#MAYBE three would actually try to help him get better three wasn’t as soft as ten but it’s just possible | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ode2rin · 25 days

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1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

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“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is.

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.”

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.”

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

#☁️ my ode to you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock imagines #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x you #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #michael kaiser #blue lock fluff #first milestone event!#writing: 004

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icallhimjoey · 1 month

Text

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: the first cracks; they're here - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was silly. Joe was being silly.

He knew it, and felt so stupid for it. Like, in hindsight, the worrying felt so dumb. The constant milling shit over didn’t change anything, there was no real point to it. Although, maybe you being on his mind in this... new manner was what summoned you last night.

You just showed up, talking about a crazy day, no sad pouts, no needy touches. Just jittery movements and a lot to tell him.

Joe kind of sat back on his sofa, spread out and leaning into his left elbow and watched you pace around his lounge. Something about something a colleague had said that then turned out to be lies and you found out something by overhearing a phone call you weren’t meant to overhear – Joe was barely following along. Didn’t really try his best to, if he was honest.

He was moreso paying attention to what you were actually doing – were you even aware that you had started grabbing random things he had left lying around on his coffee table, on the kitchen island, on the counters, and one by one, put everything away where it was meant to go?

Joe pursed a smile as he realised you knew exactly where everything went. Why did that make his chest ache in the best of ways?

This new casual form of intimacy seemed so small, but Joe felt how it smothered that little grain of doubt that resided in his chest. That little grain that had convinced him that you were probably going to fall into a new routine with your new flatmate after he moved in and, then you would probably grow close to him and Joe knew how you... no.

No.

He couldn’t think that.

It wasn’t fair on you. He caught himself trying to finish the thought a lot, but he knew it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t true. He didn’t even fully believe it. It was this thing. Still, he also couldn’t help how it simultaneously made him grow a little more possessive and made him want to prepare for the worst.

But, she was here, he had to remind himself.

She’s here.

And she was wandering around his space, letting her train of thought flow freely from her brain into his living room and he used to witness this all the time when you lived together still. Joe realised he’d actually missed it a lot, and wasn’t that the whole point? That he got to miss you now?

God, Joe missed you a lot and you were right there and he could just burst at the seams at how fucking lucky he felt.

He was a just normal guy in a normal flat with a normal relationship– well, normalish relationship, anyway. Not that you had talked about anything yet. Of course you hadn’t. But it was pretty fucking obvious what this was. So he had started shrugging whenever someone would ask if you were actually together, which felt a lot better than the forever, “No, we’re flatmates, what are you talking about?” he used to throw at people, practically gaslighting them out of whatever they thought they’d witnessed between him and the girl that he used to live with.

It was working. The plan he had made, this vague idea of normalcy; it was working out the way he had wanted it to.

And yea, sure, you were getting a new flatmate and Joe had a difficult time not feeling some type of way about that, but, he had made the decision to move out and, look at you now.

“Do you think I can get a raise out of this? Or at least get a weird bonus, mid-term?”

Joe had a hard time not laughing at your question as he saw you had already mentally moved onto something else. You were stood in the middle of the room, both hands on your hips, eyes scanning the room. Everything tidy and organised.

“Joe, when did you last clean?”

Joe followed your gaze up into one of the corners of the ceiling.

“I cleaned today.” Joe said, knowing you’d likely not take it as an honest answer. You had lived together, remember? No fucking way was Joe ever going to feel the urge to maybe sometimes swipe a feather duster across the upper corners of his living room.

You shuddered at the thought of what resided behind his curtains there.

You sighed and tutted and turned back to Joe’s kitchen like you were going to start cleaning his fucking ceilings at half past ten at night.

“Hey, no. No, no. Stop. Will you come sit down a second? My god.” Joe huffed, feigning annoyance. When you turned on your heel and giggled as you scurried over, Joe let a laugh escape his throat just before you let yourself fall into the cushions next to him.

He hooked an arm around your neck to pull you in so he could press his nose into your cheek a second. You gladly let him, and when he held you close like that for longer than you initially thought he would, you suddenly realised you’d just been talking about yourself for twenty minutes straight.

Just barged in with unimportant thoughts on your mind that you just verbally vomited right into Joe’s space. You knew it was mostly nervous energy that was only there because your new flatmate picked up his keys earlier, which now meant there was every opportunity for someone to just... walk into your flat at any given time. That had unexpectedly brought on way more anxiety than you previously thought it would do.

Hence why you decided to just... escape it, and went over to Joe’s to spend the night there.

Joe was pressing his nose into your cheek and held you in place for a bit before he moved his head down, hiding into your neck a second.

“You okay?” you asked softly, head tilting down a bit.

“Mm, yea, fine.” Joe inhaled deeply, before pressing a few small kisses to the crook there and moving back to look at you the in eye. He unhooked his elbow from around your neck and placed two cupped hands on either side of your face, swiping bits of hair back in the process.

Joe was leant all the way back into the sofa, head squished in between two of the back cushions and you took a moment to look at each other. Joe studied your face and rubbed his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks until you grew shy.

“You look tired,” you softly said before Joe sat up a little and leant closer. It had you close your eyes just before scrunching up your nose as he kissed the very tip of it.

“I am tired.” He mused, copying your nose scrunch when you blinked your eyes open again, and Joe looked so soft. Sort of pleased with life, happy to be where he was and like he’d just had a really good productive day. He blinked slowly, eyes only half open, and looked sleepy enough to slip right into dreams the second his head would hit his pillow.

You loved him like this. His hands on you, all soft touches. Comfy and cosy and calm. Just you and him. No one else. No threat of someone randomly walking in.

This was perfect.

“Mmm, me too.” You smiled and let Joe grab one of your elbows to pull an arm across his stomach as he sat back again.

“I’m not surprised. You’ve just done a 5K as you tidied this room, I think.”

You huffed a laugh as you sank into Joe’s side, and then you sat like that in silence for a moment. No TV on. No phones in sight for some easy distraction. Just you and Joe and the view of his living room.

“Are you okay?” Joe suddenly asked, emphasis on the you, and you tried hiding the small, hitched intake of breath by quickly nodding and casually going, “Yea. Fine.”

You could feel how Joe tucked in his chin to look at you.

He waited. Wasn’t going to tell you, “No, be honest...”, but also wasn’t going to accept it and move on. It was still like that. He knew you were lying, and you knew he knew, no words shared at all.

So you sighed and took a second, and then said, “Josh picked up his key today.”

And you didn’t want to explain what that meant.

Didn’t want to tell Joe that, for a while, this existing-in-two-flats thing had just felt like a bit of a joke. Just the two of you playing and being silly about whatever you really were. You still sort of thought of him as a flatmate because he still came over all the time, and you went over to his all the time too. You existed in the same space almost just as much as before, sort of.

But now a new flatmate was actually moving in, and suddenly, it felt like reality had slapped you right across the cheek like it had done that day that Joe moved out.

You’d gotten to hide away for a lot of that.

And there was no real hiding this time around.

You couldn’t go home and pretend Joe was going to move back in eventually, because now Josh’s things were going to be all over the flat. Which was fine. Josh signed a lease. His things were allowed to be all over the place.

It was just... things were getting real now.

Shit was real.

“Which reminds me,” you suddenly piped up, pushing uncomfortable thoughts down, tucking those away for another time and place. “This is going to save you some money!”

You saw how Joe’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile as he watched how his own feet rubbed against yours. Then he caught himself and quickly furrowed his brow, saying, “No, I don’t think it works like that.”

You copied his expression, but were more confused than anything else.

“Of course it does. Josh signed the papers, he’s going to start paying rent now, you–”

“I said that I had taken care of things, didn’t I?” Joe interrupted you, fingers playing with the folds in your sleeve of the arm that rested over his stomach. “Can’t just not keep a promise like that.”

You blinked at him a second, then moved to sit up to stare at him harder. If both Joe and Josh paid rent, that basically meant that you... got to live for free for a while? That math wasn’t mathing. One plus one wasn’t equalling two here. You looked around Joe’s flat and tried to think of his own expenses, and... what the fuck was he doing?!

“Joe,”

“You’re not going to be able to talk me out of this.”

“Joe.”

Joe ignored you and faked a yawn, sped it up along with stretched out arms above his head and quickly said, “So tired. Bed?” before getting up and leaving you on his sofa as he left the room.

“You’re insane if you think I’m just going to accept that!” you called after him and heard him laugh from down the hall.

“Did you not just say you were after a weird mid-term bonus?”

And you hated how that made you smile. Made you punch one of the cushions and sink your teeth into your bottom lip begrudgingly as you forgot to breathe a second.

Joe smiled to himself too as he turned on the lights in his bathroom. It felt like he was winning a contest - there was no contest, no one to fight, not really, but, he was definitely winning.

“You coming?”

Breathe.

Calm down.

You could pretend to fight him on this once more in the morning.

Crawling into bed with Joe had its own little routine which was different from the one at yours. Different order of things, because the lay out of the flat was different.

Bathroom first. You brushed teeth together, always had to stop Joe when he washed his face too aggressively and then used your own moisturiser on him. “Just for your dry patches,” you’d always say, but would end up swiping delicate fingertips all over anyway. There’d be a snarky comment, of you using too much, of him feeling too greasy, of how he was going to stick to his pillow all night now, and then you’d always kiss him to shut him up before moving on to do your own skincare routine.

When you’d get into bed, Joe would already be in there, giving his phone a last once-over before he’d scoot down and get comfortable.

This time, however, when you walked into his bedroom, the lights were already off, and it looked like Joe was already falling asleep.

This soft man.

So sleepy.

He was all messy curls and bare arms, duvet tucked under them, curled up right in the middle of his bed. You slid in and cuddled up right behind him, hips against his bum, chest to his back.

You were right.

Joe was already falling asleep.

You pushed a leg in between his for warmth and snuck an arm around his front.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered into the skin of his shoulder which prompted Joe to grab hold of your hand and pull it into his chest so you were hugging him properly. The big spoon to his small one. Then he just hummed as you pressed a small kiss to his warm skin there.

“So crazy.” you nuzzled into his pillow, your nose rubbing his back as you did, and you felt how he ducked his head down to press a small kiss to your fingers.

You fell asleep warm, comfortable, and smiling.

You woke up in the same way.

Just on your stomach now, and with Joe’s heavy limbs slung over your body. When you turned over, it woke Joe up, and for five blissful early morning minutes, you tried crawling into each other’s skin as best you could. Breathed each other’s breath and tasted each other’s skin. Stroked hands underneath clothes and had fingers crawling into underwear, just to touch and to hold.

When you quietly asked if Joe wanted coffee, he groaned and told you to shut up. He was able to feel you giggle to that, and he could cry with how happy he felt in that moment. Why would you have to go and ruin it by getting up to go and make coffee?

“Five more minutes.”

“Mmm... it’s never just five.”

Joe sighed, “Just five.” speech slurring with early morning drowsiness and then burrowed himself into you even more.

And fine.

Joe could have five more minutes.

But then they easily turned into twenty, because they always did, and you had to eventually bribe Joe with breakfast for him to let you go so you could sit up.

“If you take a slow shower, I’ll have it ready when you finish.” You looked over your shoulder where Joe, still with his eyes closed, smiled widely. His nose was slightly red from pressing it into your skin, and his bedhead made you have to suppress a giggle that you hid by leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead before you got out.

Joe barely even felt that little grain of bad in his chest when he thought of how much he loved you.

Because he did.

Joe fucking loved you.

There was going to be a moment soon where he was just going to have to say it. It was going to spill out of him in some other way if he wouldn’t simply use the words, he just knew it.

Joe loved you as he watched through squinty eyes how you reached for a pair of white socks of his to borrow.

Loved you as he watched you pull one of his old sweaters over your head before you walked out, bare legs still on show.

Loved you when he stepped into his living room after his shower to the smell of burnt toast and scrambled eggs and coffee.

Loved you as he watched you step onto a chair in the corner of his room, wet dishcloth in hand to remove the strings of dust you had scolded him over the night before.

Loved you as he felt what the sight of your stretched body, your bare tighs, and the little peep of your bum did to him inside of his boxers.

Loved you as he groaned and let his head fall onto the counter, having to breathe through it, because you were just cleaning his living room, and not giving him a sensual striptease act or whatever.

Loved you as you looked back over your shoulder, raising your eyebrows in surprised confusion before accusingly asking, “Really, Joe? Cleaning?”

Loved you as he stutteringly defended the blood rush down south by saying, “You have no idea what you look like right now.” into his elbow where he had to hide his face for a second.

Loved you, loved you.

He was hardly able to deny any of it.

And he didn’t feel that he had to, either.

Because, you were there. In his flat. In his clothes. Cleaning his dusty ceiling corners. And wasn’t that just something he wanted to tell the whole fucking world about?

That small little green grain of doubt and worry and negativity dried out and got no sunshine to really grow into anything. Thank fuck.

He got to ignore it for a while.

Forgot about it entirely, and pretended it wasn’t even there for a bit.

It was easy.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

Would tell you soon.

Didn’t know how.

Or where.

But he was going to say it.

He was going to use his words because he was just a normal guy who loved a normal girl and you weren’t being weirdly secretive about what you got up to in private. At least, not how you used to be, anyway.

Joe loved you.

You brought Joe flowers and cleaned his ceiling and wore his clothes and cooked his breakfast.

Joe loved you, even though your new flatmate Josh turned out to be impossibly good-looking in addition to being incredibly kind as well, so Joe didn’t even get to have a real reason to dislike him at all, which seemed unfair, but, all right.

Joe loved you, even when suddenly two shiny black acoustic guitars appeared on your living room wall, because Josh worked in music, and wasn’t that just so cool?

Joe loved you, even though his very first thought after that was, well I know how to play guitar too, don’t I?! which you had never even mentioned before.

Joe loved you, even when he walked into your flat one evening and interrupted a dinner you were having with Josh and one of your friends and, look, Josh cooked for us, and for the first time ever, he felt uninvited and intruding.

Joe loved you, even when your friend jokingly said, “You’re over here at lot for someone that moved out.” right to his face, to which you then heartily laughed, because she was only joking, Joe, and then you didn’t say anything about how you were together, but, you were together... weren’t you?

Joe loved you, even when he stuck to the bit and handed you his flat key like he always did, expecting to find it in his coat pocket later, but then ended up finding both his pockets empty when he went home the next morning, which, yea actually, that made sense, because Josh lived there now, and it was a little weird to have a key still, wasn’t it?

Joe loved you, even when you had told him to come over on Friday evening because you’d had a shit day at work, and for the first time ever, he had to ring the doorbell to get inside.

Joe loved you, even when Josh was the one that answered the door, and Josh almost didn’t let him in, telling him, “Oh, she’s fallen asleep on the sofa, mate.” to which Joe just smiled as he stepped around him, because what the fuck did Josh even know about falling asleep on the sofa in this flat?

Joe loved you, even when he found you asleep on the sofa, curled up under a blanket he’d never seen before, with an empty pizza box bar some crusts still on the coffee table, and you never ate a whole pizza yourself, so that was obviously shared with someone else.

Joe loved you.

He knew he did.

But there was a playstation besides the TV now, and a cool record player on the side, pile of vinyl next to it, and, God.

Joe fucking hated this.

Whatever was inside of Joe’s chest, that thing he didn’t even want in there, was growing.

Was getting fed without Joe even fully realising he was feeding it.

He hated those guitars. He hated that he no longer had a key. He hated that stupid blanket. And he hated that empty pizza box.

Still, he sat down beside you and placed your socked feet onto his lap. Watched the last scenes of whatever film you’d put on as he slowly kneaded a foot and let you sleep, and he tried his best to not get bitten. To not let it sink its teeth in. To not let it hurt.

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Rational thought saved him.

Rational thought told him he still loved you.

And he hoped rational thought was going to be enough.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close #explain us #reinvent love

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eviesaurusrex · 1 year

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader

summary: It’s not his first birthday after Hydra, but the first birthday he thinks he actually wants to celebrate—only because of YN.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: nothing, fluff, Bucky is a simp for his girl, not entirely proofread

author’s note: It’s Bucky’s birthday!! And sorry for being a simp for the “my best friend's younger sister is my girlfriend” trope.

***

Within a blink of an eye, the woman turned off the vibrating alarm on her watch in order to not disturb the finally deeply sleeping super soldier who rested on his side and had the pair of strong arms he called his own tightly wrapped around her still tired body. Her eyes slowly and tenderly wandered over his relaxed face, void of any haunting thought that might linger somewhere in his mind and entirely at ease with the world—for now. Only a few hours earlier, she had struggled to even get him to lay down and at least try to rest a bit after another nightmare had shaken his entire soul only a few short moments after he had fallen asleep for the first time that night.

Soft knuckles gently, barely palpable, caressed his cheek, already covered in new dark stubbles before even softer lips pressed a featherlight kiss to the corner of his perfect mouth with those tender lips of his. A low chuckle escaped the woman at the sight of them morphing into a half-smile, and she desperately hoped that the man dreamed of something far more pleasant than his mind tended to grant him.

“Sweet dreams, my love,” she whispered, even too quietly for her own enhanced hearing, trying everything not to wake him in the middle of the night and detangling her body out of his embrace. With a soft smile, YN put the pillow she always rested on closer to his face and sneaked around the bed in their shared room in order to light the candle Bucky was stubbornly convinced it smelled exactly like her. She wasn’t sure about that, but whatever helped him to have a few uninterrupted hours of sleep, she did—even if it meant raiding every single Bath & Body Works in the Tri-State area.

Yes, she even sacrificed herself and went to those in New Jersey.

Before the woman sneaked out of their bedroom, covered in sweatpants and one of Bucky’s Henley shirts, she couldn’t stop herself from bending over his sleeping form once more and pressing a gentle kiss to his soft dark strand. Then, she was able to leave him behind for now, pressing herself in between the thin crack between the door and doorframe she had created, so the always brightly lit hallways wouldn’t disturb the soldier in his much-needed rest.

Humming, YN walked down the hallways, took the elevator, and went straight into the grand, perfectly stocked, and just as well equipped kitchen of the compound with a mission in mind. She knew that Bucky hadn’t had a proper birthday since their time way back—she remembered the last one as if it had been only yesterday, even though over seventy years had passed since that day. Since his return to his self and since his rehabilitation, no one seemed to think of his birthday as a day he wanted to celebrate with others—Bucky, at the very least. But since a few weeks or even months, the soldier had dropped hints that he might be ready to do this again, to celebrate the day he was born.

Maybe it was partly her doing, but YN wasn’t as self-consumed to assume anything like that, so she only had gathered the clues and hints her boyfriend had scattered casually throughout their conversations and came up with a plan. That was why the younger Rogers was up on her feet at four in the morning and prepared the recipe for the cake she intended to bake for the man upstairs before everyone would woke up one after the other. And because he knew his habits better than anyone else—well, except for her brother, maybe—she had to be as early and fast as possible to get everything done before his morning run with Steve.

But YN ran out of luck after the three cake bases had wandered into the oven, and she had turned to the preparations of the cream filling.

Her ears would’ve usually picked up to the soft padding of feet on the floor, but her mind visited deep and hidden places while every step of getting the cream perfect was utter instinct and didn’t need the assistance of her thoughts. So Bucky was able to sneak up onto her and stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, watching his girl do what she always had loved the most, observing her distant eyes and soft expression ingrained in her pretty face. He could feel his heart flutter at the absolutely domestic sight in front of him, and the former Winter Soldier knew that he finally had found his home, the place where he wanted to stay and with whom he wanted to grow old.

It was her doing why he wanted to try and celebrate his birthday again. The past still belonged to him, yes, but YN made every single day brighter than the one before and made him finally realize and see that his past wasn’t his fault—just as her past wasn’t her fault either. They probably had helped each other better as every single of their mandatory therapy sessions combined. The shadows and memories still haunted him, maybe worse than hers, but it had gotten better, especially after he had found the courage to ask her for a shared bedroom.

A smile tucked at his lips as Bucky slowly walked over to the humming woman and gently wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her lovingly against his chest, and chuckled deeply at the surprised gasp. “Someday, you’ll be my death.” A soft laugh followed YN’s words, and the soldier bent down to press a kiss to her right shoulder, inhaling her soothing scent mixed with his own and the aroma of the cake baking in his back. “It’s not my fault that your mind is always so occupied, doll,” he grinned and wrapped his arms tighter around her middle, pulling her even closer to him before pressing a kiss to her neck and one to her cheek.

“Good morning,” Bucky greeted her in a soft mumble as he always did and let her turn in his arms after she had stirred the filling one last time. Her smile was as radiant as the rising sun outside the window, and Bucky felt lovestruck again—just as the day all those decades ago when he finally realized that he had fallen in love with his best friend’s younger sister, who always had been off-limits for him. His heart ached so beautifully as she pulled him down towards her and pressed their lips together in the softest of kisses, her fingers carding through his hair, bringing him comfort to an extent he had never thought possible again.

“Happy Birthday, love.” It was only a whisper against his lips, but he could hear every single emotion swimming in those three words, making his heart race and jump in joy and love. A smile widened on his face and made him kiss YN another time. “Thank you, darlin’,” he whispered back and let her cradle his face in the palms of her hands, chuckling softly as kisses rained down on his skin. “This was supposed to be a surprise, but hey, I knew I couldn’t be so lucky. I didn’t wake you, though, right?” Bucky shook his head and kissed her forehead gently. “Jus’ woke up because you weren’t there anymore. And stop trying to fool my sleepy head with that pillow you always push closer to me. It’s not even close competition to how it feels when I hold your body, doll. But… thanks for lighting up the candle.”

These candles were a lifesaver for him every time YN had to go on a mission to which he wasn’t assigned. It helped to push back the dreams and loneliness, the dark thoughts and memories. Sometimes he even managed to go through a two-week-long mission of hers without a single nightmare—but a vanishing stock of candles was the result of it. At least it always meant hour-long dates in the city to restock his supply of YN-candles, as he liked to call them, and uninterrupted time with his girl.

YN smiled up at him and tenderly stroked through his hair and over his cheek. “Of course, love. Nothing to thank me for. And I will try to keep the pillow-thing in mind.” They both grinned before the timer at the oven alarmed them both. “Wanna watch while I finish up your cake? But you have to promise me to act all surprised and flattered later on.” YN threatened him with the spatula covered in cream and made him laugh, just as she had hoped. “Only when I get to try this masterpiece right now.” With that, she playfully rolled her eyes and dipped a finger into the filling to let him taste his favorite flavors. And Bucky was eager to suck every bit off her finger while holding eye contact, which made her all flustered and blushing in the middle of the kitchen. “Perfect,” he huskily whispered and leaned down for a kiss, but YN pressed a hand against his chest and only pecked his cheek innocently. “I know what you’re trying, Barnes, and this will only happen tonight. Not now, not between presents, not before or after blowing out the candles and cutting the cake. Tonight.”

The Barnes laughed wholeheartedly and still pulled her close to his side, pressing a tender kiss to her sweet lips. “Whatever you command, Agent Rogers.”

***

Only something short (and shitty) for my beloved birthday boy (I’m so sorry for this mess of words up there). I really need to continue the stuff for him I still have sitting around because I miss some Bucky magic on my blog. As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!

Taglist: @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83 @lastwandastan @hopefulinlove

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ellievickstar · 9 months

Text

Deserving

Summary: You are left empty and alone by your mate, are you really so undeserving of love? Or is it that you have waited for the same person for too long?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Self-harm, mentions of alcoholism, so much angst.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been days since you last saw Azriel.

Days of waking up late and going to bed later. Your correspondence between the inner circle were limited and you slipped into a period of complete and total isolation. Maybe it was all too much, maybe it wasn’t enough. But you curled into a ball on your bed everyday, the same scene ringing in your head, over and over and over again, as if it were on a loop.

When was the last time you had actually spoken to anyone else?

That thought was quickly relinquished as a soft but firm knock was against the door. You knew that knock. Groaning you approached the door of your apartment, one that you barely lived in but owned anyways in cases like these. Only four people knew about this place. Azriel, Rhysand, Cassian and…..

“Mor, I wasn’t expecting you,” You masked the numbness from the past few days with a smile. “Cut the bullshit Y/N, you know better than to try and pretend with me,” Your friend deadpanned as she swept past you into your living space. Rolling your eyes, you closed the door behind her as you slid to the floor, drearily groaning.

“How do you know?” You asked carefully, making sure that your voice didn’t crack as you felt the waterworks rise up again. You were more that surprised that your eyes hadn’t dried out by now, considering the fact that you had cried non stop during the first day of your pity party. Mor softened slightly, she had set to picking up the various pieces of trash scattered around the apartment, and she paused, her back facing towards you as if she could. not bear to relieve the news.

“They announced it just now, during dinner. Azriel and Elain are officially together,” Smirking, you shook your head, but tears rolled down your cheeks as you choked out another sob. “I take it Lucien didn’t take it well,” Mor snorted at that

You hadn’t drank, not a sip. You had already gone three years sober after you had turned to alcohol because of what you had gone through under the mountain, how you had followed Amarantha’s orders to be used by the males as she pleased. Shuddering at the memory, you lay down on your side on the floor next to the door.

“I’m proud of you, for not…going back to it,” Mor offered. However, you just closed your eyes. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had gone back to alcoholism and self harm again, you knew you could resist the pull for now, but if you had given into the pain a part of you was more terrified you would not be able to get out of the habit once you spiraled.

Eventually, Mor helped you up, she asked you if you wanted to go to the House of Wind so she could monitor you better and Rhys could help with coping with the ache, but you declined. You could not let Azriel see you like this, especially when he would feel so guilty for….choosing Elain. Memories flooded back as you recalled what had happened.

You had finally found the courage to tell Azriel, your best friend, that he was your mate. And when you did he had looked at you in the eyes and said that he could not handle a mating bond at that moment. You understood, of course, that he may need space, but it was not until later that you caught him. You had caught him kissing Elain.

And yet, you had not rejected the bond yet.

Feeling down to that part of your soul, you grasped that line of the bond that felt like there had been a veil placed over it. It was as if the bond had sensed that you were slowly giving up. Perhaps it was a blessing that Mor came to confirm the news, perhaps it was a blessing that the bond had seemed to dull in the past few days.

But even as Mor asked if there was anything you’d like to tell her, you could not bring yourself to tell your friend of the ache on your abdomen, the scars that you had inflicted on yourself, you couldn’t bring yourself to show her the slashes and marks you had sliced across your skin in various areas, as if punishment for being so unworthy that your own mate would prefer another female over you.

~*~*~*~*~

Another five days passed before you finally dragged yourself to a family dinner. You made sure to a loose blouse that was long sleeved paired with a long flown skirt that you could twirl in to dance should Mor decide it was a good time to take you outside dancing.

Silence seemed to settle over the table as you entered, you smiled as you approached Cassian, he smiled at you as he motioned for you to sit on his left while Nesta sat on his right. Thankfully, Mor sat on your other side while Azriel sat diagonally across the table, out of your view if you tried hard enough. Sweet Elain was beside him as she whispered and he smiled. You wanted to physically gag seeing your mate like that with another, but you shut down the feeling immediately, ensuring to make a shield tailored around the bond so that he would not be able to feel a single thing from you this evening.

You smiled at Feyre as you caught up about any recent books you both had read, Nesta joining into the conversation occasionally, once you kicked Cassian when he laughed about how it was not romance books but just two people screwing each other and breaking up and screwing each other again. Nesta also kicked him, hard.

Rhysand cleared his throat as he spoke to you, grabbing your attention. “So, Y/N how has it been? You’ve been gone for a while, and when was the last time i saw you in long sleeves?” A flicker of understanding suddenly shone in his eyes as he realised. Cassian seemed to pause as he shot a look at you. Indeed, the outfit you wore was far more conservative than anything you had worn in the last year. The only time you had worn such modest clothing was…..

“Y/N, show me your arms,” Cassian said softly. You stopped as you looked up at him, looked around at the table as all of them watched your expectantly. Mor looked like she was in near tears and Elain and Nesta seemed to be unsure what was going on. Feyre looked like she was being filled in on what was happening as she glanced between Rhysand and you. Shaking your head you stood up, ready to walk away.

“As your High Lord, I order you to stop. As your friend, I’m telling you to trust us,” Rhys’s voice rang out and you cursed as your feet planted to the ground. Slowly, you inched up your sleeve to your elbow, and there it was.

Elain gasped and Mor had a tear running down her cheek. Amren soberly looked at you, understanding showing in her eyes. Rhys seemed to recoil and Feyre looked away. Even Cassian looked like he had nothing to say.

There on your forearm was cuts, over and over and over again each other. They were red and barely healed, all fresh. They were supposed to be healing, but you used a vial of Faebane and to slow the process down. You needed to savour the pain.

It was Azriel who asked, “Why?” You eyes fluttered to him, your voice turning cold. “You know why.” And with that you turned to leave. Maybe it wasn’t fair to him. Maybe It was selfish. But you just couldn’t bear it anymore.

You stormed down the steps of the House of Wind. You didn’t have the strength to summon your wings anymore. You didn’t have the strength to do anything. You didn’t care that the guards were watching as you choked out sobs as you stumbled down the stairs, eventually sitting down and facing the sky, praying to the cauldron to released of this horrible pain.

Your head fell in your hands and darkness engulfed your figure as you winnowed home.

~*~*~*~*~

Azriel’s POV

Azriel just sat there, shadows danced around his fingers as they tried to stretch away from him towards her. Not the female that he had convince myself to love, but the female who had run outside, the female who he could hear stumbling down the stairs of the House of Wind.

He wanted to go to her, wanted to comfort her ad tell her everything was fine, that it would be both of them against everything, just as it always used to be.

But how could he do that when he was the very person who had caused her sorrow?

Feeling Cassian’s eyes on Azriel, he demanded an explanation. Azriel should have known this would come, that he would have to face the reality of what he’d done, that he would have to face the regret and guilt that he had been trying to avoid, figuring out how he could possibly fix this on his own. Rhys himself was circling around Azriel’s mental shields, letting me know that if he didn’t want to say anything he could let Rhys in and Rhys would explain for Azriel’s thoughts to the others.

He didn’t deserve their kindness.

“Y/N…is my mate,” Azriel said softly. Cassian swore as he looked towards Elain, then glanced towards the door of the House of Wind where his friend had stumbled outside. Azriel winced, Cass might kill me, he and Y/N had grown up together and had known each other way before me and Rhys, they were almost siblings, and Cass was fiercely protective of Y/N.

Mor was quiet, Azriel would bet a good amount of Rhys’s coin that Mor already knew. It surprised him that Cass didn’t know, but knowing Y/N she likely didn’t tell him because she didn’t want Cass to worry, unluckily for her, Cass would have gone knocking at her door if she had missed just one more family event. After all, it was not like her to miss anything, it never was.

He looked to Elain, and she looked at Azriel with complete utter…he couldn’t place his finger on it. But as she stood up I could barely hear her words over the roaring of my ears.

“I have seen so much, and so little. But now I think it’s time I finally confessed. I knew this would come. I saw that eventually Azriel will come to face the reality that his mate was another, so I will break off my relationship with him. I bear no ill will towards him, I just wish I hadn’t basked in his attention, when I knew another was suffering,” “Suffering!?” Cassian exclaimed, he shot Azriel an accusatory look, “When the hell did you find out she was your mate?” Azriel grew quiet.

“Three days before I announced my relationship with Elain,” Azriel admitted. Rhys shook his head and Amren held a look of distaste. Cassian looked like he wanted to punch him square in the face but as he shot Nesta a look, she nodded and he was out the balcony immediately. He was probably on his way to her apartment, to do what Azriel should be doing, being by her side when it should be Azriel. A sense of possessiveness seemed to rise in him but Rhys slammed against his mental shields.

“You will not act like a territorial brute, what you have done to her is unforgiveable, and now all you can do is give her space. I know it can be hard given her situation, but I promise the rest of us will take care of her, it seems like you need to take care of yourself first and ask yourself why you would do something so stupid as to choose another female over your own mate.”

~*~*~*~*~

You were in your kitchen cured up, you dagger lay a few feet away from you as you pressed your palm against your mouth, muffling your sobs. You heard someone enter but you did not care. If they were an intruder they could kill you, end your misery, perhaps your prayers would have been answered. That was when Illyrian wings came into your view, causing you to hold your breath until Cassian’s face came to view.

You were about to get up, smile and maybe play broken but healing friend — when really it was just broken — until he left, but a flash of brilliant red hair came into view.

Lucien.

Glancing at Cass, he shrugged, I thought you might want someone who could understand what you are going through.

Smiling, you greeted Lucien, he only smiled softly, clearly trying not to look the blood tainted dagger at his feet, trying to avoid glancing at you arms, now on full display as you had changed to more comfortable shirt and shorts.

“I’ll be fine, you didn’t have to come,” You said softly. Softening, Cassian pulled you into a huge bear hug as you grunted. Holding you there for a few seconds he then shit over you onto the couch, where Lucien sat next to you.

After an array of smashing and clashing in your kitchen, Cassian came out with cookies and….coffee. “Gosh you know me so well,” You groaned as you sipped on the coffee that probably had too much sugar but you didn’t care, you took a cookie and ate as you curled up and continued to snack. Lucien smiled slightly and Cassian plopped onto an armchair in the room.

Everything was spinning, and you groaned as you curled up further into the couch, silently wishing you could disappear.

“Does it ever go away…this emptiness?” He stayed quiet at my question. Sighing, I knew I already had my answer. Though Elain never directly rejected the bond, Lucien had always suspected that she would never warm to the idea of the mating bond, he had seen for himself how Elain had looked at the spymaster with far more adoration than she had held for him.

“I just- it feels hollow. And I feel like I’m drowning and empty at the same time,” You choked, shaking silently, “It hurts so much and I can’t, i just can’t do any of this. I’m trying so hard to think that maybe this will all go away, that I will push through this and I will be okay, then I sit down for a second alone and these thought come back to just fuel me again and it overwhelms me. And I spiral again.” Tears continued to flow and you were surprised as Lucien wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. Holding you there, you cried into Lucien’s chest.

"I don't understand, why would he, hurt me like this. I watched him unconditionally love and fight for Mor, I was so naive to think he'd fight for me too. And now that I see him with Elain I can't help but wonder if I am really so undeserving of my own mate's affection."

Lucien listened and his presence brought you comfort. It made you feel….less alone. And as both of them said goodbye that night you felt reassured.

Maybe it would be okay.

~*~*~*~*~

Months passed and you managed to learn how to avoid Azriel at all cost. You showed up to family outings but never spoke to him and kept close to Lucien as he promised to accompany you. And once a month, you and Lucien would go out and you would drink your sorrows away mournfully. Well, he drank while you sipped a cup of water and tried not to recoil at the stench of alcohol that you had grown to despise.

You had done so well avoiding your problems until Rhys ordered you to do research, with Azriel.

“Can’t I do it with someone else?” “I’m sorry, I know the situation isn’t ideal but there are no records of anything like this existing, if you are ever going to find anything on these creatures, you’ll have to use Azriel’s shadows to scan the bookshelves quicker.” Gritting your teeth, you realised there was no way out of this situation.

Later that day you met Azriel at the library in the House of Wind. Once you acknowledged him, you walked swiftly throughout the library as you read through titles after titles of many books, occasionally passing one or two to Azriel to hold on to so you both could look at them at greater detail later on.

“Y/N I-” “I’d appreciate if we only spoke when necessary, I know you wish to discuss what occurred between us but I believe that there is no need. You made your feelings clear, I have nothing to say anymore, and I have no reason to blame you for following what you thought was right at the time,” You cut him off. You didn’t need the next few hours to become awkward, and he seemed to get the message.

Or so you thought.

The first hour passed with no luck. And you groaned inwardly as you realised the both of you would be here for a while.

The second hour passed and Azriel and you had set into a steady pace where Azriel would go around collecting books he could find while you studied them, you felt like your eyes would fall out from how much boring information you were reading.

The third hour you were ready to call it a day and leave the rest for tomorrow.

And when the fourth hour struck, you found it. Everything Rhys would need to know all in one book. It had been tucked away, hidden from view in between the bookshelves. No one had ever found it because the library wasn’t cleaned in those parts since the books were so ancient, the priestesses were afraid the books would fall apart from the slightest touch.

Cheering, you jumped up and laughed as you stretched your whole body. You needed food, desperately. It wasn’t until you heard that same chuckle did you finally reign yourself in. Smiling politely, you picked up the book and tried to rush out the library, but not before Azriel’s voice once again reached your ears.

“Why can’t you give me another chance?”

Pausing, you sighed as you spoke, your back still facing him as you couldn’t bear to face him, to face the reality of what happened between the two of you.

“Because even now, after all that’s happened. I can’t do it. I can’t help but love you even if I try my hardest not to. Because even now, after all that’s happened, I can’t help but think that you would still choose her. Because I know that you wouldn’t have left her, if she hadn’t left you. And it breaks my heart that even though I am bound to you for the rest of eternity, because maybe if I could choose too, it wouldn’t be you anymore.”

“Why?” Azriel asked, you could hear the desperation in his voice, but you could not let him in again. You watched him love Mor, loved him enough to wait until he was over her, watched as he broke your heart and left you, knowing that the both of you are mates.

“Because, Azriel, I deserve to be loved too.” Nodding, as if trying to convince yourself of this as well, “I deserve to be loved too.”

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: oof. So, I'm gonna let your imagination take the wheel. If enough people want part two i guess? But I'm probably not gonna :D

taglist: @positivewitch

Part 2 out here!

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader angst

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rustycopper4use · 9 months

Note

Ok, uhm....I've seen someone make a request for poly Ozzie x Fizz x Reader in which the reader is Blitzø's brother, but I got a better one for you! How about (poly ofc) Ozzie x Fizz x Male Reader who is Striker's older brother? Like, maybe he heard about what happened in greed ring and came to apologise on his brother's behalf and maybe offer his services as bodyguard?

Fizz x Ozzie x Male reader!

sorry I went a little bit off the rails but I hope you like it!!

At the beginning you were close to fizzaroli as kids.

you first met him at one of his shows, and you would try to see all his shows. And ended up dragging your younger brother striker to them, much to his protests.

You would spend hours with fizzaroli, him being the only sense of affection in your life. Giving your family’s old fashioned values. His was the escape from it all.

Your father resented the wasted time spent with some lowly circus clown, he would try every thing to make you to stop seeing him. After awhile he even turned Striker against you, which in retrospect wasn’t hard he idolized him.

In the ended up with you sneaking out the house everyday to see the goofy imp.

However that was until the fire. You had been only been able to talk to him when you actually came to the circus.

So one day you went to see him, with a small birthday gift you’d be able to pay for.

only to met with ashes, and burnt remains of childhood memories, it was hauntingly void of life still fresh with smoke.

And you never heard from him again.

You left the gift in the remains. It became a regular thing, you’d leave a small gift every year on his birthday.

A way to remember him, maybe you’d just like the sadness that came with it rather than the bitter empty feeling in your cold aching chest.

Or you’re still in denial, waiting for the day he’ll somehow come back and it’ll be some big cruel joke.

After that you replaced that time with meaningless jobs, helping dad around the farm.

While your younger brother took up kill for hire, you would be along aside for protection, an extra set of hands.

This new attitude brought a sense of pride to the rest of the family.

Your relationship wasn’t the same with your less than functional family. You weren’t ever close to your father or brother but, it got even more distant. Opting for only talking when needed.

One day striker came back from a job beaten bruised, and burned.

As you fixed him up, he whined about his failed attempt, he brought up an all to familiar name.

“Y’know that lowlife clown was such a brat to deal with, and his pathetic friend Blizto-“

“Are you talking about fizzaroli?”

“-Wait no, Fizzaroli’s alive?.”

“Look I don’t care if you had a soft spot for that thing, I had a job and I’m gonna go through with it.”

“You never thought to tell me he was alive!”

“Of course I didn’t, Dad and I knew you were going to act like this, you became a better demon because of us.”

“Get out.”

Striker gets to door before turning back towards you.

“Im not gonna give up this job because you’ve grown weak.”

“Oh I know you won’t.”

He left.

You weren’t sure what to do now. Striker was a stubborn person, he wouldn’t give up till Fizzaroli’s head was on a stick.

Luckily for you. you were just as petty as the snake.

For the next few days you looked for opportunities to work at Ozzie’s. You came across for a listing for a personal bodyguard for Fizz.

You got scheduled for an interview, part of you dreaded seeing him again.

You headed down(up?) to the lust ring. The gorgeous neon lights, against the calming rain.

The Ozzie’s club was nothing short of a spectacle. And the start to your new life.

Ozzie was apprehensive on hiring someone with relations with the demon that kidnapped Fizzaroli in the first place.

But Fizz reassured his worries, he knew you weren’t like him.

The start of this job was- not exactly awkward, but there was this weird air around you three. A few weeks in and you’ve finally settled in, you grew comfortable with the duo and life finally felt back on track.

You still felt guilt for what your brother did, you would always give gifts to fizzaroli as a form of an apology, a better change than what you did for 15 years. You also get into the habit of going above what was asked for even at your own expense.

Even when Fizzaroli explained he didn’t blame you, it was your brother’s actions after all. You settled for buying him flowers every other day.

The two would flirt with you, fizzaroli being more bold, knowing exactly what makes you tick and that special spot that makes you melt.

Ozzie on the other hand, had a different approach. He took on a more romantic strategy, he learned very early on that his voice was your weakness, a few praises and you were a goner.

When striker found out he was pissed. His own brother fooling around with blue blood, how did you turn out like this.

Every time he would show up you always up lovey-dovey just to rub salt in a wound.

Fizzaroli adored it when you’d get riled up and your southern accent would slip. He would purposely push your buttons lovingly just to hear it.

Every time Fizzaroli would want attention you’d always make sure to hold his face given it’s the only part he can really feel now.

Ozzie was the only one that Could cook, and that still didn’t change with you around. Sure you weren’t as bad as Fizz but still.

Fizzaroli would call you a cowboy (affectionately)

#x reader #lgbtq #gay #lgbtqiia+#fizzaroli x reader #fizzmodeus #fizzarolli #fizzaroli helluva boss #helluvaboss #hb spoilers #fizzarolli helluva boss #helluva boss asmodeus #fizzmodeus x reader #Fizzmodeus x male reader #helluva boss #striker #reqs open #request

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luimagines · 4 months

Text

You Call to Him in Your Sleep Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Twilight, Four and Legend

Content under the cut!

Twilight

Twilight had taken the form of Wolfie on an impulse on one of your worse nights. You had specifically waited for everyone to fall asleep before you let your cry a a little ways away from the group.

You had calmed down someone when Woflie had entered your vision, latching onto the creature like a lifeline. You silently cried into his fur, pulling on in when you felt as if he wasn’t close enough and wiping your tears on the same fur when it occurred to you to do so.

He didn’t mind, it wasn’t forever.

When you had exhausted yourself, he stayed near and allowed himself to be your cuddle buddy for the night.

He didn’t know you talk in your sleep.

“I don’t want...”

“No... You jump.”

“...ehehe....”

“Monkey.”

He had no idea what you could be dreaming about to make you talk in your sleep. Twilight wasn’t sure if he should find it amusing or not. On one hand, yes, it was absolutely nonsense. On the other hand, it was making it harder for him to sleep considering you were talking right into his ear.

Twilight huffed and sighed, trying to get comfortable on the forest floor. He’ll just have to resign to his fate. He’s not sleeping tonight. Maybe he can hop on Epona and have one of the boys pull her along as he power naps.

“Link.”

His ears perk up and he turns to face you.

No, you’re still sleeping. After a beat passes, he lays back down on the ground. It’s fine. Besides, it could be any one of them. There’s literally nine of them. IT would be silly to think that you would be calling him specifically-

“Twilight please!”

You’re pouting.

His tail does not start wagging behind him. It doesn’t, he swears it.

The look on your face doesn’t help you in the slightest. He knows that look. You look only marginally annoyed. If you had been awake, Twilight thinks that you’d be doing the equivalent of puppy eyes. And you only use your puppy eyes on his when he’s teasing you.

He didn’t think he’d tease you even your dreams. The thought makes him laugh.

Maybe he should go easier on your for the next few days. You can’t seem to get a break from him even when you sleep. Poor thing.

He lays back down with higher spirit. Cute.

Or he could keep teasing you when you wake up again. Serves you right for keeping him up all night with your talking. Fair is fair after all.

Twilight finally manages to sleep for a little bit. It’s... actually quite nice being in your arms like this.

Four

Four didn’t want to sound creepy but he liked watching you sleep. You were so peaceful. If he looked hard enough, he’d swear you were smiling.

There was a single blade of wayward grass on your face that he took great pains to move away without waking you up.

You moved.

He froze.

You didn’t seem to notice that he was incredibly close to you or that you had anything on your face to begin with. You rolled over from your side to your back and let out a soft sigh.

Four sighed without and leaned back, taking the blade of grass as he went.

“Sorry.” He says under his breath for disturbing your peaceful rest. “I didn’t meant to do that.”

“...Link...” You sigh and your face twists into something negative. Four can’t tell if it’s worry or annoyance.

Either way, he flinches and slowly turns back to you as he tosses the blade of grass over his shoulder. “Yes? What is it, Sweetheart?”

The pet name drops from his lips before he can stop himself. It’s the second time he can feel his heart plummet through the crust of the earth in the past thirty seconds.

You don’t seem to react to his reply, still sleeping soundly.

It’s a relief because Four wasn’t sure how he was going to explain the very endeared tone that he just used on you. He needs to better grip on himself. Maybe he should go clean up and polish the group’s weapons three times over. That should be enough to ground him back into reality, right?

“Four.” You say pointedly and Four feels his heart stop in his chest. He snaps his attention back to you but you don’t have your eyes open. You’re still sleeping.

Four puts his hand over his heart and falls backwards. His other hand lands on his head band and brushes his bangs away from his face.

Well this is an interesting development.

You’re dreaming about him. Four watches you with more interest than he cares to admit. Are you going to say something else? Is he going to get a hint to what you’re thinking about? Is it nice? He hopes his nice. But that look on your face is rather concerning. Is a nightmare? Should he wake you up?

“Stop.” You say and Four feels likes he’s been smacked.

..Did you just-....Can you read minds?

Feeling sheepish, Four responds anyway. “Sorry.”

You don’t reply. Because you’re still asleep.

Embarrassed, Four stands and power walks away from you and where you rest. Someone else can take the watch now. There’s no need for him to stay and embarrass himself to only his shadow. He already knows how that’s going to end up the second he’s truly alone.

He wakes up the next Link and promptly, throws himself into his bed roll.

Best not to think about it.

Legend

He was so tired. He felt dead on his feet.

You were no different than he was. As soon as the group was called to a halt to set up camp, you had taken off your hood, wrapped it up and fell to the ground. Out. Just like that. You didn’t bother eating any dinner. You were instantly unconscious.

Legend took a minute or two to envy your ability to just do that. Before got onto his very sore feet and helped the rest of the exhausted group to set up a somewhat decent camp.

The meal Wild made was simple and quick to the point. Legend thinks that it might have been missing some salt but given the way most of them inhaled their food, he doubts that it was worth pointing out.

He sets up his bed roll, thanking the stars that he’s not on first watch and looks over to you.

You had virtually dropped where you stood, and were thus a little further away than anyway.

Something pulls at Legend’s heart strings. He can’t just leave you there.

Yes he can.

You puts his pillow down where he’s more or less certain where his head will be and moves his blanket. Legend looks back to you.

He can’t.

With a dramatic groan loud enough to wake the others, he meanders back over to you and pokes you with his foot. No response.

“Great.” Legend groans again. He drops to shake you a little bit but you only grumble.

“Wake up.”

“Nrmm...”

“Hey.”

“Shhh...”

Legend says your name dramatically.

“Link.”

Legend stares at you for a minute before poking you again. If you’re awake then you’re doing a somewhat decent job of not moving. If you’re sleeping, you’re awfully aware of what happening right now.

You don’t move.

He pokes you again.

“Legen’.... no... stop..”

He growls. “So you do know it’s me.”

He drops to his knees and shakes your shoulders a little rougher than intended. To his shock, you still don’t respond as intended and only vaguely brush him off.

His eyes narrow but you don’t show any signs of acknowledgment whatsoever.

Legend pouts and stands. He already knows he’s not strong enough to pick you up.

He’s going to bed.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader

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cod-dump · 1 year

Note

Soap steals Ghost’s sweatshirts all the time and uses them as pillows— they smell like Simon, and Johnny falls asleep instantly with them.

Soap used to sleep by himself without issue. Then he got with Ghost and now he can’t sleep without him. He needs to feel the man next to him, be held by him, in order to get a decent night’s rest. But he wasn’t aware of this change until Ghost went on a mission without him.

That night was miserable.

He was tossing and turning, missing the warmth of Ghost's arms and he secure he felt in them. Soap managed to get three hours of sleep that night and was dragging his feet the rest of the day. Gaz found him resting his head on his desk, groaning.

"What's with you?"

"Couldn't sleep last night."

"Really? Normally when you can't sleep at night it's because Ghost... kept you up."

"Well, turns out he keeps me up by not being there at all."

"Oh... Maybe try talking to him on the phone before you go to sleep? Might help."

Soap decided to try that later that day after settling into bed. Ghost picked up after a couple rings.

“Hey, Johnny. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Should. Can’t sleep.”

“Oh, love. Something troubling you?”

“Yea, my usual bedmate isn’t here.”

Ghost chuckles, “That can’t be helped.”

They talked four a couple hours until Ghost had to get off. Soap sighed when the call ended, feeling tired but unsure if he would actually sleep. He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to quiet his mind. But sleep did not come to him until two hours before his alarm. He woke to the alarm with a groan.

“Fuck.”

Soap wouldn’t sleep peacefully again until after Ghost returned from his mission. Soap didn’t even know he came back, he was busy hanging over his desk staring at a report, trying to will it to complete itself. Ghost walked in and Soap was ready to snap at whoever walked into his office without permission.

“It’s common courtesy to knock before entering-“

He stopped talking when he saw Ghost, who was mostly amused by his tone.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

Soap quickly got up, knocking his chair over, before he ran over to Ghost. He pulled him into a tight hug, sighing at his familiar scent and how his arms felt wrapped around him. He sagged against Ghost, closing his eyes as he did.

"Have you not been sleeping, love?"

"I've slept... just not as much as I would've liked."

Soap feels lips press to the top of his head and a soft murmur from Ghost, "How about you go to bed early, yea? Get some rest."

"Yours or mine?"

They took turns in who's room they slept in. They often slept in Soap's room due to the location being closer to both their offices and other areas. But, tonight, Ghost dragged Soap to his room. Due to Soap not sleeping there as often, he didn't have any spare clothes there. Ghost had a whole drawer with his things in Soap's room, maybe it was time for Soap to have such a space in Ghost's.

Ghost was in his private bathroom, cleaning up while Soap decided to just go to sleep as soon as possible. He stripped his clothes and grabbed a pair of Ghost's sweats and a hoodie before curling up in the man's bed. Instantly, Soap melted, Ghost's warm scent all around him. It got even better when Ghost climbed in next to him. The moment Soap settled against the man's chest, he was out. He would sleep a good twelve hours, Ghost not bothering to disturb him.

He only woke when Ghost shook him awake.

"Morning, Johnny."

"God, what time is it?"

"Around 1000 hours."

Soap groans, he slept way past his alarm, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked like you needed the rest."

Soap sits up, stretching. He could see sunlight shining through the curtains but he didn't hear anything going on outside or in the halls due to Ghost's fan. Soap didn't remember him turning it on before he went to sleep. Soap was surprised when Ghost handed him a mug of coffee but his heart quickly melted.

"Big ol' softie."

"I can be. Tell anyone and I'll make you regret it," Ghost says with a joking tone.

He sips his coffee, humming when Ghost leans over and kisses the top of his head.

"Take all the time you need, you're off today."

"I am?"

"Lieutenant Riley decided to give you the weekend off."

Soap laughs, "Did he now? Well, looks like I'm going to have to thank him."

"Thank him by getting some rest."

Soap decided to not get out of bed that day. He spent the rest of the day and the day after sleeping. When he finally got back to work, Gaz immediately jumped onto him for 'abandoning' him.

"You could've at least convinced Ghost to give me time off, too!"

"Oh, and how would've I done that?"

"I don't know! Do whatever it is you normally do to get something out of him!"

"You can get your own time off by either asking Ghost yourself or going to Price."

Soap's nights would improve with Ghost being back on base. Things felt like they were getting back into the swing of things when another mission came up that Ghost would have to leave for. Soap knew once Ghost was gone he would be plagued by sleepless nights once more. So, the night before Ghost's departure, he clung to the man like a life line.

"Johnny..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm coming back. I always do."

Soap sighs, "I know. It's just- I can't sleep without you here."

Ghost squeezes him closer, "I'm sorry, love. I can't be two places at once."

Soap crawled on top of Ghost's chest, Ghost not saying a word as the man curls up on him, his head under his chin. Soap dreaded Ghost leaving, absentmindedly holding onto the man like he was just disappear if he let him go. When he woke, Ghost was gone. He left a note about having to leave earlier than planned, Soap frowning at it.

Soap worked throughout the day, knowing what would come when he tried to sleep. He prolonged his duties as much as possible, dragging his feet when he headed to his room having ran out of stuff to do. Soap got dressed in his sleeping clothes and laid in his bed. He noted how Ghost's scent was very faint on the sheets, making him frown.

Just like he predicted, he tossed and turned for a couple hours, unable to sleep. Finally, he just got out of bed, deciding to walk around with no particular goal in mind. He walked until he just stopped and leaning on the wall of the hall, missing Ghost. Soap blinks when an idea comes to him.

He walked quickly through the halls, stopping when he came to Ghost's room. He slipped inside, sighing when he got in. His eyes land on his target-- Ghost's bed. He walks over and flops onto the neatly made bed, sighing at the smell. Soap closes his eyes and lays there before he sits up. Ghost had left one of his hoodies draped on the back of his desk chair, having just worn it before he left.

Soap grabs it and holds it close. Smelled just like him.

Soap held the hoodie close as he laid on Ghost's bed. And just like that, he fell asleep.

#call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #soapghost #ghostsoap

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btsficsandsuch · 8 months

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Hi, I wanted to request a BTS × 8th member reader where they are not welcoming of her at the start and are hostile towards her but she is not treated by the management properly too . With a happy ending

I hope this is okay!

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of extreme dieting, Hints to physical abuse

Going To Be Better

“This is so stupid. We don’t need an 8th member.”, Yoongi spat. “I agree. Things are great the way they are.”, Taehyung added. Bang PD nodded in agreement but his words spoke differently, “I understand. It’s a big change but I think it’s going to be a good change. Bringing on this new member will surely bring in new fans. Just give Y/N a chance. She’s really talented. Have I ever done anything to try and jeopardize your careers?” The boys all nodded in understanding but the mood in the room was still tense.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You were currently standing outside one of the recording studios trying to work up the courage to knock. When you finally were able to give three soft knocks you waited in silence. After a couple more knocks you were still met with more silence. Thinking maybe you didn’t hear them say to come in you gently pushed open the door and were met with three pairs of eyes staring at you.

“What the fuck? Don’t you know how to knock?”, Yoongi spoke. “Alright that’s enough hyung.”, Namjoon replied. Hoseok just sat there staring at you. Before anyone else could speak Bang PD walked in with a smile, “Oh I see you’ve met already. Everyone this is Y/N. I asked her to meet here to work on some new songs with you guys. I know I can count on you guys to treat her well.” Just as quickly as he appeared you watched him walk off typing away on his cell phone while you desperately wished he would stay. “Great, so they really weren’t kidding about this new eighth member?”, you heard someone speak and that’s when you noticed Jungkook, Taehyung, Jin, and Jimin sat in a corner of the room.

Trying to be kind you put on a smile and tried to introduce yourself, “Hello, like he said my name is Y/N. I was a trainee wit-“ but you were cutoff. “We don’t really want to hear your life story right now. Let’s see if you’re actually as talented as they say you are.”, Namjoon spoke. Shyly you made your way into the recording booth taking the lyric sheet from Jimin. A few moments later the melody began and you sang your heart out wanting to impress them. You honestly impressed yourself with how good you sounded.

Hearing a beep you looked over and saw that Yoongi was about to speak. Your heart sank a little when instead of praise you received nothing but criticism. Trying to hold back the tears you sang through the verse six more times before they were happy with it. Thankful when they finally told you to go home you couldn’t wait to get out of there. This definitely wasn’t going as you had hoped.

Over the next few weeks you practiced and practiced not wanting to disappoint. Big Hit officially announced you as the new 8th member of BTS and you were very well received by the fans and media. They said it was refreshing and they were excited to see how this progressed. Unfortunately the rest of the group still hadn’t come around to the idea. They weren’t as harsh with their words as they were at the start but they still kept their distance. Jungkook was the only one who was somewhat opening up to you. It probably had something to do with being closer in age to each other.

Today you were getting a crash course on the choreography. Hoseok felt that you weren’t quite getting it so he wanted you to get extra practice. “Y/N, I know it’s difficult but you should be going a little quicker. Is there something I can do to help you?”, he asked. You couldn’t discern if he was actually trying to be helpful or if he just wanted to rub it in. At this point you didn’t really care. The two of you had been at it for several hours now and you were exhausted. It didn’t help that it was already 9:00pm and you were currently functioning on a cup of black coffee and half a banana that you had for breakfast. One of the mangers had told you that you looked pretty chubby in your stage outfits and suggested you loose some weight. Even though you felt like passing out you smiled at Hoseok, “I’m sorry Hobi. I’ll try harder.” He nodded and you two ran through the choreography again.

Two weeks later you guys had your first official performance as a group of eight. Everyone was sitting backstage relaxing when one of the managers came walking through the door doing an inspection of outfits. When he got to you he looked you up and down and you knew it wasn’t going to be positive.

The closer he got the more you flinched trying to turn away. Jimin definitely noticed your behavior and knew something was going on. “Y/N, I thought we told you to loose weight. It doesn’t look like you’ve lost a single pound.”, he asked. You could feel your throat drying up. “I’ve been dieting and I’m constantly working on choreography and I go to the gym in what little spare time I have. If I eat any less I won’t be eating at all.”, you whispered. The manager scoffed, “Well then I suggest you stop eating in general. You might be talented but your visuals will bring the group down.” As you watched him turn and walk away you could feel seven pairs of eyes on you. The last couple months finally caught up to you and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. “Well you guys get what you’ve wanted this whole time. You can remain a group of seven. I quit.”, you said before walking out the door letting it slam behind you.

Thankfully you were able to find an empty room down the hall that you walked into so you could have some privacy. Sitting on the floor you released all the pent-up frustration and hurt that you had been feeling over the last couple months. You were so enthralled in your sorrows that you didn’t hear the door open causing you to jump when you felt someone grab your hand. You weren’t expecting Jimin to be standing there with a sad look in his eyes.

Before either of you could speak the door opened up and the other six members came following in. They all sat in a circle in front of you not speaking. Part of you wanted to tell them off and let them know how much they hurt you, part of you wanted to hear them out and maybe get an apology, and another part of you wanted to get up and walk out not giving them another minute of your time. Before you could decide Namjoon spoke, “Y/N we owe you a major apology. I know simply saying sorry isn’t enough but we’ve been really hard on you and not welcoming.” Yoongi added, “Yeah I’ve been particularly rough on you. It’s just been a big change that they threw at us and we weren’t expecting it. We handled it like spoiled children instead of responsible adults.” “Please don’t quit Y/N. You’re so talented and you do add something special to the group. We know it’s going to take time but we do want to make things right with you.”, Jin said with smile. Drying off what was left of the tears on your cheeks you smiled, “I would like to try and work on our relationship but unfortunately I don’t think I can continue. I’m not going to starve myself and diet like this. I’m not going to be treated like dirt by management. That’s not healthy. I’ve realized I’m better than that.” Namjoon nodded, “Let us take care of that Y/N. We’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you any more.” The guys helped you get up off the ground and each gave you a hug before walking out the door. Jimin stayed behind a little longer. Taking your hand in his he spoke, “Y/N I just wanted you to know that you’re beautiful the way that you are and you don’t have to change. That’s something that took me a long time to learn in this industry. I’m genuinely sorry for how we treated you and I’m sorry that we let management treat you like that too. We swore we would protect any new idols but we failed you. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of from now on.” “Thank you Jimin. I do appreciate that.”, you smiled and led him out into the hallway.

Thankfully the concert went off without a hitch. You hit all of your notes and we’re on point with the choreography. The fans also seemed to really love you. After the show Taehyung invited you back to the dorm for their post concert routine of ordering a ton of takeout and then crashing on the couch watching a movie. Things still felt a little awkward but you appreciated that they were trying to make things right and everyone knew it would take time.

The following day you made your way to the recording studio when you heard someone call your name. Turning around you saw Bang PD smiling at you as he invited you into his office. “Y/N, I had a long meeting with the boys this morning. They told me what happened yesterday with the manager and how he treated you. You should’ve come to me a while ago and let me know that this was going on. I just wanted to let you know that the manager in question has been dealt with and is no longer an employee of this company. Should this happen again please bring it to my attention immediately.”, he advised. “Thank you.”, was all you could say feeling a wash of relief that you don’t have to deal with this any more. After giving a quick goodbye you walked out of his office and went back over to the studio knocking on the door and waiting to be let in. A few moments later Yoongi greeted you with a smile, “Y/N come in! I’ve got a bunch of new songs we need to work on. I think your voice is going to add something great.” Happily you walked in a greeting Namjoon who was sat at the control table before taking a seat next to Jimin who reached over and gently gave your knee a squeeze reminding you that things were going to be better.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts angst #Jin #Yoongi #Namjoon #hoseok #Jimin #taehyung #jungkook #jhope #suga #rm #v #bts x 8th member #8th member of bts

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katsu28 · 7 months

Note

congratulations kait!! this celebration is SO cute! i am gonna request ☕️ + “You look stupid as all hell right now.” + hangman !!! thank you loveyyyy

lola my dear my love thank you!!! love you <3

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.4k, slightly suggestive towards the end, join the celebration!

“Babe, do you know where the box of kitchen plates is?”

It was something straight out of your dreams, finally moving in with the love of your life. You’d been dating Jake Seresin for two years and finally made that leap, the last of your boxes making their way to your new home safely today. There was a lot coming from your apartment and his, but everything would find its place here.

You could’ve had nothing and still be just as happy, because you still had Jake, and that was really all you needed.

Except for he wasn’t answering you right now, and you really wanted to find the plates. So you went looking for him, calling his name every few seconds until you reached your bedroom. You found him alright, you definitely weren’t prepared for the sight you were met with.

He was wearing a sweater of yours, definitely way too small for his broad frame judging from the way it cut off above his belly button. It was tight in the shoulders too, and you’d be a bit more annoyed at him stretching it out if you weren't so in love with him. He was grinning guiltily at you, hands propped up on his hips as he stood in the middle of a pile of your clothes.

“I was gonna put all your stuff in the closet for you so you didn’t have to.” He said sheepishly, gesturing vaguely at the mess around him. “...Surprise?”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him, so big your cheeks ached. “You look stupid as all hell right now.”

“I think you mean stupid handsome,” He scoffed, arching a brow at you.

“No, I meant what I said. What made you think you could fit into that, honey?” You chided playfully, crossing the room to get a better look at him. It was an older sweater of yours, a bit frayed at the sleeves from how often you’d worn it over the years you’d had it, but still soft and even cozier now that it had been worn in.

“You were wearin’ this sweater the first time we met, d’you remember?”

Of course you remembered. You remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it had been almost three years ago.

You were grabbing a little pick me up before work at your usual coffee place one morning, and you spotted it on the pickup counter, the same thing you always got. Another hand reached for the plastic cup at the same time, long fingers curling around yours for a moment before jerking back like they’d been burned.

The problem was, your gut instinct was to retreat as well, leaving the cup of coffee to tip over on the counter. The lid popped off, and suddenly your sleeve was cold and wet and smelled like…well, coffee.

“Shit!” You hissed, shaking it out as best you could. “What the hell?”

“Oh fuck—” You looked up, and the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on was staring right back at you, blond hair swept up and out of his face, pretty green eyes widened in something akin to horror. “I am so sorry, I thought it was mine, I didn’t—are you alright?”

You should’ve been angry—or annoyed at the very least, because now your favorite sweater was stained and you’d probably never be able to get it out—but you weren’t. All you could think about other than your sopping wet sleeve was that his guy was clearly concerned about you.

Maybe he took your silence as a not-so-great one, because he forced out a chuckle. “On the bright side, at least it was iced coffee.” He was trying to make light of the situation as he grabbed a wad of napkins from the dispenser, thrusting it out towards you clumsily. You thought it was actually kind of cute.

An amused laugh bubbled out of you, and you shrugged, nodding. “There’s the silver lining.”

“I’m Hangman—Jake, I mean. My name’s Jake. Seresin. Hangman’s my callsign, s’force of habit.”

“Callsign? You Air Force or something?”

“Navy, actually, and I’ll try not to be too offended by that.”

“Air Force, Navy—aren’t they pretty much the same?”

“Okay, ouch.” Jake faux winced, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again to see you were just messing with him. Then he smiled, shaking his head. “Maybe I could buy you another coffee, make up for the one that spilled? We could talk. I could tell you the difference between the two.”

“Why not make it up now? We’re both still here.” You were taking a bolder approach than you usually did when it came to people you found attractive, but something had come over you with Jake. Even though he was a complete and total stranger, you felt surprisingly at ease with him.

Jake perked up at that, lips curving into a smile, but then he checked his watch. He grimaced. “I’m actually late for work right now, I’m so—can we raincheck? I promise I’m not tryin’ to get out of anythin’, my captain’ll have my behind if I’m not on the tarmac ready to go in ten.”

“Ten minutes? Well what the hell are you still doing here? Go!”

He grinned at you one more time before moving to hurry out the door, but didn’t get more than a few feet away when he skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to face you again. “Wait, I didn’t get your name!”

“Guess you’ll just have to meet me back here again. Saturday, noon. Don’t be late.” You winked at him and he gave you a mock salute before dashing out the door, leaving you thinking about him the rest of the day, and until you had the privilege of seeing him next.

It took Jake almost a year to ask you out after you met up that Saturday, wallowing in what he thought was the friend zone for the longest time until the two of you managed to get your heads out of your asses and see what you were missing. And it was actually you who told him you liked him first, murmuring it in his ear at a summer bonfire with your friends, but it was him who kissed you first—right after you told him you liked him.

“Yeah, I remember.” You said softly, fingers trailing down the sleeve to the faint brown stain in the soft wool where the coffee had spilled. Jake’s arms slid around you, though a little stiffly given his constraints. “Look at us now.”

“Look at us indeed. Havin’ our own place, putin’ down roots. Seems pretty crazy, doesn’t it?” He murmured, giving your waist a loving squeeze. You did the same around his shoulders, tilting your chin up for a kiss that Jake gladly gave you.

Jake always kissed you like he did everything in life—confidently and well. They still had you reeling in the moments after even now, even though he’d kissed you about a thousand times in the time you’d been together—probably more.

This one was no different, but something about it felt sweeter. Like he was less worried about winning, because he’d already won it all. Because he had you, because you had a home together. Because now you could start the rest of your lives with each other in this home. You could almost hear him saying something about having the best prize of them all.

“Now take off my sweater. Your big man shoulders are stretching it out.” You said, patting him firmly on the chest a few times.

Jake gasped, slapping an appalled hand over his chest. “Is this your way of tryin’ to get me out of my clothes? In the middle of the day? You tease!”

“We’ve still got a whole house to unpack, so no, I’m not trying to get you out of anything. Except my sweater, so if you would be so kind?”

“You could at least pretend to want me once in a while, y’know.” He sighed dramatically, letting his head hang. That was Jake, ever the drama queen out of the two of you.

You lifted his chin with two fingers, fixing him to the spot with a look. “I’m sorry, was this morning not enough for you? What was it—one, two, three—”

“Okay, okay, fine! You were yellin’ somethin’ about kitchen plates earlier? Let’s get the damn thing done so we can have more time for this morning’s activities.”

“I swear, that’s all your dude brain thinks about—take off my sweater, damnit!”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#kait's 2k!#hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin fluff #jake seresin fluff #hangman seresin fic #jake seresin fic #hangman seresin one shot #hangman seresin imagine

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littlexscarletxwitch · 11 months

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, based on endgame by taylor swift (you don't understand how much i'm loving this song), cute gf flo

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: omg, it's finally here. I'm so sorry it took me sooo long, it just I was super busy. Was this inspire by Ms. Taylor Swift? Yes, yes it was. I really hope you guys like this one. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love you all so much <3

note 2: guys, I'm currently reading 'Delilah Green doesnt' care' and it's giving me so many ideas for fics. So would any of you be interest in more mum!florence? Please let me know. Xoxo, M

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Your eyes were closed, your head was on her chest listening to her steady heartbeats, a soft smile formed on your lips.

“Promise me this is forever,” you whispered.

You knew she was awake, she was doing the same thing as you, enjoying the moment, living in the present.

Your eyes found hers already looking at you.

“I promise,” she said, her smile mirroring yours.

Her lips found yours as if sealing the promise forever, but nothing ever lasts forever. The kiss that was first sweet and soft and filled with love, turned bitter, harsh and cold. You pulled back confusion written all over your face.

You blink once then twice, and suddenly you were waking up on your bed, alone. You cursed yourself at the stupid memory. It was so pathetic to still think about Florence that way. You two were history, long forgotten, just a memory of your adolescence.

You shook your head, trying to wake up your foggy brain from the nap you had taken. And decided to get some work done as a way to clear your head from your silly old fantasies.

You made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed your notebook and put your headphones on. You only had three more months to finish your second album. The deadline wasn’t much of a concern of yours, what bothered you was the lack of inspiration. Every lyric you would write down was just trash, it was as if you were missing something. So far you had only five finished songs, and you needed ten more to have the album finished.

You were humming, moving your head to the beat as you let your brain come up with the right words, but it felt as if you were stuck.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you sang to the beat. “I wanna be, I wanna be your… ” you threw your head back in annoyance, frustration getting the best out of you.

You had been sitting on the floor for the last hour, trying to finish this one song but you were not even close to it. You took a deep breath trying not to lose your shit. Your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a new notification and that took your whole attention.

“Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey spotted out for dinner,” you read out loud and couldn’t help rolling your eyes at the link your manager and best friend had sent you.

According to the news, you were dating both Drew Starkey and Joe Keery. You also almost got engaged the week before to Rudy Pankow, but apparently cheated on him with Maya Hawke. You knew better than to actually pay attention to fake news, but you couldn’t help to. After all that was now your life, the life of a startpop in the making, so much for a boring Oxford kid.

Your reputation precedes you, in rumours you were knee-deep. But there was nothing you could do about it. Exhausted from your social life and the poor lack of motivation to do the one thing you loved the most, you decided to go out on a walk, hoping it would help to clear your thoughts about both the fake news and Florence, who you tried to ignore from thinking of. But ever since that dream you found yourself thinking about her more often.

You knew she was as famous as you were, maybe even more. You had to admit to yourself that some nights you found some kind of comfort in her movies, watching her cute pouty face, the one she was most known for.

She was your first love, she taught you how to love, what it was to be loved. Of course it wasn’t easy to forget about her, even after all these years, some part of you still craved her love. It wasn’t that you didn’t love each other when you both decided to go separate ways, it was because things weren’t so simple anymore. You two weren’t just two teenargs in love, you were slowly becoming adults. She had booked roles and you were making your way into the music industry.

And without the two of you knowing you two just drifted apart, the two of you too caught up in your careers. But you loved her, so you decided to let her go, hoping and praying to the universe that maybe she would come back to you one day.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door to your local cafe and someone bumped into you.

“Sorry, I wasn’t… “ but you stopped cold once you saw the strangers eyes.

“Y/n?” she asked, her voice as soft and raspy as you remembered. “What are you doing here?” a smile formed on her face, as if she was genuinely happy to see you.

You shook your head trying to clear out your mind, was Florence really in front of you? “I, um, I lived here,” you blinked once, twice and she was still there. “Just around the corner,” you added, cursing yourself for being so awkward. “What are you doing here?”

Was this a sign of the universe? Have your prayers been answered?

“Visiting my family,” right her family, you thought. “Well, not just that, I’m also working,” she scratched the back of her neck. “I was actually hoping to see you, too.”

“Really?” that had to mean something, the universe couldn't be messing around with you this cruelly. Right?

“Yeah, I have, um… I have been thinking about you.” she smiled at you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach. “I think we should talk.”

“I, um,” what were you supposed to say? Were you willingly going to agree to spend time with the love of your life as if the two of you were going to be just friends? What was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, sure. When are you free?” you finally agree.

You mentally checked your schedule, you were supposed to finish your songs but taking a break wouldn’t hurt anybody. Plus, you were going to get your coffee and get back to it right away.

“Um, what about now?”

Shit, you thought. She wasn’t going to give you any time to prepare yourself. Well, you better get into it, rip it off like a band aid.

“Okay, I was going to get a coffee and then we can…”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time. I’m going to find us a table.”

You order your coffee while mentally preparing for the conversation the two of you were going to have. What was she on about? Was it really a big coincidence? Did the universe put her in our path for some reason? You shook your head, you needed to stop thinking about the universe’s way of working for a second.

They handed you your coffee and now you had no more excuses to avoid her, not that you wanted to. Some part of you long to be near her, but you were scared of what this whole thing was about.

“So, um, what’s up with Drew?” she tried to pretend she didn’t care but was actually dying to know if you were actually dating him, not that you noticed it.

“Who?”

“Drew? Starkey?”

“Oh, yeah, Drew,” you chuckled, silly you for forgetting your own friend. “He’s just a friend, a really good friend,” was it your imagination or did she just let out a breath of relief. “What about Ashley?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.

She smiled at you, “She’s also a really good friend.”

“So, um…”

“Listen, Y/n…”

The both of you chuckled.

“You go first, Flo”

That nickname. It was stupid because everyone who knew her would call her ‘Flo’, but coming out of your lips felt different. She had missed hearing her name on your lips, she had missed you.

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” you only nodded. “I lied earlier, I’m not here for work or visiting my family. I came here to find you,” your lips parted in disbelief. “Ever since we broke things apart, I had been feeling like something was missing, Y/n. And I recently realised it was you. Well, I saw the article about you getting married and all I could think of was that something wasn’t right.”

“Florence I…”

“No, please let me finish,” she cut you off. “I understand that we are strangers to each other, but I would love to get to know you once again. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, it can be like a fresh start. I just really need you in my life, Y/n. I miss my best friend.”

You took another sip of your coffee, stealing time before giving her an answer. The truth was you already knew what you wanted, you knew it the moment you sat at the table, but you wanted to mess with her just a little bit.

You put your cup down, and finally your eyes found hers, “I would like nothing more.”

[...]

Ever since that day, Florence and you had been spending everyday together. Catching up with each other and going back to old habits.

The more you hang out with her, the more you could feel your old feeling coming back. But you didn’t want to rush things just to ruin them again. But one particular afternoon you couldn't hold back anymore and decided to do something about it.

She had fallen asleep 30 minutes ago, you chuckled as you realised her current state because she had picked out the movie but turns out she was more tired than what she let you see.

You headed to your small studio and decided to get back to the song you were working on before running into Florence. You knew exactly what you wanted to say, having found your new inspiration a few weeks ago.

You pressed play and the music started playing, you already had a few things written down in your notebook you just needed to put all your ideas together.

You were so lost and immersed in finishing the song, going at it back and forth, changing some lyrics, singing some ideas, writing and crossing out some bits, that you didn’t realise someone was watching you just when you were about to finish.

You had already recorded the whole song and were just checking it out when Florence leaned in the frame door.

Florence smiled as she listened to your sweet voice. She wondered who this song was about.

Knew her when I was young, reconnected when we were little bit older

Both sprung, I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders

She didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Reputation precedes me, in rumors, I'm knee-deep

The truth is, it’s easier to ignore it, believe me

She felt her heart shrinking in her chest.

Even when we'd argue, we'd not do it for long

And you understand the good and bad end up in the song

She listened closely to the song as you hummed to it.

For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Her heartbeat and body temperature were rising.

I've made mistakes and made some choices, that's hard to deny

After the storm, something was born on the 4th of July

I've passed days without fun, this end game is the one

With four words on the tip of my tongue, I'll never say it

She couldn't take it any longer.

“I like it,” she said, getting closer to where you were sitting. “It’s catchy,” she said, trying to shake her feeling away. That song could be about anyone.

“I feel like something’s missing,” you scrunch your nose.

“Sing the corus to me, please,” she looked at you with her doe eyes and you swear you could have melted in that moment.

You shook your head with a smile on your face and compiled, “I wanna be your endgame, endgame,” you finished singing the chorus. “And then it goes. Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah,” you sang, trying to not look at Florence.

“You know, it sounds awfully familiar,” she teased, wanting nothing more than for it to be true.

“And you heard about me, ooh. I got some big enemies,” you kept on going.

“What are you trying to say, Y/n?” she kept on pushing you.

“Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation, ah. And I heard about you, ooh. You like the bad ones, too,” you finished, trying to tell her that you were thinking exactly what she was thinking.

She was so close to you now, her knees brushing against yours, sending electricity throughout your body. You could feel her hot breath on your lips.

“I want to…” she didn’t finish her sentence because you were already nodding and she smashed her lips to yours in a second.

You felt as if a wave of cold water was washing over you. Her lips felt both familiar and new at the same time. You felt at home as she wrapped her arm around your waist and her other hand cupped your cheek. You didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, but both you and her needed to breathe so ultimately pulled apart.

She rested her forehead on yours, both of her hands cupping your cheeks, caressing your skin with her fingertips.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you quietly sang to her.

She chuckled before kissing you again and again and again.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #Spotify #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love

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mothdruid · 11 months

Text

The Physics of Love - Prologue

series masterlist | part one

pairing.

robert 'bob' floyd x afab!reader

warnings.

insecurities, previously experienced misogyny in STEM, self-doubt. this content is meant for those who are 18 and older.

authors note.

professor coleman (hondo) is a real one who loves his students. but let me know what you think so far! i will be doing a tag list for this series, so if you would like to join that, let me know.

The red ink stared back at you menacingly. Every minus one, minus two, minus three points marks taunting you. Sixty-eight out of one hundred. It wasn’t the worst you had scored in the class, but it was too far into the semester for you to drop. If only you had actually considered it a few weeks ago. That foolish woman in STEM mentality got the better of you though.

“If there are any issues with scores, let me know after class.” Professor Coleman announced.

It was as if the whole classroom failed, many students hanging back to talk with Professor Coleman. And you were no exception, slowly packing your bag while leaving your test on the table. You flipped through it a little bit as you waited after packing. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed, you just weren’t sure what to do from here on out.

“Issue with your score?” Professor Coleman asked.

You shook your head, letting out a soft chuckle.

“No, I just,” your hand tightened on the marked up papers, “don’t know what to do.”

Professor Coleman gave you a questioning look. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, staring at you with an odd kindness. The tension in your shoulders started to dissipate, your body finally relaxing enough to let your frustration sift into worry.

“If I don’t pass this class, boom, bam, degree gone,” you set the packet on the table. It was annoying to think that this class would potentially make it or break it for you. Stripping you of that geology degree you had yearned for since junior high. Math? A struggle but doable. Chem? Not too bad. Physics? The bane of your existence.

“It’s not like the final is next week. You have passed both exams so far.”

“Barely,” your hands were starting to clench up. It was a nervous habit, one you couldn’t seem to shake.

“Still passed though,” Professor Coleman offered you a smile.

"My degree requires a C plus, something that looks impossible right now," you sighed, tightly running your forefinger and thumb across your forehead to block your vision. It was beyond frustrating.

"Have you thought about looking for a tutor?"

A tutor? Was he being serious? How could anyone help you learn this cursed subject? Let alone get you to retain the information. Plus, you had tried it last semester. It ended in a bit of a failure, on your part and the tutors.

"Yeah, last semester. Tutor got frustrated because I couldn't pick it up, and I got frustrated about not picking it up quickly and it was just," you removed your hand only to be greeted with a soft frown, "it didn't work."

"Would you be willing to give it another try?" Professor Coleman asked, pushing his hands in his pockets.

"I uh�� I don't know. I'm not a huge fan of the tutor program here, especially after last semester." You looked over at him with a frown and shrugged. "Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me to give up on geology."

"Hey, some of the best things in life are hard to get, and this might be one of them." Coleman smiled softly at you.

Doubt with a hint of shame swirled around your mind. A storm cloud that didn't want to dissipate. As much as you wanted to believe his words, it was hard. It was hard enough to make it in this field anyways. Hell, any STEM major was hell to get into. It was exceptionally worse though being a female in the field though. You had had classmates and professors act as if you didn't belong among them. And now, it felt like it was all true.

"What if I found you a tutor? Hand picked by me," Coleman shrugged, his words catching your attention.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, I can just fail and go about taking it next semes-"

"I don't want to see you fail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Coleman had been the first professor that had seemed to actually care about how you did, which was rare for a STEM professor. Most of them had a sink or swim mentality with their subjects, but not him. Not good ole Hondo.

You had heard about Professor Coleman through a few of your other classmates in your program. He used to be an astrophysicist for NASA but then decided to pursue the field of teaching. Or at least that is what you heard through the grapevine. He taught a collection of undergrad students and grad students. You heard Professor Mitchell call him crazy one time for teaching so many students, but you didn't think that Professor Mitchell had much room to talk.

"I don't know if anyone you pick will put up with my incompetence for physics," you hate to admit it, but it was true. You were incompetent at the subject, basically hopeless.

"You're not incompetent, we all have areas we struggle with. I have the perfect person in mind anyways," Professor Coleman said with a smile while leaning back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah? Who?" You gave him a curious look.

"It will be a surprise," Coleman said as he pushed up off his desk. He took a few steps over to you. "He will be helpful and patient, because it sounds like you haven't had much of that so far."

"But what if–"

Professor Coleman held his hand up to stop your words.

"No buts, and please just trust me."

"Fine, but if this doesn't work out," you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, "you're paying for my second semester of Physics ll."

Professor Coleman grinned, holding his hand out for you to take. The two of you shook hands, sealing the deal. As much as you didn't want to, there was an overwhelming feeling about you failing flowing through you. It felt like the only outcome, all your insecurities about your place in the world bubbling to the surface. But somewhere, deep down inside of you was a bubble or two, telling you that this tutor would help you survive the rest of the semester.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x afab reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfic #the physics of love #tutor!bob floyd

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 37

Joel makes emotional adjustments to you and Ellie. A continuation of Lavender ch. 1-3 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Just smut. Smutty smutty smutty smut. Oral (m receiving); unprotected p in v sex (wraps it up fools); evidence of canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 4.1k

“Joel,” Ellie drew his name out so it was stretched long and thin. “My fucking feet are about to fall off and that’s going to be an improvement. We have to stop.”

“Few more miles.”

Joel kept his eyes straight ahead and clenched his jaw. He knew the three of you had logged a lot of miles over the last few days. He sure as fuck was feeling it. His knees weren’t what they were 20 years ago but stopping had not been an option. He needed to get you all as far as he could from the men who’d tried to take you, been willing to hurt Ellie.

The three of you walked through the night and then all the next day after fleeing the camp, going in non-sensical ways through the woods. You’d insisted on taking first watch but Joel had hardly slept. He woke up what felt like every few minutes, squinting to find you in the dark, the stock of the rifle across your lap glinting in the moonlight. You slept curled around Ellie, holding her small body tightly to your own, her head tucked below your chin.

He woke you both before the sun was fully up, his legs still aching. But he had to keep you moving, had to put more miles between the three of you and things that would wish you and Ellie harm.

It had been a week of this now. They hadn’t seen another person - even any signs of another person - since Joel killed the man from the camp. Hadn’t crossed paths with any infected, either. The three of you had finally come upon a road that morning, having cut through woods for days. Joel was hoping that you’d come upon a town at some point, even a fucking tiny one. Somewhere he could orient himself, just a gas station with a damn map would do the job. He wasn’t sure where he’d led you after twisting through the forest for so long, hoping to cut such a confusing path no one could follow even if they were trying to.

He just wanted to get a few more miles. Then maybe the fear that had gripped him since you were pulled away from him and a gun was held to Ellie’s head would ease. Just a few more miles.

“Joel,” you said quietly, glancing at Ellie as she trudged along the side of the road. “No one is following us. This isn’t helping.”

He looked down at you, your eyes wide and soft. And it was a comfort for a moment. But then he remembered just how wide they got when you were ripped away from him, when you begged him to take Ellie away.

“Few more minutes,” he looked ahead again. “Then we’ll stop for the night. Next town we find we can stop for a few days, if it looks safe.”

“Few days?” Ellie perked up. “Fuck that sounds amazing. I’m going to sleep for like… a week. And actually give my feet a chance to go back to their normal shape, I feel like they’ve melted into these stupid boots…”

Joel pushed you for another mile and found a spot off the road to set up camp for the night.

“There’d better be a town like… three miles up the road,” Ellie muttered, her back against a tree as the sun set. “I am so fucking tired of walking. I never want to walk again.”

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but we’ve probably only covered maybe 400 miles of the 600 or so we need to hit to just get to the Wyoming border,” you said, eyes closed as you rested your head against a tree trunk. “And then we need to get toward the side of the state that Tommy was calling from. We’re maybe halfway there.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. You smiled a little.

“One of these days I’m going to get on you about your language again, Gremlin,” you said. “You’re becoming feral in the wild.”

Ellie scoffed.

“I was always feral.”

“More feral, then,” you conceded.

“Thank you,” Ellie smiled, content.

She settled in for the night, stretching out in her sleeping bag and curling in on herself as your fingers laced with Joel’s, your breaths relaxed and steady. It was calming, in a way. You were solidly next to him. He could feel you, hear you, sense you. Ellie was safe and close, even in her disturbingly small and fragile way of being. The sharp, jagged shock of fear that had been choking him for the last week eased when you were both like this. Where he could see you, know you were safe.

He was used to it with you but it was new yet familiar with the girl.

Joel hadn’t spent time with children since the outbreak. He’d never really been a kid person. Sarah had been the exception to the rule - to every rule, really. After she was gone, it made sense to avoid kids entirely. It was too risky. Some of the jobs he’d done in the QZ told him that. Kids were a walking liability. They were delicate, too curious for their own fucking good, no sense of self preservation. Joel had surrounded himself with people who weren’t risky. People who could handle themselves, who wouldn’t destroy him if they got hurt.

It’s why he’d shoved you so far away from him, even while he was tied to you, like his veins ran from him to you and back again all the while. Ellie… she was becoming like that, too.

He was sure that it had started because of you. Watching you with the girl was too much like seeing you with Sarah. Ellie and Sarah were two very different people but you loved them the same way - unapologetically, fiercely, fully. In the way that they needed you to love them without expecting anything in return. Your safety became tied to hers.

But it had grown and changed in the few weeks Joel had known the girl. She was more like him than Sarah was in so many ways. She was more like him than she was like you. He saw so much of himself in her, in her rough edges and brash determination and deep drive to take care of things on her own. He wanted to protect her before she ended up just like him, before she became too hardened to the world to be able to love anything in it. And when the man had put a gun to her head…

The man wasn’t living then, not after that. Joel had already wanted him dead for trying to take you but you’d have tried to talk him out of it and he may have let you. But after he threatened Ellie? There was no forgiveness for that. Not when he’d threatened both of you.

“You should get some sleep,” Joel said quietly, squeezing your hand.

“I’m comfortable where I am,” you said softly, squeezing back.

“You’re gonna wake up in an hour and you’re not gonna be able to fall back asleep,” he said.

“So worried about your wife,” you smiled a little, your eyes still closed. Joel sighed. “What? I’m just saying, most men at least ask a lady first…”

“Yeah well,” he shrugged even though you couldn’t see it. “Maybe I will ask one day.”

“Waiting to see what options are on the table wherever Tommy’s living?” You asked, still smiling a bit.

“Figured if I ever asked I should do it right,” he said gruffly. “Been waitin’ for it long enough. Lie down before you end up sleep deprived.”

“Fine,” you signed, not bothering to go for a sleeping bag and putting your head on Joel’s lap. “Wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch.”

He didn’t answer. He just rested a hand on your side, feeling your breathing shift as you fell asleep.

Ellie hadn’t been too far off in her wish for a close town. It only took three hours of walking the next day before houses started to crop up alongside the road, in little clusters. Then there was a church, a small subdivision made up of maybe 10 houses, a grocery store.

“Oh man, if they have Spaghetti-Os or Chef Boyardee…” Ellie said, walking faster than she had in days for the store.

“Hold on,” Joel grabbed her by the backpack and put her behind him, his gun and flashlight out. “We’ve never been here, gotta take a look around first before you go in and grab whatever you’d like…”

You took your gun out, too, and kept Ellie tucked safely in between you and Joel. But the store was empty, clearly had been for a while. The shelves had been somewhat picked over, but it didn’t look like many people had been here since the outbreak.

“We must be off the beaten path,” you said, tucking your gun into the waistband of your pants and starting to examine what food there was on the shelves.

“Dibs!” Ellie reached to the back of the shelf and pulled out a can of ravioli.

“All yours, gremlin,” you smiled.

“Fuck yeah.”

Stocked up on food, you went to the pharmacy and Joel pried the gate up enough for you to clamber over the counter and into the back.

“There was a leak back here,” you called. “But still have some usable stuff…”

You came back with a few bottles of medication and a notebook.

“What’s that?” Joel frowned.

“The emergency information booklet,” you said, setting on the counter and climbing back over. You opened the booklet and shined your flashlight down at it. “Here we go, we are in scenic Curtis, Nebraska.”

“Nebraska,” Ellie nodded slowly.

“Just one state away from Wyoming,” you said. “Just hope Curtis is on some maps. Speaking of, we should make sure we grab some maps…”

The three of you made your way through town, Joel in the lead, Ellie behind, you at the back. But there was no one.

It didn’t take long to find why. In the middle of the small downtown was a pile of bodies, the skeletons charred. Everyone had been wiped out early. Infected would have bypassed quickly with no one to spread it to and being so far from everything meant that it was likely no one had been here in years. Joel put his gun away.

“Fucking FEDRA,” Ellie muttered, bypassing the pile, barely looking at it. Joel waited for you, your eyes glued to the bodies, your arms crossed tightly over yourself. He pulled you against him and kissed your temple before continuing on.

It didn’t take long to find one of the few hotels in town, an extended stay place.

Joel pried the automatic door to the lobby open and quickly looked around, but it didn’t look like anyone had been here in a while either. There was a rack of brochures near the door and he grabbed a map. Ellie picked up an ad for a local attraction, frowning as she looked it over.

“Did people really go to shit like the Museum of American Dollhouses?” She asked, holding up the brochure.

“No,” Joel said. You laughed.

“Not really,” you amended. “But apparently enough people did.”

“Weird,” she put it back, looking around the lobby some more. She jumped the check in desk, ignoring your exasperated “Ellie” as she did. She rifled around, pulling out a pile of room keys.

“What are these?” She asked, turning one over in her fingers.

“They unlock the hotel room doors,” you said. “But only once they’re programmed to so they’ll be useless for us. Is there some kind of room list back there?”

She frowned, rifling around for a moment before finding a packet of paper and holding it up. You took it.

“OK,” you said, looking over it. “It looks like there are some two bedroom things on the ground floor, rooms 121, 123 and 125.” You looked at Joel. “There are doors.”

He half smiled at you and led the way to the rooms.

They were in relatively good shape, the beds still made from the day of the outbreak. The hotel had been fairly new when everything went to shit and it was too far from anything major to be bombed, so it had held up fairly well. No signs of leaks, windows were intact. Ellie staked her claim to a bedroom, throwing her arms out wide and falling back onto the bed.

“I’m never leaving again,” she said.

“You can’t eat ravioli in there,” you called at her from the small kitchenette.

“I will leave one time,” she said. “But then never again!”

Joel barricaded the main door once night fell, Ellie going to curl up in her room fairly early.

“Do me a favor and keep it down,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “Because… gross.”

“Be extra loud,” you said, Joel’s arm around your shoulders as you sat against him on the couch. “Got it.”

“Ugh,” she closed the door. You giggled.

Joel looked down at you.

“You mentioned a door,” he said.

“I did,” you nodded. “Specifically that one, over there.”

Joel nodded for a moment.

“Think we should take a closer look at what’s behind it.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, mischievous. “Why’s that?”

“I swear if you don’t let me inside you…” he nipped at your ear.

You giggled.

“Let’s see what’s behind the door.”

Joel had never been happier about the existence of a piece of fucking wood. The second the door was closed, your arms went around his neck and your lips were on his own. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you tight to him, your breasts pressing against him, your hips already trying to grind against him. He groaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours, sliding over your teeth, trying to get to as much of you as he could reach.

He always fucking wanted you. That was a damn near constant in his life, had been for more than 20 years. Even for the years he thought you were dead - easily the bleakest of his life - when he dreamed of you, it almost always involved fucking you. The feeling of being inside of you, becoming a part of you in the way that he constantly ached to be, the deep satisfaction of having you as close as anyone could get. Even when he just dreamed about talking with you, it was almost always soaked in sex. Naked with you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, your limbs twisted with his own, your hair wound around his fingers. The best conversations of his life had been with you, naked and vulnerable and shut off from the world. He’d longed for that more than he did your body.

But the want he had for you now was different. It was its own snarling, groping thing inside of him, always reaching for you. It had been screaming for satisfaction since you were pulled away from him more than a week ago. He needed to feel you around him. Needed to be deep inside of you, so deep that there was no question in his mind that you were safe and whole and his. He needed to be so close to you that fucking no one could take you away from him.

Joel pulled your shirt over your head and immediately unhooked your bra, taking that off you, too. You tugged as his shirt and he helped you pull it over his head as he pressed you backwards, until your legs were against the bed. He kissed from your mouth, over your jaw to your throat, your skin salty from sweat and dirt and he wanted to devour you.

“Want you,” you said, your nails digging into the exposed skin of his back. “Fuck, want you inside me…”

“Far past wantin’ you,” he said, his lips on your collarbone. He unbuttoned your jeans and tugged them, along with your underwear, down your body. He nudged you down on the bed and your hands flew to his jeans, opening them, tugging the fabric over his aching cock and down until it was in a pile in the floor. You gripped his shaft, running your thumb over his already dripping head before spreading it down over him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes before you leaned forward and took him in your mouth. Just the tip of him at first, your tongue wrapping around him, making him moan as you pressed it into him.

“Fuck, Baby,” he groaned, slipping a hand into your hair. “Fuck, your mouth…”

You moaned, taking more of him into you, sucking him, your tongue pressing into the thick vein that ran along the bottom of his cock until his head was at the back of your throat, your lips wrapped around the base of him. You moaned around him, the vibrations in your throat going straight to his tip, damn near knocking him off his feet as he stood between your legs. You started bobbing up and down his thick shaft, sliding him almost all the way out of your wet, hot, soft mouth so just the tip of him remained between your lips before taking him all the way into your throat again.

You moved a bit faster with every stroke, taking him harder into you each time, his head making you choke as he filled you. Your hands held his thighs, trying to pull him as deep as you possibly could, making his knees go weak.

“Don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he managed, through gritted teeth, trying to think of something - anything - besides just how warm and wet your tongue was. “Fuck Baby, need inside you, need…”

You took him deep in your mouth and moaned, more forcefully this time, sending the vibrations from your throat straight to his cock. He groaned, pulling your head back from him forcefully. You panted for breath and wiped your mouth on the back of your wrist.

“Tryin’ to make me cum before I get to fuck you?” He asked, leaning over you. You crawled back on the bed and he followed, grabbing your ankle and holding you still.

“Not on purpose,” you smiled a little, sitting up on your elbows.

“Find that hard to believe,�� he spread your legs and settled between them, his fingers running over your slit. You were fucking dripping wet.

“This all from sucking me off?” He breathed. You nodded. “Fucking hell…”

He kissed you, rubbing your wetness over his shaft, pressing you down into the mattress. He pressed himself against your tight, grasping hole and held your hips in place before he thrust into you in one sharp motion. Your back arched as he met your back wall, your channel already starting to flutter around him.

“Fuck Baby,” he groaned into your mouth, giving your tight heat a moment to get adjusted to his intrusion.

It didn’t matter how many times he’d had you, he’d never get tired of fucking you. It would never get old. You felt to goddamn good, your body molding to him, gripping him tight but soft, your whole being stretching over him. He could feel your body making room for him inside of you, your walls pushed apart while your hips pressed up into him, desperate for it.

He’d never felt anything like being inside you, the overwhelming physical sensation of it alone would be enough to ruin him for anyone else. Nothing felt as good as you, fucking nothing, your tight core gripping him so well it almost hurt. He filled you so perfectly it was the closest he came to believing in God. He was made to do this with you, there was no other way to understand it, explain it. His body was built to fit into yours, to wrap around yours while you were around him.

That would have been enough. It would have been more than enough. But looking in your eyes when he was inside you, the feeling that he’d never been this close to another person and never would be again, never wanted to be this close to anyone but you. The idea that he could see inside you, to all the parts of you he coveted most, that he could know you in a way no one else could and that you could see him in that way, too.

It was a fucking miracle he didn’t cum the second he was inside you.

“Joel,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his own as you spoke. “Fuck… I need…” You closed your eyes for a moment, he could see your throat work as you swallowed. “I need you to move, I need… fuck, too much…”

He kissed you softly as he pulled back from you slowly, dragging his swollen head along your inner walls, feeling every tender ridge of you before thrusting back in, earning him a delicious little groan. He kissed down your jaw to the side of your neck as he increased his pace, your hips rising to meet his as your body tightened around him. You pressed your face into his shoulder with a whimper as his cock drove all the way to the back of you, pressing against the mouth of your womb.

“Fuck,” you panted, kissing his shoulder. “About to… Joel I’m going to cum, I can’t… Fuck!”

You came. Hard. Your walls rippling over him with such force it made his hips stutter over you, desperate little whimpers slipping from your lips as your body milked him.

“Taking me so fucking well,” he managed as he fucked you through your orgasm. You moaned, sounding on the verge of tears below him, his hips slamming against yours with almost bruising strength. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good, so fucking good…”

It seemed like you wanted to say something but couldn’t manage it. He thrust all the way inside you, his own orgasm so fucking close but not ready to leave your body yet. He pushed back from you, his cock still buried in you to the root as he looked to where he became a part of you. You were stretched tight over him, your lower lips swollen.

“Look so fucking pretty with me inside you,” he breathed, looping an arm below your leg and pulling your calf up to his shoulder. He pressed a kiss into the muscle there, making you moan, and he leaned over you with your leg still tight against his chest. You groaned a little as your body adjusted and he held himself inside you. But he knew you felt the angle difference, your eyes searching his own as the moonlight filtered in through the window. Your pussy tightened even more around him.

“Joel,” your voice was raw, achey. “I love you… want you… need you deep, need to feel you as close as I can…”

“I know Baby,” he said, pressing his hips down, able to go even deeper from this angle, your back arching, your whole body tensed like a band ready to snap. “Fuck, you’re incredible, fucking incredible…”

He started fucking down into you then, pulling out only as far as necessary to thrust all the way back into you as your pussy gripped him tight.

“Want to cum with you,” he panted, his arms caging your head as he took you, the moonlight casting shadows on your face. “How…”

“I’m close,” you managed, panting for breath. “Fuck, just… my neck and keep…”

He pressed his cock into you harder, faster and pressed his mouth against your throat, finding the spot he knew where you were most sensitive at the same time as his cock pushed as far into you as something could go and you came around him, your pussy throbbing over his shaft sending him over the edge. He sank as far into you as he could reach, the whole of him buried deep inside you as he came, emptying himself into you until he went slack on top of you, his cock still buried within you.

Joel rolled onto his side, taking you with him, the leg that had been pressed to his chest hitching over his hip as he started to soften inside you. He took your face in his hand, his fingertips dipping into your hair. You pressed your lips into his palm as you caught your breath, your eyes searching his own.

He smiled a little.

“What?” You whispered.

“I fucking love doors.”

A/N: I know, no cliffhanger this time, just our lil' family being a lil' family (and Joel and Doc fucking each other's brains out. As you do.)

I do have a taglist. Please comment below if you'd like to be added! I try to add everyone I see but if I've missed you, please comment again. If you're on the list below but not getting alerts, it's because Tumblr is being mean and won't functionally let me tag everyone. I've left everyone on the list hoping that will magically change but alas, here we are.

Thank you for being here and for reading this and following along! I'm not sure when we'll get another chapter quite like this one - probably not for a hot minute? It's going to get real plot heavy as we get to Jackson so may as well enjoy it while we can!

Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

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the-sunflower-room · 2 years

Text

Four Eyes

Steve Harrington x Reader fluff

A/N: bc i saw a headcannon that steve has shitty vision in his left eye from all the fights he’s been in and i can’t stop thinking about him being completely adorably embarrassed about getting glasses. that’s it that’s the fic

Warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluff for my fellow steve enthusiasts, extremely soft and lovestruck! steve. slight angst if you squint with insecure steve. no S4 spoilers except for the fact he works at family video and robin can’t drive lol

Additional Note: she/her pronouns used for reader

Steve Harrington would never admit he had a vision problem.

He prided himself in having the best of pretty much everything; perfectly manicured hair, wildly charming personality, swoon-worthy chest hair. But after getting the shit beat out of him three years in a row, he had come to terms with the fact that his eyesight in his left eye was maybe, just maybe, less than perfect. One too many black eyes, he supposed.

Steve’s parents had unfortunately also noticed his worsening vision. His mother, ever the worrier, had been the one to force him to the optometrist, despite his countless protests. In less than a day he had been prescribed—no—sentenced to a new pair of glasses to fix his blurred eyesight. Before he could even process the life altering decision being made for him, the design of the lenses had been picked, the bill had been paid, and Steve found himself driving home with a note to pick up the glasses in a few days.

Damn.

Maybe it was because he still held himself to unrealistic standards from his “King Steve” days, but Steve couldn’t even begin to picture himself wearing those dorky little frames to help his terrible eyesight. Robin and the kids would have a field day once they saw him wearing the glasses, and what would Y/N say? Would she like them, or would she be embarrassed by them? Would she be less attracted to him?

He knew his insecurities were stupid. Y/N was one of the kindest people he knew, and any teasing would be in good fun. Still, it was hard to ignore just how anxious the eyewear made him. It was a cruel reminder that yes, he did get his ass kicked that many times, and no, he wasn’t strong enough to win a fight and protect himself. His failings had led to real physical damage to his senses, and that terrified him.

The time to pick up his newly prescribed glasses arrived faster than Steve would’ve liked. During the first week of owning them, he barely touched the black case sitting on his nightstand. The small box constantly reminded him of his embarrassingly long history of lost fights and bloody faces. It took his mother’s constant reminders and an outburst from his father about wasting money for him to finally start wearing the frames out in public. And in some terrible twist of irony, he found that they were actually helpful.

Labels were easier to read at the grocery store, VHS tapes were easier to identify at work, and the fine print on the Family Video computer system wasn’t so unintelligible anymore. It was an entirely different perspective that offered Steve reassurance and some much-needed clarity. He had started to think that maybe, if he could let go of his bias against glasses and people who wore them, they could change his life for the better.

That was before resident dumbasses Robin and Dustin caught sight of him in his new eyewear.

A few days after Steve had begun regularly wearing his glasses to work, Robin bustled into the store five minutes late to her shift and nearly lost her balance when she looked up and met the eyes of her big-haired coworker. “What…the hell…are you wearing?” she asked very slowly, mouth agape and eyes wide in disbelief. Steve just rolled his eyes. “One too many punches to the face will screw up your eyesight, I guess,” he shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a completely strange look for him. “Parents were on my ass about wearing them, so I figured I might as well.”

Robin stared at his face for an uncomfortably long minute before bursting out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re serious! The Steve Harrington, wearing glasses? You’ve completed your transition to full on dork,” she wheezed, clutching her gut and slamming her fist on the counter in an extremely dramatic fashion. “Holy shit, this is golden!” Steve stared at her as she shook with laughter, an unamused express on his face. “Haha, hilarious. Laughing at a poor man’s failing eyesight. Very cool, Buckley.”

After gasping for breath and taking a moment to compose herself, Robin wiped a stray tear trailing down her cheek, walked around the counter, and clapped a hand on Steve’s back. “I’m just pulling your leg, pretty boy. You look very cute with your spectacles. And I’m sure your lady will love them,” she said with a mischievous grin and a wiggle of her eyebrows, as if she were implying Y/N might have some sort of glasses kink. Gross.

Shoving her hand away, Steve allowed himself a small laugh. “You’re disgusting, you know that? Go do your job, pervert.” Still giggling, Robin turned away to grab her work vest and and gave a small salute once she had dawned the dully colored uniform. “Sir yes sir. You know I live and breathe to sell movies, and I promise your extremely sexy glasses will definitely not distract me from a hard day’s work of pleasing customers with our discounts and shitty movie candy.” Rolling his eyes once more and relenting with a small grin, Steve returned his focus to the riveting task of sorting through returned tapes.

Although she had made him feel slightly better with her lighthearted teasing and jokes, Steve was still worried that he looked too different from his usual self. Too…un-Steve-like. But Robin seemed to get used to them fairly quickly as the two continued working, only making the occasional comment about how he was bound to become the employee of the month now that he had his new “super serious employee” glasses. Beyond that, she seemed completely unbothered by his appearance and went about her day as usual, making the typical complaints about annoying customers and shitty pay.

Maybe they really aren’t that big of a deal, he thought to himself as he locked up the store for the night, ready to head home after a painfully long shift.

Just as he parted ways with Robin and started to mumble the usual “see you tomorrow” as she made her way towards her awaiting ride, she beat him to it with her own parting words. “Drive safe, dingus! And seriously, I do like the glasses. They’re cute. And I know Y/N will like them too,” she smiled, giving him a slightly awkward wave before sliding into the passenger seat of the running car and slamming the door behind her.

Steve found himself momentarily dumbfounded by Robin’s genuine encouragement. It was hard to remember that underneath all that sarcasm and dry humor, Robin was actually an incredibly kind and trustworthy friend. After years of hanging out with stuck-up and self absorbed assholes, she was a nice change of pace. As the car pulled away, Steve mouthed a sincere “thank you” and retuned her wave.

I was worried about nothing, he thought to himself as he started his car and pulled out of the dimly lit Family Video parking lot, headed home with a new sense of confidence. Robin’s way cooler about them than I thought she’d be.

Everything is gonna be fine.

At least, that’s what he told himself up until Henderson finally decided to pay the store a visit.

He had shown up in the hopes of securing a ride to the arcade from Steve after his shift, but since the older teen was unloading new movie shipments in the back and Robin had greeted him at the counter, Dustin had yet to realize anything was different about Steve.

“So anyways, I told Suzie that she has to watch Return of the Jedi because it’s essential to understanding Star Wars lore up to this point. But her dad’s a super strict asshole who thinks it’s a sin to indulge in fine cinema apparently, and I need her to watch it so she can be caught up when we-” Dustin halted his story about his long-distance girlfriend (much to the relief of an uninterested Robin) when Steve finally walked out from the back room of the store.

Much like Robin when she had first seen the glasses, Dustin stared in uncomfortable silence as Steve just stood there, awaiting some sort of reaction. “…Oh my god,” the young teen finally squeaked, hand moving up to his mouth to stifle an obnoxious laugh. Steve heaved a heavy sigh, preparing himself for what was soon to follow. “Holy shit! And I didn’t think you could get any cooler,” Dustin laughed, obvious sarcasm in his tone. “I had no idea you were secretly some kind of Einstein this whole time.”

Unlike Robin who had quickly gotten used to the glasses, Dustin didn’t hesitate to annoy the shit out of Steve every chance he got. The jokes continued for days on end, and Dustin seemed to visit the store much more frequently just for the chance to torture his older friend. “I’m just saying dude, I think I’m gonna have to start calling you four eyes. It’s just the rules,” Dustin shrugged matter-of-factly one afternoon, poised directly on top of the counter and swinging his legs as Steve uselessly attempted to work around him.

He was getting extremely tired of Henderson visiting the store for the sole purpose of making him miserable. Finally, after yet another unnecessary joke, Steve snapped. “Listen dickhead, I didn’t ask for these, okay? My parents made me get them because my vision was total shit, and you’re just gonna have to get used to them,” he huffed, slamming down a stack of tapes next to Dustin on the counter and giving him a sharp glare. With a poorly concealed grin, Dustin nodded in feigned understanding. “Whatever you say, mom…”

Steve’s confidence had taken yet another hit. He found himself feeling the same as he did the day he first came home with the glasses, worried and anxious about how people would feel about his new look. He knew that it was just the nature of his relationship with Dustin to constantly tease one another about anything and everything, and it was mostly in good fun, even if Dustin didn’t always know when to stop. But their recent interactions had also made him uneasy and even more worried about his girlfriend’s potential reaction.

Hopefully she won’t think I’m a total dork.

It was a slow Thursday afternoon at Family Video when Y/N had finally found the time to visit and beg her boyfriend to show her the glasses. “Cmon, Stevie, Robin told me all about how cute you look. I wanna see!” She playfully jabbed her finger at him from across the counter, giving him that adorable grin that was so hard to say no to. Still, the nagging worry made him hesitate.

“Just…don’t make a big deal about them, alright? Robin and Henderson have already given me a bunch of shit and I really can’t take the jokes from you too,” Steve grimaced, anxiously shifting the small case between his hands. Nodding quickly, Y/N’s eyes trailed down to the case and back up to Steve with a look of anticipation. Here goes nothing, he thought to himself, removing the glasses from the case and sliding them on.

Cringing as if bracing for impact, Steve waited with bated breath for her to react. What he didn’t expect was her beaming smile of surprise. “Oh my god, they look so good! They frame your face so well,” she observed, placing her hands on either side of his face and tilting his head slightly as if admiring every angle of him in the glasses. Steve felt slightly baffled. “Sooo…you like them? Not too weird or different?” He questioned slowly, unsure of how she could be so casual about something that had felt so life-changing.

“Of course they’re not too weird or different. You look amazing as always, and if I had to guess I’d say you secretly like being able to see better,” she chuckled, giving the bridge of his glasses a teasing tap. As usual, Y/N was correct. Steve definitely did enjoy the newfound clarity in his day to day life, but now that he was in her company, he found himself most grateful for being able to fully appreciate her beauty in all the little ways he hadn’t been able to before.

The wrinkle of her nose when she laughed. The color of her lips, always perfectly soft and kissable. The adorable gleam in her eye when she smiled at him. Every wonderful curve of her body. Now, more than ever before, he found himself appreciating her endless beauty. It was suddenly as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, and it was in that moment in her presence that he realized the glasses were never really an inconvenience, but a blessing. They helped remind him that in every possible way, he was a lucky man dating someone like Y/N L/N.

All it took was a few literal slaps to the face and a new pair of eyewear.

“Thank you,” Steve whispered sincerely, trying to convey just how much he appreciated her support for him. “I guess I was worried they might change how you feel about me, or make you, I don’t know, less attracted to me, or something. Not that Henderson’s lame jokes have actually been messing with me, but, y’know. You get called four eyes enough times and it starts to get to you. I realize it sounds kinda stupid now that I say it out loud…” he laughed half-heartedly, slightly embarrassed by his confession. Y/N just shook her head and smiled in understanding, gently taking his hands into her own.

“You have nothing to worry about, Stevie. A stupid pair of glasses isn’t gonna make me think any less of you. I’ll always love you, no matter what you wear. Plus, I really do think you look cute in them. Even hot,” she giggled coyly, a light blush dusting her face at the somewhat bold declaration. Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face broke out into huge a grin. “Oh yeah. Nothing says raw sex appeal like a pair of glasses,” he laughed, the carefree sound filling the near empty video store. She returned his laugh easily.

All of Steve’s worries seemed to melt away after sharing a single conversation with Y/N. He sometimes forgot just how much she had changed his life for the better and how much she understood him.

She was the one who had stayed by his side after all the bloody fights and beat up faces, patching him up and comforting him whenever he was hurt. She was the one to hold him in the dead of the night and lull him back to sleep when nightmares of the upside-down plagued his dreams, shushing his cries of terror and promising him he was safe. She had been the one to assure him he was still her same, wonderful Steve, despite all his scars, bruises, and insecurities. She was somehow never phased by all his flaws or his unfortunate habit of finding trouble.

After all they’d been through together, Steve felt stupid for thinking she might think less of him or leave him over a simple pair of glasses.

Overwhelmed by his complete and total love for her, Steve suddenly cupped Y/N’s face in his hand and leaned across the counter, placing a soft kiss to her lips. Responding almost immediately, Y/N moved her hands into his hair and tangled her fingers in his soft locks, pulling him impossibly closer. Steve never seemed to tire of the feeling of her fingers in his hair. They seemed to silently communicate through the intimate gesture, an unspoken thank you for loving me so effortlessly and firm response of of course, I always will.

Y/N was eventually the first to break away, pausing for breath and attempting one last innocent jab at her boyfriend. “But I do still get to call you four eyes sometimes, right? You gotta admit Henderson was onto something.” Shaking his head, Steve just grinned and pulled her back in for another kiss.

“Shut up.”

-end-

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x reader fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #fluff #steve harrington x reader season 4 #robin buckley #robin stranger things #dustin henderson #scoops ahoy #scoops troop #scoops troop fanfiction #stranger things season 4 #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington hc #Steve Harrington x fem!reader

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velvethopewrites · 8 months

Text

The sob story with this is that I wrote this yesterday and it got deleted before I could save it. I wanted to die cry, basically. Somehow I managed to re-create most of it, after working on it all damn day. (I basically ended up writing over 6,000+ words in one day. Yowza) I still feel as though the first version was better, but…no one knows that but me, I suppose. (And my partner, who got to read it right before the horrors happened). Regardless, I am proud of this and proud of myself for not giving up when it really would have been easy to. So huzzah to the fickle hand of fate and all that stuff.

For Suptober 2023 prompt “starlight”

I tag @fellshish and @canonblastedships and @clarkenting for being super cool reblog buddies, lol (which is just a thing I made up) This is the longest destiel fic I’ve written yet and it will be my first official AO3 destiel! (As soon as I remember how to do that, oy)

Edited: Now with Spiffy AO3 Link! Here!

The Starlight

There were three types of people that visited the Starlight Lounge — drunks, people desperate to score, and the employees that made their bread and butter trying to tame the other two.

Dean Winchester, unfortunately, was a member of that third group. Oh, sure, Dean had been known to put away a fair bunch of liquor in his day, and sure, Dean had definitely been known to do the Bedroom Rodeo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, back when he’d first started at the Starlight he’d often been three types at once. Work, drink, get laid. Sometimes, not even in that order.

But that was past Dean. Current and newly mature Dean (hah) just wanted to work, go home, eat and fall into his bed. Working at the Starlight wasn’t that bad – it had fairly decent pay and it was often interesting. And like everyone else, Dean had bills to pay and he gave more than his fair share to Sammy. Not that Sam really needed it anymore; he was busy working as a law clerk downtown, putting himself through school. But still, Dean wanted to help as much as he could and besides it was his brotherly duty. Heh. Duty.

Tonight, due to the cold and rainy weather, the bar was fairly empty and business had been slow. There was only one of his regulars, a writer by the name of Chuck crying into his notebooks at the back of the bar. To be honest, Dean had never seen Chuck write a damn thing but the man sure could put scotch away like a pro. There was also a young couple making out in one of the booths near the restrooms. He’d been keeping an eye on them most of the night, actually, making sure no one lost any clothing. The Starlight didn’t need a public indecency charge on the books. At least, not so soon since the last one, at any rate.

Dean yawned and finished cleaning up the bar, hoping Chuck and the couple on their way to Soft-Porn Town would soon be leaving. Maybe Dean could even push them on their way a bit early, so he could get home at a decent time, for once. As he walked over towards Chuck to perhaps lightly suggest the writer hit the road, the double doors of the bar blew open – bringing in the rain, the cold rush of the wind and a new customer in a beige trench coat with seriously fucked up hair. Great.

Dean sighed and turned back around as the new guy slumped onto the first stool at the bar. His dark brown, messed up hair looked even worse up close, and he had a scowl on his face as he glared down at the bar in front of him.

“Whiskey. Neat,” Messy-Hair said, voice low and very rumbly.

Dean pulled down a clean glass and poured some of their nicer whiskey into it. Dude looks like he could afford it, at any rate. He had a nice suit on under the coat, now that Dean could properly see it and his watch was one of those big clunky things that could probably tell the time on Jupiter or some shit like that. The man’s hand reaches for the glass before Dean has barely pushed it forward. He throws back the drink in record time and hits the bar with it so that it makes a loud thunk.

“Another one.”

Dean shrugged as the man kept glaring down at the bar as though it contained all the answers to life and everything else; Dean knew for a fact that it didn’t. It didn’t even have a ‘42’ scratched into it or anything. (RIP Douglas Adams)

This time the man just wraps his hand around the glass, his fingers clutching at it and woah, Dean thinks, dude’s got some huge fucking hands. They’re big and they’re strong looking. The fingers are nice and long and graceful and oh, oh, oh. Maybe it’s a kink, or maybe it’s a preference, but Dean loves hands. Manly looking mitts like Messy-Hair here and even smaller, more delicate hands like on most women, with pretty nail colors. But Dean’s not choosy.

He sees motion out of the corner of his eye and notices Chuck signaling that he’d like to pay up. Glancing at Messy-Hair he figures he has a few minutes before having to pour him another so he sets the bottle down and heads over to the other side.

“All right there, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Dean.”

The older man is flipping through his wallet and counting out his cash slowly. Dean wipes the bar and puts Chuck’s last glass into the bucket for later cleaning.

“Write anything tonight?” Dean always asks this question. It’s like a little game he and Chuck play because it always has the same answer.

“No,” Chuck says looking up at him. He places his finger to his temple solemnly, almost like he’s holding a gun. “But I did a lot of work up here.”

He always gives Dean this look as though Dean should know exactly what he’s talking about. But, of course, Dean never does. He likes to read but he sure as hell would never attempt to write. Personally, he thinks Chuck is sort of crazy, but hey, to each their own, right?

Chuck pushes his notebooks into his old canvas bag on the bar. It’s bulging with everything he carries with him and looks fit to burst. Dean supposes that writer’s block is heavy business.

Chucks nods goodnight as he slips his bag over his shoulders, buckling a bit under the weight. Dean watches as he wobbles away and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the bag. He’d normally be worried (hey, no bar can stay in business if all its clientele got themselves killed), but he knows Chuck lives nearby. He’ll be all right and probably in his same spot tomorrow evening. He puts Chuck’s money into the till and realizes he tipped Dean more than usual. He really did have had a good night, then.

He notices the couple trying to break the world record for smooches in a single night are getting up and putting on their jackets. Maybe Dean can get out early; he’s got the DVR set for Dr Sexy already, but he wouldn’t say no to catching it live for once.

Glancing over he sees Messy-Hair is now resting his head on the bar, but he lifts it as the doors bang shut behind Chuck, the cold burst of wind making his hair looking even more disheveled. Dean heads back over to see if he needs a refill and is suddenly struck dumb by the other man finally looking at him. Holy Mother of Blue, those are some eyes. The dude is handsome. Like old-time movie handsome. Strong jaw, with a smattering of scruff, pink soft lips and eyes that look like they can see into your soul, no, scratch that, not see, but pierce. Dean swallows roughly and picks up the whiskey bottle.

“Hey, uh, it’s getting late. One more for the road?” Dean assumes the dude doesn’t know the Starlight is technically open until midnight. Assumes, hah. More like prays.

Blue-Eyes stares at him and frowns. “I thought this establishment closed at midnight.”

“Er, yeah. I suppose it does.”

“Then I’ll take another,” Blue-Eyes pauses and holds out his glass. “And keep them coming for the next forty-five minutes, barkeep.”

Dean blinks at the old-fashioned word and pours another round. They stare at each other until he hears a giggle and a clearing of a throat. He looks over to see the couple and wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Judging from the churlish look on the guy’s face and the barely contained laughter emanating from the girl, it’s been awhile. He settles their tab and takes their money (lousy tip, of course) as the two saunter past Blue-Eyes and escape out into the night. Well, at least Dean can see it’s stopped raining.

Making up his mind, he follows them from behind the bar and locks the door after them. He flips off the sign, too. He may be stuck here with Blue-Eyes, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let someone else come meandering in to make him get home even later.

He comes back to stand in front of his customer and makes a decision. Pulling down another glass, he pours some of the whiskey into it and sighs as the warmth of it hits his system. What do they always say about good whiskey? It should warm the cockles of the heart, or something like that. Not that Dean actually knows what a cockle is, but hey, it went down smooth.

He realizes Blue-Eyes is watching him and Dean decides to bite the bullet. He’s tired, bored and probably on his way to cranky town if Blue-Eyes keeps his word about the next forty-five minutes.

“So, what brings you out on a cold and rainy night like tonight, Mr, uh…what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

The other man squints and tilts his head at Dean like a tiny, confused bird. And no, Dean doesn’t find that adorable at all. Nope.

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

Dean purses his lips. Sometimes he’s really an idiot. He gives Blue-Eyes a shaky laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna keeping doing that.”

They stare at each other again, neither one budging until Blue-Eyes releases a breath and blinks, shoulders slumping a bit more. By the end of the night Dean expects this guy to be melted into the floor.

“Cas.”

Dean frowns. “Your name is Mr Cas?”

“No, just Cas.” Blue-Eyes, no, scratch that, Cas then holds out his hand so Dean can shake it like they’re fellow professionals meeting at a party or something. As he grips the other man’s hand in his own he realizes Cas’s hand is warm, dry, and, yep, strong. The dude is seriously ticking all of Dean’s boxes without even trying. It’s a bit unnerving, really.

“Is that short for something?” Dean asks, wondering what type of name that is.

Cas just looks at him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.”

Neither of them say anything else for a long moment and Dean shakes his head. “People ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Yes. All the time,” Cas says with a smirk.

Dean laughs. “Well, whatever. It’s officially nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean. Humble and professional barkeep at your service.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas’s voice is deep but there’s a warmth to it that makes Dean happy. They chit-chat for a bit, just like Dean would do with any newbie to the bar. He pours them both another round and then tries his question again.

“So, you seemed a bit upset earlier. What brought you through my doors, Cas?”

Cas sighs and glances away. He taps his fingers lightly on the polished wood of the bar. He stares at Dean as though assessing him and then looks as though he’s made up his mind.

“My…er, the person I’ve been dating, dumped me tonight. We went to an expensive restaurant and ordered far too pricey food for the serving size and drank outrageously fancy wine. Then they ordered an expensive bottle of cognac, drank it all and then told me I wasn’t worth it.”

Dean winces. “Ouch. How long were you together?”

“Six months.”

“Well, it’s not too long for a relationship, but it’s long enough to hurt.”

Cas nods, looking sullen again.

“What special occasion was it?”

Cas stares at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Fancy restaurant, the way you’re dressed, the cognac. Nobody orders that unless there’s been a birth or an anniversary or both.”

“It was my birthday,” Cas says, looking down again.

“Fuck,” Dean blurts out without thinking. “And they dumped you? Seriously bad juju, man.”

Cas nods and takes another drink of his whiskey, looking miserable. Dean tops off both of their glasses and hums.

“What was his name?”

Cas whips his head up, suddenly looking confused and more than a little worried. “I never said it was a he.”

“It was your distinct lack of pronouns, dude. Always the dead giveaway. Trust me, as a guy who plays for both sides, I know. Pronouns are key. Hey, relax, Cas, this is a safe space.” Dean points to the small pride flag he keeps above the bar and watches as Cas visibly relaxes.

The silence that falls between them is comfortable now. Welcoming, even. Cas clears his throat and rests his hand on his chin, peering at Dean.

“So…you’re bi, I assume or, pan, perhaps?”

“Got it in one. Just another bisexual loser ruining the world one lay at a time.”

Dean winks to show he’s only kidding. He’s proud to be bi, but it doesn’t mean he can’t make a joke at his own expense. Of course, if Sam or his friend Charlie were here they’d both tell him what they thought of that.

“His name was Bartholomew.”

Dean snorts. “It fits him. Douche-y name for a douche-canoe.”

Cas barks out a laugh and it completely changes his face into something truly beautiful. Dean suddenly feels the need to always make Cas laugh like that. He can’t imagine anyone not wanting to – his laugh is infectious. And the light it puts in his eyes is irresistible.

Cas looks serious again as he swirls the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “To be honest, Bart was just the last in a long line of failed…connections. I’m doubting my own self-worth at this point. Everyone ends up leaving or they get fed up with me. I’m too introverted…too socially awkward to deal with, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing okay right now.”

“I’ve been drinking,” Cas says, deadpan. “And also I’m paying you.”

Dean chuckles. “Not really, I decided to stop charging you as soon as I poured my first one.”

“Your hospitality know no bounds. Truly.”

Dean laughs. Cas’s dry delivery and poker-faced expressions really are the limit. He feels that familiar warmth he always gets when he meets someone new. A someone new that excites him. But he pushes the feeling aside because he knows on some level that trying to get into Cas’s pants is so not what the other man needs right now. Dean shivers as he realizes how damn mature that sounds. Next he’ll be looking into 401ks and cemetery plots.

“Well, consider them birthday drinks. Of course, this stuff doesn’t cost a small fortune or anything, but I figured you’d already paid out enough tonight.”

Cas smirks and shakes his head at Dean. “Thank you, Dean. It’s actually very kind of you to…take pity on me.”

He says it jokingly but Dean gets the sense that he means it. He reaches forward and touches Cas’s hand.

“Hey, no pity here. You are ridiculously attractive and if I didn’t have a conscience, I’d definitely be throwing out my best lines here to help you relieve some tension, if you know what I mean. And you are not awkward to me, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from asking for your number or seeing if you wanted to meet up sometime. I barely know you but you seem like a decent guy, Cas. And I think all of those people that don’t get you can just fuck right off. You need to keep trying, man. Don’t give up just because a few losers couldn’t see what they had.”

Cas blinks at Dean, blue eyes getting huge. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

Dean thinks back. Did he say that? Yeah, he said that. Figures that would be the only thing to register with the dude.

“What sort of line would you use on me? I mean, if you were going to, that is.” Cas shyly glances away and then back, a curious look on his face.

“Oh, uh, probably something like, well you know what they say — the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, faking a leer.

“I’m not sure that would work with me,” Cas says, mirth clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d make me work for it, I know. But seriously, you need to regroup, clear out the douche-canoes from your life and find a new guy, man.”

Cas smiles at him in fondness, and nope, Dean is not going to do it. He will not break his rule about dating people just out of relationships. Not even for big huge blue eyes that make him feel sappy like a love song. Cas, however, clearly has other plans.

“This may be forward but, um, Dean would you allow me take you out for dinner? As a date, in case you were wondering how I meant it.”

“Oh, wow, Cas, um, I mean…”

Cas’s face takes an interesting journey in two seconds – from hopeful joy to miserable and wretched. Dean feels his heart break a little bit for him in that moment and mentally kicks his own ass for being a tool.

“Oh, I see. I…I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for hospitality.” Cas fumbles with his wallet and places far too much money next to his glass. “I won’t keep you anymore. Go home and enjoy whatever is left of your night.”

Dean watches dumbly as Cas sits up straighter and then turns in his seat, his broad shoulders unyielding, suddenly. Dean knows he just can’t let it end like this.

“No, wait, Cas!”

Dean practically flings himself around the bar to reach Cas before he can unlock the door and leave without a backwards glance. He rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s only because I have a rule about dating people that just got out of a relationship. It has nothing to do with you, I promise you. You need to focus on you, dude. Figure out what you’re looking for. If this one was just the last in a long line of guys who don’t understand you, try and see what people you’re going for. I mean, I’m no expert, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of jumping before looking moments, but I think you just need some Cas time right now, you know? If we ever start something I do not want to be rebound guy and you deserve something better than a one night stand.”

Cas stares at him, blue eyes half in shadow. Dean holds his breath, hoping he didn’t just lose something. All he can hear is the clock ticking behind him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“That was quite the speech,” Cas finally says. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Cas, man. You have no idea.”

“I have some, like I said, a long line of rejections. Still…” Cas’s eyes search his face and then nods to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do tend to do things without thinking in this area of life despite being very practical usually. And you’re also right on anther point, Dean. You do not deserve to be “rebound guy”.”

Dean can’t help his grin as Cas makes the quotes motion with his fingers. They stare at each other for a bit longer before he unlocks the door. Cas steps out as the cold air filters in between them, causing them bother to shiver. Dean pauses, and then holds out his hand. “Let me have your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, you have one, right? Or have you moved on to something flashier like sky writing?”

Cas snorts and shakes his head. He fumbles in his pockets and then pulls out a slim, black smartphone. He unlocks it and hands it over. Of course, it’d be that kind of phone that can help you bake bread or turn off all the lights in the world with just a click or something. He finally finds what he’s looking for and puts his contact information in.

“There. There’s my number. Text me to let me know you get home, okay? And as for the rest, we’ll take it one day at a time, Cas. Let’s be friends, first.”

Cas smiles shyly as he looks down at his phone and nods. “Friends, first. I like that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, buddy. Be safe.”

Cas slips out and away, leaving a coldness in his wake as he takes his body heat with him. Dean watches him go, the black of the night almost swallowing him up. Cas pauses to pull his coat tighter, the glow of the streetlight lighting up his profile. To Dean he looks pure—angelic, almost, like a painting or a sculpture. With one last look at Dean, he eventually fades away, disappearing back into the world. Soon all Dean can see is his own breath in the air and the twinkling starlight from the surprisingly clear sky above. He locks up again and finishes his routine for the night. After he’s put the money in the safe and headed out back to his car, he feels happy inside. Like something good just occurred — like some new path has been cleared for him to travel. His drive home is quick and easy, there’s hardly any traffic mostly due to the earlier rain. It’s just as he’s pulling into his driveway that he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s from an unknown number and his heart beats faster as he reads the message.

From unknown: I arrived home safely, Dean. Thank you, again. Would you like to get coffee tomorrow, or, perhaps I should say, later today? Oh, this is Cas, by the way. In case you didn’t know. :)

Dean saves the number and then returns to the message to reply, a grin creeping onto his face before he even realizes it.

Dean: Of course, dude. Coffee sounds great. Around 1pm?

Cas: Perfect. Do you know the Blue Java Café on Marion and Elm? It’s across from the park and one of my favorite places.

Dean: Sounds good. Can’t wait to talk to you sober, ya lush… (lol j/k hah)

Cas sends him a sticking-tongue-out emoji as a response and Dean chuckles as he locks up his car. He has a nice, happy feeling in his heart as he thinks of Cas. Like maybe this is something special. Or maybe it’s just that it could be and has the potential to be. He knows he told Cas friends first, but Dean’s willing to see where it…where they, can go.

#suptober23 #destiel #prompt:starlight #dean and cas #meet-cute #my writing #biting nails here #like posting stuff is scary #wth #I am not used this anymore #castiel #dean winchester

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luimagines · 8 months

Text

He’s Turned Into a Kid Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Four, Wind and Time

Content under the cut!

Four

“Woah!! Look at that!” The child cried from on top of Twilight’s shoulders. He jumps, pointing to something in the distance, nearly flinging himself off of Twilight in the process.

“Careful!” Twilight grabs onto his legs, struggling to keep the two of them balanced. “Don’t fall.”

You looks forward to where he pointed, but you don’t see anything. “What is it Link?”

He jumps, much to Twilight’s chagrin. “I think I see the castle! Papa is in Castle Town! I’m almost home!”

You wince, along with the few other members of the group. You don’t have the heart to tell him that this isn’t his world.

When he was hit by the magic, he was transformed into a child no older than six years old. Luckily, he was still able to wear his clothes, even if they were a bit too big for him. But he was certain that he was lost and knew the way back home. So the group figured that if anyone could help him, it was Zelda. Thus, you all stated traveling to the castle.

You didn’t expect him to be so excited for someone who wasn’t there.

“I hope Zelda wasn’t too worried.” He says when no one else comments on his words. “I was supposed to head to the castle to check on her bunnies. I don’t know how I got so far away though.”

“Do you want to see the bunnies first?” You try to steer away from Castle Town. “We have to go to the castle anyway. Then we can find your dad.”

You can see the idea spin in his head. He’s thinking about it. “Hmmm... But Papa would be worried about me too. He doesn’t like me going too far away where he can’t see me... Not that I haven’t done that before.”

You snort. Of course. He’s still Link.

“What do you think?” Four turns his head to look at you. “Am I going to get in trouble?”

“Hmmm...” You pretend to think about it too. “I don’t think so. We can stop b the castle first since what we have to do is really important. Then we can find your dad and I’ll tell him it was our fault, yeah? That way you don’t get in trouble.”

He grins. “Thank you! You’ll the bunnies. They’re very tiny and soft. And not everyone can find a bunny to keep, but Zelda has three.”

“Three?” You grin back. “That must be really special then. She must take really good care of them.”

Four nods back. “Do you have bunnies?”

“No.” You shrug. “I have cuccos.”

Four makes a face. It appears that he’s already learned the hard lessons of cuccos. “...I don’t like cuccos. But I’ll find you a bunny, ok? They’re much better.”

You snort. “I believe it.”

Four points a fingers up, a sign of confidence. “I’m really good at finding things. I find all sorts of things in my house that papa says weren’t there before. We have little mice friends and they can help me find you a bunny.”

“I don’t need a bunny though.” You shake your head, keeping your smile on your face. “But thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

He nods, suddenly very determined. “It won’t be easy. Maybe I can ask grandpa to help make a little trap. He works a lot with metals. He’s a blacksmith. I’m going to be just like him when I grow up.”

You nod, keeping some little comments to yourself. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if you started talking about him like you already knew him. For all the boy knew, he was just somewhere else, surrounded by strangers. It doesn’t seem like he knows anything of the hero he would grow up to be.

You hope that Zelda would actually be able to do something about this and fix him. But even if there’s no immediate solution, you can’t say that you’d mind having him around.

“I bet you’re going to be just as good as him, maybe even better.”

He laughs. “No one is better than my grandpa. But if I get close to it, I’d be really happy.”

Wind

“What do we do?”

“Oh my god, this is horrible.”

“Time, you grew up with children right?”

“Don’t look at me. I have no experience with babies.”

“Wild, get a fire going, heat up from milk.” You command, trying to hold the group together. “We need to cook a few light grains to keep him full since I think he’s past that age. We need rags, blankets and something to cut them with. He’s going to get cold.”

The boys start scrambling at your orders. Wind looks up at you, easily no older than a year old. He smiles and you can see little baby teeth peaking out from his gums.

“Oh your teeth.” You stare in wonder. You’ve have some experience with small children. Between your little bother and Zelda, you know some basics, but in reality you’ve never felt less prepared for anything. But at least he might be able to eat more solid food. So that’s a relief.

Wind starts laughing, a light and bubbly sound. You can’t help but laugh back. “What, buddy? What’s so funny?”

“Man, he was a cute kid.” Warrior looks over your shoulder. You shift the child so that he’s balancing on your hip instead on purely being held up in your arms.

“Agreed.” You poke his nose and he laughs more. “He looks like Link when he was this age.”

Warrior makes a face but Wind starts to babble. “Bababababababa...”

“What is it, buddy?” You give your attention back to him. He reaches up but aims for Warrior. You grin. “Oh you want the Captain, little man?”

You happily give the babbling baby to the suddenly panicked hero. Warrior takes him since you leave him with little other choice but he’s holding Wind awkwardly and his fear is tangible. “.....Help.”

You laugh. “Don’t be so stiff. He’s just a baby. He’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

“The problem is just that. He’s a baby.” Warrior lifts the child higher. “What if I drop him?”

“Don’t.” You shrugs “It’s not that hard.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” Wild points his wooden spoon in your direction.

You shake your head, putting your hands up in defense. “I just remember my little brother. I’m a lot older than him so I had to help from time to time. Wind also has some baby teeth, so he can eat more solid food by the way. We just have to grind it up first before we give him anything just in case.”

Wind keeps talking, trying to tell the older hero something but Warrior has no idea what to do. The sight makes you laugh. “Captain, you’re hopeless.”

He looks back at you and back to the kid. Wind blows a raspberry before collapsing into giggles again. You shake your head and finally take his arms, positioning Wind against him so that it’s better from both parties. “Absolutely hopeless.”

“Dadadada! Babrrrrrrr.”

You nod, putting your hands on your hips. “Agreed. Well said.”

Warrior whines. “Don’t leave me alone with him, please.”

You raises an eyebrow. “What about-”

Wind starts crying, suddenly reaching for you. “Momaaa!!!”

You flush and take him back without hesitation. “Me? Did you want me, buddy? I got you. You’re ok. Don’t cry.”

Warrior sighs and ruffles his hair. “We have our work cut out for us.”

“We got as many loose rags as we could.” Hyrule holds a few of them up. “What do be need them for?”

You flinch. “Diapers.”

They pale.

Multiple hands shoot up. “Not it!”

“Cowards.”

Time

You were going to cry.

The small boy in front of you was too precious, too young and too sweet to be Time. He kept looking around the forest around you as if he had never been here before. And maybe he hasn’t, but that doesn’t stop the way he seems to be looking for something.

“Are you ok?” You ask him, poking his shoulder. You say it gently and yet it seems to take him by surprise.

“Um...” He seems nervous. “I’m looking for Navi.”

You tilt your head. That’s new name. You’ve never heard it before. Warrior goes completely still, not so subtly paying attention to your not so secret conversation. So he recognizes the name. Interesting. “Who’s that?”

“My fairy.” He whispers. “She left after we defeated Ganon...and I don’t know where she is.”

The whole group comes to a complete stand still.

“Oh my god...” Sky suddenly looks ill.

The young boy doesn’t seem to know why it bothers them. He misinterprets their silence. “I know! After everything we’ve been through, she just left. She didn’t even say goodbye. I’ve been looking all over for her! I need to stop by Lon Lon Ranch to get Epona. She’s a tiny horse but big enough for me to ride.”

He’s already saved the world, a little voice tells you. He’s so little but he already did it. You cough, unsure what to do with this information. “A tiny horse? Is she cute?”

He smiles, nodding at you. “She’s a brave girl. I love her.” He doesn’t elaborate any more on the topic because he seems to be lost in thought again. “I know you said you’d help me get home, but I also need to talk to the princess. She had dreams about Ganondorf so she believed me when I said that he was truly as evil as she believed- but she also has the Ocarina of Time. If she can trust me with it, maybe I’ll be able to use it to find Navi.”

You bite your lip and try to control your breathing. Legend is actually crying in the background. You catch him but you’re at liberty to corner him and ask him what the deal is.

Warrior looks simply heartbroken. He’s got his own issues here but your attention is on the young boy.

“So are any of theses guys your boyfriend?” He pokes your stomach. You jump and snap your arm to protect the spot, taken aback by the emotional whiplash.

“No.” You have to keep yourself from adding onto that answer.

“Oh...Is your partner not here?”

“I don’t have a partner. Why do you say that?”

“You’re just pretty.” He says it so casually. You’re almost jealous. “I thought that you would have had a partner. But if you’re here then they’d be worried about you. So I was curious.”

“...Right...” You force a smile onto your face.

Tiny Time turns to you and actually smiles. “I bet you’d look great with flowers. That’s what we used to do in Kokiri Village and everyone would get to look nice and pretty.”

“Sounds like fun.” You’re not reeling. It’s fine. You can survive this.

“I can teach you.” He takes your hand and starts to swing it.

Ok, you give up. You’d do anything for this kid. “I’d like that.”

But how are you going to get him back to the way he was?

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #sorry Wind #you've been babied

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