by the man before you.

“I want more than to fight by your side, or to sit around a campfire with you.” His hands reached out slowly and hesitantly for yours. “I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine. And I think you feel the same way, but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

With a slow sigh, you closed your hands around Halsin’s, thoughts ultimately landing on Astarion and the connection the two of you shared. “I won’t lie and tell you that I don’t feel as you do. Your kindness and resilience in all we’ve faced has allowed you to grow on me in a way that I never thought possible.” You could see the deep breath Halsin took in, and knew that even if you did not share in his desires as much as he did, it would hurt you just as much. “But, I’m with Astarion. Mind, body, and soul. Had we met under different circumstances, or had things gone differently, I may have indulged in such sentiments. But I can’t, and truly no matter how I feel towards you, I don’t want to.”

Your hands clutched his tighter, determined to let him down as easily as you possibly could. Halsin was a great man, and he deserved great things. “I know that if I wanted, you would be okay with sharing. The whole ‘as nature intended’ thing,” the two of you shared a laugh. “But Astarion means the world to me, and even if he was okay with it, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing myself in that way with someone else knowing that it is his heart I live for.”

Slowly, an understanding smile appeared on Halsin’s face, and his words made the weight of guilt and sadness fly off of your shoulders. “I understand. It is true that I would never ask for you to leave Astarion, nor would I have held you without his consent, but I understand my ideals are not for everyone.” He paused for a moment, squeezing your hands back before releasing them fully. “I am happy that you have found someone you wish to share yourself with in that way. Thank you, for allowing me this moment.”

“Of course, Halsin.” He nodded in goodbye before making his way back over to his tent and slipping inside.

The moon rose quickly, and a fire was kept going by Gale. As all of the others began filing back into camp, excited from things bought and people met within the city, you still could not get your conversation with Halsin out of your head.

Quickly getting up from the fire and grabbing one of the two bags Astarion carried, you brushed your hand against his with the intention of holding it, giving him the opportunity to pull away and smiling brightly when he fully slipped his hand into yours. His tent, as always, was welcoming and warm. Filled with tattered books and the finest blankets and pillows he could get his hands on up until this point, it was no surprise when he pulled out a very nice looking quilt and matching fluffy pillow set that had no doubt cost a fortune, if he even bought them at all.

You sat down, watching as he moved his newly procured items to the exact spot he wanted them in. Chuckling lightly in an almost nervous manner, you disrupted the quiet in favor of getting what happened earlier off of your chest. Not that you had done anything wrong, but it still felt odd for him not to know, given all the things he did know about you due to the many nights spent watching the stars and talking about anything and everything you could. “You wouldn’t believe the conversation I had with Halsin today.”

Your voice came out low, meant for the two of you only, and you watched as Astarion froze for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this.” Your confusion was clear as day, and in voicing this, you were only left more confused. “I guessed! The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of nature’s gifts’. I bet he’d outlaw clothing if he could.”

Letting out a laugh at his impression of the local druid, Astarion smirked to himself before continuing to move everything around so that his tent was just right. “Wait, so, you’d be okay? If I…” You trailed off, uncertain.

“I’m happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish, far be it from me to hold your hunger against you. I just have one question, before you go off with him-” Your mind began to spin, as light as the conversation seemed to have been, he hadn’t even given you a chance to tell him what truly happened. He had no doubt that you said yes? “This isn’t because… We haven’t… In a while? Is it?”

His pace in readjusting his belongings finally came to slow down as he said this, intently watching you for a reaction.

“What? No!” Astarion let out a small breath of relief, and before he could continue with what he was about to say, you cut him off. “And slow down, for gods sake. I told him no.”

Astarion’s facial expressions shifted so fast you could barely keep up. “You... said no?”

Nodding, you let a soft smile take over your features. You reached for him, pulling him down towards you and forcing him to sit in front of you. “I said no. I told him that even if you were comfortable with it, I wasn’t. Because I only want you.”

You let your words sink in, holding onto both of his hands and waiting for some kind of response. “Oh. I mean,” he paused. “Oh.”

“Astarion,” you reached your hand up and placed it lightly on his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “I need you to listen to me, very carefully.” His eyes widened slightly. “Sex? Doesn’t matter to me. If we never had sex again it would be okay with me, so long as we were still together. Holding your hand, kissing you, cuddling, just… just talking with you, existing with you, is enough for me. Because I’m not with you for your body, or even your face, even if it is a really really pretty face. I’m with you because of you, because of who you are and the way you make me feel. Your smile, your laugh, your wit, those pesky morals you’ve been developing recently,” you let out a giggle. “Sex with you would be great, if and only if you are comfortable with it.”

It was silent for a moment, before Astarion finally spoke up. “And what if I’m never comfortable with it.”

The waver in his voice was almost enough to make you burst into tears at that very moment. “Then that’s okay.” You brushed your thumb across his cheek. “I love you, Astarion. That’s why I’m with you. I choose to be with you because I am in love with you. Sex has nothing to do with that.”

His eyes fluttered close as you spoke those words, his head leaning ever so slightly into the palm of your hand.

After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, you spoke again. “I’m going to go head out to the fire and get a nice spot ready to eat with the rest of them. Come and join me when you’re ready.” Shifting to get up, you planted a soft kiss onto his forehead and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair before stepping out of the tent and leaving him to process the moment you two had shared.

You sent smiles to your friends as you took up your usual spot around the fire, thanking Gale as he handed you a bowl of freshly cooked soup. Eventually, you felt the familiar hands of your partner slide around your waist and pull you onto his lap.

Setting your empty bowl aside, you smiled at the faintest sound of an “I love you” lingering in the air, so soft you almost didn’t hear it. You whispered it back and laid against him, relaxing into his arms.

#leemacher #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction

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espinosaurusrexex · 7 months

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Happy Little Accidents

Veteran!BuckyBarnes x Female!ArtTeacher!Reader

summary: In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.

a/n: wrote most of this on my lunch break after finally feeling the creativity spark again. I hope you all get a cozy fall feeling.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: adapting to life after war, frustration, a little angst, love-dazed Bucky, just so much fluff and wholesomeness 💕

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

↑ the face of a man too whipped to listen - this is the Bucky vibe today

Steve Rogers was an artist. A lot of people knew about it. Hell, the Smithsonian even had a gallery full of sketches from a notebook of Steve’s he had lost back in ‘45. But Steve never needed people to recognize his work. Just like he never needed all the fame that came with his shield or all the honors he got for doing what he thought normal human decency implied - stopping bullies.

But what not many people knew was that Steve loved his art so much, he even held little sketch workshops in the camps on the western front. He drew each member of the howling commandos with impeccable accuracy. He loved drawing portraits and he loved to help.

Which was why, sooner or later, Bucky had been talked into trying his first sketches back in the day as well. Back when he was still left-handed, back when he found joy in little things such as drawing with his best friend. Back when he was not who he was now.

Yeah, he was bitter about it...

Bucky wasn’t too shabby of an artist per se. He was rather quick with his sketches always able to find the right spot for his next line and even though they weren’t perfect, one could always see what his pictures were meant to present.

Yes, they were crooked and not nearly as good as Steve’s but he had fun with it. Sketching had been an escape for his soul while bombs were exploding only miles away from his camp. It had reminded him of his best friend when they were apart, and most importantly, it taught him patience.

God, so much patience.

Bucky had never been good with it. Always fast, always right away. But the amount of times Steve made him erase carefully constructed lines and shapes had him feel scolded like a kid.

Later, he was grateful for it.

Now? He hated just touching a pencil. Every time he was reminded of his recovery, of months of frustration and anger, of grief and sadness. All because he’d lost his arm, and with it, all that had brought him joy in life.

When he had to learn to write with his right hand, he screamed at the papers before him, the crooked and shaky lines mocking him with vigor.

You’ll never be the same, they said, You’ll never have true joy back.

He felt like a child. Unable to do the most mundane of tasks, whilst fully aware of what had to be done to get it right.

But he missed it. The way drawing would clear his mind and the ease he felt when thinking of nothing but the next step in the process.

So after a particularly frustrating session with his therapist, Bucky had walked through a gallery on his way home. Beautiful pieces, each more impressive than the next hung on bright white walls until he reached a small corner with sketches and photographs. They weren’t less good than the rest, but other than the huge paintings, they seemed approachable - and they reminded him of times far gone.

“Hello, would you be interested in signing up for a sketching class?” An angelic voice had asked after holding a leaflet into his line of sight. And when he followed the hand up to your face, his breath hitched in his throat.

“I- I don’t think I’d be any good…” he had said with a pitiful smile as his left arm raised next to his head, the sleek silver of his hand shining in the showroom light.

“Oh don’t be silly. Everyone can be an artist.”

And that was all it took.

Now he was here. Sitting in a room with about eight other people, listening to you talk. Though Bucky didn’t pay much attention to your words. He was distracted by the way your lips curved when you spoke, and how your hands looked in the light when you flailed them in the air. He wanted to draw you, only you. But he knew he could never do you justice. And that frustrated him a little.

His first task was easy. A series of connected squiggles and shapes. The second was harder - finding and highlighting familiar motives in his work. But when he tried to connect his shapes, his hand began to tremble and the line on his paper got dented, he huffed in surrender.

A look to the front to you talking with another woman and he was getting off his chair.

This was useless. He should have never come here.

But when he moved to gather his things, your voice stopped him once again.

“Oh that’s interesting,” you said with a tilted head, your eyes following the little dent in his drawing.

“Yeah, I messed it up.” He shook his head and added a careful, much more quiet ‘I always do”.

“You see, it’s only a mistake if you make it one.” You turned to him and smiled and his heart began racing now that all your attention was on him. Bucky looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the other participants were all focused on their work. “I’m not going to tell you that this line isn’t supposed to be the way it is. You alone can decide that.”

You stepped closer as he eyed his paper again. “So, Bucky,” holy crap you remembered his name. And it sounded so good coming from your lips. “Are you gonna make it a mistake or not?”

❁ ❁ ❁

That was a month ago. And Bucky had come to your class every Sunday night since then. But now his crush had only intensified.

Every time you stepped behind him to watch him work, his hand began to sweat. Every time you gave him a suggestion, his eyes were so drawn to your lips, he barely heard what you were saying. Just yesterday this had caused him to get into a particularly awkward situation. He hadn’t listened, of course - those stupid mesmerizing lips of yours were at fault for it. And when Bucky finally came back from his daydream of imagining what they would feel like on his lips, he knocked over a jar of water as he noticed you had moved next to him. And to make matters even worse, you had caught him talking to himself as he cleaned up the mess.

Bucky was beyond embarrassed. He wasn’t normally that clumsy, all his moves were calculated. No limb out of control, but when you were around, he seemed to have lost that trait of his - which was actually kind of nice...

He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to handle it.

He was contemplating never going back to your class. He would probably end up ruining somebody’s work and - besides - it wasn’t like he could ever work up the courage to ask you out. It was just all too scary.

“Bucky, is that you?” Bucky froze as he studied the coffee menu above the barista. He was going to order black anyway. But the voice that called out his name almost made him want to pretend he was still studying the sign.

“Bucky.” Your voice came closer and when you were standing next to him, he finally looked at you. And there you were, with a bright smile and a scarf shielding you from the cool fall breeze outside.

“Oh, hey.” He paused, treading, not knowing what to do with his hands or pretty much any part of his body. At least, in your workshop, he had something to do. “...hey.”

“It’s nice to see you, how’s your homework going?” You rubbed your hands together to warm them and at the sight of your delicate fingers, he felt his cheeks heating up when he imagined holding them.

“It’s... well, it’s going...” He sighed and watched his feet as they shuffled on the tiled floor. “It’s not going well if I’m being honest.” And with a shy smile, he rubbed the back of his neck, watching as you nodded in understanding.

“I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes it really helps to just get started without thinking about it too much.”

He chuckled. That was exactly his problem. Because every time he wanted to start, he wondered what you would think about it. And then his thoughts drifted to you entirely and how your neck would bend when you watched him draw over his shoulder, or how your fingers swayed over his artwork to point out the parts you were talking about. God, he loved when you did that.

“-only if you want, of course.” Your nose crinkled when Bucky’s mind brought him back to the coffee shop again. You were staring at him expectantly, your smile growing nervous with every second he took to register that you had just asked him a question.

Bucky had no idea what you had just said. He had been too lost in his daydream yet again and now he made you look stupid in the middle of this coffee shop. There wasn’t much time to decide what his response would be, but under no circumstance did he want to admit just how scattered he was around you. So without thinking, he just nodded with a tight-lipped smile and willed his knees to stay strong when your eyes brightened.

“Awesome! When are you free?” Free? Did you just ask him out and he hadn’t even paid attention?

“Uh, Sunday?” Bucky stammered as his heart began to pound in his chest. This has got to be a prank.

You laughed, and Bucky got weak in the knees. “Sunday is workshop, silly.”

Stupid, stupid, Bucky. “Right, uh... Friday then.” The rapid beat in his chest took his breath away.

“Okay, great. Here give me your phone so I can give you my number.”

“You’re–“ Bucky choked as his hands scrambled to fish his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, yeah sure, cool.” Cool? Oh god.

You took it from him, entered your contact with a little paintbrush emoji, called yourself, and handed it back to his sweaty hand.

“I’ll text you my address.” You stepped forward to pay and retrieve your coffee, gifting the barista a smile that made him blush - apparently, you were a regular because Bucky did not remember you ordering - but then again - he didn’t really pay attention apparently. “Oh, and bring your art supplies!”

And then you were out the door, letting crisp air into the cozy coffee shop, and Bucky standing dazed and confused as to what had just happened.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his phone for the fifth time now, making sure he was in front of the right door before ringing the bell. He was nervous, to say the least. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was on a date, not to mention the last time he felt this nervous about being on one. He was a strong believer in facts but you asking him out had to be a sign from the universe. One he would only get once and he could not screw it up.

His hands smoothed over his black button-up one last time before adjusting his leather jacket again. Then he rang the bell and not even a minute later, you greeted him with a warm smile and urged him to give you his jacket to hang up.

“I just made tea, do you want some?” Bucky followed you to the kitchen where the faint but homey scent of pumpkin spice filled the air. He watches as you scrambled to find your oven its and then retrieve something delicious smelling from the oven. “Cookies?”

“I’m good with tea for now.” He chuckled in awe at how nice your home felt. Once he could tear his eyes away from you, he peered over the kitchen island into your living room, where many different artworks and photographs were displayed on the walls. Every pillow on your sofa had a different color and the blankets sprawled on it and the chair were too inviting for him not to picture the both of you cuddled up beneath them.

“Alright then, suit yourself. But just know these are my specialty.�� You snatched one from the tray before almost dropping it again. “Ouch, hot.”

Bucky felt drawn to the room. With all its warm light and fall-scented candles, hints of read books and discarded crocheting, with a crackling fireplace and soft carpeting. He also felt awfully intimate at the glimpse he got into your life by being here, but he had already declared this place his favorite in his mind.

“Are you ready?” Bucky turned to you and watched as you padded your hands on your jeans, leaving faint flour prints on the dark denim.

“Ready for what?” He smiled again, he seemed to be unable to stop around you. But he was just so happy to be here, to be close to you, and to finally spend more time with you.

You chuckled and set two cups of tea on the table. “For your sketches. That’s the whole reason you came here for, remember?”

You settled on the ground and padded the sofa for Bucky. But he could just stand there and stare at you while trying to ignore the lump that began to build in his throat. He clenched the bag with his art supplies in his hand and watched as the soft material wrinkled in his grasp.

Of, course. He took a breath. How could he have been so naive? Then stepped towards the sofa. The whole thing had been a mistake. And finally sat down with a heavy smile.

The sadness was filling him so fast, it threatened to spill right out of him, but Bucky wouldn’t let this little big dent in the road be shown in front of you. Instead, he focused on your hands when they pulled his sketch pad from his bag. And your eager smile when you flipped through his failed attempts on the paper.

The whole atmosphere was wearing a thin layer of sorrow all of a sudden, and Bucky felt his heartache when you leaned over to him to point out the parts you liked the most. Your perfume seemed just that much sweeter as if it were mocking him all of a sudden.

He didn’t listen. He just watched you with the same longing he’s had ever since he met you. Back to square one. Back to the distance he had with you before he foolishly thought you had asked him out. Except now he’d lost all the confidence left in him to take the next step.

Bucky let the evening wash over him. Trying to concentrate on your tips and examples, tasting the tea you had offered to him with the sweetest smile. And before he knew it, he was standing in front of your apartment building again - with a box of those pumpkin cookies in hand and a heart that felt heavier than the bricks he was staring at.

He sighed and began his walk back home.

❁ ❁ ❁

On Sunday he decided that he wouldn’t give up. Bucky didn't know what changed his mind. He just knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and him on that incredibly comfortable sofa of yours and the scent of your cedar and cinnamon candle which seemed to linger on his skin for days after his visit. He wanted to play the sketching games he had half-heartedly endured last time and he wanted to become a better artist.

Bucky had left your cookie box at home as an excuse to meet up with you again. And even though he was sweating ferociously when he approached you after class, you had agreed to meet with him again.

He’d left the gallery with a bright smile that evening. Excited for the next time he’d see you again and eager with daydreams on the subway home.

You and Bucky met up every week. Every time, spending a little longer not just drawing and it filled his heart with warmth and happiness. You shared laughter, and, in Bucky’s eyes, a growing connection with every passing meeting.

He learned about your dreams and aspirations and told you about his past, his interests, and his most treasured fantasies.

As weeks turned into months, Bucky found himself drawn to you in more ways than the warmth radiating from your smile he’d noticed the first day he met you, or your talent of calmly helping him in every way possible. He admired your passion for art, your kindness, and your enchanting presence. The fear and the shyness that had gripped him at first, slowly faded away - replaced by a sense of comfort when he was with you.

And soon he realized that there was nothing he didn’t love about you. This was how he got the courage to, on one calm evening spent on your sofa, between the colorful pillows he had been thinking about falling asleep on for weeks, place his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers with his.

“I got something for you,” he whispered between dialogues of the Halloween movie playing on TV, watching as your eyes aimed up at him with curiosity.

With reluctance, he peeled himself out of the warm blanket you shared and trudged to the sketchbook hidden in his bag. The initial idea had been dipped in silly confidence. But it was too late to back out now. He’d already told you about it.

So despite his nervous heartbeat, Bucky came back to the sofa and handed you the book.

“Open it,” he nudged when you carefully inspected the black leather binding, unaware of the confession hidden beneath.

And when you did, he felt he could read every expression on your face like a poem.

The book was filled with sketches of you. The first pages were scattered in hasty pencil drawings, misplaced lines, and unintentional dents. Then followed the section in which he had tried to pay attention to detail. The curve of your nose or the arch of your fingers when they pointed at his artwork. He could see them now, hovering over the sketches himself, and when you turned to the last page of the section, he could see the striking resemblance between them. And so did you. On the next turn, you revealed the latest portraits he’d added to the book - finally confident enough to attempt doing what he saw you as justice, to finally look past his mistakes - or happy little accidents as you called them - and just try it.

Bucky had discovered that your weekly sketch sessions had done him good. And that you had secretly given him back what he had mourned after for so long.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you from the moment we met.” He whispered still, too afraid to break the moment you’d just created. “Thought it was time for me to tell you.”

Your eyes were glassy when you tore them from the pages in your hand, a shaky laugh escaping your lips when Bucky beamed down at you. “You did all of this for me-”

“Because of you,” he corrected and wiped a lonely tear from your cheek. “I never thought I could get the joy of drawing back until you showed me how.”

Bucky leaned in closer until your noses touched. “How to be less critical of myself.” He closed his eyes and let his hand linger on your skin. “And how to welcome a mistake by making it an accident-”

And before he could finish that sentence, he felt your lips press to his and your warm hands wrap around his neck to pull him into your body. Bucky shivered in excitement, letting his hands trail down your back and falling into the soft cushions of your sofa while he pressed you to his chest protectively.

He sighed into the kiss, feeling his heart burn with excitement.

Fascinating, how fast a mistake can turn into a happy little accident.

I love you Bob Ross <3

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we-stan-cale · 15 days

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Since I've talked about almost all the other important parts during my reread, I didn't want to forget the sealed god's test.

It's just... So good I'm not even sure where to start. Like, this is a moment where Cale really shines.

Cale. Rok Soo, which we're told means 'to always grow green, even in winter'.

And we see that in this test.

The sealed god throws him into one of the worst moments of his life, expressly to make him despair.

Instead, Cale takes that moment and uses it to rewrite the past, and erase all his regrets.

This is where we really get to see what post-apocalyptic Korea was like. And over and over again we learn how badly things went then, even as Cale makes sure it doesn't happen like that again.

We also see some of his years of experience, and maturity. Especially with how he handles Park Jin Tae, who was a bully and a tyrant - and also died in Cale's first life, fighting to save everyone in the shelter.

You can see what we've seen all along. Cale doesn't judge leaders by the petty stuff. He judges them on how well they take care of their people.

This is also where Cale, Choi Han, and Alberu really become an amazing trio.

Choi Han, who bargains a large chunk of his life away (just the time he'd be alone, as he ties the length of his life to Raons) in order to join Cale in his test.

And Alberu, who the Sun God helps possess a monster called the Dark Tiger when his real body is sleeping.

Those three are so tight knit now, it's beautiful. Real ride or die friends.

Especially when you remember where they all started.

It's also, as always, a time where you have to pay attention to the subtleties. This is Cale's past, and he's focused on making sure everyone survives... But Choi Han and especially Alberu can see the desperation, the struggle, and the near starvation of all the survivors. Alberu has a couple of moments when he's out of the test and giving updates to their friends, and you see him struggling. Because Cale asked him not to overly stress them (the kids especially) and basically say it's fine... And Alberu's like 'how can I tell them that?!?'

And then, naturally, there's Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk.

Younger versions, and not the ones Cale knew. But still, we get to learn more about his earlier found family.

We also see things going on back at home. Since his physical body is still there, his friends have to rescue him.

And we see how they're able to perform, even without Cale to call the shots.

We especially see how well Raon has grown, as he makes important decisions on how to find the monster statues.

Even more importantly, we have this at the end.

– Do you really think that this moment is the end of despair? Cale looked down at the rose gold lights burning in his hands. He opened his mouth to speak. ‘Is this moment the end of despair? No. Absolutely not.’ “This is just the beginning of the despair in this world.” It was just the beginning. Despair would reveal itself in many different forms in this world from now on. “But people have hope now.” After about a year since the world had turned into a mess… The people who had always lost, struggled, and barely managed to survive will be victorious for the first time. They would destroy this despair known as an unranked monster. The sealed god who had been silent for a moment asked as if he was sneering at Cale. – Do you have hope as well? It seemed to be implying that Cale was someone who could not have hope. That was how it sounded to Cale. Cale slowly shook his head. “No.” He did not have hope. However… “I have certainty.” Cale needed something more certain than hope. Finally, he had gotten it. “This place will draw a different future than my past. I’m certain of it.” He was certain that more people would survive than in his past. He was certain that they would have better lives. That was not speculation. Although it was a future that was yet to come, Cale believed it to be the truth. In fact, Cale wanted to be the one to finish the first step toward that certainty. The burning rose gold thunderbolts moved away from Cale’s hands. He started to speak again. “This is the first time I’m saying this to a god.” Toward the silent sealed god… To the god who had tried to give him despair… Cale said the following. “Thanks.” He really meant it. “My memories didn’t end in despair thanks to you.”

It's not that he defeated despair. That despair will no longer exist.

But there's hope, and he is certain that the future will be better.

And even more so - he is grateful that he had this chance to change his memories.

He took this thing that was supposed to break him, and used it to fix himself instead.

#tcf #lcf #cale henituse #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #sealed god's test

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baeshijima · 7 months

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its nearly 3 am and i should sleep but vampire neuvillette…. ourgh…….

vampire neuvillette who is not affected by the sunlight, yet still chooses to avoid contact with it, instead gazing at the light with a faraway look from his office window.

vampire neuvillette who basks in the moonlight when in his lonesome, a sombre yet hauntingly beautiful image painted for no one to bear witness to.

vampire neuvillette who is surrounded by many, humans and melusines and other beings alike, yet appears the loneliest in spite of that, his figure stark against the bustling crowds and empty rooms.

vampire neuvillette who somehow finds himself identifying you immediately when within the same vicinity, having blocked out every face, every disturbing scent which invaded his senses, just to see you and quietly watch from afar. (because that is what he does best. he maintains his distance and keeps to himself, avoiding any further implication than what is necessary.)

vampire neuvillette who, in spite of his long-held values, finds himself drifting towards you like a moth would to a flame. it’s inexplicable how drawn he is to you — how magnetising your mere presence is to him — and yet he cannot find it within himself to hate this feeling. rather, he finds himself chasing after it, hands grasping at what little you seem to give in a desperate attempt to close the gap he worked hard to create.

vampire neuvillette who finds he doesn’t need to bask in the overbearing sun, for your smile and eyes which glimmer like starlight are all he needs in this gloomy world he’s supposed to reside in. you are kind, a feat he sees in the way you treat the melusines, how you talk with the locals and can deal with their… less than favourable actions at times, in the way you help tourists in a patient manner, and by the way you laugh in a way which implies you enjoy his presence. (the notion has him more giddy than he would like to admit.)

vampire neuvillette who jolts the first time your skins touch, hands brushing as you hand him a pile of finished paperwork, as he stares at you aghast while cradling his burning hand close to his chest. it was an odd phenomena, one he had never experienced before (he seemed to be having a lot of those in recent times), yet the vivid tingles are etched into his skin and seep into his veins in a way that has him wanting to reach out and experience such sensations with you once more.

vampire neuvillette who discovers what it means to lose control for the first time in his extensive life when you’re suddenly beneath him, neck bare amidst a messily open collared shirt and a tantalising scent permeating from your skin. it wasn’t supposed to go like this, he thinks to himself through bleary eyes and a hazy mind. had he known his stock had run out, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer for dinner, battling through his long-forgotten starvation until you found him in such an embarrassing predicament. but your words of consent repeat in his conscience like a broken record, your voice clear against his jumbled thoughts as he zeroes in on your blood. it is a scent he has grown indifferent to over the years; well, until you stumbled into his life with a warm demeanor and sweet smile, effectively thawing his once frozen heart, that is.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #neuvillette x you #sophie talks concepts <3 #throws up what is this man doing to me i dont hate it i love it but i have too many wips but not enough time ohno why me why him whyy yyy y #anyway gn i hope u all will be as insane abt this as i am 🫶🫶

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writingforatwistedworld · 8 months

Note

Hi! You once wrote about Malleus going to the player's world, and up until now I finally got in time to ask for this, so could I ask for a similar premise as that but with Azul, Rook & Vil, please?

I have already done Vil in an indifferent post. You can find it here. I really wanted to make a new version of Azul though.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, stalking, implied violence, death, murder, manipulation, unhealthy relationship

Azul Ashengrotto/Rook Hunt-Entering your world

Azul felt like an octopus out of water

When he had heard Jade yelling out a warning it was already too late and he was already falling down the stairs, a student he made a deal with not too long ago standing not too far, his hands lowering themselves from the pushing him

And now he was laying on the floor in a place he didn't recognize

Moonlight filtered through the window of the room and a sleeping figure almost completely covered by a blanket was illuminated by its light and the light from the phone they were laying next to, indicating that they fell asleep whilst using it

Did he teleport to a different place? Azul still felt the burning sensation of the hard stone of the stairs hitting his body so he might have done that out of desperation...

And desperate he was when you turned over in your sleep and he could see your face

And thus, the screaming began

Imagine his surprise, no his shock after seeing the person he had admired, sought after for so long laying in front of him in their pajamas

Although, it would be better to say you did lay in your pajamas because now you were jumping up in fear for your life

But after fearing that a madman had broken into your house life with Azul was pretty nice

Azul is a pretty good cook from running Mostro Lounge so him making dinner is like going to an expensive restaurant

There is that thing about him wanting to pay you rent though…

You see, Azul is not someone who wants to leech (haha, get it?) off of someone

So he takes on "side jobs"

Nothing dangerous, of course, but I think we can all agree that Azul in ANY job position is a safety hazard

Not because he is bad at what he does but because of his, how do I describe it, manipulative (?) ways

Sooner than later, it seems more like Azul is running the place he works at instead of his boss

But when you ever were to ask him what the heck he did to change the power dynamics so much in his favour, he plays innocent so I guess one point to him (although we all know better)

Back to your more private life, he may not seem like it but Azul can be one heck of a possessive guy

He won't jump the mailman, Azul knows that there is a point where his feelings get a bit too much (huh, so he is self aware?) but if you dare to bring a friend of your over? Uh... you still have friends?

I thought a certain person living with you scared all of them away

So let's say someone is still in a friendly relationship with you, nothing romantic, just friends

Let us call that person Example 1 (say hi to Example 1, Example 1 say hi to the reader)

Azul won't mind them coming over, he won't mind cooking for them, he won't mind playing nice with Example 1 but he will mind if they decide to come more than once

That glare he will send them will make them wonder if they get to see the light of the next dawn one more time

And perhaps the merman has another side job he hasn't told you about. And maybe that job allows him to do things that make the police gag

Shout out to the crime scene cleaners. Why is there even stuff from, you know what, on the ceiling? Maybe red paint will make the stains less noticeable. Oh god renovating this place will cost a fortune

Rook Hunt: the man, the legend, the not-so-sane hunter who could (and probably would if laws weren't a thing) shoot you simply for fun

Said man, legend, absolute menace to society, is not someone who is easily scared. Heck, he can probably hear dust falling to the ground for to his trained hearing which makes sneaking up on him absolutely impossible

What he cannot hear though is the almighty power of an author who decides to put him into a different world simply for the lols

So when the floor suddenly disappears and reappears two meters lower the poor man can't help himself but to stumble rather unelegant (unlike his usual self) into the wall, searching for something to hold on to just to smash his side against it

Wall-1:0-Rook

That does not change the situation though and the more or less mad hat-wearer gets a broom flung at his head

Rook is not someone who will sit around and do nothing though

After a lot of explaining (and you standing over him with a pan in hand for self-defense) you decide that his confused and lost self is a lot less charming than his usual one and you just allow him to stay

He will bring home edible plants and freshly shot meat (and if you live a meat-free lifestyle he will simply bring a bigger amount of edible flora)

WILL (and there is no escape from it) flirt with you in French (and now all my French readers, we all feel outraged by his bad translations)

But this is Rook so, of course, you think that this is just his usual chatter

He will also help you around the house. Your home has never been cleaner (I am convinced Vil controls Pomefiore for dust with white gloves)

He is great at ironing. Those long sleeves must have been great practice material

This reminds me, there had been an incident where he had been carrying your laundry from the cleaner and you bumped into him, leading him to crash into the exact same spot against the wall once more

Since that day Rook and that wall have a burning hatred for each other (more like Rook against the wall) and due to other events it's now 5:0 for the wall

But of course, we can't just focus on the lalala dreamland stuff

Once the dog of your neighbor decided to rip some of your stuff you owned and kept on your property to pieces

Your neighbor being an annoyance decided that “No, I won't pay. You should have looked out that MY dog wouldn't do that.”

Remember that Rook enjoys hunting?

Now, your neighbor doesn't know that so when they find their “little darling” dead in front of their house they can't reconnect it to you

Two nights later they wake up in a forest of some kind, that new roommate of yours staring down at them from a tree with an amused gaze, telling them he will let them have a headstart by one minute

Long story short, they weren't seen again

The young hunter may be a bit… much but he knows when to be discreet when he needs to be

And would you look at that? You also start to get frightened, leaving your home less and less

I mean, there have been disappearances around your neighborhood but look at the bright side, now you won't feel like someone is watching you from somewhere every time leave the house

He has a notebook that is just about you. From daily occurrences and what you did to your worries to your likes, hobbies and much more

Since Rook is Rook he will snuggle against you when you sleep and I don't mean this in a manner of you two sharing beds. Oh no, he has his own little space to sleep

This creep will slip into your bed just to carefully cuddle with you for an hour once you are asleep, then it's back to his own bed

Rook's list of victims grows double as fast as the list of great experiences he has with you

But not like that matters. All of them could disappear for all he cares. All he needs is you. Just you. Nothing else. Such a simple request, right?

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originalaccountname · 1 year

Note

Sorry to bother you but I’ve been getting into BSD and Chuuya’s my fave, but I’ve been seeing some contradictory things in fanfic so…

Does Chuuya actually have a god sealed inside him? I thought it was just like his power without limitations and was dubious of those takes, but since eldritch beings can apparently be a thing (and not an ability), I think it could be plausible either way.

Though even if it’s not I can see why people would use that route for some good angst.

This is not a bother at all! This is something I very much like to talk about

if you're really new I do recommend you go read both "Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen Years Old" and "STORM BRINGER" light novels (but SB especially), not only are they great books with Chuuya as the focal point but they will help answer your question in depth (you can buy the English translations but I can help you find the translation online if that's what you need, just message me again)

The short version is that Arahabaki being an actual god, a separate entity from Chuuya that has a personality/a voice/desires, is a common fanon trope, but not a canon fact. The truth is more complex and much more fun, lore-wise, in my opinion

And now the long version, because I'm passionate about this and this is my excuse to deep dive into it (spoilers for Fifteen)

In Fifteen, Chuuya says this:

Chuuya himself presents "Arahabaki" as nothing more than pure power. No thoughts, no personality, but powerful for sure.

That phrasing in Fifteen created a lot of confusion I think, talking about gods as real but also not:

But I think it's more of a symbolic reference, talking about immense power that seem out of this world. Because in practice, as Chuuya said before, "Arahabaki" is simply raw power, not an entity. You can't pray to it, it can't understand you, it can't perform miracles (which is why he knew the Old Boss couldn't have been brought back by Arahabaki and it was all nonsense from the start)

I'm also putting part of the blame on the anime, where they decided (while not being exactly wrong either, out of context it's weird) to illustrate Chuuya "floating in a bluish-black darkness, surrounded by a transparent seal" and being pulled out by a hand:

like this:

When, if you actually reread that part in the novel with knowledge about Storm Bringer, it's actually this moment that was being referred to:

Which brings us to Storm Bringer! (heavy spoilers I'm serious)

"Project Arahabaki" was the Japanese government's attempt to create an ability weapon from an individual. They wanted to craft a singularity that could be used multiple times, thus granting them access to power that should not be accessible normally. They based their research on what France had discovered through Verlaine. The objective is to create a massive energy output through a self-contradicting ability, for which you need a vessel:

Chuuya is the device. "Arahabaki" is the massive energy. That massive energy can control gravity to the point of being able to create localized black holes! N implied that part of the lab's work for the Arahabaki Project was to modify Chuuya's body to be able to withstand the constant gravity effects on it so he doesn't just die. Chuuya's normal use of his ability doesn't seem to have any drastic effects on him, and his physical resilience (to getting hit, stabbed, poisoned, shot, electrocuted, to going through a black hole) does seem to imply they did succeed at least in part.

And this bit here explains why "Arahabaki" was the chosen name for the project; unexplained phenomena across History that can be linked to an ability going haywire, but were attributed to god-like interventions at the time. So you're a funny little mad scientist, you read research papers from another mad scientist that named their own creation after a mythological monster, and you decide to do the same with your own local folklore.

But!

There's still something to be said about how "Arahabaki" is a singularity, and therefore, has its own set of rules. Chuuya does loose control, Chuuya does regress to a sort of destructive instinct while under Corruption. But "Arahabaki" is still no more than an ability singularity. Here's what is said about Guivre and Arahabaki:

They are both singularity life-forms. They exist because they are singularities; outside of it, they are nothing. The inner workings of abilities are still mysterious, but most of them have a link to their wielder's desires. For example, Atsushi's Tiger is there to protect him, a mirror to his will to live no matter what. Verlaine's Guivre is similar:

Guivre was a beast born out of Verlaine's loneliness and resulting hatred. He felt deeply alone in not feeling/being human, and through Pan's (his "creator") special "programming" of Verlaine's ability, N was able to trigger the true form of his singularity with that flare gun and metal powder, which took the form of Guivre. It's what the hat was supposed to prevent, but Verlaine had already lost it by then.

Chuuya's Arahabaki is probably similar. Its first apparition was when Rimbaud tried to absorb him and use his ability for himself, and any subsequent use is linked to grief and survival. Basically, if they're their own entities, they are still born in a specific context and deeply linked to the original ability user's character. And Arahabaki? Only exists if Chuuya uses his activation phrase to get rid of the limitations put into place to prevent him from exploding:

More about about Corruption: SB is kind enough to give us an explanation on how the nullification process works, right here:

Chuuya's self-contradicting ability makes him able to control gravity through the sheer amount of energy it creates by permanently interacting with itself. It is kept under control through the use of an activation phrase, O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again, which, after being either said or thought by Chuuya, will open his "Gate" (which I'm interpreting as a blocker put in place by the lab so the singularity doesn't just kill him, like those poor people they mentioned existed through History), and by opening it, "free Arahabaki's true power" (aka Corruption). When Dazai uses his ability on him, the base self-contradicting ability is nullified, which cancels out the singularity taking place, which stops Corruption and allows that "Gate" to close again. The red markings are there because they're cool and fun.

To conclude, I'll let Dazai do the honors:

bonus: what does that mean for Chuuya's ability?

bons 2: Perceived timeline of Chuuya's past and what happened to to create confusion around his humanity

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roo-bastmoon · 6 months

Text

Fanservice Couple Sucks at Fanservicing

Hmmm.

Jimin's Album: Here's a super secret hidden song "for the fans" with lyrics that mimic things Jimin said before specifically about Jungkook, with Jungkook providing background vocals that were never discussed when marketing the album, and listeners have to wait through dead air to get to hear the song and shine a light on the invisible lyrics engraved in the album and it's not uploaded onto Spotify or for digital sale because.... fanservice.

Jimin's Documentary: Here's less than two minutes of footage of Jungkook singing Letter; the film cuts away from Jikook's hug and doesn't interview Jungkook about it at all, and practically his entire face is covered when he's singing it; also, the paper he's holding is shaking like a leaf, unlike earlier in the day when he was recording for the World Cup, which was the biggest solo performance of his career at that time, because.... fanservice.

Jimin's Live Reaction: Here's Jimin lighting up like a Christmas tree when Jungkook quietly sneaks in the room to watch his live recording before going home; now watch as they awkwardly interact for two minutes--including a tiddy grab and butt smacking, on top of "I love you" and "have fun with ARMY!" but notice Jimin sends Jungkook away, instead of letting him mic up and sit on the chair and react with him, because... fanservice.

Jimin's Commentary: Here's Team Jimin reacting to every remote detail of the making of the documentary, except when it comes to Letter, in which case no one breathes the name Jungkook and he is never heard nor appears on screen, because... fanservice. gosh that sure is odd.

The fanservice isn't fanservicing.

It's almost how like, in their real lives when they aren't working, Jungkook watched all of Jimin's content, or Jungkook mumbled about how Jimin moved his lamp or mentioned Jimin kept coming up to him to say "periri," or how Jimin traveled to NYC and CT for Jungkook's debut and they filmed something but all Jungkook would say about it is "Yeah, he's in.... New York," and then Jimin posted a shirtless picture on Jungkook's birthday but never spoke on it, or how both Jimin and Jungkook just happened to find time to watch the same random anime, or how they went to Jeju together but we wouldn't have known if Tae hadn't posted photos, or how it is heavily implied that they spent Chuseok together based on the whale drawing that Jimin posted and the way Jungkook was quick to tell us that Jimin drew half of it.

Golly gosh, for a Fanservice Couple, it's almost like a bunch of stuff isn't being shared with us on purpose. But why?

Doxxed info? Tampered mail? Death threats? Press scandals? Global debut? Conservative homophobia? Military service?

Who knows, but "lack of genuine closeness" doesn't seem to be the driving reason.

I'm not gonna sit here and scream conspiracy theories about a "private couple." Jimin lives like a hermit much of the time and Jungkook is running around with his same-age friends quite a bit these days.

So as I always say--I cannot tell you that Jikook are dating. I can only tell you we have solid evidence of unique, charged chemistry between them--and tons of hints that they spend more time together than they let us in on. That's it. If there's more, we aren't getting to see it.

And I don't blame anyone who takes the stance "I'll believe it when I see it." I think a fair amount of skepticism and a dedication to the just the facts is a healthy mindset.

But it really makes my teeth itch when Jikook are accused of doing fanservice for the cameras, cause...

Where the hell is all my fanservice?? *grabby hands* WHERE?

Why is it that even TWO SECONDS of them interacting is so charged and fraught that it gets the entire fandom frothing at the mouth?

Jikook DO spend time together but they aren't running onto WeVerse to share it with us all the time, ya know? It leeks out little by little. And that makes it even MORE suspicious than just two bros hanging out in broville doing bro things.

In summary: This Fanservice Couple *sucks* at fanservice in solo era for sure.

#jikook #do you like my newspaper headline?#the jikookery these days is so sus #frustrated roo is frustrated #even non-ARMY find their interactions sus as fuck #don't be suspicious #DON'T BE SUSPICIOUS

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jo-harrington · 1 year

Text

Closing Time (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie watches the reader slay a dragon. (Reader works at Claire's in StarCourt and deals with a shitty customer before closing the store.)

Previous Part: Leave of Absence

Warnings/Themes: Semi-established relationship (friendship? Eddie isn’t sure what they are either), fluffy. Reader is not a Hawkins native, but it's kind of just implied. Eddie is a romantic boy and makes everything fantastical in that silly head of his. Also he makes a crude (ish?) joke. Typical teenage boy/young adult stuff. Nothing crazy,

Note: This is my first drabble I'm actually posting. (I haven't written actual fics in a hot minute, only headcanons). I hope it's good, but it really was an opportunity for me to get my frustrations out after work in a store for the first time in 2 years since I moved to corporate. And I kind of liked it so I might write more. (Therapy who?)

(Future Jo here...You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.)

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

"Ma'am, I'm sorry that this is confusing, but it's store policy."

"Then I'd like to speak to the store manager."

"I am the store manager," you explained, smile dropping right off your face only to be replaced by a cool mask of indifference.

Eddie stood just outside of the store, leaning against a railing that overlooked the Food Court, and watched you. It was a Sunday, which meant the mall was closed early, and all of the stores were dark except for yours. The gate was halfway down, but he could still see the tenacity--the ferocity--in your eyes as you dealt with an unruly customer and it took everything in him to ignore the little shiver that went up his spine.

When Eddie first gotten a job at Tape World, he had briefly wondered if it was a mistake. He had mostly been given closing shifts to offset gigs at the Hideout on Tuesdays and Hellfire on Fridays. Not to mention school once it was back in session. And seeing how closing shifts meant he was missing out at the opportunity to be dealing at local parties over the summer...well he didn't need to pass algebra to know it was costing him some potentially serious cash.

But the pay at Tape World wasn't awful and it was steady. Wayne seemed to be proud of him for finally having a steady job, despite the assurance that he would always be proud of Eddie. The discount was nice, and his manager let him promote Corroded Coffin shows at the counter.

And then there was you.

At first glance, it didn't make sense to anyone. You with your pastel purple name tag, mega-watt smile, trendy clothes, and stacks of scrunchies. And Eddie with his alleged devil-worshipping, superior taste in music, non-conformity, and hair wild either from too much head banging or the single window AC unit in his trailer. Shit, even he didn't understand it in the beginning; he thought you were everything he said he hated.

But you weren't.

Just like he wasn't everything the entire town said he was either.

Instead he found someone who was just like him, only sort of not at all, with your own flock of lost little bedazzled, pastel and neon sheep that you were protective of. You were a misunderstood soul, a compassionate leader, and one of the most patient people he ever met.

Except for right this minute.

The lights in the mall itself started to dim and the music went silent. Yet, there you still stood in front of one of the local PTA moms as she complained about a return.

She had already been in the store when Eddie arrived to meet you at the end of your shift. (Sunday nights were your...well, Eddie didn't know what to call them. Not date nights; not yet at least.) And you had given him one quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder before you geared up for battle.

But Eddie had been watching as your mood devolved ever since, and you went from understanding, to annoyed, to fuming. And here you were now, looking as though you could singlehandedly manifest a pit to open up beneath Loudmouth Linda to swallow her whole if she carried on with her rant.

And it was kind of hot.

Eddie wouldn't consider himself someone who thought anger was sexy. It was scary. He had seen the way his father would get angry over the most minor things and it stayed with him his entire life. He would freeze, even at the most minor indication that anger was being directed towards him. From his father, from a teacher, from Officer Callahan--although Hopper was usually there to rescue him from that one.

It was different when it came to bullies at school or the townies that spoke in hushed tones when he passed them by. He could stand up to the jocks and the popular kids that pushed him and his friends around. He could ignore the scathing looks from the busybodies at the grocery store. And as much as it hurt to be cast away by almost everyone he met for years, he knew that it wasn't anger--actually he wasn't sure what it was, really--that caused them to do those things.

Just like it wasn't really anger that fueled your fight for the past fifteen minutes. It was purely righteous indignation as you were attacked by this absolute dragon of a woman.

Deep down, he wished he could be your savior, having dealt with the spitting venom of these townies before on numerous occasions. But you were no damsel, and this wasn't your first battle either. You took every insult with grace, every octave of a raised voice was met with an equally raised voice before going back to calm. You verbally jousted, using every trick in your book, and when they didn't work...

"Once again it is against the policy of StarCourt Mall to have customers in the building this late past close and I will have to call Mall Security to come and escort you out regardless of your choice ma'am. So we can either proceed with your return and you get the money back that you paid and not a cent more or I tell my staff and security that you are no longer welcome in this place of business. And security will have to take your picture as they escort you out."

...You simply slayed the beast. With a smile. Although Eddie believed you were actually just baring your teeth in warning.

There was that shiver up his spine again, and were those goosebumps on his arms?

He sort of hoped to be on the receiving end of those teeth sometime soon.

Regardless, your customer was left speechless as you processed her return and called security to escort her to the exit. Eddie smiled smugly as they passed him by.

It didn't take long for the lights of your store to finally shut and for you to duck under the gate before locking it.

He didn't even get a chance to congratulate you on your victory and tell you how absolutely epic you were before you were walking face first into his chest and sighing as your arms went around his waist in a hug.

“Hey,” he chuckled and put his arms around you, one hand instantly rubbing up and down your back.

“Hi.” Your reply was muffled and you squeezed him a bit harder.

"Y'ok there?"

"Yeah," you responded quietly and rubbed your cheek against his t-shirt. “You wanna get DQ?” You looked up at him for a second.

“I could use a blizzard,” he agreed.

“Cool,” you sighed and settled back against him. “People suck.”

“They do.”

The two of you stayed like that in relative silence for a few minutes and as much as Eddie wanted to go on--to tell you that the lady was out of line, that she was entitled, and that he could never handle it as smoothly as you did--he knew that wasn't what you needed right now.

He momentarily wondered that it wasn't all bad, not being your knight, when he could instead be the home you returned to after battle.

And he would happily do it, even if you never asked him to.

"You know," he finally broke the silence. "I've heard people threaten to call security many times. Mostly on the receiving end, sometimes as an innocent bystander."

"Oh yeah?" You finally looked up at him, nose wrinkling with a smile.

"But I think that was the first time it almost gave me a boner," he admitted.

"Eddie!" you pushed away from him and slapped his arms as you laughed, eyes shining with joy. Your worries were not forgotten, he knew, merely smoothed over by, hopefully, your adoration for him. "You fucking perv!"

"I said almost," he defended.

He would be there. Happily.

Next Part: Team Building

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #Stranger things imagine #stranger things #what do I tag this #stranger things drabble

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rougepancake · 8 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒

FT. Dio Brando; AFAB! Reader

PLAYLIST ; WORD COUNT: 2.8k

My submission for @dolcezzzza’s cabin collab event

WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI. Vampire Dio, rough sex, marking, Dio’s sexy vampire fangs, extremely dubious consent, creepy Dio, non-consensual touching, noncon themes, gore, religious & sacrilegious themes, Dio being treated as a god, slight soft sex??, implied breeding, implied objectification

SUMMARY: You and your… rather odd friend get snowed in a cabin together in the middle of summer. What you don’t know is that he’s withholding some rather interesting information from you. Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

Snow. What a beautiful sight it is when it’s falling from the sky. How gorgeous it can be when the light reflects off of it just right. It’s glorious in its own right, as is life.

Regardless of the time of season, snow perseveres. It thrives at the tops of mountains in the coldest of temperatures, shining brightly at those who seek it out.

Snow is the most enjoyable in a cabin. Where one can do as they please and sit up in their chair with a book and a cup of coffee.

That’s exactly why you and your friend booked a cabin in Lapland, Finland.

Though, for whatever reason, your friend was incredibly sensitive to the sunlight. He claimed that he would simply burn alive if he were to ever come into contact with it. This ‘allergy’ of his was the main problem for you while you were trying to book a cabin. Because how in the world were you supposed to find a cabin with little to no sunlight??

“It’s a shame that Jonathan and Erina couldn’t join us.” You looked up from your book and over at your friend, who was sitting in the dark corner of the room, watching the sunset in disgust. He ignored you completely, his eyes fixed on the window. “Oh. Do you want me to close the curtains?”

“It’s snowing.”

“It is indeed.”

A long, pregnant pause followed.

“It’s summer.”

“We’re in Lapland.”

It always snows in Lapland, he ought to know this by now. Actually, he simply just ought to know better. You were the one that paid for the whole thing, and he didn’t seem to respect that one bit. A part of you wanted to think that he expected it of you, but you shut it down immediately. He was your friend. And as much of a douche bag as he was, you didn’t take him as the type to take advantage of you. He wasn’t supposed to take advantage of you.

Your friend sighed heavily and rose to his feet, retreating further into the darkness. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk this over with you. He was acting like it was your fault that it was snowing, when, clearly, there was no way for such a thing to be possible. His attitude towards it was really starting to get on your nerves, especially since this vacation was his idea.

“Dio come back,” you frowned as he left. The sun was now setting, which meant he would want to go out soon. Though, you didn’t know why. You never knew why. He’d often leave in the middle of the night, coming and going without saying a word. “Come now, Dio. We can wait for the sun to set together.” You watched him slide on his coat and reach for his boots. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing. I want to make sure I can leave later.” With a huff, he leaned against the wall and forced his boots onto his feet. “I do not wish to be stuck here with some harlot. Especially when-” He cut himself off, avoiding your gaze. It was bold of him to call you a harlot when you were the one with the money.

And boy did Dio love money.

“Especially when what, Dio? Do not forget that you’re the one who wanted to come on vacation with me. I’m not going to listen to you bitch and moan like a child, do you understand?” You placed a hand on your hip, your eyes following his movements. He scoffed and shrugged off your comment, his hand resting on the doorknob. He could feel the cold through the wooden door, and he frowned at the thought. Would he really be stuck here with you?

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Dio opened the door and was met with a wall of snow, one that towered over the doorway and ensured that you were stuck with the blonde. Silence swept over the two of you as you took in the awkwardness of your situation. He was clearly upset, slamming the door shut with a grunt before turning to meet your gaze. “Why didn’t you check the forecast?” He growled. His tone of voice caused you to shiver, and your breath caught in your throat. Why was he so mad all of a sudden? What plans did he have that were so damn important that he just had to leave right now?

“Why didn’t you do it yourself? You’re the one who stays cooped up in his room all day and doesn’t leave until night.” You returned his tone, giving him a frustrated look as you spoke. “What do you even do at night, hm? Flaunt around to get laid? I don’t wanna hear it from you. Actually, I don’t wanna hear anything from you for the rest of the trip. I’m the one who paid for it, so suck it up,” you scoffed and stormed off. Your book was waiting for you, as was your peaceful vacation. You weren’t about to let his mood ruin your day.

You could feel his eyes on you as you walked back to the den of the cabin. They practically bore holes into your back, searing straight through your clothing along with your skin. What you had said definitely struck a nerve.

“I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it,” you mumbled to yourself as you reached for your book once again, taking a moment to admire the beautiful summer snow outside of your cabin. Though, the thought of reading now bored you. In fact, you’d much rather chat with that jerk that you called a friend, but he was in too much of a bad mood to allow such a thing to happen. It was a shame that Jonathan hadn’t come, maybe then he’d be able to help you deal with Dio. Or at least he could help you learn how to appease him.

With a huff, you rose from your seat once again. You wanted to head to the kitchen, but you didn’t overly feel like cooking, so you opted out and headed to the conservatory. The snow made the room look brighter as it clung to the windows, reflecting the setting sun beautifully. Damn that snow, leaving you trapped with Dio. What did he even do at night anyways? Was he some form of vampire?? You scoffed at the idea. Vampires didn’t exist, after all. They were merely tall tales created to scare tourists away from historical areas. Nothing more, nothing less.

Though, there were many times where you found yourself questioning if Dio was even a human. It was all in the way that he acted. He carried himself in a way that simply exuded confidence, far more than any other person you’d met. He was incredibly strong, and way more intelligent than Jonathan. Sure they sound like normal things, making him sound like some random try hard from England, but to you that wasn’t the case.

In your mind, Dio Brando was an enigma, about as well understood as God. No one really questioned his actions, because no one was brave enough to challenge him. And it surely didn’t help that he was as intimidating as he was beautiful. His body looked as if it were chiseled and sculpted by the finest of artists, as each muscle was defined in such a sickeningly gorgeous manner that made him hard to ignore.

Regardless of how you felt, you knew that it would be best to push your feelings to the side. Sure he was hot, but he was also an inconsiderate prick. About the only time he cared about anything was if it affected his wellbeing. Though, you and Jonathan were used to it by now.

The more you thought, the more guilty you felt for getting upset with him. It’s not his fault that he can’t go out in the sun, so why blame him for it? That wasn’t fair of you. It was a low blow, really. Maybe you should apologize—

Just then, a rather loud thud came from upstairs, startling you out of your thoughts. The sun had completely set by now, with the full moon shining brightly in the sky behind you. It alarmed you to hear something so disruptive. And as your panic set in, you made your way up the stairs, praying that you wouldn’t find your friend dead on the floor.

“Dio? Are you feeling alright?” You called out, peeking up into the hallway anxiously. Silence met you in response, only to be interrupted by a loud groan from Dio’s bedroom. “Hello? Dio please answer me-“ You scrambled up the stairs, your eyes wide. All you could really hear was the thrumming of your own heart, as it was loud enough to overpower your racing mind.

“Go away.” His voice rang out and you froze. What was with his tone? Had he injured himself? Either way, it drove you to get closer to his room.

“C-Come on, Dio! The most you could do is let me help you!” You paused. What were you saying? You didn’t care about him that much, did you? Hesitantly, you placed your hand on the doorknob to his room. “Dio?” You were answered with another groan, this one seemingly more strained than the last. It was beginning to make you nervous. “I’m coming in-!”

“Did you not hear me wench?!” He shouted at you, his voice seemingly farther away than before. “I said go away!”

His tone caught you off guard, causing you to shake. Was his voice… wavering? No- it couldn’t be. Dio would never show any form of weakness to you, regardless of how close you are. He knew better than that.

You frowned and glared at the door, lowering your hand from the doorknob with a frown.“Fine! Fucking be that way you dick!” You stomped your foot and huffed angrily. Why did you even bother? All your kindness would do was backfire, so there was no point in trying to be nice to him. But you tried anyways, which upset you further.

The sudden sound of his bedroom door flying off its hinges caused you to scream loudly, pure terror spreading throughout your body and forcing you to freeze. His heavy breathing along with yours echoed in the hallway, his heavy steps echoing loudly within your ears. That strength… it was inhuman.

“What did you just call me?” His voice was low, just quiet enough to be menacing. “Don’t be shy, say it again bitch.” He was behind you now, bent over so his lips could hover above the skin on your neck. This was a side of Dio that you had never seen before, and it frightened you. He was much bolder than usual, his hands wandering along your sides as he waited patiently for you to respond to him.

“I said you’re a dick, a real son of a b-bitch,” you didn’t know what came over you, and your body tensed further when his long fingers caressed your throat. You felt like a woman in a medieval painting, cradled by a monster who was too beautiful to be the same creature as you.

“You know, your veins are really something…” Dio trailed off into silence. It was incredibly hard to ignore his lustful tone, and it took everything you had to not turn around and meet his lidded eyes. His hand tightened around your throat, forcing a whine to pass through your lips. You couldn’t believe this was real. Was he really this close to you? Honestly, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded.

For Dio Brando was simply that divine of a being.

“Your blood must taste as amazing as it smells…” The words caught you further off guard, and if you could, you would have run away and never looked back. But why? Dio was supposed to be your friend, someone you could trust to protect you if need be. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. It just didn’t feel right. Even if he was a monster, it didn’t feel right.

Your instinct, nine times out of ten, was right. And you should have listened to it and run, but as Dio led you into his bedroom, you knew it was over. Lines had been crossed, and each step he took dragged you closer to the point of no return. The regret pooling in your stomach was almost great enough to drown out the pain of Dio’s fangs breaking your skin. His sharp nails tore through your clothing, and he wasted no time in tossing them across the room. With every move he made, a plea escaped you, but you argued in vain. Dio couldn’t have cared less, you knew this.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve dreamt of this moment?” He whispered into your ear, his left hand trailing down your bare stomach at a tauntingly slow pace. It stopped at your core, hovering over it as if to prove a point.

His fingers slipped into you with ease, relentlessly stretching your cunt so that you stood a chance at being able to take him. Horrible things were whispered to you, things that made you tighten around his fingers helplessly.

“H-Hah- Dio- don’t stop, please—“ You grabbed his arm and squirmed, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt your high building up. It was an all too familiar feeling, and it was stolen from you within seconds by the monster behind you.

“That’s Lord Dio, to you, got it?” His fangs grazed your neck at the same time his thumb discovered your clit. A whine escaped you, loud and shameful. You couldn’t even form a single coherent sentence, your mind going fully numb as your hips bucked upwards for more friction.

“Yes-! Lord D-Dio, I- ah-“ His thumb pressed down harshly onto your clit, purposefully interrupting you. At this point, there was no telling what his goal was.

“Now, where were we?” Dio rolled you over effortlessly, shoving your face into the pillows with a shit eating grin. “Ah yes, I was about to make you my bitch.” He forced his cock into the heat of your cunt, a low groan escaping him in the process.

Screams and cries echoed throughout the cabin, a cruel reminder that you were alone with the mythical Dio. Yet you couldn’t seem to drown in your remorse, not when he was making you feel so horribly good. It was almost as if you were thankful that he fucked like the god he pretended to be.

A loud groan left him, and he threw his head back in pleasure. His lips were parted in bliss, sweat coating his forehead as his hair fell into his face.

“My my, you took me so well…” He released his grip on you and allowed you to turn around and look at him. His eyes flickered with lust at the sight of your fucked out expression. It was as if the sight of your beauty had stunned him into silence. Was he just now noticing how gorgeous you were?

“L-Lord Dio…” You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. His cock was still buried deep inside you, causing a bulge to form on your stomach. It was something you could get high off of.

He leaned in quickly, his eyes shining brightly as he observed you. How many people had he slept with again? And yet, not one of them was able to make him feel this way.

“I could make you a goddess, you know,” Dio whispered, his tone anything but soft. His breathing grew to be heavier than usual, as if he was waiting for you to agree so he could continue blowing your back out. “You would be my queen…”

His hips began to move once more, slower than before so he could feel you better. His eyes didn’t dare to leave yours, his fangs peeking over his lips as he fucked you.

“From now on, you shall be mine. Got it?” His voice was low and quiet, soft grunts escaping him here and there as he picked up his pace. He had reduced you to a whining mess, objectifying you in just about one of the best ways possible.

You thought, at least.

“Let me fill you with my seed, you filthy being,” he called out, his thrusts sloppy and erratic. “Bear my child, give me an heir.”

Rumor has it that what happens in the cold mountains of Lapland is to stay there, forever lost amongst it’s beautiful scenery. No one speaks about what they’ve seen, for they immediately forget once they lay their eyes upon the glorious yearlong snow.

Ah, snow. It gleams underneath the summer sun, as if to smile at its enemies. How beautiful it can be in its perseverance, spreading its numbing cold to the areas around it effortlessly.

Snow is the most enjoyable in a cabin, where one can kick up their feet and read a book beside the fireplace with a cup of coffee.

That’s exactly why you and your friend booked a cabin in Lapland, Finland.

#feel like I got a little too poetic here but oh well #not me listening to beautifully orchestrated music while writing this #I’m channeling my inner mozart or something but it’s inspiring for sure #x reader #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #dio x reader #dio brando #dio brando x reader #jjba dio #dio smut #jjba smut #jjba x reader #vampire x reader #vampire #vampire smut

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miyosei · 8 months

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GODS DO NOT LONG FOR LIQUID GOLD.

premise. he will bring you the universe. all you need, is to ask ( a quiet moment in your embrace ) — ft. wanderer

gn reader implied nonhuman, timeline is a little weird… basically during the sumeru storyline, lowercase

the sea between sumeru and inazuma extends seven thousand kilometers further than the largest mountain in liyue. the sun rises over the horizon in the lavish city, bathing the marbled walls in its golden warmth and casting a shadow onto the hidden corners of the world. his eyes are the first to open, and yours are the last to close.

and if the universe would allow it, he would cradle the globe in his arms until it was the size of a glass marble—quietly kept under the promise of a kiss and held carefully in the palm of your hand, dancing delicately between your thumb and index finger and held tightly near your beating chest. a gift for you and only you, the first, and only one, to embrace him in his raw vulnerability.

sleep has never been a necessity, but in the quiet moments of slumber’s final solitude, you’re there—waiting for him in the same light in which he’d left.

you greet him with extended arms, and it's like he is meeting you for the first time all over again—stumbling over his words and tripping on his feet like a fool on the run. draped in pearly silks and a golden pendant that held more weight than the world itself, hushed voices and gentle laughter and eyes that could still sparkle with all the love and innocence he still had to offer. here, he takes your hands in his own and is more than willing to be scorched by your light.

it is what used to be a home shared for two, just on the outskirts of a wavering village. the garden is beginning to bloom. he knows this because you send him a letter at the end of every month—you promised.

to you, it is a journal entry of your collective thoughts. to him, it is the only promise he has ever known to have been kept.

his hands are cold when you return his touch, they always have been—something that he never used to think about until you brought it up one day, until he felt how warm yours were in comparison.

“do you know the distance between the moon and the sun?” you muse absentmindedly and play with his fingers. he raises a brow, and answers no.

when he learns that it’s three hundred and eighty four thousand kilometers, being across the sea doesn’t seem so far away. and your rare instances of meeting like this are likened to a solar eclipse. if not now, then never.

now, he is the moon. scooping up light that is not his own and cramming it into the cracks between his ribs, eating your brightness whole. he has survived this far on a staple diet of fear, leeching off each knock that falls against his door and commanding those beneath him to bend over at his will.

the moon is a thief and a liar. no wonder he would be the one to fulfill that role.

but ‘i love you,’ still slips from your tongue in the form of a whisper, dancing through the air and following the evening songbirds. the words settle in the silent atmosphere, and for a moment that lasts shorter than your next breath, scaramouche freezes.

he goes quiet, holding his thoughts for the first time since he can remember. and you can tell, from the way his eyes search yours with an expression that edges a little too close to sadness, there is a part of him that doesn't quite believe you.

a hand hesitantly reaches to grab at the fabric surrounding his chest, almost hoping to feel what should have been the erratic beating of his unstable heart — but, as usual, he finds nothing.

“why?” he asks in a clumsy blunder and as the first thing he can force out of his drying throat. his expression twists into one of disbelief, sorrow, and the quietest shine of hope, and he searches your own for any sign of doubt or insincerity.

you’ve only said three words, but it’s enough to make his world shift at its axes. he tells himself that you don’t mean it. that this is only a projection of his innermost feelings. that there is no way someone like you could ever feel anything but hatred and disgust for something like him.

still, there is a part of him wants to believe.

“say it again,” he pleads, his voice cracking at the edges. his chest aches and expands with the gust of wind. “please, say that again.”

the titles of a broken character are left in his wake. in one moment he was hooked up to a robotic mechanism—held together by wires attached to his joints and extracted knowledge that were injected into the veins he never quite had. in the next he stood before divine knowledge with an empty heart.

‘it will be better this way,’ he thinks to himself. for everyone, for you. a lifetime of forever in a world without him to dirty your light. a lifetime that you deserved.

this time, no one will get in his way, he will make sure of it.

he only hopes, that should you ever meet again, it will be in a better time.

#scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin impact #🌊 — miyosei

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 10 months

Text

The Boss - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

This work, all of my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES PEOPLE HAVE TO SAY THIS SHIT

Warnings: Bodyguard AU; Power Imbalance; Seemingly One-Sided Attraction; Not Necessarily Healthy Dynamics; Power Struggle; Implied Age Gap (Still VERY MUCH Legal); References to Stabbing; References to Death Threats; Referenced Nudity/Showers; Light Angst; Longing; Reader is a Bit of a Brat; Bradley Suffers; Female Reader with No Name or Identifying Description, No Y/N

Summary: You and your bodyguard, Rooster, are at odds when he tries to keep you locked in the safe house.

Part 2

Master List

It wasn’t like you asked to be the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. Your father was known internationally and so was the rest of your family by extension. With all of the fame, money, and power, of course, came the added side effects. Like the threats against your life, since you were your father’s only child after all.

Enter Bradley. Or Rooster as you were supposed to call him whenever you communicated via comms or within earshot of anyone else.

After several threats against your life, your father hired Bradley as your personal bodyguard. He was a part of the revered Iron Daggers, an underground squad of the most elite fighters that the world didn’t know about. Not the general public anyways.

The Iron Daggers had a reputation of pulling of the impossible. Of always protecting their targets and getting them out of whatever horrible situation in the end. And when your father contacted Maverick, the leader of the Iron Daggers, he sent Rooster.

The best of the best apparently.

And the best looking bodyguard you had or would ever have for the rest of your life.

Hell, you were only human. Rooster or Bradley, as you tended to call him when you were alone, which was often, was tall with a broad, muscled frame that you wouldn’t mind on top of you. His hair and eyes a light chestnut brown that just reeked of homey. And he was quite possibly the only man who you thought could pull off that mustache and somehow become more attractive as a result.

But there were rules. No fraternization or whatever. As if locking you up with just an absolute stud of a man was supposed to prevent you from falling for him.

Spoiler—it had the opposite effect.

But Bradley, ever the professional, never gave into any of your comments or you glances. The most he would do would be to smile sweetly at you and then go straight back to work. And fuck it was getting old. And embarrassing. But, of course, that didn’t stop your mind from wandering or your eyes.

Even on that night, when surrounded by the richest and most powerful people in the world who were all dressed to impress, you were staring at Bradley. He was never more than five steps from you and even if you didn’t have a staring problem, it would have been near impossible for you to be unable to find him.

Finding Bradley’s gaze deviating into the crowd, you couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

A man dressed in a suit that you knew was expensive, was clearly walking towards you through the crowd. You didn’t recognize the man, but you were sure that he knew who you were based on how he looked at you. Not stressed in the slightest, you turned to your right as you felt a gentle hand on the small of your back. In an instant, Bradley was right by your side, putting himself in between you and the approaching man.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Bradley asked, causing your smile to immediately brighten.

“Yes, you may,” you agreed, practically beaming up at Bradley.

He looked absolutely dashing in his suit, which was pressed and tailored to fit him perfectly. He was here under the guise of being a wealthy businessman and he seemed to play the part perfectly. He offered you his hand, which you took gently, and the two of you headed over to the bar together. Bradley ordered a drink for you and a glass of water for himself before turning to you. He leaned forward, causing your breath to hitch as his lips and the edges of his mustache brushed against your ear.

"Did you recognize him?" Rooster asked, talking about the man who tried to approach you.

"No," you replied, your eyes fluttering closed as you brushed your cheek against his own. "I don't. But I'm not worried about him."

"I'll be the judge of that."

And in an instant, the warmth from Bradley was gone. He was back in his protective body guard mode and nothing that she could do or would do would be able to break that concentration.

The two of you grabbed your drinks from the bar, after quick tampering checks, walked over to one of the tables in the corner. Bradley sat down and angled himself so that he could see the party, but you were entirely focused on him. And hell, anyone who was staring at you could have seen that the only person you had on your mind was Bradley.

It was a poorly concealed crush that was quickly getting a bit out of hand. After all, Bradley was a handful of years older than you and there was no way that your relationship would survive in ‘the real world.’ Though, you didn't care about that. But you knew that Bradley would never break and cross that line. He’d been in this business since he was eighteen. He wouldn’t crack.

So, you just kept tugging on the possibilities of a fabricated school girl crush to try and keep some kind of sanity in the mess you called your life.

“Why are you so tense?” you whispered to Bradley, grabbing his hand. “There’s security everywhere. We’re fine.”

“There’s security, but they’re not watching you.”

Taking a sip of your drink, you glanced out at the crowd once again, particularly the dance floor. Feeling a bit emboldened, you hurried to sip down the rest of your drink before hopping up from your seat.

“Come on. Let’s dance,” you stated, holding out your hand to Bradley.

“What?”

“I want to dance. So, let’s dance,” you replied as if it was a normal request.

“But,” Bradley started to protest.

“Please,” you whispered, which instantly caused his resolve to buckle.

“Okay, but I’m keeping an eye out.”

“I know. I’ll take it,” you responded, taking Bradley’s hand.

Pulling him up, you led him out onto the dance floor. A slower and more elegant song was playing, so you rested a hand on Bradley’s shoulder and held his hand. Bradley placed a hand on your waist at a respectful height and swayed with you to the music, though his eyes were always looking out at the crowd.

Sighing, you tried to get him to glance down at you for even a moment, but Bradley always took his job seriously and put it first. Really, you shouldn't complain since his attention was meant to protect you and make sure you woke up the next morning. But sometimes, you just wanted to forget all of that.

Resting your head against his chest, you closed your eyes and just swayed, trying to make the most of the moment. And unbeknownst to you, that subtle touch worked.

Bradley, once he felt your head on his chest, broke his stare out at the room and turned to you. Your eyes were closed, so you didn’t notice his stare, but a few moments later, you felt his thumb rub circles in your hip. Smiling softly, you listened to Bradley’s heartbeat and enjoyed the moment. Just when Bradley started to rest his head on top of your own, a scream echoed through the room.

In an instant, Bradley was on alert. Wrapping his arm protectively around your waist, he spun you away from the source of the scream. The both of you glanced quickly through the crowd to see what the commotion was about and gasped when you spotted a man with a knife sticking out of his chest.

You didn’t even have time to scream yourself before Bradley pulled you out of the room.

~~~~~

“That’s it. No more of those stupid parties,” Bradley stated as the two of you returned to the safe house.

You got away cleanly and the security checks were complete. You were safe. Bradley did his job and got you out of there in one piece. But Bradley was kicking himself the whole way back to the safe house. He should have gotten you out of the room faster. What if you were the intended target? Hell, he shouldn’t have let you out in the first place.

You were silent the whole drive home and Bradley had wrapped his jacket around your shoulders when you couldn’t help but shiver. The image of the stabbed man was still fresh in your mind and you were still in a bit of shock. Your bare feet padded on the cold concrete floor as your heels hung from Bradley’s hand.

“That’s the last time we leave here for anything pointless,” Bradley vowed, holding the door open for you.

But his words seemed to startle you back to reality. Flickering your gaze up to his hardened stare, you frowned lightly.

“So, I’m just locked away in here?” you whispered out.

“Until it’s safe,” he replied firmly, not even turning to look at you.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” you demanded, raising your voice a little.

“Sure. Do you want to live?” Rooster asked sarcastically, causing you to purse your lips together and glare at him.

“So, I’m just your prisoner now?”

“I’m pretty sure that prisoners aren’t supposed to pay their captors,” Rooster replied with a bit of an attitude, causing you to scoff. “Look, it’s simple. You go out and you’re in danger. So, you’ll stay here where it’s safe.”

You took a step towards Bradley, glaring up at him. Bradley stared down at you evenly and even though you couldn’t quite pick up on it, his self-control was dangerously close to slipping. Your eyes bore into Bradley’s soul as your lips curled into a scowl.

“You can’t keep me here forever. I’m not a prisoner. And I’m certainly not yours.”

Slipping off his jacket from around your shoulders, you shoved it into his chest before turning and storming off to your room. Bradley grabbed his jacket before it could fall to the ground and watched you as you stormed away from him, trying to not focus on the sensual sway of your hips or the subtle jiggle of your ass.

Gulping thickly, Bradley turned back to the monitors and focused on the task at hand. He gripped the table harshly, reminding himself why he was here.

He was supposed to protect you. And he almost failed at his job tonight. You could have been hurt because he wasn’t paying attention. And he wouldn’t let himself slip again.

~~~~~

You were furious. Absolutely furious with Bradley.

He managed to convince your family that it was safer for you to stay in the safe house or at least a safe house than to go out. And before you could even wake up the next morning, any lick of freedom was taken away from you. The chances to see your friends and family? Gone. Unless they went through the thirty security steps to come visit you in the safe house. Any chance to do anything outside of the safe house sans emergencies? Gone.

You were livid.

Storming downstairs in the compound, your bare feet padded against the polished concrete floors. You knew exactly where to find Bradley since he still sent you texts about where he was located in the house for safety procedures. You were still dressed in your pajamas, shorts and a tee shirt that actually belonged to Bradley, since you read through your texts with your family while brushing your teeth that morning.

Forcing your way into the gym, you stormed over to where Bradley was working out, pumping some large dumbbells as music played in the background. Grabbing the remote, you shut off the music, causing Bradley to drop the dumbbells and whip around just in time to catch your positively irate expression.

“Where the hell do you get off!?” you demanded, poking him harshly in the middle of his chest.

“You heard?” Bradley guessed, looking almost bored with the situation.

“Of course, I heard! You tattletale!”

“They requested a status update and I gave them one. It’s not my fault that they agree with me,” Bradley stated, earning a sharp glare from you.

“Do you want me to go crazy in here?”

“You have every kind of entertainment that a person could possibly need—”

“—I am trapped with only one other person, who just happens to treat me like a child incapable of making their own decisions, in this stupid prison that I never asked for!” you yelled, causing Bradley to pause. “Of course, I’m going crazy! Stop treating me like I’m some delicate baby! And it wouldn’t kill you to listen to me for once!”

Without another word, you stormed out of the gym and headed back to your bedroom. Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair. He paced a bit, wanting to go back to the workout that he started. But the second that he sat back down, he was standing up again, your disappointed and betrayed expression stuck in his mind.

Bradley walked through the halls, knowing from the security updates on his watch, that you returned to your bedroom. Reaching the door, he knocked lightly on the bulletproof material, letting it echo for a moment before he called your name.

“What?” you called back, clearly annoyed.

“Can we talk?”

“Fine. Come in.”

Bradley opened the door, letting it close behind him as he straightened up. But when he finally looked up, he practically stumbled to the floor at the sight of you.

You were in the middle of tying your hair back and glanced over at Rooster from where you were sitting in front of your mirror. The clothes that you were wearing when you stormed into the gym to confront him were laid out on your bed. And what were you wearing?

A towel. A simple folded fluffy cream-colored towel was all that protected your modesty from his gaze.

“Well?” you demanded, seemingly unfazed by your state of undress.

In actuality, heat was subtly crawling up your neck when you caught the subtle dip of Bradley’s gaze to the tops of your breasts and then your thighs. But in the split second between Bradley’s knock and your answer, you were feeling overwhelmingly petty. And hell, if you were sick of being trapped in this place without any kind of escape, you assumed Bradley was just as pent up as you were.

And, well, you assumed that Bradley—the professional that he was—wouldn’t dare look at you or touch you and compromise his job. So, it was a quiet and not-so-subtle jab back at him for being such as ass and locking you in the safe house.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Bradley asked, staring up at the ceiling awkwardly before turning back to you.

“Calm down, Captain Chastity, I’ve got a towel on,” you huffed, holding the towel together to prove your point. “And I was going to take a shower until you interrupted me.”

“Then why did you let me in here?” Rooster demanded, annoyance seeping into his tone.

“You wanted to talk and I wanted to get it over with,” you replied, standing up from your vanity.

Feeling a bit emboldened by the fact that Bradley wouldn’t even look at you when you were in this state, and in need of taking some kind of control in your life, you stood up and padded over to where Bradley was standing in your room.

His jaw was set harshly, making his jawline appear all the more sharp. Veins popped off of his neck due to how tightly he was holding his jaw shut. His cheeks were colored by perhaps rage or embarrassment or a mix of both. But he kept his gaze on your eyes. Never once breaking and glancing down to stare at the more scandalous views you. And well, if he wanted to play that game, you would play that game. This was a battle of wills and you weren’t going to crack first.

“I’m not your prisoner, Rooster,” you warned him. "You're not the boss of me."

"I'm just trying to do my job. Stop making it so difficult," Bradley shot back, staring you down.

In a flash of defiance and reflection of just how pent up you felt, you reached up and grabbed the fold of your towel. A quick flick of your wrist and the fabric gave way. Bradley, ever the professional, averted his eyes and stared at the ceiling as your towel pooled on the ground.

"Is that difficult enough for you?" you huffed, setting your hands on your now bare hips.

Staring up at him as he refused to move and look at you, you took two steps towards him, feeling more emboldened than before. Bradley noticeably tensed as you drew closer to him and raised yourself up on your toes to whisper in his ear.

“You can’t keep me locked in here forever," you vowed, causing Bradley's jaw to lock. "You're not the boss of me."

Bradley stayed where he was as you walked into your bathroom and started the shower. It wasn’t until he heard your shower door slide shut that he lowered his gaze away from the ceiling. Breathing heavily and now absolutely red in the face, Bradley glanced down to see your towel on the ground. Shuddering, he turned and stumbled out of your room.

He was about to turn for the gym before changing his mind and heading for his own bedroom instead. Slamming the door shut behind him, Rooster quickly locked the door behind him before heading for the shower himself. He wasted no time in cranking the shower to ice cold and shoving himself under the spray.

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the death of him.

Part 2

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sunflowersandsapphires · 8 months

Text

A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol).

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed.

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt.

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that.

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options.

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.”

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall.

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past.

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run.

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone.

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him.

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch.

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself.

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine.

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour.

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being.

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.”

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man.

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.”

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.”

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life.

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while.

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.”

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them.

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head.

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off.

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit.

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack.

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?”

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something.

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.”

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar.

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly.

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.”

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw.

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story?

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you.

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment.

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime”

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood.

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention.

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped.

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you.

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him.

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before?

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it.

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?”

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said.

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming.

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch.

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned.

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box.

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed.

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment.

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.”

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin.

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.”

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight.

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe.

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.”

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits.

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter.

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned.

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.”

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze.

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.”

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?”

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.”

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.”

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner.

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground.

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta.

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth.

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.”

“Culinary school, huh?”

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.”

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?”

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted.

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall.

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.”

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.”

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home.

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile.

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes.

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven.

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder.

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed.

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her.

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.”

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin.

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile.

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way.

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response.

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?”

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it.

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.”

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.”

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?”

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged.

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.”

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze.

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation.

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct.

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.”

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over.

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile.

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why.

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him.

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy.

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal.

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself.

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.”

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?”

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.”

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life.

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his.

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.”

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle.

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you.

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her.

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely.

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods.

“I’d uh…I’d like that.”

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you.

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye.

You were definitely going to be the death of him.

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance.

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever.

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me.

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec.

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though.

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous.

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.”

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly.

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs.

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism.

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown.

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled.

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him.

“Fine. Yours?”

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled.

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.”

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?”

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected.

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one.

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh.

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?”

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.”

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.”

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl.

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