lela

shhhh im lurking… she/they | 22

[moomine]

(cover image credit)

“Lie on the bridge and watch the water flowing past. Or run, or wade through the swamp in your red boots. Or roll yourself up and listen to the rain falling on the roof. It's very easy to enjoy yourself.” ― Tove Jansson, Moominvalley in November

welcome, welcome!!

hi, my name is lela! i write multifandom, reader-insert fanfiction here on tumblr and sometimes on wattpad. i don't write on any kind of schedule, just whenever i have the time or the motivation.

i'm open to requests and will write for the following fandoms/characters...

life is strange → warren graham, nathan prescott, max caulfield, and chloe price.

mouthwashing → daisuke, curly, and anya.

skyrim → brynjolf, farkas, vilkas, serana, kaidan, gore, jesper the guard, and more

fallout → benny gecko, rose of sharon cassidy, veronica santangelo, butch deloria, robert maccready, paladin danse, cait, maximus, and more

moomin valley → snufkin and joxter

detroit: become human → connor

stardew valley → shane, harvey, hailey, sam, and leah

my reader-insert stories are always as ambiguous as I can possibly make them, but the reader almost always either uses she/her pronouns or is gender-neutral :)

series...

backwash | daisuke ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

part I

part II

part III

part IV

part V

oneshots...

life is strange ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

sober thoughts | warren graham

drunk words | warren graham

skyrim ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

come with me | jesper the guard

mouthwashing ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

black friday | daisuke

your own medicine | daisuke

patchin things up | daisuke

[infohazardouz]

I still think about you all the time mouthwashing

[moomine]

backwash V | daisuke

author's note: backwash is back bitches B) if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) You started sharing your sanctuary, the cockpit, with Daisuke. The two of you are up late again, chatting about life and celebrating a special day.

word count: 1,806

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Tram - "Nothing Left to Say"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 90—

The Tulpar has her own personality, although I’m sure you know that. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe that’s a secret for us pilots, for people like Curly, Jimmy, and me. Maybe we’re the only ones who will ever know how she bites back during manual steering, why she groans under the pressure of zero-gravity.

I asked Curly the other day what we were hauling. He told me that even he doesn’t know. I don’t really like secrets.

DAY EIGHTY-NINE—

“How did you know you wanted to be a pilot? I feel like I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure my shit out, and I’ve still got nothing. I have no idea what I want to do with myself,” Daisuke said. He tried to ignore the way his hands were growing slick with sweat, how you always managed to make him nervous. Even when you were simply sitting there.

But even when you were just simply sitting there, you looked so beautiful. Slouching slightly, knees brought to your chest in the dim, green light of the cockpit. The way your hair surrounded your face like the perfect picture frame, it was impossible to ignore.

You thought for a moment, head cradled atop your knees in the nest of your arms as you listened to the quiet music playing from your Walkman. Daisuke liked watching you think. The way your brows furrowed imperceptibly, the quirk in your lip when a playful idea crossed your mind.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, almost sounding defeated. You wished you had a better answer for him. “As a kid, I used to look up at the sky at night. I was obsessed with stars. I remember one night, my mom and I were sitting on the back patio, staring up at them; I saw one moving, shooting through the sky with a bright tail.” 

A timid laugh bubbled from your throat before you pressed on. “I asked her how stars moved, and she told me it wasn’t a star at all. It was a ship. I guess before that I didn’t realize people could be among the stars. Since then, I’ve wanted to be among the stars…”

Daisuke stayed quiet for a long moment, but the look in his eyes was so loud you swore you could hear his thoughts echoing off the walls. You sat up straight in the pilot’s chair, eyes roaming over the sea of green screens as they had what felt like a million times before. At one point, you grew to think that dreams were silly. But here you were, sitting in the cockpit of a space freighter, floating through zero-gravity, and rapidly approaching the half-way mark of your very first haul —the end of your field experience, just barely out of sight.

“When I was little, I wanted to be an artist,” Daisuke mumbled, running a hand through his black roots. “My mom always supported it as a hobby, but she didn’t think I’d be able to do much with it, y’know? I guess she had a point. Like, how many really great artists are there anymore?”

“Plenty,” you said.

His gaze jumped back to your face, taken aback by the determination that boiled within them. Daisuke’s lips parted —words of protest building on the tip of his tongue like a small city, skyscrapers made out of ‘but’s and ‘what if’s.

“I know what you mean. It’s hard not to think about history or how things used to be when the world was a whole lot smaller, but just because there aren’t as many ‘world-famous’ artists, doesn’t mean the ones that are there aren’t great. You have a real gift. You have so much potential, you just have to hone it.” You turned your body to face his, expression softening more and more with each second that passed. “Why are you all the way out here?”

“My mom got me this internship,” he confessed with a sigh —brilliant, brown eyes falling to the dashboard and control panels. “Guess she just really wanted me out of the house. Can’t blame her… before this, I just sat on my ass all day long, wasting my time with games and stuff.

“I’ve never been really passionate about anything. I played baseball in elementary school, but I was quite possibly the worst kid on the team. I was a solid B and C student all throughout high school. I tried my hand at community college, but that didn’t exactly work out for me either. My mom gave me the decision between trade school and this; I knew another day of academics would just kill me. So, here I am.”

You chewed at the inside of your cheek. “Oh.”

As if sensing your unease, Daisuke perked up immediately. A toothy grin stretched across his lips —although it didn’t quite meet his eyes— and he waved his hands in the air as if trying to brush away the tension.

“It’s not totally bad. Being in space is, like, the coolest thing I’ve ever experienced.” Then he added much softer than before. “Plus, I probably never would have met you if I hadn’t.”

There it was, that gentle smile that conquered the melancholy in your eyes. The only expression he ever wanted to see on your face. Not concern, not sadness, not even the sympathy you felt for him. Daisuke only ever wanted to see you happy, in all ways. Whether it be that bright, contagious laughter when he cracked some stupid joke, or like this —cheeks lightly flushed, full lips tight as they curled upwards just barely, and eyes gleaming brightly even in the darkness that surrounded you two. Just perfect.

“I’m glad I met you too,” you whispered. “You’re not like anyone I’ve met before. You’re just so… well, brilliant.”

Brilliant. Daisuke had never been described as brilliant. His mother called him precious, his friends saw him as a goofball, Swansea called him a dumbass, Curly said he was funny, but nobody had ever said he was brilliant. He knew what you meant. You meant he was bright, that he was warm and talented and special.

Daisuke had never felt so special.

“You really mean that?” he asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

“Of course I do.”

The honesty in your tone was nearly too much for his poor heart to handle. He shifted in his seat, gaze falling to your hand that rested upon the armrest of the captain’s chair. Your hand hung limply off the edge, like an invitation, but one he was far too afraid to accept. Even still, Daisuke couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to hold your hand in his own. Maybe one day, when he wasn’t so nervous and his hands weren’t so damp, he’d intertwine your fingers with his and squeeze just enough that you knew he wanted to hold you. You’d squeeze back, and he would just melt into the ground.

“Do you really think I could be a great artist?” Daisuke asked.

You laughed quietly and nodded. “Of course I do,” you echoed once more. “I feel like there’s this outrageous pressure to be something great. When you think about it, we’re both only twenty now. We have our whole lives ahead of us. There is so much time to figure things out, you know? You have such a bright future ahead of you, Daisuke. Give yourself some grace.”

Once again, the young man was stunned into silence. This time, he was the one to smile softly—dimple caving in on his cheeks like perfect little sinkholes you’d gladly fall into.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me speechless. I’ve never had that problem before. Normally, I can just talk and talk. It drives Swansea up a wall,” he interrupted himself with a throaty laugh. “Thank you… you know, for saying that. Guess we gotta slow down some, huh? We have our whole lives ahead of us.”

A favorite track swells faintly around you two as your eyes meet for the hundredth fleeting moment, only this time it seemed to linger. For a split second, Daisuke’s gaze wandered lower, settling on those plush lips of yours. He wondered if your smile tasted as sweet as it looked.

“Oh,” you exclaimed, turning around and back again. “I got you something.” You clasped your hands together, concealing something inside. 

Daisuke raised a questioning brow. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

You shook your head like the mere notion was outrageous. “It’s your birthday, don’t be silly. Now, close your eyes and stick out your hands.”

With a warm chuckle, Daisuke obeyed. His long lashes tickled his cheeks as he reached out with open hands. Although he couldn’t see, he listened intently to the sound of faint crinkling. He flinched slightly when he felt something long and cool settle in his palms. He knew what it was even before he opened his eyes.

“Okay. You can open your eyes,” you said with a nervous edge. “Happy birthday!”

The all-encompassing green light flooded his vision once more, and there —held carefully in his warm hands— was a pristine candybar. Its silver wrapper shined in the dimly lit room as he smiled.

“Holy shit! Where did you get this? These are, like, my favorite things ever.” He immediately tore open the wrapper, causing you to wince but not protest. Technically, you weren’t allowed to eat in the cockpit.

“I have my ways,” you replied with a playful smirk. Daisuke broke the candybar in two before offering you the larger half. You shook your head, smirk morphing into a small smile. “Nope. All you.”

“It’s my birthday, and I want to share. If you don’t eat it, I’m gonna be really offended. Just so you know…”

“Fine, fine.” You took your half of the treat and took a bite. 

The taste of slightly bitter chocolate and smooth, velvety caramel coated your tongue. When you looked back across the console, Daisuke’s half was already gone. His cheeks were full and round as he struggled to chew the glob of candy in his mouth, making you laugh.

“So good-mph…” he said with a full mouth. Daisuke swallowed the thick lump with a grimace, then sighed in contentment. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it,” you said between bites, waving your hand dismissively.

He wanted to say more, wanted to go on and on about how grateful he was. Not just for the chocolate, but for you. For everything. But he didn’t. Instead, Daisuke simply watched as you finished your half and listened to the music playing in the background. Another song he had never heard of, another one of your favorites. He hoped he could make you feel even half as special as you made him.

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previous part: here

next part: here

pookies (taglist): @xcryptk33p3rx @freakyydaisukee @sanctuaryofsmartiess @st4rrysblog @academiq @c4t-n1pp @iiveraii @lunachuu @llamapie69 @pennydew @berryboo @xxxion

[moomine]

MORE DAISUKE PLEASSEEEEE

i literally love how you write him omg. if i could kiss you i would.

maybe a med intern reader perhaps????

it can me sfw or nsfw whatever you want just go crazy

thank you babygirl <3

-🍒

patchin things up | daisuke

author's note: hey... so uh, long time no see? sorry i died. not my best work, but this is my apology x (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x gn!reader) You're Anya's intern. While she's taking a break one day, Daisuke comes to you with a minor medical emergency.

word count: 871

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: LSD and the Search for God - "Starting Over"

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Medbay was the coldest room in the Tulpar. While stinking of sterile equipment and antiseptic, you always seemed to make the otherwise depressing room quite homey. Warm. At least, that’s how Daisuke saw it. One of the perks of Anya having her own intern this haul was actually being able to take a break. You had a natural understanding of medicine, a fantastic work ethic, and a real desire to help people. It only made sense she felt comfortable leaving you alone for a while to eat or rest up a bit. 

Daisuke was in luck. You were equipped enough to handle minor emergencies in her absence. Approaching the door to medical, he took a deep breath and twisted the handle. He had already been chewed out by Swansea for touching live wires unknowingly, and he knew you’d likely give him an earful as well.

“Oh my god,” you said as the automatic door wheezed open, eyes blown wide with surprise. “What happened?”

Before Daisuke had the chance to respond, to explain why he was clutching his arm close to his chest, you were already by his side. One hand was wrapped around the wrist of his other, which hung limply in front of him, pointer and middle fingers bright red. 

Daisuke couldn’t help but admire the small crease between your brows as you gingerly took his injured hand in your own, observing the electrical burn that was already blistering on his skin. The way they were slightly furrowed with concern, your expression both pained and focused all at once. Your breath hitched at the sight, a sound that seemed to bubble out of your throat before you could surprise it. Not out of fear or discomfort, but innocent worry. Worry for the boy you loved.

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax, ‘kay? It’s just a little burn, I’ve had worse,” Daisuke explained, but the waver in his voice betrayed the pain he was in.

“Little burn?” You echoed. “This looks second degree, Dai. How did this even happen?” You ushered him toward the sink, turned on the cold water, and instructed him to hold his fingers under the stream.

Cool water washed over his inflamed skin, causing him to wince at the contact. His gaze flickered away from yours bashfully, like a puppy caught misbehaving. Daisuke absolutely hated worrying you. You had enough on your plate as it was; you didn’t need to waste your time worrying about what clumsy slip-up he managed this week.

“Oh, you know…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I might have touched some cut wires without thinking… Maybe…”

“What?”

“I know, I know. Swansea said I was lucky it had such a low voltage, otherwise I’d probably be toast. But hey, I’m okay!” There was an air of humor in his tone, almost like he was trying to soften the blow with his typical optimism. It didn’t quite work, and he knew the second his eyes met your face once more. You weren’t looking at him, eyes fixed to his swollen fingers under the faucet’s stream. A small frown curled your lips downward, although the rest of your features had softened. Daisuke swallowed thickly before placing his other hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay, yeah? I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.”

The feeling of touch grabbed your attention  —the comforting warmth of his palm seeping through the cool denim of your jumpsuit. “You better be,” you murmured, turning off the water. “Take a seat. I need to clean and dress your burn.”

Daisuke obeyed quickly and walked to the cot in the middle of the room. As he took a seat atop the rough sheets, he shifted nervously, staring down at his injured hand in his lap. Just like before, you were in front of him at a moment's notice. You dragged a small rolling cart with you, equipped with bandages, antiseptic wipes, and burn cream.

“This might sting a little,” you said as you carefully took his hand in your own again.

“It can’t be that ba-” Daisuke started, but he quickly cut himself off with a hiss.

You did your best to stifle a laugh as you wiped the pads of his fingers. “Told you so.”

Once his burn was clean, you applied a generous layer of burn cream, and wrapped his fingers in a clean bandage. As you moved about the room with purpose, cleaning up your supplies and disposing of the used materials, Daisuke looked at his hand. The seared flesh beneath the bandage still stung, but it was soothed by the cooling ointment and your gentle touch.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “You forgot something though.”

You stopped what you were doing and looked back at him, raising a brow in questioning amusement. “Oh really? What is that?”

“Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

Daisuke outstretched his hand toward you, bandaged fingers in the cold air. Rolling your eyes, you moved in front of him once more and leaned down, then pressed a gentle kiss to his fingers.

“Better?” you asked.

“Much better.” A wide, infectious smile spread across Daisuke's face, stretching from ear to ear.

[moomine]

backwash IV | daisuke

author's note: finals season is over so you can safely expect more consistent updates B) if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) While reading the book Daisuke let you borrow, Jimmy interrupts your break with a message from Curly. You get a quick piloting lesson from Curly before catching up with Daisuke.

word count: 2,239

warnings: jimmy... all characters are 18+

now playing: Daft Punk - "Something About Us"

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EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 062—

There’s really nothing like the song the Tulpar sings. Jimmy said it sounded like she was taking a shit, but I couldn’t disagree more. She groans as she moves through space, like the kind of low rumble as you successfully lift something heavy. There’s pride in the sound that she makes. She’s old, she’s resilient. There’s something so inspiring about being onboard this tired girl. I don’t know how to put it, so I’m not going to waste your time trying, but I will say I’m starting to like it here.

DAY SIXTY-ONE—

Anya wrote furiously at her desk, her head hung low as she scribbled notes into a crisp, new journal. She hummed quietly to herself—a familiar song but one you couldn’t quite place. It was nice background noise regardless. Your feet dangled before you, swaying as you sprawled out on one of the cots along the far wall of the medical bay. The delicate pages of a well-worn book were soft beneath the pads of your fingertips. You brought your index finger and your thumb to your mouth and swiped them along your tongue, turning the page over to the next. The story was gripping, to say the least. You had barely moved since your break started ten minutes ago, and Anya found your reactions incredibly amusing each time she raised her head to take a glance at you.

Daisuke had lent you a book he had brought onboard. It was new, one his mom had gotten him so he’d have something other than his Gameboy to occupy him during his free time. Project Hail Mary. Weirdly fitting and slightly worrying considering his internship in space. There was a subtle irony about giving her son a sci-fi adventure to keep him company at night. You had just started, but you couldn’t stop reading. Maybe it was the story itself, or the new found desire to have something you could talk about with Daisuke, but whatever it was kept you reading during your spare time.

The medical bay door wheezed open, but you were too immersed and unbothered to check who it was. Anya shuffled in her seat, sitting up straight as she peered up questioningly at the new addition. They cleared their throat and ignored her entirely.

“Oi, [Name],” Jimmy’s grating voice sounded from the door. You barely lifted your head, earning an irritated noise from the man in question. “Curly needs you. Said he’s got something he wants you to take care of.”

Reluctantly, you closed the book and set it aside on the cot. Annoyance riddled your face as you slowly sat up, coming to your feet with a huff. “What kind of something?”

“The kind of something where you remember I’m also your superior, got it? Now, c’mon. We don’t have all day, it’s kind of urgent,” he replied as he turned on his heels and started walking away.

You rolled your eyes, giving Anya a look that said ‘Can you believe this guy?’, to which she giggled and shrugged her shoulders. Jimmy continued to walk away, presumably toward the cockpit as you scrambled to catch up with him. You followed him down the stairs, finally reaching his side. He barely turned to face you, doing what little he could to acknowledge your presence.

“How old are you again?” Jimmy asked, an uncomfortable smirk spreading across his thin lips.

You furrowed your brows. “Twenty. Why?”

“That’s a relief. I thought you were younger,” he started, still walking at a pace you found difficult to keep up with. “Guess you’re just a little immature for your age, huh?”

“Excuse me?” You stopped in your tracks in complete disbelief.

“Oh c’mon, babe. Y’know I don’t mean anything by it.” Jimmy finally turned to face you, shit-eating grin tugging his sharp features into a sickeningly satisfied expression. “We shouldn’t stall any longer. Curly’s waiting, remember?”

He kept walking, leaving you with no choice but to follow. It was of great interest to him to remind you exactly who was in charge on the Tulpar. After you reported to Curly, at the end of the day, you then also had to report to him. 

Jimmy opened the door to the cockpit entrance, motioning for you to take the lead now. Something made you uneasy about having him walk behind you, but you did as he suggested, walking toward the main room with a cautious step. As the door slid open, Curly greeted you with an enthusiastic smile. He sat leisurely in the co-pilot’s seat, legs spread with his elbows propped against his knees. His chin rested along his intertwined fingers as he leaned forward.

“Hey, [Name]! How was your break?” Curly asked, patting the captain’s chair for you to sit.

Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it when the captain shot him a dismissive look. Instead, he took a seat in the extra chair in the back, grumbling something under his breath.

“Good. Not long enough,” you said with a timid smile of your own.

“They never are, are they?” Curly laughed. “This will be fun for you, I promise. I’ve got a test for you, if you’re up for it.”

Your interest piqued as you watched him wink, nodding toward the various monitors before the two of you. You followed his direction, gaze fixing on the green screens. The forest of tech was straining on the eyes, but you couldn’t look away when you noticed exactly what he was talking about. On the main rudimentary map, a small asteroid moved closer to the Tulpar, venturing slowly onto the grid. 

“I knew you’d catch on quick. It’s an easy fix, you know that. Just have to steer the ship out of the way. Simple, right?” the captain proposed, his tone encouraging and confident. “Normally we’ve got autopilot engaged, so we don’t have to worry about little guys like this, but the case is different when larger orbital bodies present themselves. Since this one is so small, I thought we could put your piloting skills to the test. If you’re going to be like me, you’ll need to have manual steering down. Think you can handle it?”

You looked back to Curly, practically beaming at the prospect of steering the ship all on your own. “Seriously? Yeah, I can handle it!”

“Curly,” Jimmy croaked, grabbing the attention of both of you. “You really think this is a good idea? She’s never done this before. One wrong move and we could all lose some credits.”

“It’s a matter of left or right, Jim. If you can do it, she can do it. Stop having such little faith in our apprentice,” Curly replied sternly.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, looking back to the screens as the ship steadily approached the asteroid. A warning flared on the screen, announcing the impending possibility of impact. The captain shifted in his seat as he faced you once again, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t listen to him. Jimmy’s got a one track mind. We’ve both got faith in you.”

You nodded. Curly disengaged autopilot and ushered you to take hold of the steering controls. All you had to do was keep the ship steady as you passed the asteroid. Simple. Your fingers grazed the handles of the steering device with a nervous rumble in your chest.

An orbital body has been detected 20 AU ahead of the vessel.

Please make a manual correction 0.5° rightwards to avoid impact with unknown mass.

Carefully, you pushed the device to the right as instructed, approximately 0.5° as suggested by the console. The alerts dismissed themselves as your grip on the handles tightened. You kept hold of the ship, gently taking it past the orbital body.

“Nicely done! Smooth as butter,” Curly cheered, raising a hand for you to high-five him.

You quickly let go of the device, accidently knocking it to the left as you slapped your hand against his. The Tulpar rocked for a moment before the autopilot engaged once again and settled its position. You winced, causing the captain to laugh.

“That’s my fault. Don’t sweat it, nothing happened other than a little ‘turbulence’.” He raised his index and middle fingers, curling them as he gestured air quotes.

You grinned weakly, a touch of adrenaline making your leg bounce. Slowly, you stood up once more so Curly could have his chair back.

“I’d say you earned the rest of the day off. What do you think?” Curly suggested, relaxing in the captain’s seat as Jimmy took the co-pilot’s.

“But-” Jimmy started with his mouth agape.

“The day’s almost over, Jim. We don’t have enough work for three people either. Let the girl rest.”

“Thank you, Captain,” you replied.

“No need to thank me. Good work today,” The captain patted you on the back before he ushered you away, sending you off to relax.

“You’re too soft on her,” Jimmy mumbled as he turned to Curly, not even waiting for you to leave the room.

You didn’t care to hear what else the co-pilot had to say, his words venomous and laced with envy. The door slid open and you stepped out into the entry hall to the cockpit.

“She’s a highly capable pilot, Jim. What are you suggesting?” You heard Curly retort as the door shut abruptly. A proud smirk twisted on your face. You, a capable pilot. It had a nice ring to it.

Once in the hallway, you gradually made your way back to the medical bay. You could picture the book resting on the cot, practically calling out to you as its nonexistent voice beckoned you back to the sanctuary of Anya’s office. As you passed Utility, you noticed Daisuke pacing back and forth in front of the closed door. His brown eyes landed on you in an instant, almost like he was waiting for you. One of his typical wide, lopsided smiles stretch wide across the entirety of his face—the small gap between his two front teeth dark in contrast to his pearly whites.

“There you are! I went to Anya’s but you weren’t there. She said you were doing somethin’ important in the cockpit,” he exclaimed as he approached you. “Did you feel that earlier? It was like the whole ship was totally shoved or something. Nearly knocked me on my ass on my way here.”

“That was the ‘something important’ I was doing. Get this, I got to steer the ship,” you responded, voice in a higher pitch due to your lingering excitement.

“That was you? If that’s how you fly a space freighter, I can’t imagine how you drive,” Daisuke teased, playfully nudging you with his shoulder.

You snickered as the two of you walked toward the medical bay together now—Daisuke making sure to walk at your pace. “You have no room to talk. You don’t know the first thing about piloting, do you?”

“Nope, and that’s exactly how I plan to keep it. I promise you nobody wants me behind the steering wheel of one of these things,” he joked, his eyes fixed on you as you two rounded the corner.

“It’s not quite a steering wheel,” you corrected.

“My point exactly.” Daisuke chuckled softly. “So, how are you liking the book so far?”

He was clearly antsy to talk to you about it. Swansea had been reprimanding him all day, trying to keep the poor guy’s focus on the task at hand. Not that that was a new struggle for the two; Daisuke had trouble keeping his attention on one thing at a time.

“It’s really good! I haven’t gotten too far though. Duty calls and all that.”

Daisuke basically jumped as you spoke. “Yeah? It’s, like, one of my favorite books now.”

“I can see why,” you said, amused by his excitement.

Before you knew it, the door to the medical bay stood right in front of you. Daisuke stopped walking, standing still at your side as both of you paused. It seemed like his smile wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon. You bet that his cheeks probably hurt with that goofy thing stuck on his full lips.

“I wish I could chill out with you guys, but Swansea only let me go for ten minutes.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. In reality, Daisuke told Swansea he had to go to the bathroom. Technically, he should have been back five or so minutes ago, but he was pretty confident he could push ten. “I’ll leave you to read. No rush, but hurry up so we can talk about it!”

“That sounds a lot like rushing,” you teased, reaching for the door handle.

Just as your fingers made contact with the cool plastic, Daisuke's hand brushed against yours as he attempted to get the door for you. The touch was brief, but the warmth of his skin against yours made your heart skip a beat. You looked up at him only to find his wide eyes were already trained on yours. Breathing a laugh out of your nose, you pulled the handle and opened the door. The two of you mumbled awkward apologies to one another as you stepped through the doorway.

“I’ll see you later,” he said with a swallow, smiling sheepishly before walking backwards down the hall again.

You held his eye contact with your own semi-flustered expression. “Yeah, you too!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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[moomine]

Hii! Could you please do a Daisuke x Reader SFW/NSFW where they are both nerds and always end up having deep lore gameplay conversations during nighttime, as they talk reader starts to cuddle him and he melts under her touch.

(you choose if that goes further or not)

your own medicine | daisuke

author's note: hehehe can you guys guess what game they're talking about? also bay area asian daisuke supremacy (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x gn!reader) You and Daisuke often spend your nights staying up much too late, talking about your interests. While talking about a game the two of you adore, things get a little more physical than normal.

word count: 1,434

warnings: kinda nsfw? just a little over the clothing fun (making out and dry humping >>>) all characters are 18+

now playing: The Smashing Pumpkins - "The Boy"

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“Wait. For real? You really didn’t know that?” Daisuke chimed from where he laid on the bed.

He shifted onto his elbows, sitting up like the conversation had suddenly turned serious. You couldn’t help but laugh, finding his investment undeniably endearing.

“I only played the game once. I guess I just kinda followed the path they lay out for you,” you replied. Your shoulders rose and fell, a casual shrug in response to his reaction.

His expression twisted into one of utter disbelief, pure bewilderment as he crashed back down onto the bed. He ran his hands along his face, dragging at his full cheeks with a low whine.

“Oh my god. You’re breaking my heart, [Name].”

The two of you were in Daisuke’s room, with him lying on his bed and you sitting alongside him. Your back was against the wall—the cool wooden paneling now warm from your body heat, and your legs were stretched across his stomach. On the other side of the room the digital clock read ‘23:03’, the evening well into the ship’s artificial night-time.

“Stop whining and just tell me about it.” You cocked your head to the side as a playful smile twists on your lips.

Daisuke pulled his hands away from his face and his excited eyes met your own. “Wait, really? You wanna hear about it?”

“No, I asked you to tell me because I didn’t want to know,” you paused, narrowing your gaze as you looked down at him. “C’mon, Daisuke.”

“Okay, okay. No need for attitude, smartass.” Daisuke chuckled warmly. “Y’know how after beating some bosses you get those umbilical cords?”

“Yeah…?” You replied skeptically, realizing how weird this conversation would sound without context.

“Well, they’re like one-third blah blah blah, but there’s actually four in the game. Isn’t that weird? I guess it’s to, like, allow for some user error or whatever, but it really doesn’t make sense mathematically. Like, what do you mean there are four one-thirds of an umbilical cord?” Daisuke started to ramble, completely oblivious to the amused look on your face.

Slowly, you shifted your body, turning to lay on your side as you settled onto the bed beside him. Daisuke froze for a moment as you curled into him, not sure what to do next. The smell of your shampoo filled his nostrils as you rested your head on his shoulder, your face practically buried in the crook of his neck. He felt his heart begin to race, and he silently prayed that you couldn’t hear it from where you laid.

“Go on,” you mumbled. Your breath ghosted along the side of his neck as you spoke.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed—his mouth suddenly ran dry and his tongue felt almost fuzzy. His train of thought had completely derailed. It was like it had been picked up and thrown right off the tracks, sent into a nearby ditch to burn in some fiery explosion.

“Oh, right,” he said with a shake of his head, gathering his words once again. “So, after you get three, you kinda have to eat them. If you consume three, you unlock the secret ending and become a Great One, like I said earlier.”

Not so casually, Daisuke wrapped an arm around you, pulling you tighter. Your body was incredibly warm. If this went on for another minute, he was sure he would melt like a popsicle under your touch.

“That game is so fucking weird,” you responded with a laugh. “Looks like I gotta replay it when we get back.”

Every word you said was like torture to Daisuke. Your breath was hot against his skin, sending faint shivers throughout his body. His own breathing was becoming slightly irregular as he found it harder and harder to think straight.

“You definitely should. Come visit me in San Francisco, we could totally make a whole thing out of it,” he managed to say. His voice wasn’t nearly as confident as it usually was, wavering slightly with each word.

You leaned in closer, your lips accidentally grazing his neck. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

Despite your enthusiasm, your voice was gentle and smooth. The sweet sound blew through Daisuke’s head like waves crashing against warm sand, like his favorite song. He could listen to you talk all day; in fact, he gladly did whenever he had the chance. Nights like these—nights where you would sit in his room just across the hall from yours, and the two of you would talk until the simulated sun rose—meant everything to him. You were quite possibly the brightest thing on that dreary, old ship. The Tulpar needed more people like you.

The feeling of your soft lips against his skin made his breath hitch. It was a quiet sound, almost inaudible, but you were unfortunately close enough to hear. Your brows raised curiously, a thoughtful smirk playing with the corners of your mouth as a thought crossed your mind.

Your heart started to pound against your ribs, your hands—one at your side and the other resting on his chest—began to sweat, and your own breath grew jagged with nervousness. After a moment of contemplation, you gingerly kissed his neck, testing the waters.

Daisuke’s face suddenly felt hot as his cheeks dusted with a vibrant flush. A pleased hum vibrated in his throat. He looked down at the top of your head, watching closely as your hair fell the more you leaned into him. You peppered more kisses against his neck, each one tauntingly soft. He had officially melted, putty in your hands.

“[Name]...” he managed. His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed.

You carefully lifted your head, your eyes trailing over his blushing face before they landed on his brown ones. With your head tilted to the side, you mustered a quiet, questioning ‘yes’.

Daisuke's focus fell from your eyes to your parted lips. His tongue darted out from his mouth, swiping over his bottle lip. In an instant, he was kissing you. His hands cupped either side of your face as his lips crashed into yours, capturing you in a slow, desperate kiss. He kissed you like he had been dying to do it, like it was the last thing he’d ever do on that godforsaken ship.

A moment later, you were on top of him, straddling his hips with his hands on your waist. You tangled your fingers in his hair, unconsciously tugging at the dry roots. Daisuke exhaled roughly through his nose as you steadily started to work your hips against his, grinding into him at a deliberately teasing pace. It took everything in him not to rock his head back into the pillow, to break away from you and tell you everything he was thinking—all of those needy desires brewing within his foggy mind. Daisuke’s hands ventured over your curves, caressing your waist then following the rise of your thighs. His fingers dug into your skin as he started bucking his hips into yours.

Your lips stifled a moan that threatened to slip from him. Daisuke sat up, pulling you impossibly close to him as he deepened the kiss. You gasped as he reached around and grabbed your ass. Taking advantage of your surprised reaction, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving with yours in a dance that made your mind go blank.

His hands made their way over your hips again, gripping your thighs tightly in his large hands. He broke the kiss, a thin line of salvia connecting you two as his mouth worked its way along your jawline, leaving hot, wet kisses in its wake. Daisuke painted your neck with sloppy kisses, absentmindedly sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. There would probably be a mark or two in the morning, but neither of you cared at that moment. It would be a worry for the next day, but, for right now, you couldn’t give a shit. You could barely breathe as he left one last kiss under your jaw.

“How do you like it?” he asked, looking up at you with a smug smirk. The brown of his irises was almost entirely consumed by the inky black of his dilated pupils.

A delirious laugh rumbled from your throat as you playfully frowned. “I liked it a lot before you stopped.”

“You want me to keep goin’?”

“I mean,” you began, wrapping your arms around his neck lazily. “If you’re offering…”

Daisuke snorted, his face bright red. He leaned in, placing another soft kiss to your lips, a smile still fixed on his own.

[moomine]

Dad swansea and reader x daisuke established relationship

black friday | daisuke

author's note: this is based on the q&a where the devs said swansea was a sneakerhead lol. i love love love the concept of dad-swansea sm!! it actually maybe sorta kinda has me brainstorming another series.. thank you for the request! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) (modern au?) The semester is over and winter break has just begun. You and Daisuke met on campus and have been dating for a while now. When it's time for him to finally meet your dad, Swansea, he insists on getting him something for the season.

word count: 2,661

warnings: no trigger warnings (all fluff here)! all characters are 18+

now playing: Drugdealer, Kate Bollinger - "Pictures of You"

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The mall was a bustling hellscape. Packed like sardines, people pushed and shoved as they tried to meander from place to place. The line for the shoe store wrapped around the corner, down a long, wide hall, and into the food court. You stood side by side with Daisuke, your coat rustling as you hugged yourself. A cold draft blew past as other customers came and went through the grand entrance, each time causing a shiver to rake through you harshly. Daisuke, who was previously twisting his silver rings out of an anxious habit, stopped and began running his hands up and down the length of your arms. The friction of his hands sent waves of much-appreciated warmth throughout your body. You looked up at him, a grateful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Of course. It won’t be so bad once we get ‘round the corner.” Daisuke peeked over your head and past the line, peering ahead to see how much longer it would take. It was moving at a snail’s pace, and all he could think about was empty shelves. In the nightmare of worst-case scenarios running rampant in his mind, the sneakers he had been keeping a watchful eye on for months were already sold out. Daisuke’s brows furrowed as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing at the soft skin absentmindedly.

“Maybe we should have gotten here earlier,” you observed, glancing around at the line of people as it only grew larger. You turned back to your boyfriend with a sympathetic expression, features softening as you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this. Y’know that, right? My dad will be happy just to meet you at all.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I absolutely do.” He laughed nervously, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and using his now free hand to run his fingers through his hair. “You’re, like, the most important person in my life. Your dad has to like me, he just has to. If he doesn’t I might straight up disappear. POOF! Daisuke’s gone, vanished into thin air.”

“You gotta relax. He’s gonna love you, I know he will,” you replied, leaning into him for a little extra warmth.

Daisuke held you tighter and shook his head apprehensively. “I just gotta make sure. I really, really want to make a good impression.”

“And you will! You wanna know how I know?” you asked, shifting under his arm so you were facing him. The line moved up and so did the two of you.

He nodded, eyes filling with admiration as his gaze fell from the line before you two to your face. God, he loved your face. No matter how hard he tried, he could never understand how a guy like him got so lucky. Daisuke knew he was a pretty good-looking guy, but you were gorgeous. Must have been his charming personality and impeccable sense of style.

“I know because you’re kind. ‘Cause you have a good heart and you care so much. My dad’s a good judge of character, he’ll see that.” Daisuke opened his mouth to protest, but you raised a finger and pressed it to his lips before he could. “Hey, I’m not finished. So what you don’t know what you want to be yet? You’re ambitious and talented, and you’ve got time. Don’t stress about that, ‘kay? He won’t care, I promise.”

“Can I talk now?” Daisuke asked, your finger still pressed against his lips. 

“You may,” you replied with a playful grin, your hand dropping to your side once again.

“I know I technically don’t have to, but I’m gonna get these shoes and impress the pants off your dad,” he stated, all proud until he had the chance to process what it was he had said. “That didn’t come out right…”

You laughed, taking another step forward as the line continued to move up.

-

A couple of weeks had passed since Daisuke bought those sneakers. Finals season came and went, ushered out by the frantic wrap-up of the fall semester and the introduction to winter break. It was early December when the two of you finally drove back home, meaning it had finally come time for your boyfriend to meet your parents. 

The entire way there Daisuke was a nervous mess. That anxiety only intensified the moment you were leading him to the front door of your family’s home. On top of the gifts he was already carrying, Daisuke had insisted on still carrying the bulk of your luggage inside as well. With one hand he held his presents to your folks, and in the other, he used to pull your suitcase behind him; your backpack was slung over his shoulders. He said it was about chivalry or something like that. As you stepped onto the front porch an onslaught of barking erupted from just beyond the door. 

“Lucy! C’mon, old girl, that's enough!” your dad, Swansea, shouted from inside the house.

You turned to smile at Daisuke only to notice his attention was busy elsewhere. He looked down at the gifts in his arms, biting at his lips. After a moment he noticed you had stopped and his gaze drifted back to you, offering you a timid smile of his own. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there as you began to rub small, comforting circles against the wooly fabric of his coat.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you whispered in a soft tone.

Daisuke looked down at the gifts in his hands, then back to you with a quick nod.

Now with his approval, you unlatched your keys from your belt loop and unlocked the door. As it swung open with a familiar groan, Lucy, your elderly border collie, came stumbling up to the doorway as she barked an excited ‘hello’. The dark patches of her fur were speckled with long, white hairs and her eyes held a little gray in them. She breathed heavily from her mouth, panting with her tongue hanging out. She looked from you to Daisuke, just as excited to see his new face as your well-known one.

“Hi, mama.” You knelt to her level, petting her head with one hand and scratching her chin with the other. “I’m home!” you shouted into the house.

The smells of garlic and onion wafted from the direction of the kitchen. Daisuke closed the door behind him, looking around the entryway with a curious eye. It dawned on him at that moment that he was standing in your childhood home. Over the course of your life, you had walked in and out of that very entryway countless times —going to school, coming home from your first job at that local coffee shop, leaving for prom or practice. 

“Took you long enough,” Swansea called back as he made his way from the kitchen to the two of you. “I was startin’ to worry you wouldn’t make it in time for dinner.”

Swansea stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a red apron that read ‘Kiss the cook’ tied loosely around his torso —one of the many stupid Father’s Day presents your mom had gotten him over the years. You stood up quickly, racing to him with open arms. He eagerly took you into a tight hug, his clothes and skin smelling faintly of 3-in-1 soap and motor oil.

“Haha. How about a ‘welcome home’ or ‘I missed you so much’?” you said sarcastically as you pulled away from him.

“Welcome home, kid. I missed you.” Swansea’s normal gruff tone of voice was much softer as he spoke to you.

Daisuke stood awkwardly by the front door, still carrying your belongings as well as his own. You glanced over your shoulder with a wide smile and motioned toward him. “Oh! Dad, this is Daisuke. Daisuke, this is my dad.” You took a step back, allowing the two of them to get a better view of one another.

His eyes shot from Lucy, who was now lying at his feet, and toward your dad. Almost too quickly, Daisuke let go of the suitcase and took a long step toward Swansea. He extended his hand, ready to shake, and adorned a toothy smile. The gifts along his other arm wobbled as he reached your father, which he clumsily saved from falling at the last minute.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Daisuke said.

“That so? Looks like you got a lot on your plate, son.” Swansea took his hand, holding it firmly as he shook it. Daisuke did his best to match his grip, almost squeezing too hard. Swansea motioned with a nod to your luggage still on Daisuke’s person, along with the gifts in his arms.

“What this? Nothing I can’t handle,” your boyfriend replied, almost smugly. “These are actually for you. Well, and your wife.”

“I think we’re gonna go take my stuff upstairs,” you butt in, looking between the two with a slightly worried expression.

“All right then. Your mom’ll be home soon, dinner’s on in fifteen. I’m makin’ paella.” Swansea turned around with a skeptical look. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you, dad!”

-

Once the two of you were upstairs, it became incredibly clear that Daisuke’s anxiety had intensified greatly. As the two of you walked through the threshold into your room, he let out a quiet sigh —both out of relief and distress. Over the semester, your room had become closer to a memory and now, as you returned to it exactly as you had left it, it had become an almost nostalgic sight. It was exactly as Daisuke had imagined. The pale blue walls were littered with band posters and pictures of you with friends from high school. You had everything you’d expect in a student’s room. In one corner, snugged away and smothered in soft blankets and pillows, was a full-sized bed. In another were a mismatched desk and dresser. Daisuke could easily see you sitting at that desk, engaging with one of your many hobbies or finishing up some assignments. The visual managed to make a small smile creep onto his lips, but it faltered quickly when he heard Swansea on the phone with your mother just downstairs.

“He hates me, I can already tell,” Daisuke said. He carefully set down your luggage as well as the gifts, tucking them away nicely on your desk.

“You don’t know that. My dad’s just like that with everyone at first, but he always warms up eventually. I promise.” You sat on your bed, pulling your shoes from your feet and tossing them in different directions.

To keep himself from pacing, Daisuke took a seat beside you before flopping back into the comforter. The plush blanket quickly engulfed him as he rested an arm over his eyes. With a little laugh, you laid down on your side next to him, caressing his face with your hand. It felt soft against his skin as you cupped his cheek. His arm fell back to his side as he leaned into your touch, letting out a content sigh at the comfort that alone brought him. His eyes trailed over your face with that same lovesick adoration he normally harbored while looking at you —a stare that said more than he ever could with words. He knew he would never get tired of looking at you. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you finally said, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he tried to melt into you. Like it was second nature, Daisuke tilted his head ever so slightly to the side and closed the gap between the two of you. Sparks of electricity tingled against your lips as he kissed you softly. Abandoning their posts, his hands found their proper positions —one on your hip and the other along the back of your neck— and pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but smile against his lips as he kissed you, your chest becoming light at his touch.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, keeping his forehead against yours. “I love you too,” he breathed, sounding far more relaxed than before. “So much.”

His gaze met yours once more, and it looked like he was going in for another kiss. Just as you felt his breath against your cupid’s bow, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of Swansea clearing his throat.

“C’mon, get your asses up. I’m makin’ you set the table before your mother gets home. I want it to look nice for her, understood?” Your dad looked between the two of you with that questionable face Daisuke was starting to become accustomed to. He then turned around, shaking his head from side to side.

-

Dinner was a surprisingly quick affair. To nobody’s surprise, Swansea’s paella was a hit —other than a couple of gripes from your mother who had grown sick of the dish. She fell in love with Daisuke from the first second she saw him, and she only loved him more when he got comfortable enough to talk. After everyone was finished eating, Daisuke insisted on helping clean up and he did so happily. While your mom stepped outside to smoke a cigarette, Swansea, Daisuke, and you sat in the living room as your dad began to open his gift.

Swansea tore into the wrapping paper, eyes going wide when he saw the brightly colored shoebox beneath. He looked up from the present in his hands, and his gaze fell to Daisuke with an expression of pure disbelief.

“Son, I-” he started before promptly getting cut off by you.

“Just open it, dad.”

Daisuke shifted beside you as Swansea discarded the rest of the wrapping paper. He leaned forward, elbows resting on either of his knees as he bit at his lower lip. Swansea ran his hand along the top of the box and slowly opened it. After lifting the tissue paper and getting a proper look at the sneakers underneath, Swansea turned to your boyfriend again.

“These aren’t easy to come by. How on earth did you get them?”

“I, uh- well, we camped out for them. [Name] told me you had been checking out a pair online for a while, and I thought I’d save you the effort,” Daisuke responded, running a hand along the back of his neck. “It was totally worth it. I got a super good deal on ‘em and everything.”

“Thank you.” Your dad just nodded with the faintest smile on his face. Although his words were simple, cut, and dry, it was obvious to you and Daisuke alike that he was truly grateful.

“Of course. I’m really happy you like them,” Daisuke said. He was practically glowing, beaming with pride as he looked from Swansea to you. He mouthed an oblivious ‘hell yeah’ in celebration.

Later that night while you were getting ready for bed, Daisuke ventured down the upstairs hallway toward the bathroom. Along the way, he passed your parents' room. Through the crack in the door, a narrow stream of light illuminated the otherwise darkened hall. Daisuke froze in place as he overheard your mom and Swansea talking from inside.

“So, what did you think of him? He’s just a delight. Isn’t he, hun?” Your mom questioned.

“Who? Daisuke?” Swansea replied. The springs within the mattress groaned as he eased himself into bed. “The boy seems like a good man. I like him for her. She needs someone who’ll help her loosen up. Poor girl is too damn high-strung.”

Realizing he probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, Daisuke rushed to the bathroom with a look of pride on his face. Your dad liked him. Better yet, Swansea thought he was good for you. That was a better gift than anything he could have hoped for.

[skyballz]

mmmm,,., Daisuke… I need to kiss him…

[eepymocha]

The crew🫶!!! I’m not drawing Jim poop for obvious reasons-

PLEASE REPOST!!!^^

[moomine]

backwash III | daisuke

author's note: thank you to literally everyone who’s reading this! you guys are so so sweet and i love you all <3 if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me!! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) Sleep is increasingly hard to find on the Tulpar. At night the reader spends her time in the cockpit, thinking about home. When she feels the whim to sleep, she ventures back to the sleeping quarters, only to bump into Daisuke. Instead, she joins him for a midnight snack and some conversation in the lounge.

word count: 2,372

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Dave Bixby - "Morning Sun"

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EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 034—

There was this movie I watched once when I was a kid, about a little girl who falls from the sky. Although I can’t remember the title of it now. I do remember that she was a part of another world, a part of something bigger. She was important. I don’t think you have us write these to talk about movies, do you? I’m sure you’d rather hear about the operations on board, or the technical difficulties, or if there’s been any damage to the cargo. You know, the “important stuff”.  Everything is running smoothly so far. Is that good?

I want to be a part of something bigger one day. Hopefully this experience will help me. I’m grateful to have this opportunity.

DAY THIRTY-THREE—

Pony Express allowed a maximum of five hours of sleep to their employees on haul. During those five hours, the Tulpar was shadowed by a veil of utter stillness. A silence not too dissimilar to that of a library, or that painful pause in awkward conversation. It was too quiet, which led you to stare at the ceiling until the fatigue of work or boredom got the better of you. Even when you could fall asleep, it was far from restful. Over the past month you had gotten the worst sleep of your entire life thus far. Worse than when you lived in those co-ed dorms with unruly neighbors and argumentative hallways. Worse than those nights thunder cracked down from the darkened sky and you clutched stuffed animals in your chubby, child hands. After a certain point, you had given up on finding sleep at all.

The computer screens within the cockpit would beep on occasion, the sound barely audible over the soft plucking of guitar strings in your headphones. The coords of some old folk song filled your ears instead. You sat in the captain's chair, curling in on yourself with your knees to your chest and arms around your person. Your head snuggled into the dip in your legs, cheek pressed your knee cap as you stared at the sea of glowing green.

Curly had given you permission not too long ago to sit in the cockpit at night. Within the first month of your apprenticeship, you had grown on him quite a bit. The captain had always been a kindhearted person. He was a people pleaser to his core, a man simply happy to help. Curly saw a lot of himself in you, and he knew what it was like to feel, well, restless.

“As long as you promise not to touch anything,” he had said, prefacing his next words with a comforting smile, “you have my permission to use your clearance to the cockpit at night. But if word gets to the higher ups, they’ll have my head, understood? We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Normally, you tried to pay attention to how long you had been sitting there, keeping track of each song that played to count the minutes as they passed, but tonight you hadn’t. With a sigh, you reluctantly stood from Curly’s chair, deciding to give sleep another try. You slipped your Walkman into the pocket of your pajama pants and left the cockpit. Each step you took was quiet, almost imperceivable, as you walked down the hall toward the sleeping quarters. You didn’t want to disturb the others, although you had a feeling nobody else was sleeping all that well either. The rusted, trusty pipes groaned as you passed, their settling moans somehow bypassing the volume of your music. It made you feel uneasy. You reached into your pocket and turned the music up a bit in an attempt to drown out the sound. 

Rounding the corner, you finally reached the door to the sleeping quarters. Just as you reached for the door handle, it slid open seemingly on its own, causing you to flinch. Standing there—holding a flashlight in one hand and with the other placed against his chest—was Daisuke, looking far more caught off guard than you felt. You winced as he shined the light directly into your eyes.

“Holy shit, dude,” he breathed, voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “You straight up scared the hell out of me. What are you doing walking around in the dark?” Daisuke adjusted his aim and shot the beam at the ceiling instead, creating enough light for the two of you to see each other a little better.

With a soft laugh, you pulled your headphones from your ears, allowing them to hang around the back of your neck. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t sleep.”

“You too?” Daisuke questioned.

“I’m surprised anyone can sleep on this thing,” you whispered. “Where are you going?”

His eyes dropped in embarrassment as he used his free hand to rub nervous circles against the side of his neck. “I’m… I’m grabbing a snack from the lounge. You wanna come?”

“Yeah, if you want me to.” You didn’t hesitate. Anything sounded better than tossing and turning. You stepped to the side, permitting him enough space to walk out of the doorway then alongside you.

Daisuke breathed a chuckle at your response. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

“Then I guess I’m coming,” you said in a hushed, playful tone.

Daisuke looked at you with a smile and nodded, shining his flashlight down the hall as the two of you began to walk in silence. In the quiet of the hall, the door to the lounge seemed to open with a deafening wheeze. Deep, royal blue illuminated the large room. The night-time window screen displayed a starry sky with wisp-like clouds, bathing the room with an otherworldly glow. It reminded you of going to the aquarium as a kid, surrounded by water and the smell of saltwater. You half expected to look up and see sharks and fish swimming overhead, but you knew all there would be was a dull, blank ceiling and slumbering lights.

Daisuke stuck his head through the doorway, peeking to see if anyone was already inside. When he determined that the coast was clear—although it wouldn’t have mattered anyway considering the noise of the door, he motioned for you to follow him inside.

“Hell yeah! The place is ours,” Daisuke celebrated, speaking louder once the door closed behind you two. He walked toward the vending machines with long, intentional strides. You tread on his heels, gaze fixed on him in amusement as he looked over the different options. 

You pulled your Walkman from your pocket, then leaned against the bar, palms pressed to the countertop as you pushed yourself up, and took a seat on the cool, brown laminate. “Is there normally someone else here?”

“Hmm?” He barely heard you, too fixated on what he was going to eat. As he processed what you had said, the words loading behind his eyes in a turning spiral, he ordered a pack of freeze-dried fruit and tore into the package. “Oh, nah. Not usually. I mean, I’ve seen Anya in here once or twice, but she’s always coming from medical bay. Getting coffee for those late nights, I guess.”

“She works too much,” you noted. “I wish she wouldn’t push herself like that.”

“You two seem close.” Daisuke approached, leaning against the counter beside you.

“Yeah. You could say that.” A tender smile graced your lips at the thought of you and Anya being close.

There was a pause, a brief lull in the otherwise newborn conversation. A series of crunches sounded from your right where Daisuke stood as he popped piece after piece into his mouth. You glanced over at him, the tenderness of your smile warping into something more entertained. He glanced over at you in turn, his mouth full of apple as he mustered a lopsided smile.

“Hey, it’s your Walkman,” he exclaimed after a swallow, pointing at the dated tech in your lap. “Whatcha listening to?”

“Oh,” you peeped with a suddenly flustered look on your face. “It’s a mix my mom made for me. Just a bunch of old folk stuff she used to play for me when I was little.”

“Can I listen?” he asked, shoving another piece of fruit in his mouth.

“S-Sure, yeah.” You unplugged your headphones and played the tape. It crackled, the old speaker not what it used to be. Or what it ever was, truthfully.

Maybe the quality of the sound would have bothered somebody else, but not Daisuke. As your small corner of the lounge filled with the sound of guitar—the stories of rural towns, first loves, and early mornings, Daisuke set his snack on the counter and listened intently. It was far from what he’d normally like, but something about listening to it here, with you made it sound perfect.

“It’s funny, actually. I never used to like this stuff back on Earth, but lately this is the only one I want to listen to,” you said over the music.

“You must really miss her.” Daisuke inched closer, standing less than a foot away from you as he leaned against the counter. His gaze flickered up to your face, quietly admiring the curves and arches of your profile. Under the blue light of the night time window screen, any blemish or imperfection on your face seemed to vanish. Not that he had ever noticed any imperfections on you. Matter of fact, for some reason, he couldn’t imagine seeing any part of you as imperfect. Even if he tried. There was a somber look in your expression as he spoke, one that made his stomach twist in knots.

“So much. I didn’t think it would be this hard being away from home.” Your voice was just above a whisper now. You felt your eyes begin to burn, the familiar sensation of tears welling in the corners as you tried to suppress the ebbing flow. With the shake of your head, you let out a quick laugh, feeling the tension gradually lifted from your shoulders. “What kind of music do you like?”

Daisuke didn’t blink or care about the change in discussion. He didn’t care about what the two of you talked about, and he wasn’t going to pry either. He knew that you would open when you felt comfortable enough to do so, and he was happy to wait however long that would take.

“A bit of everything, I guess. It kinda pisses me off when people say that and, like, they don’t actually mean it.” He slid his snack off of the bar and extended it to you, shaking it as the pieces inside rattled against each other. “I have a pretty impressive vinyl collection back home. Got everything from Etta James to Duster. You should see it sometime.”

Weakly, you smiled and took a piece of the fruit from the package. “Maybe when all of this is said and done. After the haul?”

“I’d love that,” Daisuke responded quickly, eyes trailing over your face. After another moment of silence, a brief break in conversation, he shifted on his heels and looked away. “So, you uh… you got anyone waiting for you back home? Y’know, like friends? A boyfriend? Or uh, a girlfriend? If you, like, swing that way or whatever. Which would be totally cool, obviously. I’ve got a bunch of gay friends-”

“Daisuke,” you said with a hint of that ever familiar amusement in your voice. “Relax, okay?”

He looked back at you and nodded. “Right, yeah… So, do you?”

“Friends? Yeah, a bunch. I miss them too. But a partner, not so much…” You felt your cheeks light up, a soft pink flush dusting the peaks of your cheekbones and the ridge of your nose.

“Hey, that’s cool,” he responded, bumping shoulders with you and trying not to sound too happy about your response. “Me neither. I mean, like I said, I’ve got loads of friends. Just not the whole girlfriend boyfriend thing.”

“Look at us,” you mused. “One in the same.”

“Yup, one in the same.” Daisuke glanced back at you hopefully, then looked away. He downed the rest of his dried fruit and crumpled up the package, tossing it in the direction of a nearby trashcan and missing by a couple feet. He winced, feeling a tinge of embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You gonna go get that?” you asked jokingly, pushed yourself from the countertop, and landed on your feet, securely tucking your Walkman back into your pocket as the music stopped.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes and walked toward the trash before picking it up and disposing of it properly. “It’s on the way out anyway. In fact, I meant to do that.”

You trailed after him, following close behind as the two of you approached the exit to the lounge. “Totally,” you teased, smiling up at him.

Yet again, the door slid open with that deafening screech as Daisuke and you left the lounge. Together, you walked back to the sleeping quarters. At the door, Daisuke turned to you and stopped. His brown eyes trailed over your features once more in the darkness, illuminated only by the light of the flashlight in his hands. Even in the blackness of the hallway, his smile was bright. His gap-toothed grin seemed almost bright enough to flood the entire hallway with light.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he spoke quietly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you responded.

Daisuke opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words he wanted to say seemed caught in his throat. Instead, he just nodded and displayed that same smile. Your brows furrowed questioningly, an expression that made his heart skip a bit. Before you could say anything, he opened the door to the sleeping quarters and ushered you inside.

“Goodnight, [Name]. See ya in the morning.” He bit his lip, walking backward toward his room and nearly stumbling when he reached the door.

“Sweet dreams, Daisuke.” 

With that, you slipped into your room with a strange feeling in your chest. A tightness you hadn’t felt since high school, since hallway crushes and etching names into wooden picnic tables. An ache at the loss of his presence. How strange.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

previous part: here

next part: here

pookies (taglist): @xcryptk33p3rx @freakyydaisukee @sanctuaryofsmartiess @st4rrysblog @academiq @c4t-n1pp @iiveraii

[moomine]

backwash II | daisuke

author's note: totally awesome people should check out part one as well ⍢ also, if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) It's been a little over a month since the Tulpar departed on its 382-day long haul. Anya takes the reader aside to perform her monthly psych eval, where she discusses her experiences with her peers and life on the ship so far. After she's clear to go, she runs into Daisuke who's drawing in the lounge.

word count: 2,291

warnings: mild language? all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "Motion Picture Soundtrack"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 028—

I’m starting to feel more and more homesick. I miss my mom’s roast chicken. I miss swimming pools and the feeling of the breeze. I miss burning incense. I miss my friends. It hasn’t been that long since we left Earth, but I guess I just never considered how still outer space would be. How lonely I’d feel. The others have been nice, yeah. Especially Anya. And Daisuke. I get the feeling that Captain Curly is still warming up to me. I wonder if he’s ever taken on another apprentice before. I don’t know about Swansea, or Jimmy. They seem to tolerate me at best. But then again, those two kind of just tolerate everyone, except for maybe Captain Curly. It’s only been almost a month. I just have to keep my head. 

If mom were here she’d say: “Everything gets easier with time. Time and patience.”

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN—

“Everything okay, [Name]?” Anya asked in a gentle tone, gingerly placing a hand on the table in front of you.

Your shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice as it filled the otherwise silent lounge. You looked up at her, feeling the tension seemingly wash away by the sight of her face. She offered you an understanding smile, her tired features softened as she looked down at you.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Just lost in thought, I guess,” you responded. 

You raised a hand to rub your eyes. It had been difficult to find sleep lately. The groaning of the ship was almost haunting at night. Laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you spent the few hours allotted for sleep thinking about Earth, about what laid just beyond the door to your room, about the ceaseless whining of steel and steam. About the next three hundred and fifty four days.

Anya nodded sympathetically, moving her hand from the table top to your shoulder blade. “It gets easier. I promise,” she paused as Jimmy and Curly entered the room, their voices loud and booming. “Are you ready for your psych eval?”

You nearly didn’t hear her over the sound of the other two. They were reminiscing, shouting stories back and forth of college parties, bar fights, and past lovers.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said with a timid grin. 

Anya nodded once more, motioning toward the door just past the kitchen space. You came to your feet and followed her until the two of you made it to her domain. The medical bay had become a safe haven for you. Over the past month, you gravitated toward Anya the most. She had been kind to you from the very beginning, almost sisterly. When there was no more work to be done, you often found yourself walking straight through the lounge and into her office. Anya didn’t mind. In fact, she had grown to rather enjoy the company.

She walked around the desk before taking a seat in her chair. Behind her was a wall of white shelves and cabinets with glass doors. Inside they held assorted medical supplies and books on psychology and basic clinical practice. To the right of her was a bulletin board, cluttered with posters, a calendar, pictures of her hometown, and notes and reminders. A number of Daisuke’s doodles had made it up as well, namely ‘Yimpy’, a rather horrible caricature of Jimmy. It was pretty realistic.

You sat across from her with your hands interlocked in a tight ball. “Same as last time, right?”

Anya grinned as she organized your file. “Yep, same as last time. Since it’s only your second evaluation, I’m going to go over it one more time. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded.

“Lovely,” she said with a soft hum. Tapping the papers into a neat pile against the desk, Anya glanced at you once more. Her eyes flickered from the page to you, you to the page as she read aloud. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about your experience, relationships, and general well being during your time under contract with Pony Express. It is your responsibility to answer as truthfully as you feel comfortable and/or deem necessary. Your answers remain confidential unless you give reason to believe you are at risk of harming yourself or others. Do you have any questions?”

“No questions here,” you replied with a shake of your head.

“Perfect. Let’s get started. On a scale of one to ten, how confident do you feel in your capability to complete your work and responsibilities on a day to day basis?” Anya read.

“Maybe eight? I’m still getting a hold of some of the more technical aspects. The Tulpar is an older ship… I wasn’t exactly trained on her special quirks in school,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“You’ll catch on fast. You already have,” she reassured, jotting down your response with that sweet smile still on her face. “Okay, next question. You mentioned last time that you’ve been having difficulty sleeping, is that still a relevant cause for concern?”

“I don’t know if it’s that concerning. I think I’m just having a hard time getting used to the new environment. It’s been getting easier to fall asleep though,” you responded. A little, white lie.

“I’m happy to hear that, [Name]. Your rest is important. I remember not being able to sleep at all during my first haul. I spent all night just tossing and turning, reading my books if I could focus on them long enough. It’s normal, but from the sound of it, you’re doing a great job adjusting.” Her gaze softened as she spoke. It was clear that she had grown to care for you quite quickly, and you did the same for her. “Only a couple more left to go…”

Anya listened intently while you answered each of her questions, taking the time to write down key details of your responses. Between questions, the sound of her pen etching against the paper filled the room. As Anya wrapped up the second to last question, your eyes wandered to the evening window screen. The warm orange and reds of the artificial sunset made the room look like it was on fire. You looked back to your hands, reaching up to take a piece of your hair and twist it between two fingers.

“All right,” Anya spoke up. “Last but not least, how do you feel about your relationships with the rest of the crew? Is there anything I should know about in particular?”

“No, I don’t think so. Everyone has treated me fine enough. Other than you, I’m still trying to get to know everyone better,” you said, still focused on your hair.

Another sympathetic smile graced Anya’s lips as she looked over at you. She knew how it felt to feel slightly out of place. “Look, I’m technically not supposed to tell you this, so you have to keep it a secret. Okay?” Anya let out a quiet laugh as you nodded quickly. She watched amused as you dropped your strand of hair and leaned in closer. “Daisuke mentioned during his eval that he wanted to get to know you more. Maybe you could try talking to him? You two have more in common than you might think.”

You looked down at your lap again, biting at the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I will.”

“Well, you’re all set. You’re free to go.” Anya closed the file and tucked it away alongside the others in her desk. “Thank you for your time, [Name]. I assume I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time as usual?”

“Same time as usual,” you echoed, beaming as you got out of your chair and left the room.

From the hallway leading to the medical bay, you could tell that the lounge was quiet now. Curly and Jimmy must have wandered off elsewhere. It would have been completely silent if it weren’t for the subtle sound of pencil scratching coming from deeper within. As you entered the room you noticed Daisuke, hunched over the table as he sketched something in his sketchbook. Completely oblivious. You leaned against the doorway and watched from a distance for a moment, admiring as he tucked a tuft of fried brown hair behind his ear. 

“What are you drawing?” you questioned.

Daisuke jumped in his seat like a cat that had been snuck up on. His eyes shot to you, the surprise he felt immediately quelling into a tenuous excitement. He hastily closed his sketchbook —almost like he was hiding something— and smoothed out his hair. His mouth broke out into a wide, infectious smile, the gap in his two front teeth a thin ravine and the dimples on either side of his mouth tiny sinkholes.

“Me? Oh, y’know, just doodling,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if trying to act casual. “Where ya been? I couldn’t find- I mean, I didn’t see you back in the cockpit.”

“Psych eval.” You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb as you pushed yourself from the doorframe. “Can I see it?” you asked, walking up to the table and taking the seat across from him.

“Uhh… see what?” Daisuke asked in turn, voice coy and simultaneously flustered.

“Your doodles,” you responded with a laugh. “Only if you’re okay with that, obviously.”

“Oh! I mean, yeah. That’s like, totally fine. But, fair warning, they’re not that incredible or anything.” Reluctantly, Daisuke passed you his sketchbook. He looked rather bashful, cheeks slightly flushed and smile wavering.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’ve seen your stuff on Anya’s corkboard. You’re really good.” You took the sketchbook in your hands, looking down at the cover of it. It was absolutely littered in a random assortment of stickers. Only through the few and far between gaps could you see that it was once a pure black. It looked much cooler now decorated with the various games, bands, and whatever else Daisuke liked. “Are you sure you don’t mind me looking? Again, it’s perfectly fine if you changed your mind.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Just don’t expect too much, ‘kay?” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

“No expectations,” you agreed.

You turned over the cover, revealing the first page. In red ink you read ‘if found please return to Daisuke, thank youuuuuu’, alongside it was a doodle of himself looking particularly grateful. Or maybe he was pleading. You chuckled under your breath and began flipping through the rest of the pages. Each one was filled with sketches and those increasingly familiar doodles of predominantly other people. Friends, maybe family, and characters from the different games he liked. His work wasn’t quite realistic, but not the most stylized either. Rather, it seemed to be a perfect mix of the two. Something entirely unique to him. To Daisuke.

The deeper you got into the book you started to spy familiar faces. Captain Curly, Swansea, Anya, even Jimmy, but mostly you. You glanced up at him, seeing that he was seemingly avoiding eye contact with you all together. His hand was still tangled within his hair, head turned to the side, and lips knitted into a fine line. That mole —high on his left cheek— stared at you more than his own eyes.

When you finally got to the last page you realized he hadn’t been doodling at all. Instead, there before you, in soft pencil sketching, was a portrait of you that Daisuke had drawn from memory. It wasn’t perfect, but it was incredibly detailed nevertheless. You held up the book, taking in the details with a look of awe on your face. He captured all of your little imperfections —the tilt of your eyes, the quirk in your smile, all of it. 

“Daisuke, these are actually so good!” you exclaimed, setting the book down and passing it back to him.

“You… you really think so?” He let out a breath of relief, finally looking at you again. “Man, I thought you would find them totally weird. I’ve been too scared to show anyone else but Anya.”

“Why would I think they’re weird?” you asked.

“Shit, I dunno…” Daisuke trailed off.

You shook your head. “You’re really talented.”

“I- Thank you,” he breathed. Daisuke’s face softened as you looked at him from across the table. The flush in his cheeks was barely noticeable, a fair pink dusting the peaks of his features. “Hey, I noticed you brought a Walkman on board with you. I never thought I’d actually see one of those things in the flesh.”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed lightly. “It was a gift from my mom. It’s outdated as hell, but I’ve got a bunch of custom tapes back in my room. We should totally listen to them sometime.”

“Are you kidding? Dude, I’d love to-”

“Daisuke!” Swansea called from down the hall, cutting him off. He rounded the corner, sticking his head into the lounge with a sweaty brow. “There you are. Get your ass up, break time’s over. We’ve got work to finish up before dinner.”

Daisuke looked noticeably disappointed at the sight of Swansea. “But I-”

“No ‘buts’. C’mon now, I don’t have all day,” Swansea said with a huff before he turned around, walking back toward the utility room.

“Coming,” Daisuke sighed. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm with a slight frown. “Guess I’ll see ya later, [Name].”

“Yeah! I’ve got to show you some of my mixes, remember?” you responded sweetly, smiling up at him.

Daisuke nodded enthusiastically. As he left the room, he adopted a pep in his step. A smile was glued to his face as he beamed down the hall. The human embodiment of sunshine in that moment.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

previous part: here

next part: here

[moomine]

backwash | daisuke

author's note: part one of a future series... the mouthwashing brainrot is real... if you want to be part of a taglist for future updates feel free to reply or dm me! (cover image credit)

summary: (daisuke x f!reader) The first day on the Tulpar is short as the reader and the rest of the crew adjust to their new day-to-day life in space. While settling in, she gravitates to Daisuke, the ship's impromptu intern, during a brief but meaningful encounter

word count: 1,153

warnings: no trigger warnings! all characters are 18+

now playing: Mook - "Malmo"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

EMPLOYEE STATEMENT 001—

My mom wasn’t happy I accepted this job. She knows —like all of us do— that space transit is a dying market. She said: “It’s all automated now. People don’t belong out there anyway.” And yet, Pony Express is still afloat, despite it all. Why did I want to go? I don’t really know. This is all I seem to understand. I mean, what the hell else am I supposed to do with this degree? With my piloting certification? This has been my dream my entire life. If you can tell me that there’s anything better, then, please, let me know. I know I’m under contract now, and there’s no backing out. I don’t plan on it. This is what I love, isn’t it?

DAY ONE—

You would never forget the feeling of the Tulpar taking off. The shaking. The back and forth of force and resistance rocking the old ship as it exited Earth’s atmosphere, launching itself into space. It was similar to riding a rollercoaster. The build up in your torso as your stomach seemed to rise, lifting up and up until it felt like it was bulging at the base of your throat. Then it fell deep into your belly, as if trying to push itself out of your body all together, tipping over the peak of a tall slope. After a moment of nausea, there was nothing. A staggering stillness as the ship settled within the embrace of zero gravity. The persistent rocking ceased. The whining of metal warping hushed to a whisper, and then into a chilling silence. The adrenaline which had built up blended with something else. Something almost euphoric.

The cockpit was a sickly green, illuminated by the various nearby screens that signaled the take-off was a success. Under the tight grip of your seat belt, you shifted in your chair, attempting to loosen the rough fabric fastens.

Captain Curly leaned into the microphone and spoke over the intercom: “All right, folks. Thank you for flying with Pony Express,” he laughed at his own joke. “You’re free to walk around and get yourself acquainted with our lovely ship. Afterall, she’ll be housing us for another three hundred eighty one days. Let’s make this haul a good one. Cheers.”

He looked over his shoulder from where he sat, a proud smile gracing his lips. It was an almost cocky expression. He appeared proud of himself, maybe even happy to get to show off in front of a new pilot.

“How was that?” Curly asked in your direction.

“Incredible,” you said breathlessly. Your eyes were still wide from the excitement.

The pilot let out a low belly laugh. His smile stretched from ear to ear. “Always happy to please.” He turned to his co-pilot, Jimmy, whose face was almost as green as the screens that surrounded you. “How about you, Jim? Doing okay?”

“Never better,” Jimmy croaked, his eyes closed as he focused on not being sick.

Curly’s smile transformed into a smirk. A rough, friendly hand landed on Jimmy’s shoulder as Curly gave it a good squeeze.

“Still acting like a first time flier,” Curly teased him, eyes flicking back to you. “Go ahead and get settled in. Make some friends. All of that good stuff. Tomorrow the real work begins.”

“Right. Thank you.” You nodded in response. There was a quiet click as you unfastened your seatbelt and stood up straight. Your legs swayed beneath you, still adjusting to the feeling of being upright again.

The walk to the sleeping quarters from the cockpit was a short one. As you ventured down the hall —drawn deeper within the belly of the Tulpar by the sound of distant conversation— the rib-like pipes groaned as if greeting you. The door opened with a low hiss, revealing a short hallway with two rooms on either side and one at the end of the hall. In comparison to the cold, metallic halls from room to room, the sleeping quarters were a warm and welcoming sight. Out-dated wood paneling stretched up the walls, the floor a tacky linoleum in a similar tone. Inside of that tiny hallway, you started to forget you were on the ship at all.

“Listen, kid.” You saw an older man, Swansea, standing in a doorway, his north-eastern accent heavy as he spoke. “It’s all right to take it easy today, but tomorrow I’m gonna need you to take this seriously. It won’t be all coloring books and cartoons out here, you understand?”

“You got it, sir! You won’t have to worry about me one bit, I’m pretty self sufficient. Y’know, my friends back home say I’m the best-” Another younger voice spoke from inside of the room before quickly getting cut off.

“I don’t need your life’s story, kid. I just need you to pull your weight,” Swansea said.

You walked down the hall quietly, trying not to disturb the two as they continued back and forth. Each door had a last name displayed on the front, with yours at the very end of the hall. As you passed, Swansea looked over his shoulder at you and offered a small nod of acknowledgement. Just past him, you could see Daisuke who stood in the middle of his room, saying something about how he would do his best.

Daisuke’s gaze shifted from the older man in his doorway to you. Although it was only for a moment, his eyes seemed locked on yours as a soft smile spread on his lips. He stopped what he was saying, and raised a hand to wave at you. A short, but sweet gesture, which you happily returned.

“We’ll see about that,” Swansea spoke up, grabbing Daisuke’s attention once more. “I’m gonna nap until dinner’s ready. Your first task is to leave me the hell alone. Think you can do that?”

“No problemo,” Daisuke responded. He raised his hands into finger guns, shooting two shots at Swansea.

Shaking his head, the older man rolled his eyes while trying to suppress his obvious annoyance. “God, what did I get myself into…”

You entered your room as Swansea entered his, closing your door behind you. The room glowed with soft, yellow light. It was small, and almost clinical, but somehow cozy at the same time. In one corner sat a twin sized bed with a red blanket and golden sheets, and in the other was a mid-century dresser. Your bags and belongings rested in a less than neat pile in the middle of the room, clearly shaken from take off.

The high of your adrenaline had fizzled out significantly. Although you knew it would be wise to finish unpacking, your head felt heavy and your body ached, yearning to lay down for a bit. You kicked off your boots and crawled on top of the scarlet comforter. Before you knew it, you were like old Swansea, napping just before dinner.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

next part: here

[moomine]

drunk words | warren graham

(cover image credit)

summary: (warrengraham x reader) Part II to "sober thoughts". The morning after the Vortex Club party, you and Warren get breakfast together at the Two Whales.

word count: 2,143

warnings: no trigger warnings (just fluff here)! all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "House of Cards"

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Warren woke up Friday the thirteenth with a pounding headache and vision so blurry he considered scheduling an eye appointment. He found it fitting, as a film buff, that on this day of all days he’d wake up with the worst hangover of his life. The soft morning light that crept through his blinds made it hard for him to see, his eyes squeezed shut as he slowly sat up in bed. He looked around the room, trying to ground himself as his mind came back to him. His dorm was exactly as he left it before going to the Vortex Club party. Piles of unfolded clean and dirty laundry were strewn across the floor, papers and books cluttered his desk, and his laptop was asleep on his futon with harddrive plugged in, still open from the movie he started before the evening began.

His gaze wandered around the room before settling on his nightstand. A bottle of room temperature water and two Tylenol sat side by side. Warren’s head throbbed as he reached for the pills, quickly popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the water. It tasted faintly of plastic, but at that moment it was the most delicious thing he had ever drunk. In a matter of seconds, the bottle was empty and the boy was trying to get every last drop from its plastic vessel. Alongside his saving grace was his phone, plugged in and face down. A wave of anxiety crashed against his back as he swallowed the last sip of water, reaching out to pick it up and check it.

It was almost exactly what he had expected, practically nothing. Nothing other than a few texts from you…

good morning! :))

i’ll be coming down around 10:30 to make sure you’re still alive

also i hope you haven’t forgotten about breakfast bc that’s still happening, k?

Warren’s eyes immediately darted to the time at the top of his phone screen, only widening when he saw it was already 10:28. He shot out of bed in a frenzy, stumbling to his feet and quickly grabbing whatever he could find to wear on the floor. The pounding in his head was slowly but surely going away. He picked up a graphic tee that he knew you liked and smelled it, making sure it was clean. It’ll do, he thought, pulling the soft cotton shirt over his head. Your footsteps could be heard as he scrambled to grab a pair of wrinkled jeans, hopping around his room as he clumsily pulled them to his hips. With one hand he zipped and buttoned his jeans, with the other he grabbed a pair of socks and shoes. Warren slid to the ground and quickly put a sock on either foot, then slipped on his Chucks before tying them securely around his feet. A knock to the tune of the Doctor Who theme song sounded from just beyond the door as grabbed a button down, putting it on as quickly as he could.

“Warren?” Your voice called, causing the boy to freeze in place. “You up or what? One of Joyce’s mushroom stuffed omelets is calling your name!”

His eyes wandered over his body one last time, turning his attention to the mirror beside the door. He looked okay, or at least as okay as someone who was disgustingly hungover could look. Then it hit him that he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet, and he raised a hand, breathing into his palm, before grimacing at the funk that wafted from his mouth. Shit.

“If you’re dead don’t say anything!” You shouted from the other side of the door, clearly teasing the poor boy.

“Not dead,” Warren called back with a small frown, reluctantly getting the door. As it swung open his eyes met yours with a faint flush in his cheeks. “Unfortunately.”

You shamelessly eyed Warren up and down, noticing his slightly disheveled appearance and the characteristically common bags under his eyes that appeared slightly darker than usual. A sympathetic smile spread along your lips as you reached out to straighten his shirt and button-up, smoothing the wrinkled material to the best of your capabilities.

“I’m glad you made it through the night,” you laughed. “How are you feeling?”

“Straight out of Night of the Living Dead. Remind me to never drink that much again,” Warren said, rubbing the back of his neck shamefully.

“I bet. Let’s get some grease in your system, okay? You’ll feel a lot better with some food absorbing that crap.” Your voice was probably the most incredible thing he could have heard first thing in the morning, with your laugh being a close second. “I’m gonna get the car started, and give you a chance to finish getting ready,” you said, waving a hand over your nose in a teasing fashion. “Meet me in the parking lot in fifteen?”

Warren let out an embarrassed chuckle, nodding as you spoke. “Yeah, sorry about that… I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, zombie boy.” 

With that you turned on your heels and made your way toward the front door. Warren stepped out of his room and watched you as you left, respectfully disrespectfully appreciating the way your hips swayed with each step you took. He gathered his things and grabbed his toothbrush, making his way for the showers so he could brush his teeth. As he finished getting ready, the events of the night before started to haunt him. Each memory hit him like a truck, a head-on collision of embarrassment and shame. Anxiety that Warren hadn’t felt since middle school crept behind him, clinging to his back like some kind of demonic presence. Once he felt adequately prepared to face you again, he left the dorms and walked to the parking lot, happy to see you standing beside your old beater.

You immediately perked up as he approached, a warm smile ear to ear on your face. “There you are,” you chimed. “Right on schedule. Color me impressed, I thought I’d be waiting for you forever.”

“I aim to please.” Warren’s voice cracked as he spoke.

“Let’s get this show on the road. I’m sure you’re starving,” you said, laughing it off like it was no big deal. It really wasn’t, you had known Warren during the depths of his puberty and well after it. The two of you were friends with pimply faces and raging hormones alike. It seemed like nothing he could do would really phase you, not after the time you’d spent together.

Warren walked up to the driver’s side door, catching you off guard, and held it open for you. If he wasn’t so hungover, the boy would have insisted he drove the two of you in his own tin can, but for today he’d have to settle himself in the passenger seat. He knew you liked to drive anyway. You offered him a tender smile before sliding into the plush seat, feeling your cheeks burn as he closed the door behind you and ventured tiredly around the car. Once you were both settled and buckled in, you started the car and pulled out of the Blackwell parking lot, heading for pancakes and bacon along the coastal road.

The Two Whales wasn’t far at all, but the ride there felt longer than usual, filled with awkward silence occasionally interrupted with brief and pointless small talk. Warren’s memories came trickling back to the front of his consciousness, as all of it slowly revealed itself to him in choppy cuts. A series of blurry scenes came into his mind tauntingly, his own words feeling particularly regrettable. It was all starting to feel like a nightmare until he remembered your own words. You liked him too. The thought alone was enough to make his heart soar and stomach do backflips.

As you parked the car again, this time outside of the diner, Warren looked over at you with a sheepish smile. “Hey, look, about last night… I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, reaching over to put a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to say anything. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

The tension in Warren’s shoulders seemed to relax as you comforted him. Subconsciously, he leaned into your touch, savoring it like the last bite of his favorite meal.

“I think I do. I mean, that was bad, and you deserve some kind of apology,” he insisted.

“You can buy my breakfast. How does that sound?” you asked. You gave his arm a small squeeze before you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the car.

Warren followed your lead, closing the passenger side door behind him and jogging to your side. “Deal,” he said with a laugh.

Cool air brushed against your faces as the two of you walked inside the Two Whales. A Top 40s country song played from the jukebox quietly in the background, muffled under the sound of indistinct chatter and the clanging commotion of the kitchen. You scanned the lobby, pleased to see your typical booth was empty and tidy. The two of you walked up to the table and slid into the tacky, faux-leather seats, making yourselves comfortable within the easy-going atmosphere of the diner.

Warren looked over at you from across the table and couldn’t help but wonder what was going through your head. You were acting so nonchalant, so cool about everything that happened. It was driving him crazy, teetering on edge of whether to say something and risk killing the vibe or let this just be a good moment. Two friends grabbing breakfast after a crazy night. Nothing more, nothing less.

“You okay?” you asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking.” His words came out hastily. A jumbled mess of thoughts all blurred together, coming from a boy whose brain was clearly scrambled.

You tilted your head, a clear sign that you weren’t believing a second of it. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

Warren sighed and nodded almost immediately. “Please? It’s been eating me up inside.”

“I could tell,” you said lightheartedly.

“Can we just do all of that over again? Fresh start, clean slate. A total Groundhog Day.” His face softened as he spoke. The intensity that once conquered his otherwise soft features started to fade away as he looked at you. Despite his nervousness, you were still able to calm him. With a small laugh, you nodded and allowed him to continue. 

“Okay… Here goes nothing,” Warren said, sitting up straight. There was a brief moment of silence as Warren gathered his thoughts, his mind still clouded from his hangover. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. We’ve… we’ve been friends for so long, and you mean so much to me. You make me feel like more than some cliche science nerd. Like, you see me for me? You know? I don’t know what I’m saying… This is just going terribly.” He took a deep breath. “I like you. Like, as more than a friend. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I’m too bad with words to explain that any better.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but were quickly interrupted. “And I want to take you on a real date! Something a little more romantic than breakfast at the Two Whales. Not that I think this is a bad date! I mean, I’m really fucking happy you asked me out at all. That’s crazy-”

“Warren,” you said, butting in with a tender, reassuring look on your face. “Slow down, all right? I would love to go on a proper date with you.” 

You reached across the table, taking his clammy hands in your own. He looked down at your hands on his, and he smiled instantly. It was like all of the tension in his body had disappeared, evaporated into steam and wafted away.

“All right, you two.” Joyce dropped two menus onto the table with a hint of pride in her voice. “Why don’t we stop ‘canoodling’ and think about what we want to eat?”

Warren froze, feeling his cheeks burn so hot he thought his face might light on fire. The sound of Joyce’s kitten heels tapping against the linoleum floor was deafeningly loud to the two of you. You looked back to Warren, smiling from ear to ear, and he did the same. Warren had completely forgotten about his hangover, the Vortex Club party, and his behavior from the night before. The world around you seemed to disappear as you two looked at one another, staring into each other’s eyes with so much affection it was nauseating. Neither of you cared. That was quite possibly the happiest either of you had been since the semester began.

[moomine]

come with me | jesper the guard

author's note: psa! this is total self-indulgence... the jesper the guard follower mod/skyrim guard tales literally have me giggling and kicking my feet (cover image credit)

summary: (jespertheguard x dragonborn!reader) (she/her pronouns) After the reader discovers she's the Dragonborn she bonds with Jesper, a Whiterun guard that understands her. The Dragonborn returns to Whiterun after a long time of adventuring and convinces him to leave the city and come with her.

word count: 1,627

warnings: mentions of blood/bloodshed, trauma very briefly explored (mostly fluff here)! all characters are 18+

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As of late, Jesper’s watchful eye felt less and less inquisitive and more so on the side of admiration. Underneath the protective sheath of his helmet, the young guard watched as you walked throughout Whiterun in awe. Upon your initial arrival, he was unsure of you. Who wouldn’t have been off-put by a young woman —dressed in ill-fitting Imperial armor, covered in scrapes and bruises, approaching the city gates with a dire look in her eyes? Better yet, someone who claimed she had information about the dragon attack on Helgen.

Within a short period of time, your name began to carry weight around Whiterun, and the word of the last Dragonborn consumed the entirety of Skyrim. Everyone, man and beast alike, sang praise of the rise of a new hero. Nobody saw you as the woman you truly were, a woman thrusted into a life of adventure and risk without much experience with either. Other than Jesper.

He was used to being overlooked, and when he was noticed it was typically at his own expense. The rest of the Whiterun guard took pleasure in tormenting him. Most of the time they were harmless pranks, just enough to make poor Jesper uncomfortable and his comrades laugh. His experiences outside of the city walls were vastly different. Maybe it was because Jesper took the time to get to know you before you absorbed that dragon’s soul, and the first cry of the Greybeards in centuries could be heard. Maybe because he took great concern at the sight of your disheveled appearance and the obvious shellshock in your eyes when he first saw you. Whatever it may have been, Jesper saw you as more than a hero. He saw you as the woman you were before your legendary quest began.

It had been a number of days since Jesper had seen your return to Whiterun, and his normal anxiety seemed to grow astronomically with each sun that set. When he finally saw you enter the Bannered Mare, seemingly unscathed but clearly exhausted, he felt a weight immediately lift from his shoulders. He watched from afar as you approached Hulda, handed her a fist full of gold, and took a chilly bottle of mead into your gloved hand. He felt his heart begin to race as you turned around and looked about the room, scanning the crowd of merry men and women chatting amongst themselves and listening to the sound of Mikael’s famously sweet lute. As your eyes met his masked face, he felt a smile spread along his lips without his knowledge. It was like an impulse. The second you saw him he felt lighter, felt seen. Somehow you always knew it was him.

You approached, armor clanging against itself as you walked, and nodded to the empty seat across from him with that tired smile of yours. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Jesper said, almost too quickly, and sat up straight.

You didn’t hesitate, dropping your heavy satchel to the floor as you sunk into the rather uncomfortable chair. A long, drawn out sigh blew through your lips. The wooden chair creaked beneath you, warping from the weight of your armor. By your reaction, Jesper would have thought that was the most comfortable chair you had ever had the pleasure to sit in. Realistically, he realized that might have been the first time you sat in a chair at all in days. Ashen logs crackled as the fire ate away at their bark flesh, filling the inn with warmth and the haunting smell of smoke. It had been several months since what happened in Helgen, but you were still tense around fire and smoke.

“You must have had quite the adventure,” he remarked with an amused voice.

“You could say that.” You sighed, popping the cork from your mead before taking a long gulp of the crisp ale. “How’s Whiterun been treating you?”

Jesper grimaced under his helmet. “You really want to hear about how I’ve been? I’m worried I’d bore you to death if I told you.”

“You could never bore me. You have no idea how much I miss the simple life.”

By your expression alone, Jesper could tell you were being genuine. You looked as though you needed to hear about something other than dragons and bloodshed for once.

“They won’t let me take gate duty anymore,” he paused, turning his attention to the wooden sword sheathed at his hip. “And I’m not allowed to carry a blade either.”

Your brows furrowed instantaneously, and you sat up in your chair. “What? Why?” you asked, your gaze piercing and angry.

Jesper felt a shiver go down his spine. “I let a thief into the city. So, now I’m stuck with tavern watch. Making sure drunkards don’t break out into fist fights or harass the barmaids, and all that.”

“As if there aren’t already thieves in this city. That’s outrageous. I’ll talk to the Jarl, we’ll sort this out. I promise-”

“Don’t…” His voice was weak, quiet. “I prefer this. The other guards don’t bother me here, and Hulda’s letting me rent the attic room. It’s better this way.” His eyes fell almost shamefully back to the toy he was burdened with.

“Why do you stay here?” you asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?” he responded, taken aback by your question.

“Why stay in Whiterun? You deserve so much more than this, Jesper. You’re capable of so much more.” You placed an assertive hand on the table, an offering. An understanding. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Come with me.”

Jesper’s face softened as he looked back to you, although you couldn’t see it. “I shouldn’t… I-I mean I can’t. I have a responsibility here. My life is here, in Whiterun. If I go now I’ll be letting everyone down. My family, my brothers and sisters in arms, the Jarl, maybe even you. I can’t just give up because some of the men tease me.”

“They aren’t just teasing you, Jesper. They’re cruel.” Your tone was stern but not harsh. It held a softness you saved just for him, for the rare moments where the two of you could talk. Truly talk. “Come with me. We could go to Solitude, you could join the Bard’s College.”

Your honesty was hard for him to digest, getting stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow the bitter truth. There was little left for him in Whiterun, other than his career and barely notable status. What little he had to his name was either already on his person or overhead, tucked away in that small attic room he had come to call home. Beneath his helm, Jesper’s eyes wandered away from the intensity on your face and toward the fire as it popped, cinders rising from the flames like torchbugs in the night. Your hands tensed, fingers curling into your palms to form fists, as you suppressed a flinch.

“You remembered that?” he asked earnestly, his gaze still fixed on the flickering flames ahead.

A sweet smile crept onto your face as you leaned closer, resting your elbows on top of the table now. “How could I forget? It’s your dream, isn’t it?”

“That’s all it is,” he mumbled. “Just a dream.”

“Don’t you see? We could make it a reality. You can make it a reality,” you said gently.

“I don’t know. They’ll consider me a deserter, you know? I’ll never be allowed within the city walls again.” The discouragement in his tone was starting to become disappointingly familiar to you.

You reached across the table and placed a kindly hand on his shoulder. “You, my friend, are fortunate enough to know the Thane of Whiterun, remember? It pays off to have friends in high places, huh?” 

There was truth to what you were saying, but it was clear to Jesper that you were trying to ease his worries through humor. Since your arrival, he finally had a bit of influence in the city. Although, it was worthless without you physically there to back him up.

Silence fell over the two of you as you stared at one another. Mikael plucked the strings of his lute softly and the commotion of story-telling and conversation echoed throughout the room. Jesper weighed his options, grateful that the conflicted look that surely took over his face was hidden behind the veil of his helmet. After a long moment, he finally nodded, seeming far more sure of himself than before.

“Yeah, okay. If… if you’re certain, then I’ll come with you.” His voice was higher, more excited than before.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” you replied. 

Your face was lit up like the nearby fire, spreading warmth to Jesper’s cheeks as they flushed. Almost reluctantly, you peeled your eyes away from his face as you took one last swig from your bottle. The chair beneath you croaked as you pushed it back, scratching against the stone below. You came to your feet swiftly, despite how clearly fatigued you were. Jesper couldn’t help but frown as he watched you stand.

“Where are you going? The… the night’s still young,” he questioned. He didn’t want the night to end, to stop talking to you.

You smiled tenderly as you looked down at him. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve had a proper night's sleep in days.” You bent over, grabbing your satchel and the rest of your equipment. “I expect to see you by the stables at sunrise. It’s a long ride to Solitude.”

“I’ll be there!” Jesper replied eagerly, watching as you walked away with a gleam in his eyes. You turned to him one last time with an affectionate smile, then closed the door to your room. “I promise,” he mumbled.

[moomine]

sober thoughts | warren graham

(cover image credit)

summary: (drunk!warrengraham x sober!reader) You and Warren have been friends long before getting accepted to Blackwell Academy. One night, you find Warren drunk after a vortex club party, and make sure he gets home safely. Little do the two of you know, you're both interested in being more than just friends.

word count: 2,577

warnings: no trigger warnings (just fluff here)! all characters are 18+

now playing: Radiohead - "Thinking About You"

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Once a week, the evening at Blackwell Academy was consumed by loud, bumping house music and drunken teenagers partying like it was their last day on Earth. The Vortex Club, Blackwell's royal family, would commandeer the swimming pool to host their lavish soirees. You had been to a couple, but the noise and the smell of drunk, sweaty teens quickly became unappealing. As the semesters went on, you started leaving campus to avoid the events altogether, deciding to occupy your time studying at the public library, grabbing breakfast for dinner at the Two Whales, or walking the beach. Anything that sounded remotely more interesting.

That night was different. It seemed like you were the only person who didn't want to attend tonight's party, let alone be anywhere near campus. Around 11:30 at night, you decided to pack up your things and return to the dorms for bed. As you pulled into the parking lot of Blackwell, you could already hear the loud music and ever-familiar chatter. you parked your car and turned off the ignition, stepping out into the cool September night air with a slight shiver. The music was intolerably loud, and you realized that, regardless of the time and your distance from the school, you'd still hear it faintly in your dorm that night.

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair as you looked around the parking lot at students coming and going from the party. In the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar figure, Warren Graham, sitting on the curb, curled in on himself with his head in his arms.

You and Warren had been friends for a while. Science and math were never your strong suit, unlike him. You much preferred writing and the arts to experiments and calculations. When you were freshmen, he helped you when you started to fail biology, tutoring you after school and being your buddy in class. After that, you two started hanging out from time to time. You watched movies, talked about video games and comics, and bonded over your mutual fade-into-the-background-ness back at your home school and, unfortunately, when you guys were accepted to Blackwell as well. However, Warren never faded into the background for you. Even before the two of you became friends, you noticed his presence very quickly. When the sight of his nose wrinkling while he laughed made your heart skip a beat, you realized that maybe you liked him as more than just a friend.

Your expression softened as you approached him. Whatever negativity you harbored toward the party was washed away, now replaced by worry and concern for the boy sitting alone.

"Hey, Warren," you said, softly, crouching to his level. "You okay?"

It was like your words stirred Warren back to consciousness. Not necessarily that he was asleep, but rather that he wasn't all there. Like he was sinking into the ground and hearing your voice was enough to bring him closer to the surface again. He lifted his head like it was too heavy for his neck to support, almost immediately using his shoulder as a rest for his head of dirt-colored hair. A tender, excited smile stretched across his thin lips, making his eyes crinkle ever so slightly and his cheeks lifted with happiness. He looked tired, but behind the fogginess in his eyes, you could see he was happy to see you.

"Hey, you..." he slurred as he tried to sit up a little straighter. "I'm much better now." His words dragged, dripping from his lips in a sing-song, honeyed tone.

You smiled. "Oh yeah? How much have you had to drink?"

Warren looked off for a moment, staring past you rather than directly at you. Slowly, the gears in his head were starting to turn, twisting with each other as he traced his memory back for each shot he had taken along with the handful of beers he had either sipped on or shotgunned. The boy who was usually so good at math was struggling to work out simple addition, the alcohol hindering his intelligence. He looked down at his hands, now counting out on his fingers before he stuck both of them up in the air with a proud smile. While holding down his pointer finger with his thumb on one hand, he expertly determined he had had about eight drinks (which was most certainly a vast overestimation on his part). Your eyes widened at the realization, shaking your head with a sigh.

"That's... a lot," you paused, "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I feel funny. But not bad funny," Warren started, leaning in as his voice dropped to a loud whisper. "I'm so happy you're here. I missed you."

Your cheeks flushed a subtle pink. Under the light of sparse street lamps in the parking lot, it was hard to see but you could certainly feel it. Heat rose through your body as he leaned in. You swallowed, your throat suddenly feeling extremely dry.

"I missed you too." Your tone was soft and genuine. You tried your best to hide your flusteredness, but you knew you were failing. At least he was wasted, you thought. There was no chance Warren could tell in the state he was in. "How about we get you to your dorm?"

The boy huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. "Noooo... I don't want the night to end. I'm not even tired."

"You don't have to go to bed, silly," you tried to convince him. "I just thought you'd want to get out of this boring parking lot."

"Can we watch a movie?" His eyes lit up as he spoke, and his hands found your shoulders.

You nodded with an amused smile, and your body rocked as he shook you. "Sure thing, whatever you want to watch. Now, let's get you up, okay?"

You reached for Warren's hands, taking them in your own as you came to your feet. With a good pull, you were able to get him clumsily on his own. Warren swayed from side to side as he tried to gain his balance again, rocking on his heels.

"You got it?" you asked, keeping your hands out to catch him in case he fell.

"I think so," Warren mumbled, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder to balance himself.

"Here, I got you," you started as you pulled his arm around your shoulders. "We'll do it together."

"You're the best. I'm so lucky you're my friend," he mumbled. His head rested against yours like a heavy stone.

A small laugh slipped through your lips and you nodded —once again grateful for the darkness cloaking your flushed face, as you two started your walk to the boy’s dormitories. With each step you took, Warren struggled to keep himself up, leaning against your body as he put his full weight on you.

"I wish you would have gone..." he murmured, staring ahead with a blank expression.

"Gone where?" you asked.

Warren waved haphazardly with his other hand, trying to motion back to the noise behind you guys. "The party, duh."

You tried to look up at him but couldn't, his head keeping you from meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you wanted me there."

"I only ever want to see you," Warren slurred.

Your eyes widened at his words, but you shook it off. You reminded yourself that he was drunk and not completely in control of his words. Plus, Warren was known to be a bit of a drama queen.

"What if I go to the next one with you? Would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah." Within an instant, his tone became lighter, happier.

The music grew quieter the further you got from the party. Straggling students lingered around the courtyard before the dorms, talking amongst each other and seemingly enjoying a break from the excitement of the party. Cricket's song and the breeze through tree branches created an atmosphere that was far more relaxing within the night air. It felt like a whole other world in comparison to the flashing lights and chaos several feet away.

You two sunk into the dorms, and the warmth from inside wrapped around you like an inviting hug. It was close to silent within the hallway as you approached Warren's dorm room.

You reached for the door handle, the knob not budging as you attempted to open the door. "You have your key, right?"

Warren hummed in acknowledgment. He dug into his pocket, lazily pulled the key from his jeans, and handed it to you. You unlocked the door and walked him inside, leading him to his bed so he could sit down. The room was dark before you turned on his bedside lamp. Warren was very much a no-overhead-light-ever kind of person, something we had in common. Warm yellow light illuminated the small space once the lamp was switched on. Along his brick walls were posters of comic book characters, bands, and his favorite movies. A mess of loose papers and clothing was scattered across the floor. As per usual, Warren's room was a wreck but not disgusting. Sure, he'd leave dirty clothes on his floor, but any food waste he had was quickly and efficiently thrown out.

On his windowsill was a line of nursery pots, all with individual tabs labeled with different notes and specimens. Must be an experiment for one of his classes, you thought. His desk was covered in notebooks and textbooks alike, both marked up with sticky notes with some containing actual notes and others being doodles depicting his agony with chemistry. You laughed a little at the sight of it.

Warren let out a soft, content sigh from behind you as he eased himself into his bed. He looked over at you with a lopsided grin. "I haven't thought about the periodic table once tonight. Can you believe that?"

"I can actually. I'm surprised you can think at all after all you've had to drink," you teased, taking a seat beside him on the edge of his mattress. You reached over to untie his Chucks, pulling them from his feet and tossing them to the ground. There was no way you were going to change him, but the least you could do was help him get a little more comfortable.

He sat up beside you, laughing as you picked fun at him. "Hey... can I tell you something?"

You turned to face him and realized he was much closer than you had thought he would be, his face less than a foot away from yours. Your throat went dry as a desert, and you swallowed in an attempt to wet it.

"Of course," you nodded. "You can tell me anything."

"You promise?" Warren mumbled, averting his eyes from yours and focusing on the ground instead. His face was slightly flushed, his freckled cheeks dusted a soft pink.

"I promise." you reaffirmed, looking him up and down questioningly.

"There's been something I've been wanting to tell you, but I've always felt too..." he trailed off, his voice wavering. The alcohol on his breath served as a reminder of just how drunk he really was. "I've always been too nervous to say anything. But I'm not right now."

"Warren, you're drunk," you said, trying to deter him from continuing. A part of you wanted so desperately to know what he had to say, but you knew that once he was sober he'd likely regret telling you. If he'd even remember at all, that was.

Warren whined in a not-so-quiet protest. "I'm not that drunk. I'm feeling pretty sober now."

"You're wasted." You shook your head immediately.

"Please." He leaned in, his face once again rapidly growing closer and closer to yours. "Just let me finish."

Your eyes trailed over his face, fixating on his eyes and his lips. The warm brown of his irises was so inviting and only popped more in contrast to the dark circles forming under his eyes. They were like a warm, light cup of coffee first thing in the morning. His lips were stuck in a small pout of desperation. It was like he had been dying to let something off his chest, like once he said what he needed to everything would be okay forever. Or maybe it wouldn't, but it seemed like that was a risk he was willing to take.

"Warren, I..." The words felt caught in your throat, clinging to your dry tongue for dear life.

"Please," Warren pleaded, staring directly into your eyes now. "I like you. I have for so long and it's been eating me up inside." His words came out in a rushed flurry of emotion. He looked at you intensely, his eyes overflowing with admiration and something you couldn't quite place. "You don't have to say anything... Hell, you don't even have to like me back. I just wanted to tell you..."

"Hey, hey, hey. Slow down," you said, putting a hand on his knee to grab his attention.

Warren's eyes dropped from yours to your hand. His lips parted as he fell silent, staring back at you with uncertainty abundantly clear all over his face. The alcohol in his system made him feel more confident, but not so much that he didn't care about what happened next. You felt bad watching him sit there at the edge of his seat.

"Maybe we should talk about this in the morning? Y'know, when you're more clear-head—" Warren cut you off before you were able to finish.

"No," he insisted, looking you dead in your eyes. "I mean it. You... you gotta believe me."

"I do," you said as you leaned in closer. "I like you too."

"What?"

"I said I like you too." You smiled at him, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. "But right now you're drunk and it's late, and I think we should talk about it more tomorrow, okay? What if we grab breakfast at Two Whales in the morning? Like a date."

"You... you wanna go on a date with me?" Warren's expression was priceless, filled with excitement and disbelief.

You nodded. "Of course I do. The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner we can. So you better get some shut-eye, got it?"

Without a word, Warren was lying on his back and struggling to get under his covers. You couldn't help but laugh as you stood up, leaning over once he was all tucked in and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. His breath hitched and he giggled like a little girl. As Warren started dozing off you searched around the room and situated a quick "hangover kit" for him on his nightstand. He was going to need it in the morning.

"Goodnight, Warren," you said, heading for the door. "Sleep on your side, okay?"

He hummed and turned over so he was facing you. The fight to stay awake was quickly becoming too much for him as his eyes began to slowly flutter closed. "Mhm, goodnight..."

Your gaze drifted to him once more before you stepped out of the room, closing the door behind you. As you walked up the stairs to your dorm, you felt your heart start to swell thinking about the fact that the Warren Graham liked you too. And that you were going on a date with him tomorrow morning. Maybe those Vortex Club parties weren't all bad after all.