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sprout-fics · 9 months

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Today. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Again.

(Soap x GN! Reader)

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 5400 Tags: Doomed Narrative, Time Loop AU, Heavy Angst, Blood and Injury, Self-Sacrifice, Whump, Hurt Very Little Comfort, Happy Ending, (I PROMISE THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING!!) Warnings: Major character death. That's...literally the plot A/N: Hi here's the doomed timelines AU nobody asked for

Call of Duty Masterlist

Summary:

The 23rd time you meet Soap, you don’t bother to smile. You know how this ends.

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” You say for the 23rd time, words that have passed your lips in more lifetimes that you wish you didn’t remember. “I look forward to working with you.”

And I don’t look forward to watching you die.

The first time you meet Soap, it’s how you expect.

It’s a warm spring day, the kind where you need to shed layers in the brightness of afternoon, only to don them again come sunset. He stands just beyond the shade of the barracks, awash in sunlight that seems to catch the blue of his eyes. You blink as you take him in, and it’s the only barest indication you give at the instant impression that he’s handsome.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you. You reach for it automatically, remember yourself and offer a pleasant smile in return, along with your name.

“Looking forward to working with you, John.” You reply, and John- Johnny, as you’d come to call him in the tender moments between you, chuckles.

“Call me ‘Soap’.” He tells you easily, and you smile a bit wryly, tilting your head at him.

“The hell kind of name is ‘Soap’?”

- - - - -

It’s easy to work with Soap. He has a cheery, bright demeanor to him that is immediately endearing. He’s friendly, outgoing. His smile is contagious, and the bark of his laughter becomes familiar to you. You listen and guffaw at his jokes over the comms, try vainly to hide your smile when he says them before you.

It only makes his eyes twinkle to see you try and conceal your amusement, and that becomes familiar too- the sparkle of his irises with endless mirth.

He catches you during your duties, sidles up beside you during weapons training, becomes the first to suggest himself as your partner during drills. The company he offers is warm, welcome, lifting the dusky heaviness of your heart into something more tender, fragile. You hold it for him, feel his grin bleed into yours, lay awake at night and sometimes think about the shake of his shoulders when you get him to laugh.

You feel endlessly special when he devotes his time to you, feel as if Soap treats you like you’re the only person in the world. Even in the presence of others he finds ways to indulge himself in you. A nudge of his boot against yours under the table of the briefing room, tossing you an extra round of ammo as you gear up for a mission, finding an excuse to sit next to you on the chopper ride home. Soap feels like a breath of fresh air, the first taste of a cool breeze during summer, a respite from the weight of the world.

Like two stars in orbit, you circle each other, drawing closer into the gravity of each other’s gazes. You try at first to resist, to hold yourself away from the feelings of the other sergeant, knowing at any moment that he could be taken from you. It’s written in the wheels of fate, your destinies as soldiers. If you’re lucky, if you stay alert, if you train hard enough, if chance smiles upon you, maybe you’ll both live to a day where the sound of rockets and bullet-fire doesn’t haunt your waking dreams.

Yet you can’t resist him. When you fall asleep against his shoulder after a days long mission with hardly any sleep, when he playfully grapples with you over the last slice of pizza during movie night, when he gives you that smile during a rare night off-base at the pub- how can you resist?

Gravity pulses between you when you at last fall into him, feel his breath against your lips as your fingers comb through his mohawk. He breathes the blessing of your name against the corner of your mouth in a panting gasp, flexes his fingers across the small of your back when he drags you even closer. The taste of him is honey and ale, a sweetness with a beloved bitter aftertaste, one you drink down greedily in the form of his moans against your flesh.

When you lay in bed together after, sweaty limbs tangled together, you watch the tender, soulful smile form across the handsome planes of his face, and you know.

He’s yours.

There’s kisses stolen in the hangar before take off, moments hidden in the shadows of safehouses. He cups your face and lifts it to him in the aftermath of battle, smears ash against your cheek with his gloved thumb. You try to carve each moment into your heart, never fail to try and memorize the glint of his eyes, the soft slope of his smile. You know the shape of him in the darkness of his bedroom, know the sound of his voice even blinded by the brightness of his mere presence.

Johnny is the sun- emanating a gentle, beckoning warmth from afar. Yet when you get closer you see the glory of his inferno, see the flashing burn of his eyes in the midst of battle. The solar flare of his battle cry seems to carry you like soar of Helios's chariot upwards into the heavens of his devotion. When you touch him, you’re seared, branded by his fingers as they trace sentimental sketches across the dip of your waist. You want to bask in him, feel the ember of his stare as he gazes at you silently across the table of the restaurant he takes you to for your official first date.

“What?” You ask him, averting your eyes a little bashfully, catching his shrug in your periphery.

“Just lookin’.” He replies with a grin, his cheek smushed as he balances on his hand. “Just seeing how pretty you are.”

You kiss him for that, and when he laughs you kiss him again.

You kiss him a thousand times, each as sweet and passionate as the last, know the curve of his smile on your lips. You kiss him before your next mission, when he holds you against the wall of the armory and tells you how he can’t wait until you both get back.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t come back.

He’s looking at you in the chopper when you hear the sound of the RPG. The explosion has him backlit for all of a moment before the world is spinning, the roar of the dying engine in your ears and Price’s holler to “BAIL BAIL BAIL-!!”

You reach for the rope, glance behind you to see Soap not out of his seat- a breed of panic in his eyes unlike that you’ve ever seen from him. The jammed clasp of his strap is caught in his hands as he tugs at it desperately, and you meet his gaze for all of a moment, seeing the imminent knowledge of what comes next in his beautiful blue eyes.

You fall, without him, are caught by the canopy of trees where the snap of branches under you muffles the distant sound of the helicopter exploding as it lands.

You ignore Price’s orders, run desperately for the wreckage, only to be greeted by an inferno that stretches towards the sky.

Johnny is on fire, and this time when you reach for the burn of him the flames are real. They scorch your flesh and you shout his name even as you try to reach him, already knowing it’s too late. When Ghost and the others haul you back you fall to your knees, grip the scorched earth beneath your fingers and scream.

And then you wake up.

Warm springtime.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you.

You blink, heart still hammering in your chest, feeling the warmth of flames chase you even as songbirds sing in the trees. Yet Johnny is alive before you, whole, smiling, looking so much like the man he was when you met him for the very first time.

“Was it a nightmare?” You ask him breathlessly, and Johnny- Soap- merely arches a bewildered eyebrow at you.

“What?”

Nightmares, you come to learn, are so much more kind.

It happens all as it did before. The jokes over comms, the glancing gazes over drills, the bump of elbows in the mess hall. It’s familiar, sweet, amorous…

And you know something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Back to the start, somehow. You don’t know how, you don’t know why- but there’s no denying what has happened. Johnny died. You went back, and now you have a chance to save him.

It’s months before the helicopter crash. You replay the scene over and over again in your mind, and you keep arriving back to the look in Johnny’s eyes as realization washed across them. Everyone who dies a sudden death is confused, scared, not ready, and the knowledge and horror you saw in his stare haunts your waking dreams.

Yet Johnny falls in love with you just as he did before, and you fall into him so readily, desperate to accept his warmth in the wake of his death. Orpheus embracing Eurydice, you try to trace him into your skin, imbue the memory of him into the marrow of your bones and pray that you can reverse his fate. The gears of destiny tick in the back of your mind even as he stares at you over the restaurant table on the evening before your departure.

“Just lookin’.” He tells you when you return his stare, mistaking your concern for confusion. “Just seeing how pretty you are.”

When you kiss him, you try to swallow the sob in your throat.

When you get on the helicopter, you point out his jammed strap with shaking fingers, and he blinks in astonishment.

“Hell’s bells.” He huffs, fiddling with it before it comes loose, and it stays that way for the remainder of your journey. “That coulda been terrible, ey bonnie?”

He makes it out this time, and when he rises from the forest floor he rushes to you, cups your face in his hands and stares down with eyes glinting in concern.

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, chest heaving with exhilaration. “Are you hur-”

He jerks back at the sound of a gunshot, and you drop automatically, crawl to him just in time to catch his hand as he reaches for you. The bullet wound at his collarbone gushes red, red, red, and your hands are coated in it as you plead, tell him he’s going to be okay-

The light fades from his eyes, still staring up at you, the last thing he sees.

You still feel his heartbeat on your hands when you wake up.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you. You tremble, take it and see him blink in surprise when he feels the uncontrollable shake of your palm against his.

The second time, you think it’s a fluke, a horrible prank.

He steps on a landmine, scattered to the four winds.

The third time, you’re petrified.

A man hidden in the darkness, he lunges for you. Johnny pushes him aside. The blade wedges between his ribs.

The fourth time, you beg destiny for answers.

You make it to the compound, the fence lights him up like a firework.

The fifth time, you try to tell him, only to find your throat clogged, unable to speak. You try to tell him a hundred more times in the months that follow, and each time the words are stolen from your breath, as if fate forbids you to inform him of his doomed destiny.

“...Nothing.” You tell him when he asks after you’ve tried to speak over the restaurant table, your food barely touched.

Johnny shrugs. “Doesna matter, too busy looking at how pretty you are.”

You cry silently that night in his bed, while he dozes gently next to you, unaware of what awaits him.

You can’t tell him. You don’t know how to save him. You still love him.

He’ll forget he knows you, forget he loves you by the time he wakes up

You’ve found eight ways for Soap to die, and have taken years to defy all of them. You have to write them down everytime you wake up unless you somehow forget. The notebook is filled with scribbled reminders, ever present in your pocket even as he steals the last slice of pizza out from under you.

He doesn’t have enough ammo. Remind him to take extra clips

He put his knife on the wrong strap that he usually does, fix it for him.

He steps on the landmine fourteen steps after the creek. Stop him.

You can’t stop trying. Not when it’s him.

Yet each time you find a way to outsmart the latest execution of him, fate finds one more thing to steal him out from under you. Unstoppable, imminent, condemned to wake up and see his smiling face mere moments after his heartbeat slows to nothingness.

“I love you.” You whisper as you cradle his head in your lap, knowing he already can’t hear you, glassy eyes staring up at the sky. “I’ll see you soon.”

You burst into tears by the 19th time, buckling in on yourself much to the shock of the men around you, relaying startled looks of confusion between them. You excuse yourself, find a dark corner to fold into and sob, knowing this time you’ll fail too.

It’s Soap who finds you, sits beside you, says barely a word when you cry into his shoulder even though he doesn’t know you. Not yet.

Falling in love with him each time is painful. Your heart beats for him and him alone, but you know it’s only a matter of time before you lose him again. You’ll go right back to the start, to him having just met you, not yet falling into gravity with you, even as you hear the tick of gears turning ever closer to the moment you’ll watch him die.

“Don’t you know me?” You want to ask him, want to bunch his shirt between your fists and let tears stream down your face. “Don’t you know you loved me?”

His smile doesn’t waver. He jokes and laughs and playfully teases you and it hurts. It’s a balm that burns, heals your heart and yet doesn’t erase the scar. He’s your only comfort, the only thing you have as you feel your soul chipped a little further each time he leaves you. You can’t tell him why you cry into his arms, can’t confess to him that you’ve seen him die more ways than you care to remember, that you’ve tried to save him in dozens of lifetimes and he doesn’t even know.

He holds you even though he doesn’t understand, hushes sweet endearments into your hair and comforts you, not knowing how this will end.

“I love you.” He tells you softly as you hiccup against his chest, not knowing what else to say. “Ever since the moment I first saw you, I’ve loved you.”

Your tears drip into the fancy china at the restaurant he takes you to and Johnny looks afraid.

The 23rd time you meet Soap, you don’t bother to smile. You know how this ends.

“Nice to meet you, Soap.” You say for the 23rd time, words that have passed your lips in more lifetimes that you wish you didn’t remember. “I look forward to working with you.”

And I don’t look forward to watching you die.

He looks at you, blinks. His brow furrows.

“How’d you know my name?”

This time, you forget to warn him about the rigged doorway, and he vanishes in a flash and puff of smoke.

“Don’t cry.” He wheezes when you bend over him, words pouring from your lips in a ceaseless mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “I always hated watching ye cry.”

You wake up. Everything happens as it did before. You meet him, you listen to the sound of his laugh, you finish one of his jokes over the comms and he groans.

“Don’t tell me ye know that one too!” He grouses, and when you smile your chest aches with the force of thirty lifetimes.

You place a palm against his back, unable to help yourself as you enter the compound, wanting to feel the frame of his body just one more time before destiny finds a new way to kill him. He looks at you over his shoulder, smiles even as uncertainty colors the blueness of his gaze.

“Yer like my guardian angel.” He tells you, still smiling even after all this time. “Dannea what I’d do w’out ye.”

A grenade at the staircase. He pushes you out of the way. He doesn’t duck out of the way in time.

You close your eyes when you wake up. You can’t bear to look at him, knowing you’ll just lose him again.

You try to keep him from loving you, thinking perhaps that is the crime to warrant this eternal punishment. You can’t stop loving him, but maybe, maybe you can stop him from loving you. Maybe if you never have him to begin with, maybe you can save him.

Yet Johnny is drawn to you anyways, sucked in by the way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, like a moth to an infant flame. He hovers at the fringes of your soul, tries desperately to find his way inside, and you can’t help but let him. He comforts you when you cry against the futility of it all, and there’s nothing you can say to him to explain. You wet his shirt with your tears, knowing it’ll be the one he dies in.

The next time, you force yourself to not speak to him, to try and avoid him at all costs, try everything to drive him away. If he never loved you to start, then maybe he’ll live. He seems pre-ordained to find a way to confess to you, ask why you hate him so, look at you through glistening eyes and ask “What did I do?”

You wonder if maybe that’s destiny too, if it’s truly Soap falling in love with you, or his strings being pulled by the same machinations that inscribe his death.

When he asks you again, tries to approach you with flowers and apologies, and offers to take you to dinner on the eve of his death, you wheel on him in desperate fury.

“You don’t actually love me!” You cry, face hot with tears. “Can’t you see that?! All this time it’s just- it’s just the story we’re in. Just because you’re supposed to love me doesn’t mean you do. It’s all just a fucking lie.”

Soap is stunned, too shocked to speak. In all the dozens of lives you’d lived, you’ve never ever yelled at him before.

Hurt flashes across his eyes. His eyes drop along with his hands, the bouquet limp in his grip. The bitterness of his smile as he refuses to look at you threatens to shatter your heart like glass.

“You hate me.” He murmurs, as if to himself. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean tae…”

He falls silent, and eventually he walks away.

You don’t get on the chopper this time. You can’t stand to watch him die again.

You try to tell him again, ask him why. Why does he have to torture you like this? Why love you, why allow you to love him so deeply, only for him to leave at the end of this doomed story bound to repeat? Why would he love you?

He looks torn. He’s hurt. He wants to comfort you. He doesn’t know what to say

“Why wouldn’t I love you?” He asks in a whisper, devastated by your outburst.

You can’t speak. You’re forbidden to tell him. You want to. You can’t.

“Bonnie-” He tries, stepping forward, trying to embrace you as if that will somehow solve everything.

“No.” You manage, pressing backwards as he reaches for you, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. Pain dances across his eyes. “Go away, Johnny.”

He leaves.

He dies anyway.

When you wake up, your body feels weighed down with the passage of a hundred lifetimes, and your legs fall out from under you without warning. Johnny hauls you into his arms, his blue stare flickering with concern.

You forgot how much you love being held by him.

This time, you don’t push him away. In fact, you never do again.

Yet things are different now. It’s subtle at first, things you take for granted. Something in this story has changed, and in turn it’s changed him. Johnny walks into rooms and seems to forget why he’s there. He asks what day it is and frowns in confusion when Ghost replies blandly for the second time that day.

“Didn’t you already tell us this?” He asks of Price during a meeting, and Gaz’s head snaps to him, to the smartness of his tone towards your captain.

“No.” Price responds gruffly, succinctly, and continues on. You watch Soap, see the way he doesn’t seem to understand. His fingers tap on the table, and it’s a small gesture meant to conceal the worry in his eyes- the knowledge that maybe, maybe he’s been here before.

“I saw you in a dream, once.” He tells you one night as you both clamber onto the roof of the barracks to stare at the stars. “Before I even met you.”

You stare at him, and he laughs a little nervously, rubbing at his nape. “A bit crazy, eh? Sounds like am’ off ma heid.”

You shake your head, slide your hand over his, feel your heart thump when he looks at you in surprise. “Tell me.” You whisper, and when he smiles you shudder, feel the weight of destiny press heavy on your shoulders.

“I saw you crying.” He murmurs, and his eyes are a little distant, like he’s looking back at a life that no longer exists. “I told you not to cry.”

“Don’t cry.” He wheezes when you bend over him, words pouring from your lips in a ceaseless mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. “I always hated watching ye cry.”

This time, you nearly die beside him, and almost wish fate would take you too.

He has nightmares now. He thrashes in his bed, a cold sweat dampening his skin when he wakes. You ask him what it was, what vision plagues him, and he only shakes his head, eyes distant and terrified. He clings to you like he’s a little boy frightened by shadows, gazes at something you can’t see but know all the same. He doesn’t have the words, but he doesn’t need them.

You roll over one night, startled to find him wide awake, eyes unblinking as he stares at you. His voice sounds like an echo of himself, a dark magic winding through his words that sound like an all too familiar prophecy.

“I saw myself die.” He tells you, in a voice you’ve never heard- one you’ll never forget. “You were there- and then you weren’t.”

He finds bruises on himself the next morning, in the same places you watched him become riddled with bullet holes.

You’re running out of time. You don’t know when you’ll wake up and he won’t be there. You don’t know if this will be the last time you ever see him.

“Please.” You beg him, tugging on the straps of his vest as he steps towards the chopper. “Johnny please, don’t. Stay here. Don’t go.”

His eyes shine with worry at the sudden, fervent desperation in your words, and he opens his mouth to respond-

Only for his eyes to take on that foreign, distant stare once more.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, and once more you’re forbidden to tell him.

Because you’ll die. Because I’ll be forced to watch. Because I have no way to stop it. Because I’ve seen it happen a hundred times and I can’t do it anymore.

Inevitably, you arrive here, and this singular moment in time, at the place where you’ve yet to find the part in which he survives.

It always ends like this.

You survive the crash, fend off the ensuing ambush, weave past the landmines and the soldiers patrolling the perimeter, disable the electric fence and disarm the rigged door. You make it inside, stop him before he triggers the tripwire, disarm the pressure plate, lob the grenade back up the stairs, open fire on the door to his left before he passes it. You anticipate the reinforcements at your back, fix the radio when you signal for ex-fil, remember to give him your extra ammo. You know when the roof collapses and drag him to safety, point out the missed charge in his demolitions package, take out the turret before he even spots it-

Then you arrive here.

“The detonator doesn’t work.” He tells you for the thirty sixth time, out of a hundred and forty eight lifetimes. You know what comes next. The chopper will get here, you will be overrun, and Johnny will kiss you one last time with an apology, push you into Gaz’s arms even as you scream. Then he’ll make his way to the control room without you all, will stay behind and make it his final, valiant act.

Then you’ll watch the facility explode with him still inside, hear the gears of fate click and send you hurtling back to the beginning.

If you stop him, you’ll all be shot down. You’ll be the only survivor of the crash, and will see the broken bodies of your teammates join him. Or someone else will take his place, and your rescue chopper will be shot down anyways.

There’s no escape. This is always the moment that you can’t save him from. Thirty six lifetimes and you know in just a few minutes you’ll wake up, will hear his voice begin it all again, over and over until one day you wake up and he isn’t there.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, at your service.” He tells you with a grin, leaning forward to extend his hand to you.

You had a dream last time. You were both sitting at the restaurant table, and you spoke before he could.

“Are you going to tell me how pretty I am?” You asked him, swallowing down grief, feeling it bloom like a macabre bouquet when the sound of his joyous laughter tickled your soul.

“Stole the words right from mah mouth.” He chuckled.

You blinked, and the seat across from you was suddenly empty.

You close your eyes, in this moment, try once more to find the part where you all make it out alive. You try to find the part where you don’t lose him. Where you’ll go back to that restaurant and it’ll be the last time.

You’ve had enough.

“I’m going to stay.” Soap declares, eyes grim with resolve.

He turns to you.

You close the distance, reach up and kiss him. You tangle your fingers in his mohawk like you did the very first time, listen to his shocked gasp as you try and drink in the taste of him just one more time. Just one more time.

Honey and ale. A bittersweet goodbye.

You snatch the detonator from his hands, raise your hands to his shoulders and push.

He topples backwards, nearly colliding with Price, and it gives you just enough time to bolt for the door leading towards the control room, locking it behind you.

Soap screams your name, hurls himself at the door, frantic desperation coloring his beautiful blue eyes. The color of a sky in summer time, of a fresh breeze that reminds you so much of him.

There’s a nervous smile on his lips, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He thinks it’s a prank, another joke between you two, and he says just as much, voice wavering when he asks you to unlock the door.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You whisper, tears warming your eyes. “I can’t lose you again.”

Confusion makes him pause, but it’s only for a moment.

“Open the door.” He demands then, jiggling the lock uselessly as his voice rises. “OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!”

“I love you.” You whisper, raising your hand to the glass pane, your splayed palm against his closed fist and the world between them. “In this lifetime, and the one before. Ever since the day I met you, I’ve loved you, Johnny.”

He calls your name, voice cracking in desperation and he begs you to come back. You take a few more moments, and think to yourself how unkind it is that the last time you see him will be like this. Afraid, broken, desperate.

Terrified.

Just like how he was all that time ago, the first time you failed to save him.

Not this time.

“Don’t cry.” You tell him quietly. “I always hated watching you cry.”

You leave him even as he screams after you, running in the direction of the control room.

You don’t know this part. You’ve only ever watched Johnny or one of them vanish in this direction. You aren’t prepared for this the way you are with the rest of this story. You’re not ready for the hail of gunfire that greets you, the bullets ripping through flesh. Your blood drips red onto the floor, you run low on ammo, and yet somehow you press on.

Not this time. You think. Not ever again. You can’t take him from me any longer. I won’t allow it.

You’re limping, heavily wounded, riddled with bullet holes, chest seizing and smearing an abstract of crimson behind you as you finally make it to the control room. By the time you dispatch the remaining soldiers you’re on the floor, feeling the corners of your vision pulse red and black as the gears turn, as the clock ticks down.

The timer has just enough time to make it out once you start it. You know you won’t be able to.

So you watch the numbers click on the countdown, flop onto your back and cry.

You didn’t want this.

You wanted just a little more time. Maybe you should have let him go, let him finish this if only he can wake up and not know you. Maybe you should have let him die one more time, if only to get the chance to fall asleep in his arms months into the future and past, knowing he was going to die.

It’s too late now, and as the numbers click down, as your heartbeat thrums in your ears and your vision pulses red, you can only try to remember the feeling of his smile against your lips, the sound of his laughter, your name breathed into your skin as he wraps his arms around you, safe from destiny in his embrace.

“Ever since the moment I first saw you, I’ve loved you.”

You love him. You’ve always loved him. In this lifetime, in the hundred lifetimes before. In a thousand lifetimes to come you will still love him. Even if you go back, wake up again to that warm spring day, you know you will only love him once more.

You wish he was here, at the end, and wish that even if he was he’d find a way to live without you.

When you exhale, it’s the sound of his name, the memory of his eyes as they stare across you from the restaurant table, full of endless devotion.

The world goes dark.

And then you wake up.

It’s bright.

You don’t expect what comes next.

There’s no birdsong. No springtime warmth. Only the beep of a heart monitor, the feeling of cottony sheets tucked into a hospital bed, the fluorescent glow of overhead lights.

And the sound of a voice.

Johnny is holding your hand, head bowed, tears falling freely down his face.

“I did it.” He sobs, words choking his throat, shoulders trembling.

Whole. Alive. Just like you.

“I did it.” He cries again, looking up and finding your eyes with his that swim with emotion. When he speaks, it sounds like the weight of a hundred lifetimes presses down on him.

“This time. This time, I saved you.”

Taglist: @soapskneebrace @guyfieriii @writeforfandoms @alicesfracturedmirror

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #my writing #my fic #to add to masterlist #Alex play Dumb Ways to Die

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sapphireandange · 12 days

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Sunshine rain!

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Paring: artist!reader x gojo

Synopsis: on the first day of spring, the cheery blossoms started to bloom, but so did your heart for a certain someone

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The warm wind of spring tossled the small petals of cheery blossom. The gentle strokes of paintbrush were giving colour to the blank canvas. The red and yellow hues blended together to form a beautiful vex of sunset. But still, you weren't satisfied.

It wasn't that the sunset was flawed, it was nice, it's just, you were burnt out from drawing. You wanted motivation, you wanted something to spark the creativity in your system. You wanted to draw because you feel joy in it, not drawing for the sake of it. But right now, you just wanted to wrap up the sunset.

The tubes of water colours laid around while specks of colours adorned your face. You just wanted to finish it. Wrap it up. You were about to grab the white colour tuve that then suddenly, the door opened.

Out came the most beautiful person you have seen. His platinum hair shone in the soft Sunrays peeking from the window. His cobalt blue eyes sparkled while his sunglasses rested on the bridge of the nose.

You mumbled a small "Wow..." and stared at him. He tilted his head and said causally as ever, in his velvety voice "yo, the school is about to close. You should go home"

As you were about to get up, he was right beside you, scanning the table. "May I help you?" He asked gently. You nodded shyly and he started screwing up the caps of the tubes.

You collected your brushes and washed them in the small cup of water. As the drops of water dripped down the brushes, you glanced upon him. The cool breeze brushed his hair, making it sway softly

"What's your name?" The platinum haired boy stared at you and let of a small smirk. "Satoru, Satoru Gojo". You stared at him for a few seconds. All in your head was was his soft voice and the way he looked ever so PERFECT, perfect for drawing.

"The sunset is pretty neat" you glanced at him and let out a small "Huh?" He stared back at you and giggled "Ah you know, the sunset that you drew is pretty. I like it" your cheeks quickly dusted in pink and you giggled awkwardly "Why, thank you"

He pulled out a napkin and gently wiped your cheek, which was stained in colour. "The sunset is pretty and all, but take care of your face as well. It always filled with all type of colours, like a summer rain"

You giggled and stared at the sun slowly rising down. "Well, I gotta get going, Thank you for your help" You said, looking at the clock ticking at 6. He chuckled, "Well, I am always available upto 6, so you can say hi to me whenever you see me"

Then came a voice of another two boys. Waving you goodbye, he ran off, his shadow still lingering your presence. You hoped he didn't hear your loud thumping of heart, because from now on, you find something to wake up to, to keep you motivated, and most of all, your one and only, Satoru Gojo

.·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Author's note: a series maybe? I kinda wanna make an au series where the reader is the lovesick one while Satoru is the one being oblivious 😭😭 thank you for reading!

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rollup2theparty · 3 months

Text

—₊˚⊹♡ boy next door! sungchan

❦ seeing your ex after rough breakup can be tough, but everything is made easier when your 6 ft tall neighbor steps in as your fake boyfriend

౨ৎ SHORT IMAGINE (gn!reader x j.sungchan)

⟡ fake dating au (fluff)

note! this is sth i wrote at a whim a year ago, plz look pass the imperfections

three months, a few boxes of kleenex, and whole lot of takeout food after your worst heartbreak and you're still in a runt. the passing whispers about that 5"7 jerk's foreign conquests post-breakup hasn't been very helpful to your healing process either. the world was a blur and you barely had any energy to decipher your living conditions or take a good look at the cute neighbor who just moved in next door.

until one morning in the warm breeze of the summer sun, you woke up feeling... fine? your cheeks bore no residue of tears, you had a spring in your step, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, you had a inkling feeling that you were going to have a great day (your first one in a while). your euphoric state of being is interrupted by a fleeting sight in the corner of your eye. your unfortunate habits that accumulated from march to june has attracted an unwanted guest, the monster of your nightmares, your single worst fear, a cockroach.

you leap and dash out of your flat, in a state of panic you rap on the door of apartment 305. the owner of the dog barking through the paper thin walls greet you at his doorstep, you physically lift your head up to lock eyes with a titan's offspring blessed with a model's physique and a charming deer-like appearance. your hysteria pauses for a split second to admire the doe-eyed adonis who's staring back at you with a visible question mark. after you take another second to condemn yourself for not introducing yourself sooner, you work up exactly three words "help, please, roach" to which he nods and emerges out of his room with a half a pair of old slippers like a soldier prepping for battle.

the scene back in your living room corner was like a blockbuster, you stopped yourself from drooling while standing barefoot on your leather couch, choosing to ignore the tiny screeches of fear coming from the kind gentlemen who introduced himself as jung sungchan.

just when you thought your misery was over, you hear your doorbell ring and a familiar voice. terror rushed through your blood and bones, and your paranoia was confirmed when you open the door to a midget man in a suit and holiday tan, bombshell model in hand.

"hey, did you get my text. im here to pick up my things-... and you are?" shifting his vision to the semi stranger on your couch.

"he's my um- boyfriend?" you look at your neighbour with a silent plea. to your pleasant surprise he rises from the sofa with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a knowing grin, he circles one hand around your waist and another out for a handshake with the man he towers over. "nice to meet you. im sungchan."

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maple-the-awesome · 10 months

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When Another Finds Out About His Crush Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: What happens when someone else in the Chain finds out about his feelings towards you?

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

How is it that today has been so peaceful? Seriously, when was the last time the group got a chance to breathe for a second, let alone actually take a moment to enjoy themselves like normal Hylians who don't have to constantly deal with the weight of the world upon their shoulders?

Maybe it's because of the last battle which left most of them pretty battered - too battered to dive head first back into another hoard of monsters right away. Perhaps the Old Man finally got tired of their constant whining and bickering which had grown in volume over the course of the last few days, leading him to pacify them with a quick break. It's probably a combination of those two things, but whatever the true reasoning for this blessing, Four plans to enjoy it - at least he's trying his best to.

He won't complain. It's nice getting to sit here in the sun, enjoying its warm beams that pair sweetly with the cool breeze that carries itself up from the spring where the majority of his traveling partners currently splash around, their joyful cheers making all sound right with the world. Of course, this scene of an early summer would be so much better if not broken every few seconds by Four's sneezing.

His nose is probably red and eyes possibly a bit puffy, but he tries not to care. He's too focused - too distracted with the many thoughts running through his head to begin fussing over some mild allergies.

'Loop over that...Now tie here...'

'Maybe we should've chosen different flowers -'

'- No. We can't admit defeat to a stupid flower. We're seeing this through, damn it!'

'I wasn't suggesting that we give up. Only that we reevaluate our clearly flawed plan. This field is filled with flowers. We can take our pick.'

'Ooo, I like the poppies over there! Let's use those!'

'No! Poppies aren't good enough. Must I remind you why we're using daisies in the first place?!'

Four sighs heavily, his hands collapsing to his lap. The tangled flowers resting in his touch are a pathetic excuse for a 'craft'. If anything, they look no different from flowers that have been tugged from the ground then tossed around in a bag for a few shakes. It's rather shameful considering how long the minish took to teach him the careful art of weaving flower stems together. Are some watching him now, shaking their heads in confusion as to how someone can be struggling to this extent? Of course, it would be easier if he switched to practically any flower other than daisies, but he's committed to seeing this through as is, no changes.

Four's harsh thoughts only break away temporarily when noticing the wolf that saunters through the meadow towards him, likely chased away from the cold shadows that have begun casting over his former resting place closer to the spring. Over here in the sun it’s much warmer, so there’s no surprise when the wolf invites himself to sit next to Four, giving a curious look to the flowers on his lap that asks the question without words being needed.

"I'm trying to make a crown," Four answers, lifting the string of stems up with one finger to let the wolf get a closer look which he does by leaning forward and taking a sniff. To him, the craft is impressive, looking far more detailed and put together compared to the flower crowns he's personally made with the children of his village, although it's clear that the Smith is having trouble accepting his own talent by the way he leans his cheek against the palm of his hand with a huff.

"Normally I can make them pretty quickly with fewer mistakes or tears in the stems and petals, but today I just can't get it right. No matter how many times I attempt one, it never looks good enough," Four explains further, his words drawing Wolfie's eyes to the several drafted flower crowns abandoned off to the hero's side. Then suddenly, the wolf's attention is drawn back to Four with a start when he sneezes loudly.

Sniffing, he gives the slightly startled animal a pitiful look, "...Oh, and it doesn't help that I'm allergic to daisies..."

Wolfie tilts his head to the patch of poppies growing no more than two feet away from them.

"No, I can't...Daisies are easiest to make flower crowns with. They, um, have longer stems."

Woflie tilts his head further, showing doubt over Four's claim, yet in this form, it's not like he can truly call him out. All he can do is make himself comfortable, lying down among the tall grass where he can bare witness to the poor smith's torture as he goes back to weaving flowers into a circle, the only interruption to the silence between them being his repetitive sneezes and eventually a pair of footsteps approaching from the spring.

"Hey, we're missing you down at the water! Whatcha doing all the way up here by your lonesome?" It's no surprise that you're wearing a smile - Alright, it might've been a surprise a few hours ago when all you did was scowl or pout about your aching feet, but ever since Time allowed the group a break, you've been nothing but smiles and rainbows, a look Four prefers on you due to how contagious your enjoy never fails to be.

Immediately upon looking up, a smile pulls at his own lips and all of his muddled thoughts wash away into one. Even his voice is light as a feather without giving you any hint to his prior irritation; a complete contrast to how he had been seconds ago when Wolfie first joined him, "I'm not the biggest swimmer and even if I were, that scream Sky gave when jumping in was enough to convince me of my decision to stay up here."

"Yeah, it's ice water, but hey, anything beats sore feet at this point," You place your hands on your hips with a chuckle, sparing a quick glance back at the rest of the boys before your attention returns to Four, "Making flower crowns, I see?"

He nods, fiddling with the one in his hand which he seems to stare at for some time (truly it was only a few seconds for anyone except himself) before he holds the craft up towards you, "...I thought you'd like one."

"Really? For me?" The bashful smile he wears is easily missed as you awe over the flowers, delicately running your fingers over each petal. Like Wolfie, you see none of the flaws Four concerns himself with. Instead, you see a beautiful collection of near perfect daisies (only a few petals missing here and there) all weaved together in a strong pattern that keeps them from falling apart, "Oh, this is incredible…Wow, you truly are a talent to behold, aren’t you Smithy?"

He officially blushes, rubbing the back of his head with a wide smile he tries to maintain, "I can't take all the credit. I learned from the minish."

"You're too modest," You shake your head in mock annoyance, although the delight in your eyes never fades as you look over the flowers some more, "You know, daisies are actually my favorite, too."

"You don't say," Four picks at the petals on his lap, trying to act as casual as possible, "What a coincidence..."

You open your mouth to say something else, however you don't get the chance when a shout is suddenly heard from the spring followed by a loud splash. Four would've been curious to see what the commotion was, but he's currently in too much of a daze to follow where Wolfie and you look. Surely it's not that important judging on your calm sigh anyways.

"Aaand I'm pretty sure that's the sound of Vet drowning the Captain. Seeing as I would like Time to keep giving us breaks in the future, I should probably go handle everything before he comes back," As disappointed as Four is to hear you’ll be leaving him so soon, he forgets all about that feeling when you place your flower crown on top of his head, your hands hovering there as you give him a gentle smile. He could’ve sworn he even felt your breath blow against his face given your close proximity, but maybe that was just the optimistic side of him, "Keep this safe for me, please? I’d hate for your hard work to get ruined."

"Uhhh...Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'll protect it with my life."

"Thanks. Now if you two will excuse me…" After patting Wolfie’s head goodbye and winking to them both, you race back down to the spring, shouting something to the other boys with a fierce tone that is the exact opposite to how sweetly you always speak to Four. He might've had a little nerve to either fear you or admire your anger (which can be kinda hot), although he merely sighs lovingly in distracted thought he only leaves when happening to catch that knowing stare Wolfie is giving him in the corner of his eyes. Now, wolf or not, Four can once again understand exactly what that type of smug look means without words.

Pushing Wolfie away halfheartedly, he huffs, "Don't say anything and we'll be even."

"Do you think you could teach me how to cook this dish?"

Pour Four nearly chokes on his own spit when the question meets his ears. Teach Hyrule to cook? Now he knows all of his fellow heroes come equipped with many talents, but surely there's a line to be drawn!

Of course, Wild has a much milder reaction to this 'challenge', in fact, he's actually happy to be granted something to do seeing as he's been grounded to camp after his latest 'stunt', as Twilight referred to it. So, raising his attention up from the supplies he’s been taking inventory of, he glances over the wobbly handwriting on the paper that Hyrule holds out towards him, the Traveler trying not to look either too hopeful or too nervous.

"...I mean, I'm willing to teach you to cook, but are you sure you want this recipe? It’s not intended for beginners...Not to mention we might not have all the ingredients..." Taking the paper into his own hands and whispering to himself in thought distracts him from Hyrule's gulp, "We might be better off trying something else -"

"- No!" Hyrule bites his lip when Four and Wild's gazes jump to him, clearly surprised by his tone. Shifting on his feet, Hyrule tries to clear his throat as a poor attempt at acting 'natural', "I, uh, would really like to try this recipe. It sounded pretty good when the baker explained it, plus we've been traveling for so long and it's not everyday that we get to try something like it - Oh! And I already have all the ingredients. 'bought them in the last town we went to."

Hyrule hopes he isn’t coming off as too pushy or, in the worst case scenario, desperate. This plan is nerve wracking as it is, thus the last thing he needs is anyone asking questions, after all, he already had a close call when you caught him leaving that bakery during your stay in town.

When you saw him leave without buying anything, you assumed he was being rupee-cautious and offered to buy him something sweet if that was what his heart desired. You’re kind like that, always keeping an eye on him and doing your best to hype him up as being just as worthy of the hero’s title as everyone else. That’s why he couldn’t possibly have told you then that you’re what his heart desires most. No, that would’ve been too weird and cliche, even he knows that. You deserve a better confession (whenever he finds the courage for that), but in the meantime, he can at least show you his gratitude through gifts which is why he currently stands here mentally praying for Wild’s help; he’s his only hope at this point!

The Champion looks inside the pouch Hyrule had quite literally tossed at him, the Smith also sneaking a peek from over his shoulder. Comparing the written ingredients to those in the pouch, they confirm that everything is there (surprisingly no weird foods that Hyrule somehow manages to find).

"...Well, the Traveler's right about one thing: we don't usually get a chance to eat sweets on the road, not to mention everyone's been a bit stressed since our last battle. Maybe a treat would be a good way to lift spirits," Four suggests, although the words feel as if they must be pushed through his teeth. Already, his stomach tosses and turns in memory of the last 'dish' Hyrule made which resulted in seven of the ten heroes getting food poisoning and Hyrule receiving a permanent ban from the kitchen ever since.

Wild hums in thought then, to Hyrule's joy, nods and hands him back the recipe, "Alright. Let's get started."

Thinking back to it now, the request seemed so easy to him. Unlike the others who usually see their lives flash before their eyes at the thought of Hyrule's cooking, Wild has actually enjoyed most of his meals including the one that made nearly everyone sick, his only complaint being the need for less salt (a critique that was drowned by out Wind's over the top gagging). With that said, he saw no issue with helping the Traveler complete the desired recipe, however it's always possible for someone to come around to reason, it just took a lot of smoke and heaving, but come around nevertheless.

One minute everything was cooking as it should with a wonderful aroma filling the camp. All Wild did was turn his back. It was only seconds - that's it, seconds - before the cooking pot exploded into a puff of smoke and sparks. Since then, it's been utter havoc which is normally the word everyone else uses whenever Wild and Hyrule get paired, but today, Wild's admitting it himself. Is this usually how stressed Twilight feels?! If so, then he's sorry! He doesn't have time to actually apologize and will most likely forget by the time he sees his mentor again, but dear Hylia, he's sorry!

It's by the grace of the goddesses that no one comes running back to camp to find the scene that would await them if they did: Wild and Hyrule working together to frantically stomp out the flames before they reach any supplies or burn down the entire forest. Even then, evidence of their crimes remains in the form of charred grass and the coat of soot that covers Hyrule's face, stretching his bangs to the sky as his eyes carry a certain daze to them. Maybe now that he's literally had his work blow in his face, he can finally admit that his cooking might not be the best in the group's.

"What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Hyrule meets Wild's shout, however he soon falters and pokes his fingers together innocently with a mumble, "...I thought you said that monster parts can give dishes effects..."

“Yeah, some…” Wild's face drops, his eyes wide with realization yet he still finds himself asking with a hint of fear to his voice, "What did you add?"

"..."

"Please don't tell me..."

"...Red chuchu jelly..."

"Dear Hylia!"

"I was curious to see what effect it would have!"

“It blows up! That’s the effect it has!”

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?"

Oh Goddesses, please kill him now...Hyrule had hoped if anyone, it would be the Old Man or maybe even the Captain who came running back to scold them, but you? Oh, you’re the last person he wanted to see this!

To be fair, you still aren't as bad as one of the stricter adults who would’ve immediately accessed the situation and started handing out punishments. Instead, you plan to let them plead their case. Actually, you don't even look that angry, mainly confused and tired as you stand at the edge of camp, arms crossed with an expression that's anything except amused (probably because you had the unfortunate fate of being one of the seven who got food poisoning from Hyrule's last ‘cooking’ attempt).

Before either boy can begin explaining themselves, you sniff the air and immediately scrunch your nose as a reaction to the awful smell that burns it. Hyrule swears you even gag, although it's hard to tell because of how fast you shoot a hand up to cover the whole lower part of your face.

"What in Hylia's name were you trying to make? It smells like bokoblin guts!"

Hyrule shrinks even further into his embarrassment, "...It was supposed to be a fruit cake..."

"A fruit cake?"

"Hyrule wanted to learn how to cook and had the recipe for one. It just...didn't go as planned," Wild rubs the back of his neck, sparing a pitiful glance at the smoldering gunk that sticks to the cooking pot. It'll be a pain to clean later, that's for sure.

"Obviously,” You roll your eyes followed by a frown as you look to the cooking pot yourself with more sympathy than pity, "...But it’s a shame. I love fruit cake."

Wild blinks, his eyes shifting from you to Hyrule as the gears inside his head begin to turn. Meanwhile Hyrule tries to clear away the soot from his face with a quick drag of his sleeve, however he only makes matters worse by smearing it, "I'm sorry. I really wanted it to turn out right for you, but…I guess I should’ve just bought a cake at that bakery, huh? …I’m not cut out for cooking myself…”

Your frown remains as does that look of sympathy. Stepping forward, you take your canteen from your hip and dump a little water over the very edge of your cloak. By the time it's properly soaked, you're standing in front of Hyrule and using the cloth to wipe away the scoot from his face. Your attempts are far more successful than his, getting most of the gray off at the cost of your clock taking on the shade itself, not that you show any care.

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it some day, 'rule. It's something that requires practice and patience. After all, I'm sure Wild wasn't as good of a cook from the start as he is now.”

"Umm -"

"- Shush."

And with that, Wild immediately puts his hand down with a pout.

"Start out with some simple dishes first, then whenever you get the basic skills of cooking down, I'll teach you how to properly make fruit cake. How about that?"

Hyrule's eyes nearly sparkle at the offer. Sure, Wild is his partner in crime when it comes to getting into unnecessary trouble, however he'd much rather have you as his cooking partner (and maybe his partner in everything else, too, if he can one day get that far). That's likely why he nods too quickly, his bangs still being stuck upright which prevents them from bobbing with the movement for once.

You chuckle at his excitement and go to leave camp to return to whatever you had been doing before, although you do stop to ruffle his hair, reminding him to wash it when he gets a chance (words he doesn't hear because he’s too busy obsessing over the feeling of your hand running through his hair).

"You know -" Hyrule jolts out of his trance, cheeks red at the realization that he had forgotten all about Wild who stands with most his wait shifted to the side, arms crossed and a smirk pulling at his lips, "- Usually when you like someone, the best thing to do is to try not poisoning them."

"I-I wasn't - That's not what I -"

"- We still have some ingredients left over. Let's start from the top," Wild merely shakes off Hyrule’s rambling, something the Traveler is thankful for as he begins to trail after his friend back to the cooking pot, however he stops dead in his tracks when Wild suddenly spins around to point a wooden spoon at him, "BUT, no more adding anything that isn't in the recipe when I turn my back or else I'm warning (Y/n) that they'll have to be doing all the cooking in your relationship…Hylia knows I can’t afford getting in trouble again with Twilight...”

Hyrule gulps and nods more timidly than he had with you, "W-Will do."

This was a mistake and the worst part is that Legend knew it before he even committed to the decision. He knew it would be a bad idea to 'invite' nine others into his home, even if it was to be a temporary trip, yet he opened the doors to mayhem anyway.

He blames his own tiredness, if anything. He didn't really feel like presenting a good argument as to why everyone should remain outside, which would've been especially difficult to pull off given the blazing sun above. No one wanted to just ‘wait outside’, not when their curiosity was overflowing at the thought of all the cool things the Vet must be hiding inside his home. So ever so foolishly, he let them in, underestimating the exact extent of annoyance he'd be instantly cursing himself with.

"Don't touch that!"

"Get away from there!"

"Hey, those are delicate! Put them down!"

"No, I am not playing any music! I'm just here to switch out my weapons. Just - STOP SHIFTING THROUGH MY STUFF! HAVEN’T YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING CALLED ‘PRIVACY’?!"

"...You can borrow that if you want."

Surely some of the heroes snapped their necks by how quickly they turned towards Legend, surprised to hear him speak in a tone not laced with vexation nor raised in a shout. Actually, his words are rather soft - soft for him, at least.

Even you're surprised, although it's not for the same reason as the others. Hearing the Vet's voice behind you, you practically leaped out of your skin and prepared yourself for the same harsh scolding as everyone else has received, so it takes you a second to process what he had really said instead.

You blink once then twice (the rest of the group does, too) before glancing down at the ring you have pinched between your fingers. There's a small chest filled with them in front of you, each somehow different from the other whether that's because of the color of the band or the types of gems decorating them. Of course, you only planned on looking over them with your eyes, not wanting to disrespect Legend's privacy (and not wanting to be shouted at either), but that was before one ring in particular caught your eye. Your interest couldn't be tamed at that point, leading you to pick up the piece of jewelry for closer inspection which lands you in your current situation.

Turning to face Legend, who only boredly glances at the ring in your hand before going back to his own business, you open your mouth to say something - perhaps ask if he's serious because you most definitely misheard, right? He's going to let you borrow something of his? After getting so peeved about everyone else simply touching his stuff? You aim to be safe and confirm permission, yet the question doesn't have a chance to leave your lips before someone else beats you to it:

"What?! How come they get to take something? I wanna ring!" It's Wind and his objection makes sense seeing as he had just been looking over the same jewelry box moments ago only for Legend to swat his hands away. He isn't the only one to see the hypocrisy either.

"Can I borrow this?" Wild asks, holding up a boomerang with a hopeful smile that nearly distracts from the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"No, you can't!" Legend hisses, quick to rip his tornado rod out of Warrior's hands while he's at it much to the Captain's offense.

"Oh come on! What makes (Y/n) so special, eh?!"

"They're responsible," Legend dismisses stubbornly with a wave of his hand as he turns his back to them again. The others merely roll their eyes in annoyance, Warrior mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'simp' much to Legend's frustration, but before he can bite back, he mostly forgets all about them when you finally get a chance to speak up for yourself.

"You're sure it's no trouble?"

Legends fears he might have stared at you a bit too long - not that you would've noticed seeing as you keep your eyes focused on the ring you fiddle with. Despite how much you try to act neutral as to not get your hopes up, there's a giddy joy to your eyes at the thought of getting to keep this ring even if just for a little while, after all, it's so beautifully crafted and the red rubies attached to the golden band remind you of Legend in a way you'd prefer not to explain in front of everyone else, let alone with him present.

"...Yeah, it's no problem," He looks away quickly, blowing some air which fixes his bangs out of his view. If anyone were to spend more time studying his behavior (Hylia forbid it), they might notice how awfully red his face has suddenly gotten, "...Just don't lose it."

Truthfully, he doesn't care. If it were just the two of you, he'd actually tell you to keep it since he has plenty of rings anyways, not to mention it would give him some peace of mind for you to always have a protection ring handy, but he can't risk saying that here. The others are already questioning him too much and the last thing he needs is either Wild or Warrior picking up on the hint. Maybe he’ll just wait for when you try to return the ring so that he can play it off better by simply pushing it back towards you and giving some excuse like ‘I didn’t even miss it’ or ‘I actually don’t need any more junk now that I think about it’. You wouldn’t suspect a thing then nor would anyone who overhears.

"Thank you! I promise to take really good care of it!" At last, you take no shame in letting your delight show and waste no more time sliding the ring over your finger.

Legend just nods, burning through all of his willpower to not keep stealing glances your way. Fortunately, it doesn't take him much longer to locate the weapons of his desire, allowing him to finally herd everyone out of his house while continuing to deny their requests to borrow some items for themselves. Hyrule is the last straggler, something Legend originally wouldn't have thought much of since the Traveler isn't one to usually cause him trouble, although there's a first time for everything as it would seem.

"Congrats on the engagement," It's such a smug comment to come from someone who looks nothing but innocent as he saunters by, in fact it takes Legend's brain several seconds of spinning before he understands the implication and with it, his confusion instantly melts into a mix of fury and embarrassment (which one is at the head could be anyone's guess).

"T-They asked and I have plenty of rings, so there was no point in me turning them down! It's not an 'engagement'!"

Hyrule merely chuckles in the face of Legend's anger, "Don't worry. I won't say anything."

Legend huffs, taking it upon himself to push Hyrule towards the exit so that he can sooner leave this mess behind, however before he can begin to feel too comfortable, the Traveler speaks up again while casually picking up a gauntlet off the nearby table Legend leads them by, "This is cool.”

Legend glares; a deadly look Hyrule once again meets with too much innocence - mocked innocence, the Vet is now convinced - nothing but an act!

"You know, it would be a shame if someone like Warrior or Wild realized why you only do nice things for (Y/n). If they connect the dots for themselves -"

"- You can borrow it," Legend cuts Hyrule off in a hurry, pushing the gauntlet into his hands while shoving him out the door, "But I want it back in one week, you hear? That's all the time you've bought yourself with, you rat!"

#linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu four x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu legend x reader #legend of zelda #reader insert #x reader

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moss8e · 4 months

Text

the winners are like different seasons, now I get we have five winners, but there are different forms of seasons. Grian is like the harsh summer where you feel like you are melting.

Scott is like a warm fall day, the transition of summer to fall with that cold breeze passing through.

Pearl is like a winter that started off with light snow but then it suddenly started to fall keeping people stuck where they are.

Martyn is like a topical summer, unlike Grian his seems a little more friendly, more warmth than just heat, but then you are hit at the very last second with some form of a tropical storm.

Then Scar is like spring, starting off really nice, rather calm, but then it starts to rain, and while the flowers and other plants still grow, the mud starts to form and you sort of sink into it, and you start to lose yourself if you walk into it, so you either avoid it or you risk it.

#life series #3rd life #scott smajor #secret life #double life #gtwscar #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #last life #limited life #smajor1995 #grian #grianmc #pearlescentmoon #itlw #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #life series martyn

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the-travelling-witch · 2 months

Note

We need more aether hes Just so pretty, I need more aether (respectfully)

since you asked so nicely i shall deliver (also bc i love my modern au! aether but that’s beside the point)

my modern au masterlist || genshin masterlist

The shutter of a camera drew your attention from the almond blossoms in front of you back to your boyfriend. Shielding your eyes against the spring sun, you turned to see Aether pointing the lens directly in your direction, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“What happened to wanting to take pictures of the flowers?” You asked, feeling the warmth spreading to your cheeks and acknowledging that it wasn’t from the weather.

“I am, I am, I promise,” Aether replied, scratching the back of his neck before his golden eyes opened again to find yours. “I just couldn’t help myself when you look so much prettier.”

“What a smooth-talker,” you mused as you came to a halt in front of him, reaching out to pick a pale pink flower from his hair, which matched the blush dusting his cheeks and the freckled bridge of his nose.

Since winter was slowly melting away, the little spots were hardly visible and you were sure you could only make them out because you knew they were there, but you looked forward to the time where his skin would be sunkissed by the beauty of summer.

Intertwining your hand with his warm one, you pulled him with you towards your chequered picnic blanket. You sat with your knees touching, your head resting on Aether’s shoulder and his leaning against the top of yours. For a few moments you rested like that, soaking up the rays of the sun and listening to the birds chirping.

Then, Aether moved to lift the strap of the camera over his head and set the device down to rummage through your basket of snacks. With his focus elsewhere, you could take your time to admire him. The light breaking through the almond trees created a spotted pattern, illuminating different colours of his dyed highlights and reflecting off his jewellery.

Almost unconsciously, your arm stretched towards the camera and you uncovered the lens. A light breeze rustled the leaves and moved the light material of his unbuttoned shirt, strands of his bright hair moving with the wind. Just as you took a picture, more almond blossoms drifted down to aid the dreamy scenery of the moment.

Like you had done earlier, Aether turned towards the sound of the shutter to see your smile half covered by the camera in your hands. The next shot memorialised the endearing surprise painted on his features; the one after that the golden glow of his eyes in the sunlight. The last two pictures captured his gorgeous smile and the way his palm covered the lens.

“Hey! Didn’t you just complain about that?” Aether laughed, helping you put the camera back into its case.

“Sorry,” you teased, letting yourself be pulled back into his chest, “I just couldn’t help myself when you’re this beautiful.”

“What am I going to do with you,” your boyfriend sighed over your shoulder, sounding not at all upset over your smartass comment.

“You could kiss me,” you half-jokingly proposed.

What you didn’t expect was Aether to tilt your head to the side as he leaned down to capture your lips with his. Though, your surprise soon morphed into content reciprocation as you closed your eyes and melted into the rhythm he set.

All too soon you parted and you took a moment to let the sensation linger before you searched for Aether’s aureate gaze. When your eyes fluttered open, you found he was tracking the movement of his thumb tracing along the curve of your bottom lip, mesmerised in his own world.

“You know,” he hummed, seemingly more to himself, “I wouldn’t mind if you copied this as well.”

tag list: @mccnstruck @tavvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm @kazuuhhaaaa @inufinuf @ynverse @nico707 @boba-is-a-soup @hellithides @ryuryuryuyurboat @the-guardian-kitsune @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @himimikyu @franaby

#┊✩彡 divine correspondence ♡#┊✩彡 unsigned letter ♡#┊holly’s modern au ✩彡 #genshin impact #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #aether x reader #aether fluff #genshin modern au #genshin impact aether

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

Text

gojo always seems to be off in a world of his own.

a little detached, you think. awkwardly long limbs constantly on the move, eyes stuck in a direction no one else can follow, a trajectory you don’t think even he knows. one blink and he's gone, just like that. too far ahead, too far above, even on the occasions he slows down and lets you catch up.

flimsy, maybe. like he’ll get carried away by the breeze when spring rolls around. like he’d turn into seafoam if you reached out and touched him.

satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky.

high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. but there's a softness to him when he's alone, you’ve come to learn; something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be.

no one except for you, anyhow.

(you wonder if your presence is really that inconsequential to him.)

the beach is entirely empty, save for you and gojo. and summer’s ending, burning into little cinders, sputtering out before your very eyes.

tokyo is just beginning to dip its toes into autumn, the frost and chill, the hiss of the biting wind. the rusting of leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. smelling of rotten apples and cinnamon, old books and burning wood.

it’s dark out. painted a thick gray, the sky is blanketed by heavy clouds, the entire world hidden behind that coating of wool. not a single sliver of starlight slips through, but there's a comfort to it, that feeling of being cocooned — safe and warm. a feeling cruelly stripped away by the nipping of the wind at your bare skin, but you digress.

everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air; scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which.

and a sense of foreboding sinks into your veins.

(you look out at the jagged rocks piercing the surface of the sea, and dully wonder how they’d feel piercing your skin.)

something shivers, to your right. a flicker of movement, a barely audible chatter of teeth. and then, a white puff of vapour.

”man, it’s cold.”

gojo looks displeased.

only vaguely, a little crease between his eyebrows as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his puffy baseball jacket. moving his feet a little, to warm up, snowy tufts of white hair tousled by the ocean breeze. his shoes are muddied by the wet sand, but he doesn't seem to mind.

a soft scoff leaves your lips, mostly harmless. maybe just a little smug. ”told you,” you click your tongue.

gojo whines. his sunglasses are starting to fog up, you notice. ”it’s still summer!” he pouts. ”i thought the sea would be nice and breezy!”

an unimpressed look smooths over your features. gracing him with a raise of your brow, you don’t fully manage to bite back the soft smile that follows. don’t even really attempt to.

it’s been a long day. evidently not long enough for gojo, seeing as he dragged you down here — even though he knew it meant missing the train you were supposed to board after successfully finishing your mission. he just had to get a closer look at the sea. just for a moment or two.

and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one.

(what made you agree was simply the thought of spending some more time with him. not like you could ever tell him that, though.)

so there you stand. two juveniles, shivering and shifting from foot to foot, on the brink of nightfall, the edge of summertime. watching the sea stretch out into infinity, across the gap between this world and the next. a murky blue. easy on the eyes.

the noise of the sea fills your ears; waves crashing into sand, the whistling of the wind, seagulls crying out in the distance. and faraway, the chatter of a rattling train. a cacophony of sounds, buzzing and crackling, melting together. scattered across the beach are countless tiny white seashells, and the occasional green glimmer of drift glass — mermaids’ tears, shed for lost sailors, or so you’ve heard.

you wonder if the mermaids ever shed tears for lost sorcerers. probably not.

a shiver runs through your body, down to your cold hands, the tips of your fingers. reddish and itching for warmth. you tuck them into your pockets with a breathless exhale, still shaking a little.

in truth, you and gojo aren’t very close. you’d like to call him a friend, but it's kind of hard; when he's so enamored with suguru, so animated around shoko. with you, he always seems kind of —

stiff?

or maybe more like bored.

he doesn't laugh as loudly, doesn’t act as cocky. doesn't flaunt his knowledge on sorcery, and isn't as clingy as he is with the other two.

(you've never liked people touching you. it's not hard for others to discern, with how you flinch away when they get close.

still, you can't help but feel a little jealous when you see him tugging suguru and shoko around.)

deep within your chest, like a stunted seaweed, sprouts a tiny pang of disappointment. it’d be nice if you could grow closer, you think. just a little would be fine.

”i like the sea.”

you turn your head.

gojo looks a little lost in thought. gaze trained on that expanding ocean before you, those splotches of blue and gray, the waves that bruise the edge of the sand. forlorn, maybe.

a hum buzzes in your dry throat. ”do you?”

”mm.” little white breaths slip from his lips. you wonder if they’d taste as salty as the air. ”’ts nice.”

a silence stretches out before you. delicate, like a sheet of glass. gojo picks at a piece of lint on his sleeve, and you shift from foot to foot. then he closes his eyes — a flutter of his dewy eyelashes.

”kinda makes you feel like everything’s about to end, huh?”

you look at him, but don’t see anything. a single glimpse of his closed eyes is all you gain from the glance you cast his way, but it’s not enough. not enough blue to fall into, no expression to savour. he looks the same as always.

but you’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.

”… end?”

and with that, they flicker open. there it is, you think. that vibrant blue. only to be obscured once more, when he turns to you fully, a smile playing at his glossy lips. ”don’t think so?”

a second passes. you look forward.

what you see is as follows: waves upon waves upon waves. the same blue and gray, as far as the eye can see. a sea big enough to drown each and every one of your worries.

something comes over you. a sensation of loneliness, something close to longing. a feeling of being rather lost. searching for something. your heart feels heavy, an anchor sunk to the bottom of your gut. little fish nipping at your ribcage.

your eyes trail over those jagged rocks, again. the mermaids’ tears, that all-consuming sea, right in front of you. like it could open its maw and devour the world.

you think of the lost sailors.

(one jump and it’s all over.)

a breath. salty on your tongue. ”… i guess i get it,” you whisper. a soft murmur, mingling with the mist.

silence.

out of the corner of your eye, you see gojo shift. one moment he’s looking at you, the next he’s staring at the sea. in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue. and you think he looks a little mesmerized, like he’s seeing something not even he can fully comprehend.

(maybe he just hasn’t had many chances to go to the beach before. something to do with being a clan kid, maybe?)

but then he clears his throat, hands moving to brush some sand off his puffy jacket and jeans. turning on his heel, hair ruffled by the breeze. he tries to sound chipper, but there’s something else there. you don’t know what it is, but…

”anyway,” he chirps. ”let’s go. we can still make it to the next train if we hurry.”

you look at him. his retreating figure, a head of white hair, surrounded by mist. a little like an apparition. then you turn towards the sea.

”… nah, that’s fine.”

a pause.

gojo stills, just about to take the first step forward. but you stay rooted in place; unmoving, staring at the blue before you, a deep longing reflected in your eyes.

”let’s stay a little longer,” you hum, unsure of where the words came from. but you know you aren’t ready for the moment to end, just yet. that you aren’t quite ready for summer to pass.

…

all he does is stare, for a second or two. attempting to find some humour in your voice, you assume, any signs that you might just be joking. but he doesn’t find it. uncharacterstically silent, gojo stays frozen in place.

then he puffs out a breath — amused.

”you wanna freeze to death?” he grins, and you can hear it in his voice. you turn to face him, almost smiling. a little cheeky.

”you’ll warm me up, no?”

the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in. meant to sound a little snarky, you think, something akin to a chuckle — but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request.

the tips of your ears feel a little warm, suddenly.

a sense of surprise smooths over the contours of gojo’s face, and his grin falters. you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if they widen or not, but his lips part, and you note that they look soft.

and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy, from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you.

he throws an arm over your shoulder. a heavy weight against you, grounding, causing you to stumble. friendly, tugging you close. into his orbit.

(no infinity, you note. you can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric.)

it's nice. he's tall, and he's warm. cozy, protecting you from the bitter cold, like your own personal furnace. no wonder suguru never catches any colds, with someone like this draped over him all the time.

gojo speaks. there’s a sweetness to his voice, a mellow kind of contentment; bubbling up like seafoam, spilling from his glossy lips. you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

”well, duh.”

when your gaze falls on him, he's already looking at you. leaning closer, sunglasses slipping a little further down the bridge of his nose — enough to expose the blue of his eyes, the tiny splotches of white scattered across his aquamarine iris. like a cracked marble. or a summer sea.

he’s speaking again, and you almost don't hear it. distracted by those cracked marbles, the strawberry red of his cheeks, the warmth shared between you. the pitter patter of your heartbeat, like waves crashing against the sand. mesmerized. not daring to look away.

almost like you’d cease to exist, were he to close his eyes. like your existence hinges entirely on the blue of those irises.

(and maybe it does.)

he nods towards the sea, and grins. a mischievous glint in his eyes. ”wanna take a dip?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. it makes you laugh, either way.

”do you want to freeze to death?” you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. subtly angling your body closer to his, hoping he won’t notice.

gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now?

”hehe. i just think it'd be fun!” he chirps, still draped over you like an overgrown cat, and you almost find yourself saying yes. just to keep the summer from ending, keep him from being swept away by the breeze.

but summer is ending. slipping away, second by second, like two juveniles drowned by an ocean wave. never to be found. and in comes autumn, the smell of rotting apples, the crunch of sand beneath your feet; an arm over your shoulder, an intake of breath. the taste of nice, crispy air on your tongue.

a chuckle flows from your lips. all you see before you is blue, a murky shade, a vibrant hue. you think you could drown in it. you’re not sure you’d mind.

”maybe next time,” you whisper.

gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice, until they bloom — with a kind of bubbly excitement. unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe.

you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate.

satoru gojo. high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. a seaborne boy with his very own orbit, born to carry the weight of the world, spinning so close that you can almost delude yourself into thinking he feels the same.

almost.

(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.)

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rishiguro · 17 days

Text

58; ASSISTANCE

you didn’t know what time it was. you’ve been in bed most of the day, occasionally sat on a chair if you felt like walking a few steps.

you wanted to sleep, but you couldn’t. so instead you opted to do something that was equally as productive: doing nothing.

that was until you heard the door knock. “it’s sakusa,” the nurse‘s voice sounded muffled through the wooden door.

“come in”

you quickly glanced at him before turning to the window, playing with your fingers in your lap. “you know you don’t have to announce yourself every time. i’ll let you in anyways,” you said and shrugged, “i know it’s you”

“maybe you just shouldn’t let anybody in if you don’t know who they are,” he quipped back. you could hear that he had a very slight smile on his lips. “serial killers in the seventies would’ve loved you, not even locking your doors”

you turned back to him, raising your eyebrows a little. “i can’t even lock it”

he shrugged. “besides, it’s common courtesy”

you didn’t reply, instead opted to continue to stare outside. honestly, you didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

all you wanted was to rot in your bed and waste the day away.

“it’s been a while, i’m going to open the window”

you nodded and just a short moment after he entered your field of view. after letting the fresh air in, sakusa still stood in front of the open window.

it was pleasantly warm and sunlight entered your room. a warm late spring-early summer day. for a short moment the thought of going outside crossed your mind.

to feel the warm sun on your skin again, feel the breeze caress your cheeks and hear some birds chirping above you as they sat on a tree branch. you would want to take a deep breath in and out and a smile would appear on your face.

for a short moment, life would feel okay again—like everything would be alright. you would feel free, away from this place. it would be like you were just outside your home, maybe in the park, with your friends or your boyfriend accompanying you.

but it wouldn’t be. you wouldn’t be at the park just a few blocks away from your home. you wouldn’t be able to take a deep breath in so easily and you wouldn’t be outside with iwaizumi, aran or anybody else.

deep inside, you would know that you were outside with your assigned nurse, strolling inside the garden of the hospice you were currently in and you would feel the nasal canulla directing oxygen into your lungs and the oxygen tank right beside you.

no matter what, you couldn’t escape your reality, not even for a small moment.

but oh how you wanted to.

suddenly, you noticed how sakusa had turned around and nodded at you. “come on, get up,” he said.

you looked at him all confused, mentally checking your calendar. did you forget something? no, you couldn’t have. “why? i don’t have an appointment, do i?“ you responded with a frown.

he agreed with you before motioning you to get up again. “we’re going for a walk. weather is nice and it’s too stuffy here,” he proposed, looking at you expectantly. when he noticed that you refused to move, he glanced outside again. “i’m already getting a headache”

“no thank you,” you simply said, turning your upper body away from him. if it was such a pain for him to be in this room, he could leave. you didn’t call for him in the first place and you certainly wouldn’t make him stay here and keep you company— especially not if he’d feel uncomfortable.

sakusa cleared his throat. “that wasn’t a question,” he said with a stern voice. looking back at him, you could see how he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, the same look you would have when you had tried to get atsumu to move and make space for you on your own couch or when suna was about to pull some stupid shit again.

much to sakusa’s dismay, you still didn’t make an attempt to move. he sighed. “come on. sunlight will do you good. you’re so pale, i can practically see through you”

you kept quiet when he started to move away from your bed. for a short moment you hoped that he gave up and was about to leave you alone, yet instead of opening the door, he navigated towards your closet and pulled out a thin jacket. “please,” he tried again, holding the black jacket in one hand, the other extended to you.

“fine”

a small and rare smile appeared on his lips and sakusa immediately rushed to your side and offered you his hand, which you took. after standing up and slipping into some shoes, the nurse helped you put on your jacket.

“thanks,” you whispered.

he didn’t acknowledge it much, simply nodding and opening the door for you. “come on”

after a few minutes and rather small and slow steps, you were finally outside, taking in fresh air for what felt like the first time in a long time. you didn’t want to admit it out loud, but it felt good.

it felt like everything was normal. like you just got off from a long day of work and allowed yourself a stroll outside before going back home to make yourself some dinner and allow the day to end.

even if you knew that you haven’t been at work for weeks, if not months at this point. even if you haven’t been at home for a long time too. you clenched your jaw subconsciously.

you shouldn’t dwell on that now. not during your first walk outside, not as you finally got to enjoy the sunlight and the warm breeze again. just for a few more minutes.

soon, reality hit you again. you could feel your chest tightening as it was getting harder and harder to breathe and after a while, you couldn’t conceal it anymore.

“do you need a minute?“ sakusa asked carefully, slowing down to match your pace again.

you shook your head, clenching your fist at your side. “no, i’m fine”

you felt a hand on your back before you even noticed that you weren’t walking anymore. you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to force your breathing to stay steady and your heart rate to slow down. “here’s a bench, sit down“

“i don’t need to,“ you protested, but still allowed sakusa to guide you closer to it.

he shook his head slightly, pushing you closer to the bench. “don’t be an idiot. sit. sitting outside also counts as getting sunlight and fresh air”

you didn’t protest any further— you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. you could feel your legs growing weaker underneath you, so it was obvious that you had to sit down to catch your breath. with closed eyes you concentrated on letting air inside your lungs and allowing it to exit it through your mouth, slowly and controlled.

“it’s okay. that’s it,“ sakusa mumbled beside you, his hand still on your back. you were grateful for his words of encouragement, even if you wouldn’t admit that. truth was, you were happy that he was sitting next to you and allowed you to take as much time as you needed and saw that you needed to take a break in the first place.

you hated this. you hated not being able to walk for more than a few minutes before having to slow down or stop entirely. you hated feeling so weak. you hated having almost no control over your body. you hated how easy it was for you to exhausted. you hated how you needed help with the simplest task even a three or four year old could master, like putting on a jacket.

and you hated how angry you sometimes felt towards sakusa; a person who was just doing his job and a person who was there first whenever you needed something these days.

you couldn’t help it— and you felt terrible because of it.

“can we go back inside? i’m tired,” you mumbled after you caught your breath.

“yeah,” sakusa stands up, offering you a hand to help you get up. “come on”

with a weak smile you took it and allowed him to guide you back inside.

evanescent

/ɛvəˈnɛs(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

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leclsrc · 1 year

Note

we need need neeed a charles variant of the media naranja fic :( just a multiple lives au even just a drabble or a headcanon auds audrey big a please only u do this shit justice

bec this has been rotting and i needed to practice writing :)

divine sense – cl16

Charles is always led back to you. title from this

“Your mole is nice,” he says, cutting himself off and thinking a bit more on his words. “It sits just there, on the corner of your eye.”

“Really? God.” You poke at it, rub over it even if it sits relatively flat and unassuming and a bit tiny. “I’ve always hated it. People mistake it for leftover eyeliner or mascara all the time, and it’s—whatever.”

“It’s pretty.” His gaze could light you on fire and water it down all at once. “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you. Granted, I thought it was a, uh, how you say? Mascara, yes, that flicked off your eye a bit, but now it’s just there. I like it.”

A slow smile creeps its way onto your lips and you bite it back, to no avail. “Thank you.”

“It’s the reason why you look so familiar to me.” My mole? You ask, your head turning to the side a bit. He nods. “I don’t know why, either. I mean, clearly we didn’t know each other then. But something about you—you’ve always felt familiar, I think.”

“I have?”

The trees are greener in the spring, but they’re thin still, not yet too thick with leaves that will fade into orange and die and fall. It’s perfect, Charles thinks, because then the sun filters perfectly through the green of them and shines through the blinds and onto your face, smiling tenderly and warm and waiting. Your eyelashes cast a shadow across the rest of your face and he could stare forever.

“You have.”

—

“Did you get mascara on your eye?”

“What? Oh. Fuck, no. This—it’s a mole.” You turn quickly to the mirror. “I know, it looks a bit like it, yeah.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s all good. So, Charles, right?” You reread the application sheet and stretch a hand forward to shake his. “My new roommate… taking up Architecture.”

“Yep.” He smiles proudly, the emblem of your university front and centre on his sweatshirt. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but have I met you before? You just look a little familiar. Mole and all.”

“Oh.” Instinctively, you reach up to touch the area on which it sits. “I don’t think so, sorry. Um, but in my Lit class, we did have a discussion about how… like… moles are places where you were kissed in your past life.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. The fall breeze filters through the open living room window, blowing tendrils of hair over your face that you’re quick to brush away. “Granted, I don’t know who would want to kiss an area like this.”

“You don’t?”

And maybe you’re a bit loopy from the drive, or hungry from waking up early, or maybe not at all. Maybe Charles the college roommate is messing with you, or maybe pulling a prank, or maybe not at all. The sunset today is beginning to tint the room and his pretty face a muted orange and you could stare forever.

“I don’t.”

—

Your first time in Italy is marked by a series of ugly firsts: first catcall, mistranslation, scam, blistered heel. But you make it, despite it all, to your foster family’s farm estate, all old vine-caked buildings and stables and lemon trees. You spot somebody poking their head out of the upstairs window but the mop of hair disappears just as quickly.

The door is answered by Pascale—the one you’d been corresponding with prior to today. With her is her husband, Hervé, and two sons, one of whom is somewhere in the house getting your room tidy, she says apologetically. You’re quick to quell her apology, sated by the ice water and bowl of fruit (Hervé says something about picking them all out himself; Arthur, the younger one, pulls you aside with a boyish smile and says it was actually him.)

“Lorenzo is off at university for summer classes,” Pascale explains when she’s putting the second spoonful of pasta on your plate. “So I am stuck with Arthur here, and Charles. He’s about your age, yes? Twenty-two in October.”

Charles descends into the kitchen talking in rapid Italian to his mom, that only tapers off when he sees you at the table. You smile, dopey, raising a careful hand to wave.

He stares.

“Vieni a sederti,” Pascale says, pointing to the empty seat beside you. Shyly, he takes a seat and fills up his glass with water—then yours.

“Oh,” you say. “Thank you.” Your gaze travels to him, and find he’s already looking—at the corner of your eye.

“It’s a mole,” you clarify with a quiet, pretty laugh. “Are you excited to take me around? Pascale says you’re my tour guide.”

“Sure, sure.” He laughs. “Where do you want to go?”

Hervé has played some Italian music on his vinyl, so it’s what scratchily plays through the dining area, accompanied by the scent of garlic and lemon and olive from the trees outside, blowing a gentle breeze through the archway of the house.

You turn away from his green eyes to answer one of Arthur’s questions, peppering chili flakes over your aglio olio to twirl and deposit into your mouth. One red flake stays on your lip and he imagines swiping it off with his thumb. Your eyes meet his again, gaze amused and gentle and Charles could stare forever.

“Anywhere, really.”

—

“Oh, honey,” you whine playfully, letting your husband crowd you against the counter of your kitchen, peppering kisses all over your face. “Missed me that much?”

“You know I did.” He parts from you, and even if he's taller his gaze seems to convey looking up at you, adoration and love crowding his green eyes. A hand caresses your jaw, cheek; his thumb rubs over the corner of your eye. The blank skin there, unmarked, unblemished.

He kisses it. His favorite spot. “I woke up this morning thinking about you,” he says fondly.

“About how I left you in charge of changing Mila while I slept in?” You tease lowly, forehead pressed to his.

“About how in love I am with you,” he says honestly. Your heart pulses. It was never a whirlwind of love for either of you. It was slow, warm, familiar. Hey, you.

Despite that, he means it, you know he does, he’s never failed to show just how much. When he wakes up early to change Mila, or when he takes charge of the stove when you’re sleepy. When he lets you walk him around the winding avenues of Manhattan to get cookies or a good coffee or a better beer. When he watches you sing karaoke tipsily, Billy Joel or The Smiths. The way he memorizes every part of you, the way he knows you. Any and all of the love Charles ever had and ever felt always answered to you.

Lips meet the corner of your eye again. “You know that? I love you. You changed me. You know that, right?”

You could stay forever, in the dusk of the city, questions suspended in the air to be lovingly answered in the lifetimes to follow. They will come, though. You can stay for now—you’ve done your waiting for a love like this.

You smile. “Right.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble

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thejakeslayla · 8 months

Note

hello! great work so far ✨ can you do something sweet with Jake, as well? maybe bf jake head canons or how falling in love with him is? 💕 thankies

╰─▸❝ how falling in love with jake felt like ❞

pairing jake x gn! reader ୨୧ genre tooth rotting fluff ୨୧ warnings none, but let me know if i skipped something! ୨୧ (i recommend listening to our summer by txt acoustic mix while reading!)

jake’s love for you felt like a summer.

a warm breeze, wrapping around your body with this feeling of safety and love.

how funny that you met him during winter, right?

you still remember how the snowball hit your cheek, attacking your skin with an uncomfortable coldness.

"oh my god! i’m so sorry! i was aiming for my friend!"

you heard two boys run up to you. one of theirs, somehow warm hands helped you get the snow off your face. you looked at him, and god, how annoying it was that he was so adorable.

you looked pissed enough for him to apologise five more times. your day was awful; you were trying to just move on, go home and rest, wrap yourself in a blanket, sip hot chocolate, and forget everything that happened today. the boy wasn’t helping; he was still trying to talk to you, with absolute nonsense leaving his mouth.

"listen, what he’s trying to say is that he wants to go out with you." you heard another voice and looked away from jake’s face. you saw how his arm was wrapped around jake’s neck, almost making his scarf fall.

"well.. i mean- yeah. i’m really sorry about this; if you don’t mind, we could go grab some hot chocolate." he said, looking at you with these pleading eyes. "i’ll pay."

and you were supposed to say no? to these eyes? this face? this free hot choco? you agreed.

jake led you to a really nice cafe; it was so cosy, and what’s most important, it was warm inside. jake, as promised, ordered two hot chocolates and came back to your table.

"so.. what’s your name?"

and this is how your relationship started. jake was so fun to be around; you were actually surprised because he seemed really awkward at first. he quickly introduced you to his friends, and it was even more surprising how well you got along with them.

it was now spring, and jake invited you to a picnic. the rest of the guys were already there when you arrived. as the weather got warmer, you only had a long-sleeve shirt on, not really realising that you'd sit there for a long time because the sun was already setting. no one really realised how cold you were until your whole body was shaking.

"oh, y/n!" jake quickly stood up, confusing the rest of the group. he took off his hoodie and quickly put it over your head, helping you put it on.

that was the exact moment when the spark between you two was created.

summer came quickly; it was your first summer with jake. first, but probably the most memorable. yet again, you were invited by him. this time to join the group on a little trip. it was only a weekend in a city near the sea, but you quickly agreed.

as you arrived, jake didn’t even let you unpack, not even put your bags in the room assigned to you by jay. he grabbed your hand, just like an excited puppy, and pulled you outside.

"let’s go see the sea, y/n!"

he didn’t let you answer, as he had already pulled you closer, starting to walk away from the house.

oh how bad the timing was; five minutes after you arrived, it started pouring rain. the clouds formed quickly, leaving you guys no option but to run home.

even though you were soaked wet, jake still made sure you had fun. he danced with you in the rain, steadily holding your hands when you both spun around. he made you jump in the little puddles with him, your shoes covered with mud.

you both came home wet, dirty, but happy. everyone was confused, and some of them were even concerned when they saw you.

after these moments with you, jake was sure he was in love with you. poor little you; you were still confused about your feelings, slightly insecure, and worried because how could someone like jake could love you?

the difference between you both was that he was loud, funny, and nice to have around, and you were quiet; some would say that you were even boring, always reading something or having your headphones on, avoiding conversations.

but jake saw another side of you, and he absolutely loved it. he loved you.

the second summer with jake was even better. he confessed to you that when you both went to an amusement park, it felt like a movie scene.

during the ride on the ferris wheel, he looked nervous. you felt his awkwardness and anxiety, not being able to focus on the view. you put your phone away, taking a break from taking pictures, and looked at jake.

"everything okay?"

"we need to talk- i mean i need to talk to you."

you didn’t respond, as he didn’t even allow you to. one of the things jake really often did was talk a lot when he was nervous.

"i like you. more than i should. i don’t want to be only friends with you, y/n."

you looked at him shocked. since you realised that you have feelings for jake, the feeling of insecurity was still deep inside you. you just couldn’t believe what he said.

"i totally understand if you don’t like me back, if you don’t want to be friends anymo-"

you cut him off by grabbing jake’s cheeks and pulling him closer. your lips gently press on his. the kiss was so sweet and soft, almost innocent. as you pulled away, jake had the biggest smile on his face. this time he was the one to grab your cheeks and place another kiss, but this time on your forehead.

his hands quickly moved; now his pinky was interlocking with yours.

"will you be mine? officially?"

"i’ll have to think about it."

when you thought of summer, you remembered the sweltering heatwaves, the stunning views, and the endless days. But you also recalled the overpowering love of your boyfriend that was hotter than the sun and more enchanting than the views. You dreamed that this relationship would last longer than the long summer days.

. . . . . -ˋˏ ✎ author's note! hii, thank u for requesting, writing that was super fun, hope you enjoyed!

#thejakeslayla #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen x you #jake x reader #enhypen #jake x you #jake x y/n #jake drabble #jake drabbles #jake imagines #jake fluff

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smallpeniscollective · 1 year

Text

Out by the Fire

Daryl Dixon x Reader (18+)

Summary: (takes place in early season 3 in the prison, before all the governor stuff) Daryl and the reader share a sweet moment by the fire.

Minors please DNI !!

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: confessions, some cursing, mentions of walkers, sexual content, p in v sex, unprotected sex

*~*~*

The flames of the fire licked the night sky, a thin stream of gray smoke pilfering into the air. With no electricity in this new world, the stars were astoundingly visible. The large yard of the prison felt so empty with just her and Daryl out by the small fire, and the night was only getting colder, but she couldn't leave Daryl by himself.

"Y'know, Daryl, I used to be a vegetarian before everything happened," she said, attempting to start a conversation. She was picking at the squirrel meat from the hunt he had gone on for the group earlier that day.

"Well, that's dumb. Ya gotta eat yer meat. Only way to get protein," he huffed, side-eyeing her barely touching her food with the smallest hint of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, I, uh... I watched Bambi as a kid, and the scene where the hunter shot his mom made me swear off eating anything with a face," she said softly, smiling lightly to herself as she remembered her normal childhood of Disney movies and DVD players and those huge thick TVs with the staticky screens. "My mom used to scold me for not eating enough protein..." A lump caught in her throat, the memory of her old family being too much to bear. "Bet she's real proud of me now," she attempingly joked, squeezing it out in a choked whisper, tears blurring her vision. She turned, quickly wiping her eyes before any real tears fell down her cheeks.

"Course she's proud of ya, ya made it this far wit' no walkers takin' ya down," he grunted, getting visibly uncomfortable. She assumed that it was because he just hated seeing people cry, but his words did bring her some sense of comfort. She looked over at him to find he was staring hard at the fire, like he just couldn't look her back in the eyes.

"Thanks, that means a lot," she whispered, returning her gaze to the flickering of the fire.

"Sorry 'bout yer family," he stuttered out, as if he was trying to find the right words as he spoke.

"Sorry about yours," she returned quietly. She took a chance to scoot closer to him, telling herself it was because he was radiating such heat in the cold, but deep down she just wanted to be closer. She could see him physically tense up as he sensed her getting close, but he didn't move away. "I like sitting with you, Daryl," she admitted, slowly resting her head on his broad and warm shoulder. "It feels nice."

It feels nice? God, you sound like a schoolgirl with a crush, she thought to herself, chastising herself for the simplicity of her statement, until she heard a gruff response from him.

"Yeah, it does."

Smiling to herself, she let herself finish eating the squirrel meat, ignoring the fact that it used to be a little woodland creature because he caught it for her. And she was grateful for it. For him.

A slight breeze of cold air swept through the prison yard, causing a chill to creep up her spine and her skin to break out in goosebumps. The winter was only just ending, and the spring was starting out just as cold. She was hardly prepared for the cold. Hell, she had nothing, just the summer clothes on her back and the supplies shared by the group. Slightly shivering, she felt her teeth start to uncontrollably chatter embarrassingly loud.

Suddenly, a thick warm arm was thrown around the back of her shoulders. He rubbed the side of her arm in an effort to create warmth for her. "Don't be gettin' sick out here on a count a' me."

"To be honest, Daryl, I'd do a lot of things for you... getting sick is nothing," she chuckled, not realizing she had just confessed a hint of feelings for him. And then she felt his hand stop rubbing her arm. Instead, he was gripping her arm, holding her to him tightly.

She lifted her head off of his shoulder, looking up at his face, attempting to read his facial expression. It looked thoughtful, stoic, as if he couldn't decide what to do or say next. Carefully, he said quietly, "Y/n, I care for this group a lot... but I care for ya even more somehow..."

She grinned unabashedly, tilting her head to bat her lashes. He stared at her face with question, waiting for her response, and glanced quickly at her lips. She noticed this quick glance and returned the favor, asking just above a whisper, "Daryl, can I kiss you?"

She was always the bold one, the one who made the first move, the one who joined him whenever he was alone, the one who initiated their conversations. She knew that Daryl struggled to speak his mind, let alone speak to people at all. She didn't mind, she herself was too impatient to wait for him to make a move.

And he silently appreciated her making the moves that he wanted to, yet at the same time felt insecure in the fact that he could barely bring himself to speak to her, when she was so special to him, so different from the rest. Every time he could just hear Merle in his head calling him a pussy for not taking the several chances she laid out for him. But in this moment, the only thing he could hear was the soft heaving of her breaths from the anticipation of hearing an answer to her question, the crackling fire, the slight breeze in the wind, the ground beneath him crunching after every move he made. It was exciting and panic-inducing and electrifying... but mostly it was peaceful.

For the first time in his life, he chose to not overthink, and to act on his feelings. He grasped the sides of her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, fingers digging into her soft hair, and he leaned in, pulling her to him. When their lips collided, it felt like time truly stood still and all there ever was was her. Her touch. Her taste. Her sound. He allowed himself to feel peace in her touch and excitement in himself.

Their mouths connected in a hot, soft, fleshy mush, and she noticed the taste of cigarettes and the slight scent of sweat and dirt. Her hands flew to him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. The kiss that had started passionately quickly grew heated as all of the deep, harrowing loneliness in her that had gone unanswered and untouched in this cruel new world engorged itself into something bigger, something entirely desperate. Their lips moved in rhythm as their bodies slowly pressed together, him moving his hands from her face to wrap around her waist, and she, in return, wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair, feeling the soft strands on her fingertips.

Needing a breath, she pulled her head back, panting and a little kiss-drunk on the sudden heat of the moment. Giggling, she said, "Damn, Daryl, you sure can kiss."

He went quiet, relaxing from his state of intensity. He looked down to where their bodies were pressed against each other's and couldn't help but notice the swell of her breasts up against his chest. He found himself becoming aroused, unwilling to pull away from her but hoping she wouldn't notice the hardness beginning to grow in his pants.

Of course she noticed. Feeling confident after their shared kiss, she leaned further into his lap with a slight grind against his hips, causing a small groan to escape his lips. She knew she wanted this, needed this, to relieve a deep ache in her core that he awakened the second he pulled her close. Not wanting to take this any further without confirmation, to make sure this is what he wanted as well, she leaned in close to his face and gently placed her palm on his abdomen right above where her hips rested against his. Her lips brushed against his as she whispered with a timid yet pleading tone, "Can I?"

In response, Daryl wrapped his muscular arms tightly around her waist and spoke against her lips assuredly, "Darlin', I been thinkin' about doin' this with ya since I first ever saved yer ass from the walkers."

Immediately, she locked her lips onto his and heavy-handedly palmed him through his worn down pants. He inhaled sharply, pulling her by the waist to turn her around and lay her down beside the fire. She fumbled with his pants zipper, slowly pulling it down and purposefully grazing her hand against the tent in his boxers. He groaned again, harder this time, and ground his clothed erection against her. The pressure sweeping against her loins pushed her arousal further, and she could feel a warm wet patch developing in her panties, and she quickly moved to wrap both of her arms around his neck, fingers spreading through his hair, and kissed him deeper, sweeping her tongue across his lips to invite his own tongue into her mouth.

His fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, brushing against her warm bare skin. The sudden contact from his chilly fingers caused her to breathe in sharply. He slowly slid her shirt up, dragging his fingers against her sides, disconnecting their lips and bodies momentarily to pull her shirt over her head, exposing her little black bra. His eyes locked in immediately on her chest, his erection reaching its peak hardness. She arched her back, her hips rubbing against his to nonverbally remind him to press his lower body against hers once more, and he willingly obliged.

He locked eyes with her once, a slight shimmer in his eyes that said, "God, you're beautiful," without him having to say a word out loud, before dropping his head to attach his lips her neck, sucking on the tender flesh with wet hot lips, making the softest whiny moan slip from her lips. He squeezed her tightly in response, and it excited her, making her feel like in this moment she was entirely and completely his.

His lips moved from her collarbone to down to her chest, and she arched her back high to reached behind her and undo the hooks, loosening her bra so that he could remove it, and he did, pulling the straps quickly down her arms, and got goosebumps from the chilly air hitting her naked chest. His large hands were drawn to her exposed breasts, resting his hands under them and rubbing his thumbs gently over the hardening sensitive buds, which only made her entrance feel warmer and wetter. She heatedly pulled his sleeveless button up over his head quickly, reveling in his broad manly torso.

He pulled himself back to be able to pull her pants off, sliding them down her legs, revealing her drenched panties, and placed his warm hand between her legs, brushing two large fingers against the wetness of her underwear. "Damn," he whispered to himself, admiring her arousal. She gasped at the contact. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and pulled them down, leaving her naked in front of the fire, the view from the prison hidden by the tall grass.

She reached for the hem of his pants, her body aching for more contact, and he pulled his pants and boxers down together, past the brown tuft of body hair, enough to reveal his hard length. She took it in her hand, tenderly swiping her thumb over the slit of the head, using his pre-cum as a lubricant for the tip, eliciting a breathy grunt from him. He wrapped his larger hand over hers, and she helped him guide his length towards her hot wet entrance. Her body's anticipation betrayed her by having a small whine creep out of her throat, signaling to him that she was not only ready for him, but needy for him as well.

The first push hurt a little, her walls stretching out for the first time in a very long time, but the second he was buried to hilt, she had adjusted and all she could feel was how full her lower abdomen felt, drawing a slow and deep moan out of her. She hadn't noticed how big he was in the dim light of the fire, but inside and deliciously stretching her, he felt huge. He started teasingly slow, pulling out of her at a leisurely pace, making her wrap her arms around his neck and pull her to him tightly and burying her face in his neck. He left a gentle kiss on her head as he began pushing in and pulling out at half-speed, sending waves of pleasure through her body. In this moment, their bodies felt like two puzzle pieces designed to connect together, and the euphoric sensation inside of her was setting her nerves ablaze and sending tingles all the way down to her fingers and toes.

By this point, she was a moaning mess, and he thrusted harder with every whimper he heard muffled against his neck. Strings of curse words left her mouth as she felt herself becoming absolutely intoxicated by the pleasurable tightness building in her, tightening her walls around his length. He began to thrust harshly, pounding hard and starting to hit a spot deep in her that had her curling her toes. Her moans became so obscenely loud, he instinctively threw a hand up to cover her mouth. "Darlin', yer gonna have to be a lot quieter than that," he grunted in her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine.

The shivers, the deep pounding, and the spot in her that he hit so right all combined together to send her to the edge, her loud moans turning over to desperate teary-eyed whines, and he removed his hand from her mouth. She tightened on him so hard that he almost finished on the spot, so he teasingly slowed his pace down to an agonizing speed, making her squeeze him tightly with her thighs and grip his hair a little too hard. "God, Daryl, please don't stop," she begged, sounding almost pathetic in her pleading tone.

"Don' worry, sweetheart, I gotcha," he soothed quietly, and snaked a hand down her front, using a hot, thick finger to rub slowly on her clit, and this was it. With the addition of the action on her clit, the building tightness in her abdomen exploded with hot pleasure and tingles, leaving her a shivering, sweaty mess. And with the queue of her finishing, his thrusting picked up speed and he pounded into her once more. She was still so sensitive that his movements felt orgasmic, continuing the waves of explosive pleasure bursting through her until his pace came to a stuttering halt and with a deep groan, she felt a new warmth fill her up inside, feeling it spill and leak out from her entrance still wrapped around his member.

He dropped his body weight on her in a huff, burying his head in the crook of her neck, and she giggled at his exhausted state. They were both panting and weak and so sweaty.

In the most meek she had ever heard his voice, he joked, "Damn, baby, ya sure know how to leave a man weak as hell."

She laughed loudly, feeling blissful and ignorant to the world around them. She dragged her nails up his back softly, giving him a little back scratch for all the hard work he did. He groaned in a peaceful way to let her know it felt good, and for a moment it seemed like they were the only two people in the world.

The fire nearly dwindled out, letting them know it was time to get dressed and head inside. She could feel herself becoming bashful again, now that the hot passion was only lingering, and whispered with a shy smile, "Thank you for that, Daryl... I really appreciate... it."

She mentally slapped herself after that statement. I really appreciate it? Is this a formal exchange? The fuck is wrong with you? she thought to herself, but at the same time thinking it was a little comical that that was her natural awkward response. She put her clothes back on quickly.

He gave a small chuckle as he pulled his shirt back over his head. "Darlin', ya don't have to thank me, that was fer me too."

He put out the remains of the fire, taking her hand to sneak her back in quickly and quietly, as to not alert or wake up any of the group and led her back to her cell.

He gave her a quick kiss before trying to respectfully leave her alone to sleep in her cell, but she grabbed his hand and looked up into his eyes with the softest of pleading eyes and whispered, "Would you stay with me?"

He stopped, looking around worriedly, but ultimately gave into her desire, stepping up to her and sitting her down on the bed. "Sweetheart, I'd do anythin' for ya. Yer my girl now, and I'd never let nothin' happen to ya."

She smiled softly with tired eyes and pulled his hand to lead him onto the cell mattress with her. She faced the wall and he wrapped his warm body around hers, holding her too him, and rested his chin against the back of her head and made a small noise of content.

She giggled, "Y'know, when they find us in the same cell tomorrow, we're gonna have some explaining to do."

And then he said, "Yer my girl now. That's all they need t'know."

*~*~*

A/N: AHHH that was my first little oneshot for you guys, literally feel free to request anything, but I must ask that requests are made for seasons 1-3 bc I’m only just now rewatching after stopping at season 4 and I know a lot of spoilers but I don’t know the details of what happens after season 4, but omg !! Lmk if u guys like it and want more lol

#the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon imagine

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mydarlingem · 10 months

Text

this actually kinda made me ill writing this hes so cute (he acts like this in canon he told me). i was gonna post yesterday i swear but it was actually terrible so i had to write something new. hope you enjoy! requests always open as usual.

cw. nothing!! hes just obsessed with you bc i refuse to write about a man who isnt

wc. 465

kiyoomi has loved you since he was young. you have always been the sun, bright and warm with him. he basks in that warm forevermore. he doesn't consider himself a poet but he thinks he could spend forever writing about how infatuated he is with you.

your warm skin next to his in the summer. it's humid and busy at the beach but the only thing he can pay attention to is you. the way your bathing suit hugs your soft body, and how nice your hands feel as they spread the sunscreen on his back. the light on your skin makes you shimmer, and he kisses you softly. you smile on his lips. he likes the way you look at him when he's shirtless, kiyoomi can't help the way it boosts his pride when you won't keep your hands off him.

sakusa slips his coat over your shoulders during the cool night breeze in fall. you walk back to his car, your arms tangled around his. kiyoomi is certain you have no idea where you are going, but you were so excited to walk through the night lights at the park. he will get lost with you anywhere, and though he loathes the unknown, you have always been the one to ease him into new things.

walks through the flower garden with you, when they are at their fullest in spring. you were so eager to take him, and even though kiyoomi couldn't tell you the name of any flower but your favorite, he is happy. kiyoomi hovers close to you while you talk, your voice always his favorite sound. in his head, he's trying to figure out which ones would make a good bouquet for you. you lay in the grass together, pinkies linked letting the soft breeze float across your skin.

having you wrapped up in his arms next to the fire while he reads to you. the soft vibrations of his voice lull you to sleep during the cold winter nights. he could stay like this forever, eternally this close to you, forever at peace. his heart swells with joy at the smell of your perfume and how warm you feel on him. it makes the cold thaw off his bones. it's so intimate like this, one of those nights kiyoomi will miss when he sleeps.

he spends restless nights laying in the quiet of your room and he realizes you are the only person he will ever love like this. he clasps your hands together and softly squeezes yours. sakusa has been devoted to you since he was a boy and promises to be with you forever made on the playground. now he's grown, the years have not made his love waver. now kiyoomi loves you like the man you deserve.

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #drabble #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa x reader

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rev-wrath · 1 day

Text

All my stars

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You take Jason to see the stars.

Info: Fluff, angst at the end. No gendered pronouns are used for Reader, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. 1.4k words.

A gentle breeze makes its way across the property. Soon Jason will be pulled away for his nightly duties, but for now he lays here with you on a blanket on the lawn of Wayne Manor. Your head on his chest, his arm around you. Taking the time to say goodbye to the warm summer season with a picnic before it got too cold for them and classes ate up more time and energy than you’d like. For the day you had already said goodbye to the sun, left with the dark gray and blue mix you knew as the night sky here.

“We should go camping over spring break.” You say softly.

“We could go during a weekend.”

“We could,” You agree, “but I want more time out there.” Rolling over to your stomach, you have a look of softness that makes Jason’s breath stop for a second. “I want to show you the stars. You deserve to see them more than a weekend would give us.”

A warmth fills his own heart, and not for the first time, for a moment you are all Jason knows. You want to go out to the woods outside of the city to show Jason the stars. Something he hadn’t really thought of in a while. Something that didn’t exist here in the polluted city of Gotham. If he was honest, the thought of you just wanting to show Jason the stars because you know this makes him want to cry a little. “We can go camping over spring break. We should go.” There’s a million more words on his tongue but he’s not sure which ones to say, if any of them.

You smile and lean over, placing a kiss between his eyebrows, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, Jason.”

“Love you too.” He says your name with your reverence, like you’re some kind of god. To him, you might be something like that, he thinks as your lips meet.

When Bruce is presented with the idea some months later, his eyebrows crease. “I’ll think about it.”

Jason refused to let up. You had made a joke that Bruce needed a powerpoint presentation or diagrams on large pads of paper to understand. Jason grinned.

Bruce got presented with a powerpoint. Alfred found the whole thing delightful and funny. Everyone knew Bruce did too, it could be seen in his eyes just a little. The butler added his own comment after Bruce spoke, making his allegiance clear.

“Perhaps, Master Bruce, you would also have some personal benefit from a little excursion in the forest. Take time away from your endeavors and from a distance you could keep an eye on the young master and lady while giving them privacy.”

That Bruce could agree to a little more, after a few weeks of Alfred and Jason, along with you once, bringing it up he gave in.

Once break rolls around Alfred sends all of you off with a soft, cheerful smile. Your hushed voices and laughter in the backseat bring a smile to Bruce’s face. Every so often Jason pokes his head into the front to talk directly to his dad. Though at one point he pulls out a book, The Outsiders, reading that. You spend most of that time with your head on his shoulder, a hand wrapped around his arm instead of his hand so that he could still flip pages and hold the book. Eventually you reach your destination. A small walk from the beaten path is a big enough clearing for you two and your activities.

Promising Bruce that you would yell if you needed anything and that yes, the two of you can put the tent up by yourselves and could make a fire. He checked everything one more time before allowing you to split from him. You’d meet back up for dinner together. For now you and Jason take up the task of putting up the tent.

Once you had successfully put up the slightly tilted tent you went to gather firewood, a task that mostly involved you and Jason running around chasing each other, your laughter ringing out in the forest and a quick little stick fight with two incredibly nice, sturdy sticks. Despite that you two quickly gathered decent sticks. By the time Bruce made his way back to your little area Jason already had a fire going. Dinner also meant that night would fall soon and the real reason you are out here could happen.

Long after s’mores and Bruce had left, the sun set, giving way to a gorgeous dark blue sky. You and Jason sit next to each other, tucked into each other’s side, as you watch that sky slowly fill with bright flecks of stars. A grin spreads across your face as you look up, a small gasp draws your attention to Jason. Beautiful, wonderful Jason with wide eyes full of wonder, mouth still stuck in that gasp. The stars are reflected within his eyes, it’s beautiful but your focus is still solely on Jason. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Jason to keep that look on his face, to keep feeling that feeling, to experience all the wonderful things he hadn’t yet known. He deserves to see the stars every night, to experience this every single day. You’d have to make every second here count, then find what else you could give to him that’d bring this wonder to him.

Jason ended up deciding to ditch the tent, pulling the sleeping bag out to lay it under the stars. “Thank you,” he whispers, holding you against him. “for taking me out here.”

“Thank you for coming. Maybe we can go up the mountain and look at the stars there.” The view from up there would be even better, something Jason deserved. You had no doubt they could handle such a hike to the nearby mountain and up it. How long you’d be up there is a different question though. Would you spend the night up there?

Jason’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “The stars are beautiful, but they don’t compare to you.”

You smile and kiss him. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome. Not bad at all.” Jason kisses you this time, murmuring poetry against your lips.

On the third night Jason grabs your hand, tugging you up. “Dance with me?”

“Of course.” You follow him, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

The forest provides its own music with the chirps and trills of the bugs, the rustle of the leaves, and if you really concentrate you could hear the nearby stream.

Jason starts humming as you sway together, pressed against one another. Softly, you join in. You don’t know how long you stayed there, wrapped up in each other as the forest sang. What you did know is that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. A part of you wanted to stay forever, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Under those stars you danced, laughed, and kissed Jason. They were your stage, your backdrop, creating so many sacred moments. Each and every night Jason was enraptured by them, and you by him. Eventually it had to come to an end, you had to go back to Gotham with its smog. You promised each other you would come and see the stars together again.

Death would shatter that promise weeks later as you screamed and cried when Bruce returned with Jason’s corpse, neither of you ever to see the stars again. You’re content to resign yourself to the smoggy gray skies of Gotham, with its artificial yellow and oranges, streaked with all other sorts of colors. The forest and its endless stars could be left with his memory and wonder, away from your glooming grief.

Yet, months later when Jason looks up at the sky with green eyes, he can’t help but to think that this sky is more worthy of your gaze, that you should be here looking out into this speckled canvas. Looking at the stars here Jason can’t help but think of you, who took him to see the stars because no one else had, because you wanted him to, because you thought he deserved it. Jason can’t help but to think even here you are still more beautiful than the stars. Jason can’t help but to think of you as he looks at the stars, after all to him you might as well have hung them.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x nonbinary reader #jason todd imagine #x reader #reader insert #dc reader insert #dc #read reed

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 7 months

Text

Not What Was Expected

Next chapter for this little cute story. I know Rafael might seem a little out of character for this but I would argue that we haven't seen how he would treat someone he was interested in who also showed that interested back so....

Warnings: None. Just once again my attempt at flirtation. Hints towards something spicer.

Masterlist

Prompt List

One , Two , Four , Five , Six

You were standing at the meeting point in the park waiting for Rafael, one of your light scarves wrapped around your neck to help keep you warm. The weather still hadn’t completely turned but the sun was hidden behind some clouds, and a small breeze was rustling through the trees, bringing with it the promised chill that makes itself known during the night. You had chosen comfort for the day but you had still strived to style your choices. You picked a pair of leggings that hugged your legs rather nicely, and you had paired it with a simple shirt that was slightly oversized with the front tucked in and the back hanging loosely. Over the top you wore a light coat that cinched a little around your waist before flaring slightly. Topped off with a pair of black joggers and your scarf you thought you looked rather cute. You had braided your hair to stop it from blowing in the breeze not wanting it to impede your view of Rafael.

You glanced down at your phone checking the time, it was 12:10, Rafael had messaged letting you know that he was going to be a little late. It was a quick message, and none had come since but you weren’t concerned, knowing the work he did and that even though it was the weekend Rafael would still be busy. You rocked back and forth a little on your heels as you admired the gorgeous view of the trees and the colour their leaves were changing to. It was stunning.

“I am so sorry,” a voice huffed behind you. You turned to see Rafael, his cheeks flushed red as he took deep breaths.

“Rafael,” you smiled. “It’s fine, you aren’t that late and besides you let me know that it was a possibility. Though I must say I am rather…pleased that you were willing to run here.”

Rafael took one last breath as it started to normalise, a chuckle interrupting it at the coy way you spoke. He ran his eyes over your form, taking in your slightly red nose and the few strands of hair that were falling out of your braid. He had hoped that he hadn’t underdressed with his workout gear on with a scarf, although it was going to only be a walk he wanted to be comfortable for it and he was glad to see that you had done the same. Of course he thought you pulled it off better than he did but he maybe becoming a little biased when it came to you. He still found your red nose adorable.

“Well, you are definitely worth running to, Miss Librarian,” he grinned, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed red. He had noticed last night that you did so rather easily, along with how your eyes would skirt away from his when you got shy. “And you look lovely today.”

“Thank you,” you said softly reaching up to brush away a stray strand from your face. “Um, this is my favourite walk in the park.”

“I can see why, it is rather beautiful,” Rafael nodded at the trees as the two of you set off down the path. You both walked close together, shoulders brushing every now and then.

“One of the reasons I love this weather. Spring has beautiful colours of course but there is something about the colours in autumn,” you agreed. “Plus I enjoy being cozy, and that is difficult to do in summer with the heat.”

“Cozy?” Rafael asked.

“Yes, you know bundled up with a blanket, a good book and a cup of tea or a glass of wine, while it’s raining outside,” you nodded. “Wearing thick scarves and coats, drinking hot chocolate after a relaxing walk. Cozy.”

“That does sound rather nice I’ll admit,” Rafael agreed as his hand brushed yours again. He was tempted to take hold of it but didn’t know if you would accept that just yet.

“Hm,” you hummed a little glancing down at his hand that was very close to yours, the backs brushing when your shoulders did. You worried your bottom lip as you looked up at his profile. His strong nose and jawline catching your attention, he was breath taking. You reached your hand out a little, letting your fingers brush against his to test the waters before taking hold of his hand. “Is this okay?”

“One little change I think,” Rafael whispered as he changed the grip you had made intertwining your fingers. “Much better.”

A slight breeze carried a few leaves to float down around the two of you as you walked across the little bridge. It had been silent for a few moments but like at the restaurant not an awkward one. It was comfortable, as you lightly swung your joint hands between you. Rafael found the action adorable his eyes taking the chance to trace over your face as you watched the leaves flutter down onto the water.

“Were you in the office this morning?” you asked curious.

“Yes unfortunately,” Rafael grumbled. “Apparently the detectives got busy last night, I had yet more warrants to get for them as well as trial prep for a previous case.”

“Very busy morning for you,” you said. “I do hope that this doesn’t put you behind on anything.” You didn’t want to cause Rafael any stress in regards to how much work he had to do.

“Not at all, in fact it is a welcome reason to leave my office,” Rafael waved away your concern. “Besides, Liv has been rather good at keeping things off my desk unless necessary.”

“Oh?” you were a little confused. “How so?”

“Normally, my night would have been interrupted by what the detectives did last night but Liv knew I was at dinner with you and made sure we weren’t disturbed,” Rafael smiled.

“That was rather kind of her,” you said. “Please tell her thanks from me? I’m rather grateful that our night wasn’t interrupted.”

“I will pass that on,” Rafael nodded. “Of course she will be smug about it all.”

“You know from what you have told me about Liv, I already like her,” you grinned.

“Yes, I am rather dreading when the two of you meet,” Rafael sighed. “She teases me relentlessly and you have already shown you seem inclined to do that as well.”

“Mr Lawyer, when I meet her?” you asked, Rafael realised how he phrased that comment. He debated correcting himself but he had never been one to do so, especially when he meant something.

“Yes when,” he said again. “If of course you want to, eventually.”

“Well, I would love that,” you said. “I’ve already said I like her, and besides I can’t wait to hear what stories she has about you.”

“I am already regretting this,” Rafael groaned hanging his head as you laughed at his response.

“Too late to take it back now, I’m afraid,” you tapped him on the arm. He grabbed hold of those fingers in a teasing grip, the two of you had stopped walking standing to the edge of the path, hands still intwined. He lifted the fingers he had grabbed teasingly up to his mouth and pressing his lips to them softly, your mouth parted in a small ‘o’ shape, cheeks turning a red to match your nose.

“I must admit to once again being wrong,” Rafael stated, eyes roving over your face. “This weather is rather good for a nice walk through the park.”

“Oh? What made you change your mind?” you asked, a little confused by the change in topic but your mind was still reeling from the kiss he placed on the tips of your fingers. “You said you preferred the summer?”

“Oh I still do,” Rafael nodded. “But how can I completely disagree when you look ravishing in this weather, it truly suits you.”

“You…I…” you stuttered unable to process a response. You had not been expecting that.

Rafael watched with a slightly guarded look, he was hoping that that hadn’t been too much. Rafael was not the kind of man who half hearted things, he always put his all into his cases and his personal life got the same treatment. He wanted to start things off right, he wanted to be honest especially in regards to how he felt and thought about you. He had always been that way, it sometimes worked for the best but other times it had backfired. If it was going to do that with you, he wanted it to backfire before he got too deep, before the budding feeling of attraction grew, which it was slowly doing every minute.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” he whispered voice a little vulnerable. “I-”

“No it wasn’t!” you interrupted almost shouting. “I mean, I didn’t expect it. But it wasn’t too much, I’ve always rather liked the idea of someone who doesn’t shy away from expressing themselves and their thoughts.”

“Good, good,” Rafael smiled, he started to walk again lightly tugging on your joint hands. “Shall we continue?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your face still incredibly red as you walked beside him.

You caught him glancing at you a few times, his jaw a little tense as if he was clenching it. You squeezed his hand, offering him a sweet little smile hoping to put him at ease. At first you hadn’t been sure how to react to what he had said, people had commented on how pretty you are or beautiful but never had they said you looked ravishing, especially dressed in work out gear with your nose very red from the cold. But once what he said had actually sunk in, well, you became incredibly shy. It wasn’t a common occurrence but this man, this bloody man seemed to bring it out a lot. With his smiles and serious eyes when he says things, that coming from others would be said teasingly or even mockingly but him, him they were said with such a serious tone and the look in his eyes when he said them, you couldn’t take them any other way. And that intensity made you shy.

“How was your morning?” Rafael asked, hoping to bring you back out of the shell you seemed to disappear into. He thought it was endearing, how you could become shy from things he would say or do.

“It was good, didn’t do much honestly,” you started. “I finished the latest book I was on and picked the next one out of my jar.”

“Your jar?” Rafael asked, curiosity peaked.

“Oh yes, I have a lot of books, both physical and on kindle as I love buying books as much as I love reading them,” you explained. “And so it’s sometimes a little tricky to pick which book to read next so, I have two jars, one full the names of the unread physical books I own and one for my kindle, since I read that at work or if I decide to commute instead of drive.”

“That is a genius idea,” Rafael said. “What book did you just finish? Was it a physical one or one on your kindle?”

“It was a physical one, it was the last book in a series, the Ember Quartet by Sabaa Tahir, a rather good one actually,” you said, voice getting excited. “There was a few things I didn’t see coming and I was very happy with the ending. It was rather poetic in a way I suppose. It has a roman inspired world, with a fascinating magic system and some really good character development!”

You gestured with your hands as you talked, the one still linked with Rafael’s hand bringing his with it. Rafael continued watching as you gushed about the book series, managing to talk about it without giving away any spoilers but still painting the world quite vividly. That light that he saw in your eyes last night when you discussed the importance of reading was back, and he never wanted it to leave. He loved listening to people talk about things they loved, they would always get so animated and he was a little chuffed that you hadn’t let go of his hand. He was content to have his hand moved about in yours as you gestured.

“And it is best not to get attached to any of the characters,” you finished, looking over at Rafael. The look on his face was similar to the one he had last night when you had stopped yourself from rambling. It was soft. Gentle. And almost adoring. He had a small smile on his face.

“That series does sound very good,” Rafael smiled. “I’m a little curious now, do you know if there is an audible version of it?”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure but I can definitely find out for you,” you grinned.

“Thank you,” Rafael’s smile changed to a cheeky one. “Though I wouldn’t say no to you reading it too me.”

“Oh, you don’t want that,” you laughed. “I’d stop all the time to gush about something or another.”

“Commentary as well? Even better!” Rafael cheered, bringing your joint hands up to his lips to place a kiss on the back of it without a second thought. You were thinking that you would need to get use to the easy affection.

“I suppose I could be convinced then,” you teased. “With some…how do you fancy lawyers say it? Conditions and consideration? Is it?”

“Consideration?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, I do believe that is something that comes up in contracts isn’t it?” you replied, for a moment unsure that you had remembered correctly. “I do something, for something in return? Like I buy something for money? Or am I wrong?”

“No, not all,” Rafael smiled. “So, tell me, what conditions?”

“I pay for the drinks we’ll be getting in a moment,” you nodded towards the little coffee stand as the two of you came to stop just before it. “And, if you truly want me to read them to you…you’ll come to my apartment for it?”

“I can agree with those two conditions but so far I am only seeing benefits for me,” Rafael nodded.

“Oh don’t worry I was getting there,” you grinned. “You said that your mum made sure you could cook. Before I read, you cook me dinner?”

“Each time?” Rafael asked for confirmation.

“Of course, each time,” you agreed.

“A standing date then,” Rafael finalised. “Shall we try and do it every week?”

“Agreed, Mr Barba,” you hesitated for a split second before deciding it was your time to try and fluster Rafael. You leaned close, shifting your gaze from his right eye, to his left and back again before you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek. As you leaned back you noticed a slight red tinge to his cheeks. Inside you did a little dance happy that for once it appeared he didn’t know what to say. “What’s this Mr Lawyer? Have I finally made you lost for words?”

You unlinked you hand from his to put your arms around his shoulders, moving even closer to him, almost touching him entirely. You bit your lip, a little nervous that you had maybe stepped over a line until his hands found their home on your hips and you saw his eyes darken a little as they flicked down your lips before back up to yours.

“Only momentarily, chica,” Rafael hummed. “Would it be alright if I kissed you? I have been thinking about it since we met.”

“Well, this is the second date,” you jokingly pondered. “And you have been the utmost gentleman…minus some teasing here and there…yes, I do believe you may kiss me.”

“Cheeky,” Rafael tsked.

He tugged you fully against him grinning at your soft exhale at the movement. Your arms linked behind his head as he lowered his lips to yours. You weren’t one to really believe in that sparks with the first kiss trope that your read in your romance books, though you liked to think it was possible. And feeling Rafael gently press his lips against yours again and again before increasing the pressure moving them against yours, you almost believed it. The two of you broke apart, keeping in mind that you were in a public place, Rafael lightly kissed your nose before taking a step back but not letting you go.

“I’ll take all the cheek for kisses like that,” he smirked, watching as you nibbled on your lip, swiping your tongue over your lips. “Keep doing that and I’ll be tempted to kiss you again.”

“An error to tell me that,” you laughed. “I’ll know how to get more kisses from you in the future.”

“Maybe that was my plan all along,” Rafael pointed out.

“Whatever you say,” you laughed removing your arms from around his neck and taking his hand again. “Shall we get a warm drink?” you tugged him towards the stand.

“Hmm, I’d rather more kisses but I will take the drink,” Rafael grumbled letting you pull him along grinning when you turned around to wink at him.

“Trust me to order again?” you asked just before you got to the front.

“I believe so,” Rafael nodded, he privately thought that he may start to trust you with anything.

“Could I get two large hot chocolates please, with some mint?” you asked the vendor.

“Right away, love,” he smiled. “Glad I didn’t start making it with hazelnut this time.”

“Well, it’s not often you have mint,” you cheeked, handing over some money for the drinks. Rafael waited bedside you, enjoying learning something about you, you turned to him with a smile. “Trust me, you’re going to love this.”

“Hm, I think so,” Rafael answered so softly. You sent him a quizzical look, not quite understanding why he responded in such a way but before you could ask the vendor was handing over your two drinks. You both got out of the way of the people behind you, you took a sip enjoying the minty chocolate warming you up. You watched Rafael take a sip, bouncing a little waiting for his response.

“You definitely weren’t lying chica,” Rafael licked his lips savouring the taste. “I take it you are regular here?”

“Oh yes, whenever I go for my walks I tend to come here for a hot drink before I continue on,” you said. “There are some chairs just over there, if the weather is nice I will stay for a little while and read.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we continue walking while we drink?” Rafael asked.

“Not a bit,” you smiled holding out your hand wiggling your fingers. “But only if we hold hands.”

“Twist my arm,” Rafael muttered lacing his fingers with yours again as the two of you continued your walk. You grinned leading the way to the loop that led back to where you had started. The rest of the walk flew by in easy conversation just like the night before. The both of you wanted to drag the date on but Rafael admitted that he should get back to work, at least for a little while longer and you knew that you had to get some more things done before you started work tomorrow.

“So,” you started. “This was…fantastic.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Rafael said his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Full disclosure, I may be a bit busy in the next coming week the current case seems to be picking up and I start a trial in three days. But I would like to see you, even briefly when we can arrange it.”

“I would as well,” you nodded leaning a little into his hand, moving just enough to place a kiss on his palm. “I’m more than happy to work around your schedule, as mine is pretty standard not often that I am needed outside my shifts. Plus my lunch hour can be whenever, for the most part.”

“Perhaps we could meet for coffee and/or lunch in a few days?” Rafael asked, taking a step closer.

“Sounds good,” you agreed eyes shifting between his and his lips, wanting to try out the triangle trick. You grinned a little at the response it seemed to elicit from the man as he leaned down to hover over your lips.

“Teasing woman,” he growled lowly just before he pressed his lips to yours again this time he pulled away quicker but not before gently biting at your lower lip. You struggled to hold in the whine at that, following after him a little. “Good thing I rather like that.”

“Good…” you whispered, voice a little breathy before you tried to focus. “Lunch? A few days?” Rafael smirked gently at your short questions, he had heard the start of the whine before you stopped it when he pulled away from your lips and it created a need, a want to hear what noises you would make for him. He forced that heat down, he wanted to go slow with you to build up the desire and tension between the two of you.

“We’ll aim for two days from now. I’ll message you a time and place, once I know for certain,” Rafael answered voice equally soft.

“I can’t wait,” you grinned. “But don’t worry if work gets busy…I could always drop by with some take out. If you want of course.”

“You’d be willing to do that if I have to cancel?” Rafael asked. The few times he had dated in the past none of them had offered to alter the plans to fit into the hectic work hours of his job. And the times he had suggested it some of them did it, though they weren’t necessarily with how many times they had to do it. The rest would refuse, claiming it wasn’t a true date.

“Of course, I enjoy spending time with you and I would like to whenever and however possible,” you nodded, darting in to kiss his cheek again. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

“If I can’t make the lunch date I would love for you to drop by the office,” Rafael took your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Message me when you get home?”

“Hmm, sure,” you said face soft and open as you squeezed his hand before letting it go. “I’ll see you in two days, Rafael.”

Rafael was still smiling after you parted ways, the two of you both looked back once or twice until you were out of sight. He was already excited for lunch, and a little part of him wanted it to be at his office so you could see him in his element. If he worked in a different area he would eventually invite you to watch him in court but there was no way he would ever want you to watch one of his trials. He wouldn’t lie about the fact that he is a proud man, and definitely a little arrogant in his regards to his work and the thought of being able to show that off to you, well, it pleased some buried part of himself. He was busy planning what suit he would wear that day wanting to impress you with it. He returned to the office, hoping that if he got a lot done today nothing would interfere with the lunch plans.

The two of you both thought that the next two days couldn’t go quick enough.

#writing #imagine #law and order svu #imagines #rafael barba #fluff #rafael barba x you #law and order svu imagines #rafael barba fluff #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x female reader #Second dates #Rafael Barba is both sweet and spicy #Rafael Barba is a romantic #Rafael Barba is soft for reader #I will fight anyone who says Rafael Barba wouldn't be the kind of person who dives whole body and soul into a relationship #Especially if there is an instant spark. And the person teases and banters

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