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undercoverpena · 7 months

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can you ever really know?

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

summary: marcus hadn’t intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.

word count: 3k warnings: smut, marcus eating you out on a table (f!recieving). dedication: this is a dual dedication, both to @perotovar who i adore and has spurned me on, and to @psychedelic-ink who whooped so hard when i said i wanted to write this, that i finished it for her 9k celebration

"Is this what we do then? Just two strangers who buy each other drinks?" Dipping his chin, he half-laughs, trying to see the scribbled name on your cup. "Well, we don't have to be strangers." "Oh, nice. Very smooth." "Too much?" Shaking your head, you turn the cup—allowing him to see your name. "No, I liked it." "Yeah?" Nodding, you begin grinning, before hiding it with a sip of your drink.

Marcus hadn’t intended to meet someone, never mind begin seeing them.

It was accidental. A chance encounter. An event that had wholly thrown him off his game as he stood in line at the coffee shop, soul prickly, from the day he was having.

On some level—the practical part of him, the one that deals in facts and statistics—he suspected it was why it was then you’d stepped into his world. Not even hovering in his peripheral, but front and centre in front of him in the queue. Your phone nervously tapping in your palm—eyes looking over your shoulder, not at him, but not through him.

You’d bought him his drink first. A pay it forward thing—or so he was told when he’d finally chosen his drink.

A gesture that stuck with him remained embedded somewhere in his head, rotting away.

Marcus never expected to see you again. The chances were slim, the odds so low it wasn’t worth thinking—but then he did. Same time, same place.

You were in front of him again as he pulled open the heavy glass door and was confronted with the back of you he’d been trying not to think about in his downtime. This time, your attire was different, more casual—less ‘on the way to work’ and more out doing errands. But, unlike before, you kept your head down, barely even a sound over a whisper when you ordered your drink.

It etched a place in him that stuck around until the next time.

By then, he’d wrongly assumed that your timings matched his. But, when he walked into the coffee shop, his stomach fell to his feet—disappointment blooming where his organ once was because you weren’t there.

Typically ahead of him, arriving a few minutes before.

Marcus trying to swallow back how frustrated he felt that he’d made progress, felt good, almost ready to even say a hello to you and then… you weren’t even here. His feet dragging, plastering on a smile as he walked up to the barista, shoulders sinking, until he heard the door open.

Somehow, before he even looked, he knew it was you.

Your voice cut in over the distorted music, covering the cheap speaker and the grinding of beans as you said goodbye to whoever you spoke to on the phone. And he knew he had one chance—one.

So, Marcus bought you a coffee.

Quickly coming up with an excuse, a reason—if it went wrong, he’d say he was simply paying the kindness back.

But you hadn’t asked him why. Instead, your reply was as bold as he wished he was.

It’s how he found himself across from you in the coffee shop, spending the remainder of that drink learning all he could—half-tempted to buy another so the two of you didn’t have to part.

Instead, he asked for the same time next week. Your smile stuck with him for the next six days and twenty-three hours until he could see you again.

And it was better than the first.

“You going to ask me out, Marcus?”

Sipping his coffee, he licked his lips. “Thought I already did.”

Shrugging, you leaned closer. “Guess I’ll do it then. You fancy getting dinner with me?”

That’s how he found himself at a red tablecloth with a flickering candle. You sitting in a similar position as you had been in the coffee shop when you’d handed him your name on your cup, and he’d given you his with a shake of his hand—all careful, wrapped in softness, a sweet bow on the top perfectly positioned by a smile.

It going well—too well.

A part of him screaming to slow down, already feeling, already wanting—

“I need to tell you…”

Leaning over the table, you smile. “I knew it. You had to have a flaw—you don’t actually like coffee, do you?”

It happens slowly, and flows in stages: First, a smile, one which grows into a grin. Then, he laughs. Before finally, his body leans closer, fingers ghosting over, almost touching yours.

The part of him still wounded, sore, the only thing stopping him from taking your hand in his.

“No. I—I, um, have quite an unhealthy addition to that.”

Smirking, you glide your tongue across your lips, sliding your hand to your glass, eyes holding his—waiting, giving him the floor.

“I just wanted to tell you that I really like getting to know you.” Your face flickers, ever so slightly. Perfectly in time with the dancing candle, almost could be blamed on the trick of the light—but he isn’t anyone. He’s trained, all able to read people. “But, I… my last relationship didn’t end so well. And while I’m over it—over her—I... I don’t want to rush this.”

Your smile sweetens, lips rolling as you sigh, ever so softly. “I like getting to know you too, Marcus,” you reply, fingers sliding across the base of your glass—a smile, hanging so kindly on your face. “We can just… see what happens. Take it easy, like we have been.”

Beaming, he licks his lips. Slowly grinning—letting the words “see what happens” around on his tongue before he laughs. A gentle one, his hand running along his beard.

“Yeah. That’ll be… nice.”

Casual, you follow up with as his knee abuts yours under the table, watching as your chin rests on one of your hands, as the other scoops up your glass, smirking against it as you take a sip.

He felt it then, the sparkle—the crackle in the air.

His eyes could not tear themselves away from you—just like he hadn’t in the coffee shop. He was enamoured, fully taken in. Marcus hung off each word and studied each expression on your face.

He blames that for the reason he finds himself pushing your back against your front door, the keys jingling in your hand, the evening very much far from over. His mouth on yours, searing, almost bruisingly kissing you.

It isn’t until your breath is ghosting over his, lips ever so close, his body flush with yours, that you speak, your eyes flicking from his to his lips and back again. “I thought you wanted to—”

“I’m seeing what happens…”

Your lips curl. “You sure you want to do that, Agent Pike?”

He has to swallow a moan. The way you let his name fall from your lips so velvety, makes his trousers even tighter. The hand on your waist tightens, clutching you more so, before his mouth spells all the words he wants to say against yours—kissing away any doubt that he doesn’t want this, you.

“Open the door,” he says, kissing it to your lips. “Please.”

Thank fuck you do.

Guiding you in, walking you backwards. Hand sliding up to your cheek, wrist resting against your jaw as he traces his tongue over your bottom lip, easing you against a wall, hearing your door click shut—

“I just… I just need a minute,” you whisper. A hand on his chest, not pushing, but just there—fingers stroking his shirt, nodding. “Just one minute.”

Nodding, he gives you another kiss. Stepping back, brushing the strands of hair that had fallen from his forehead as you held up a finger, another sign of promise, just a minute, and he smiles, doing as you instruct when you tell him to get comfortable.

Your place is nice—cosy.

The windows are all tall and long, the sheer curtains barely able to put up much of a fight against the city’s lights. He suspects you chose it for the light. Something about you screams light and airy, easy and inviting—a thing which is embedded into everything you do. From the initial greeting to now.

The only light casting over your place is the one from the city—it illuminates your table, the one in the centre of the space, glass, pretty fabric chairs around it. No marks, not a single fingerprint. His mind quickly imagines you eating at it most mornings. The flirty text messages the two of you have been exchanging between the coffee date and tonight, all beginning here, until he joins you on your commute to work.

A thought, all dangerous and unwilling to go, pops up. There’s no pin able to burst it, not as it grows—it expanding, filling the expanse of his head and ridding him of all other thoughts—

“Nice table,” he announces, following the sound of you joining him.

Not needing sight to know where you are, already in tune with you—even if he’s told himself to slow down. To not fall as quickly, take his time—breathe.

“Oh, yeah? I-It’s new.”

His throat tightens, the thought pushing further against his skull—knowing if there were even a flicker from a candle, you’d be able to see how lustful his eyes were.

“How new?”

His question burns in the air. Sizzling. The air thickens. The only sound coming from a neighbour above walking around in what sounded like heels. But, all he’s focused on is that you’re beside him—shoulder against his arm, eyes forward, staring out at the view. As though you don’t get to marvel at it each day, as though you haven’t had your fill of it.

Not that he can blame you. He’s had plenty of chances to take you in—taking all he can get—and he still doesn’t feel he’s committed you all to memory.

“Barely eaten at it myself, never mind anyone else—if that answers your question.”

It does.

“We should change that.”

“Why? You hungry?” you ask, meeting his eyes—and he wonders if you can feel it then.

Wonders if you’ve caught on and can hear it rolling around his mind, banging around, nothing able to stop it.

Smirking, you must suddenly arrive at his way of thinking. Your body turns towards him, arm looping around his waist, as his hand cups your cheek.

“S’not too late to tell me to leave,” he whispers.

Your lips curl, but only smooth out into a smile. “I don’t want you anywhere else, Marcus.”

He’s quick, intent—crashing his mouth to yours so you know he feels the same. His other hand sliding around your waist, a groan emitting from your throat, travelling up and kissing his tongue.

And he can’t quiet the voice, the bubble that bounces from one side of his skull to the other. It’s why it escapes through a kiss, muffled, but not enough not to be discernible:

Get on the table, baby.

It’s branded into the air, burnt there. Hanging as your lips halt in their movements against his. Hand hovering, poised, eyes lashes opening to coat him in momentary confusion.

His lips slide into a smirk, your eyes flicking to it, before lifting back up. “Nice glass table like this,” he continues, voice low, husky, “Someone should eat at it.”

Watching as you swallow, your fingers brush against his cheek, against the beard on his cheek. “That so?”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to you. ”Yes,” he groans, nose butting yours. Briefly catching you shudder, “Think you can let me taste you on your nice table?”

Marcus takes the moan as a yes—takes the way you try to position yourself, as another.

His fingers move to your trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping with ease until they’re gliding down your legs, unveiling them inch by inch to him—lit up in the glow from the world outside. Sliding the fabric from your skin with ease, before he helps you, guiding you, positioning you like he would if he were making a table arrangement.

Your legs close, eyes looking at him through your lashes.

Cupping your cheeks with his palms, he pulls your eyes to his. “You okay?”

Nodding, rolling your lips. “Yeah… just like you, is all.”

Fuck, you’re pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. More so when he aids you in removing your other clothes, leaving only the fabric between your thighs while he stares at you. Takes you in because—

You’re a wonder. A sight for sore eyes and an image that should be studied in a gallery. He’d thieve you, would abandon all of his morals and prize you from a wall, let your captured eyes solder holes into him forever.

But he doesn’t need to.

You’re already doing so without him having to do much. They leave a mark, scratching against him.

“I like you too. S’ why I wanna make you feel good, baby. Okay?”

A hand drops, sliding over the fabric between your legs. Feeling it, how much you want this. Him. Tonight. He even hears it as you whimper before he teases your underwear down your legs—the little wet patch quickly caught by his gaze, before he throws them in a similar vein to your other clothes.

“Wanna taste you, baby. Want you to come against my tongue. Will you? Can I?”

His hand continues to clutch your cheek, thumbs swiping a line back and forth as his words register and your breath hitches. But your thighs part, all for him. One hand drops to your leg, fingers drawing shapes, teasing, climbing higher and higher until his other hand mirrors his on your other leg, basking in the way you stare at him, holding onto his sight with every teasing touch.

Not begging. Not asking.

Waiting, ever so patiently.

Perfect. Oh, so fucking perfect.

Sliding around the back of your thighs, his fingers dig, pressing little half-moons into the underside of you, as he parts your legs further—eyes dropping, marvelling, ever thankful for the glow so he can see the way you glisten, the way you need and want him, it all evidenced, able to be captured.

“So wet for me already.”

“Marcus,” you moan.

His name elongated, special. It hits the air—and his ears—in a way that licks heat up his spine. The flames smother his bones when he spreads you with a finger, it circling, coating up to the knuckle in your desire.

Then, he dives.

All tongue flat to your core as the sound of ‘oh fuck’ punches the air. A sound he wants to collect, and earn—licking a stripe before he spells letters against your bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking the tip as your nails grasp his hair.

You make sounds that make him feel holy, that could bring him to his goddamn knees. He wants to pull them all from you, more so when his name begins to join them—when you’re panting, pleading, please, Marcus, fuck right there, Marcus.

He grins against you, tasting and flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves that has your hips arching into his face. But Marcus continues, placing a hand on your stomach, pinning you down, giving and giving—

Then he pauses. Purposefully stops, just blowing a cool breath to earn a whimper.

Your eyes steam him. Narrowed, eyebrows dropped to shape them. Your breath ragged, body thrumming, vibrating with how close you were.

Shooting you another grin, he plunges his tongue inside you—relishing how your walls tighten around him. Enjoying the way you taste, the way your fingers have found a home in his hair, tugging and pulling, nails all against his scalp.

The air is smeared in gasps, moans. A chorus of his name. All of it falling into the air around him and you, becoming a song, all instrumental, rising to a crest, ready to crash.

Fuck, he wants nothing more. Marcus wants to be travelling home and still be able to taste how sweet you are, to hear the noises you make because they’re sliced somewhere in his brain.

“You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna make sure I can taste you when I’m in bed alone tonight.”

You whimper.

His tongue continues to lap, to take everything you’ll give him as he slides two fingers in. Your walls tightening, gripping him—all vice-like and needy. And Marcus is pleading, if only internally, for you to scorch him, singe and sear yourself into him.

“S-so close, M-Marcus—”

He knows. “I know. Let go for me. Be good for me.”

And you do.

You really fucking do.

He feels you tighten, and tense, before his tongue is flooded, your legs shake, and your toes curl. His movements continue, brutally guiding you over the edge, pushing and pushing until he feels you loosen your hold on his hair—trying to wiggle from his mouth.

Marcus isn’t sure he’s ever felt so good.

Positioning himself so he’s stood at full height, staring down at you, trying to capture your breath—lit up by the star-filled sky and sparkling city. You’re beautiful, he thinks for the billionth time tonight.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, watching your eyes open, landing on him, taking him in.

Your lips spread into a lust-filled smile, tinged with exhaustion, but there’s a spark there, too. Something having been awoken, ready, riling itself up.

He suspects he won’t be going home tonight, not that he really wanted to.

"Not to rush you, but we'll be late for the movie." Your lips press to his cheek when he steps into your space, apology stitched there—usually so punctual, on time. "I just need to grab a jacket if that's okay?" He grins, bites the inside of his cheek as he nods, hearing you dart off—taking the few short steps further into your place, spotting the table, walking to it. Immediately, memories knock into him. Loitering, pacing. Until his eyes land on the fingerprints, his thumb ghosting over it—finding it the perfect match. All knowing, and realising. It makes his throat dry as heat licks up his spine as you emerge, fiddling with your jacket. "You're... um, not cleaned your table." "I've cleaned up where you... you know, but not your handprints. No." He huffs out a laugh, tracing his bottom lip with his thumb. "Why's that?" You smirk, bashfully, trying to disguise it by biting the inside of your cheek. "Guess I like the memory of you being here." "And, what I did to you." "Very astute, Agent Pike. You wanna head out or do you wanna see if my pillow still smells like your hair product?" He slaps you on the ass for that.

AN: first time writing marcus. this was supposed to be 1k, the original was 6k. but i felt happier with this 🙈 pls be nice.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader smut #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal characters x reader #pedrostories #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #marcus pike smut

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bitchlessdino · 1 year

Note

chan- your personal knight/guard. been by your side since what feels like practically forever and has protected you against pretty much everything. You both are close but despite knowing him for so many years and being so close you realise you don’t actually know that much about him so on a walk maybe you’re just asking him random questions about him and learning more about him as a person. Somehow the conversations moved from something like his favourite colour to why he’s not settled down and without missing a beat he’s already answered because of you. Queue a love confession from your knight/guard that you reciprocate.

On a regular basis struggling with cheol and chan rot but today felt fluffy- idk i just think chan would be so sweet as your guard like him being super protective like ‘don’t pick that flower it might be poisonous let me check it’ and it’s like a dandelion or somet 😭

anyways just wanted to leave this with you and express how much I love your work!! I hope you have a good rest of your day or evening and genuinely thank you for taking the time to write on here, i truly appreciate the fact you take time out of your own day to read peoples requests and write whatever comes to mind <33

Pairing: royal!reader x bodyguard!chan

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3.1k

tags: royal au, overprotective chan, yearning, childhood au, love confessions, misunderstandings

author note: I forget how much fun fluff can be and I thought this concept was so cute also to the person requesting. I hope you like it. I love taking requests, including this one and i apprecate your kind words so much. we could all use your positivity. 💕

You remember when you first met Chan. He was the son of the Head of security that would tend to your father's every public and private safety. In a land ruled by a monarchy, these things were just necessary. You’ve been taught about the value you hold simply because of your bloodline and how you were the most precious there is, you must be protected and guarded at all costs. That’s where Chan came in.

He always claimed to be destined to take on a job much like his father, promising to protect you until the end of your days. That was a huge proclamation for an 8-year-old. He carried a wooden sword wherever he went and always had that big goofy smile on his face. It was his life goal to be strong and dependable like his father, and you believed he one day would.

That was the first and last time you saw him until he was officially appointed your personal bodyguard when he turned 18 years old. You were taking etiquette classes and studying scholarly journals of your country’s history, he trained day and night, mastering every possible martial art to exceed expectations as a protector. He was much different when he returned to you, and much stronger as well. He did not disappoint, but the light in his eyes as a child seemed to have faded, leaving a solemn shell of a man who lives to serve his master.

“Chan!”

He responds promptly. He stands by your side in an instant in proper attire, fit for both professional settings and in case he needs to be active, and meets your eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

“Bake with me.”

He blinks, “Your Highness. Would you not rather have the chefs bake something for you if sweets are what you desire?”

You stare back at him pointedly, crossing your arms, “Are you talking back to me?”

His gaze perks up at the accusation, immediately shaking his head, “No, your high—“

You laugh, doubling over at his panicked expression. “Just kidding. I wanted us to bond! No better bonding than creating delectable pastries. No objections.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He was there whenever you needed him. He never told you ‘no’ and he always did what you told him to. All done with a stone face. He took his duty seriously. He was far from who he used to be, which was probably a given, it had been around a decade. That’s when you executed a plan of action to peel away those layers, hoping to find the cute boy that childishly wanted to blindly protect you.

It was over time you saw progress, seeing him smile at every comment or the little mistakes you couldn’t help but make (you swear to him you’re normally more graceful than that) when he thinks you aren’t looking. You loved that: making him laugh. He has a beautiful smile. And the more you spent time with him, the more it feels he knows you, even bringing things you need without you even having to ask, but what was it you know about him?

“Chan.”

Right on the dot as always. “Yes, your highness.”

“Walk around the garden with me.” You take his hand before he can even answer and had him trodding beside you out of the palace.

“Please slow down, your highness.”

You practically dragged him, it was necessary given the Palace’s size.

“There is very little daylight left. We must make the most of our day. This is a royal order!” You playfully command.

“It is 3 pm, your highness!”

“Royal order!”

You walk side by side with him taking in the air, the freshly cut grass, and hearing the birds sing their sweet melody. Calling it a beautiful afternoon was an understatement. Even after living in the place you call home for so long, there is more that surprises you. “Doesn’t the sky look extra blue today, Chan?”

He softly grins. “It does, your highness.”

You turn your head, watching the smile slip out of view, “Speaking of which, what is your favorite color, Chan?”

He thinks for a moment. “Blue, actually, your highness.”

You offer him a wide grin. “That suits you very well. I’m glad I know that. How was it that you’ve protected me for so long and I never knew that?”

Chan is quiet at that, not sure how to answer.

“My favorite color is green, or was it purple?” You cross your arms in thought, a single finger tapping against your cheek, “Last week it was pink.”

“It should be yellow, your highness. You decided to wear the yellow two-piece today.”

You look down at your attire and confirm his statement, seeing the pretty outfit you properly picked out the day before with Chan. You twirl, watching how the sun reflects off the expensive fabric, “You’re right. Looks like you know me better than I know myself again, but of course.”

His eyes fill with concern. “Does that make you uncomfortable, your highness?”

“No. Not necessarily. It just feels very one-sided. You know so much about me, but I feel like I know so little about you.” You skip ahead of him and you hear his footsteps catching up.

“I apologize, your highness. I never believed it was necessary information.”

“Of course, it is. How am I supposed to trust you if I know nothing about you?” You pointed out nonchalantly.

“I apologize again, your highness. This was careless of me.”

You turn around and let him stand beside him and push him ahead, “Nevermind that. What’s your favorite food?”

He stumbles slightly but does not let the matter phase him, used to you treating him much like a companion rather than the help, “Barbeque.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Otters.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Chocolate.”

“Least favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah ha–oh.” You tilt your head. “Nothing? Seriously?”

“There is nothing to dislike, your highness, and even if there was, I could not speak out on it. However, there isn’t.”

You blink back at him dubiously, an aggressive finger pointing at his chest, “Are you lying, Chan?”

“Not at all, your highness.”

He would have no reason to lie, you thought. And like he said, if he did, he much rather not answer. You stare at him for a little longer, scanning his frame before simply shrugging and continuing your leisure stroll.

“Hmm, alright. Favorite genre of music?”

“...girl group pop.”

Your eyes widen at that, smiling from ear to ear. “No way! Which group?”

The tips of his ears cause a hue of red, spreading all across his cheeks in an instant. “Apink…”

“Ooo, how refreshing. I would’ve never guessed.”

Chan was relieved to hear such a positive and encouraging response, feeling his hairs falter just a little bit, quite enjoying your company. “It’s very encouraging when I train. They lift my spirits.”

You chortle. “That’s quite endearing of you, Chan. I feel like I’m knowing you way better already.”

“That’s a relief, your highness.”

“What else do you like to do in your free time? You spend most of the day with me, even tend to events with me, but I have no idea what you do for fun?”

He was drawing a blank. What did he do worth mentioning? “Mmm, lots of activities. Such as…”

“Such as?” You egg on.

“Such as–-horseback riding, jousting, martial arts–”

You wave the list off. “Save the pleasantries. I mean real hobbies, ones not instilled by the palace. Things that are actually fun.”

“They are fun, you highness…But I guess I do like dancing.”

You perk up once more, strutting backward to talk while facing him, “Dancing? How lovely! You must show me how you move. This instant!”

He grows flustered, knowing they were still very close to the other guards and staff in the palace. He wasn’t sure he felt about showing off his moves this publicly. “Another time, your highness. I feel rather shy at the moment.”

“Oh, but you must, you must! What do you do? Ballroom? Contemporary? Interpretive–Wha!” You feel yourself trip over a rock, falling backward in slow motion, shutting your eyes for impact, until a strong pair of arms prevent you from collapsing.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Feeling him pull you against his chest, you stare back into the eyes of your savior. His genuine fright and concern peek through his gaze and he grips your build extra firmly. He instinctively frowns, lips quivering anxiously, sweeping your stray hairs away from your face. You naturally melt in his embrace.

You nod, sighing a breath of relief. “I am fine, Chan. Thank you.”

“Who knows what you could’ve landed on.” His gaze scans over the bed of flowers behind you, vibrant and vivacious, “they could be poisonous for all we know.”

You allow yourself to land back on your feet, turning your gaze on the same bed of flowers. “Those are dandelions.”

Chan feels redder than a tomato in August. How is he constantly embarrassing himself, he thought to himself. “Oh. Well, better safe than sorry. Your Highness.”

You chuckle, infatuated by his thought process. “You truly are something, Lee Chan. Your significant other does not have a boring life with you around.”

“I don’t have a significant other, your highness.”

“That's strange. I’d say you’re at the age to be married or betrothed. Why aren’t you?” You mention, decidedly walking side by side with him.

“Why, my work is the most important thing in my life. I do not have the time to commit myself to someone other than the royal family.”

You raise a brow, “Your father was married and had two kids by your age. If he could do it, I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Now, you’re sounding like my mother,” he jokes.

“She is a wise woman.”

He splays a bittersweet smile. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been given a few opportunities, but I don’t believe they can take the place of the person I hold in my heart. No one will.”

You clap your hands together in excitement. “So you are interested in dating? Tell, good sir. Who is the lucky lad or lass?”

“Someone far worthy than I’ll ever be and deserves more than what I can give them.”

You slightly shove him, finding such an assumption doubtful. “Oh please. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re handsome…anyone would absolutely be ecstatic to have you.”

Chan felt warm all over, taking your words into careful consideration, “Do you truly mean that, your highness?”

“Are you doubting a royal?” You chuckle, “I do. Tell them. I am sure they would happily return your feelings.”

He halts his steps, and you quickly follow, curious about his abrupt actions, “...You ask me why I am still unwedded and untaken. How would you feel if I said you were the reason?”

“No excuses. You can’t use work as an excuse for your lack of love life.” You wag a finger at him.

“Not like that,” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up in mid-air, thumbing over the pristine skin of your knuckles, “How would you feel if I admitted the person I hold dearest to my heart is you, your Highness?”

A gust of wind takes you by surprise, the fallen flowers and leave being picked up with it and fall around you like a picture-esque scene in a movie. Your heart pounds a million times a minute, staring back in awe at his presence, overflowing with love and sincerity, and your eyes flutter from the breathlessness you feel in your chest and throat. You stare at Chan like the first time you were reunited with him, with pure unadulterated infatuation.

“Me, you say? Well, I’d say I was surprised, flabbergasted,…flattered.”

You feel the heat of your cheeks from the back of your free hand. “And inexplicably flustered.”

You release your hand from his grasp, the lingering sensation of his hand on your skin causing you to clench and release, and your heart easily audibly through your eardrums. You look towards the ground, finding it hard to meet your guard’s eyes. “Your choice of humor is rather brass.”

“Your highness–”

“It’s supper time. I must get going. I will see you back at the palace, Chan.”

You make your grand escape, clutching your frills, shielding your face from others in the palace with your arm before heading u to your room. You collapse against the bed, clutching your burning face in a silk pillow, yelling muffled songs of your fluster, reimagining the majestic look on his face when he confessed his feelings. Deep down you knew there was truth in his words, but how could you normally react to something so abrupt from someone so…admirable.

You embrace your pillow, push down your swelling heart, and smile. Tears of bliss fall to your cheeks and you can’t help but kick your feet like an excited schoolgirl.

You find yourself making glances at Chan when you reunite at the dinner. As usual, he does not have dinner with you but he stays by you for your own protection and eats afterward once you’ve finished. He’d look as solemn as he always did in front of other people. He took his job almost too seriously, sometimes even tasting your meal with a separate spoon in case it was poisoned. You used to laugh at his old-fashioned methods of work, there was technology for that sort of thing now, but you finally understand his devotion to his service. There more to meet the eyes, you realize.

When he follows you all the way up to your room for a night's rest, you part ways. You squirm in his presence, his confession fresh in your mind. “Good night, Chan.”

You are ready to run from him until he calls out to you, hesitancy in his voice. You meet his apologetic gaze, regretful of their last close encounter. He wishes you would not see him any differently, that he was simply a lowly guard and protector to you. His feelings towards you would not have changed regardless of your reaction. He knew his place and that was by your side as a human shield.

“Please take no more than a single thought at my confession today. Do not let it diminish my utmost respect and loyalty to the royal family. Have a good slumber, your highness.”

He retreats to his quarters conveniently not too far from your chambers, standing by the door, he gestures for you to enter your room and you obliged, watching his figure disappear behind your door. You fear that the air had changed between you, and perhaps not for the better. Your sleep would be anything but peaceful that night.

“Your highness, Good morning.”

He stands tall and firm with a smile as wide as a river. He holds beside him a fairly large trunk, gripping it by the handle.

You peer at his figure in worry, and earnest fear. “What is this, Chan?”

“I’ve decided to leave the palace forever. I realize my life was being wasted away taking care of someone who could never love me as much as I love them. So, I’ve taken on a lover of the same status.”

As if by magic a common lady appears, taking him by the arm and nuzzling his nose. They look in love, happy, and a sharp pain would shoot through your heart.

“No.” You chant.

“You will never see my face again. Goodbye. Your Highness.”

“Chan, no.”

The image of their silhouette gets smaller and smaller as they walk further away. You fall to your knees in desperation. “Chan please!”

You sob in your sleeves, hands reaching out to their shirking figures until you can only hear the echoes of your pleas.

“CHAN!”

You sit up from your bed, perspiration dampening your forehead and you are flushed to the touch. Clutching your sheets, you sigh a breath of relief that was only a dream. Soon after, your doors swing open, and a panicked guard in his baby blue nighttime attire runs to claim you, “Your Highness. I’m here. I’m here.”

His strong arms wrap tightly around your frame, soothing strokes to your hair, whispering to you it’d be okay. Your hands instinctively hold on to the fabric of his clothes, squeezing the flesh underneath, drinking in his soap’s scent and noticing how pleasant and just to your taste it was. “I know.”

He pulls you away to stare back at you, scanning you for any signs of danger placed upon you.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, “just a bad nightmare.”

“What foul image betrays you to cause such a reaction? I was ready to spar with whatever evil demon tried kidnapping you.”

He must’ve been still asleep, you assume. His colorful vocabulary, wakes you up delightfully.

“I am fine. I promise. Come, I’ll walk you to the door.”

You push him out of bed, meeting the exit, while your guard’s doubts seep out of him like a fountain.

“Are you sure? Was it truly just a nightmare? Do you need new sheets? A snack to soothe you?”

“Not at all, all good, my good sir. Good night.”

You attempt to push him out completely but he holds you back from doing so, gripping the rims of the bedroom door. “I just want to assure you’re okay, your highness.”

You fall a little deep into those eyes, perceiving the truth of his word in them. It drove you insane how a simple confession could affect you this much. You brighten up your world, open your eyes, and made you feel alive, just like a person in love does. “I am. Just…don’t go anywhere. Stay right where you are.”

He gives a confused smile, his gaze softening the same way your tone does. “But your highness, you were just pushing me away a few seconds ago—“

You tug against his shirt and your lips for the first time make contact, his plush surface meeting yours seamlessly. Your hands clasp over his cheeks and neck, languidly moving them against him. You slowly process how he reciprocates, holding you to his chest tenderly, savoring your warmth, taste, and how it all excited him. The thin fabric between your body was the only thing to stop you, and the world around you simply disappeared.

Before you both knew it, you were pulling him back into the bedroom. He’d quickly follow, doesn’t leave until the following morning, carrying out what he only imagined in his dreams, even if it was only for the night. It was the matter of his duty to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he knew he could make you happy.

#svthub #Dino #seventeen #lee chan fluff #seventeen fluff #dino fluff #dino x reader #seventeen x reader #dino x y/n #dino x you #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen imagines #dino imagines #lee chan x you #lee chan x reader #lee chan fanfic #dino fanfic #seventeen fanfic

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nicxl333 · 7 months

Text

MY LOVE, MY EVERYTHING— ISAGI YOICHI X BLACK!READER

summary: it seems the world is unanimously adamant to find out who pro athlete isagi has chosen to settle down with. can you handle the pressure?

characters: pro athlete!isagi yoichi, black!fem reader

contents: tooth rotting fluff, slight angst (if you squint), insecurity, mentions of bullying, reader has curly hair, blue lock manga spoilers

when the world found out superstar football player isagi yoichi was taken, it was all anyone could talk about for weeks on end. there was endless speculation on which model or actress it could be. anyone who was recently in contact with isagi was an instantaneous suspect.

however, it was none of the above.

it was you, his longtime childhood friend. his sweet, beautiful and caring next door neighbour, who he spent 6 of his younger years living next to before he started off on his journey as a professional footballer at 18.

you hadn’t always been amicable with each other though. in elementary school you were shy and reserved, having just moved to japan at 12. it was a new environment for you, especially at such a young age. your mother had always made sure to talk to you in japanese to get you accustomed before you had moved, but it was one thing to talk japanese with someone you know, and then to talk with people you didn’t. it was out of your comfort zone.

to make matters worse, being the only black person in your school made it hard. your curly hair and brown melanated skin made you stand out from others, always getting looks from someone, be it amusement or disgust. you became a constant topic for bullying by your class peers.

as a method of protection you therefore kept yourself to yourself, only speaking when spoken to.

until one day, when isagi yoichi would approach you, football in hand, evidently about to make his way to the school pitch.

“hey, what’s your name?”

you looked straight at him, eyes widening at the shock that someone would actually speak to you, quickly becoming apprehensive should the boy in front of you have any ill intent. he…didn’t look like he did though, and knowing how others acted around him you knew that isagi weren’t one of the mean guys. he was quite popular, due to his association with the school football team.

“…l/n. l/n y/n.”

“that’s a cool name. what’s up with your hair? it looks weird- wait!”

nevermind. he weren’t different after all.

you sighed, standing up from your homeroom seat, not allowing him to finish what he was saying. you kept your bag in hand while walking out of the room, leaving isagi alone. it seemed like everyone in japan was a certified dickhead. sure you may have overreacted, but call it a defence point because you’ve heard those same words before from others who bullied you all the same.

you lay in your bed that night, softly crying to yourself, wondering why you just couldn’t be accepted.

the next day you collected yourself together, deciding to leave the past in the past and at least attempt to get by.

you walked through the halls of your school with the intent to grab yourself lunch, having forgotten to pack a bento for yourself. as you stood in the lunch queue you felt a light tap on your left shoulder, turning your head to catch a glimpse of the owner, eyebrows furrowing when you saw the same guy who pissed you off yesterday, isagi.

“hey, erm… i wanted to-”

you refused to hear him out, walking away immediately and coming to the conclusion that starving was better than having a conversation with him.

after that, things continued as normal for about a week with mostly no trouble. isagi didn’t try to talk to you again and you went about your business.

it just so happened one fateful day that you were making your way home, passing by the large football pitch just in front of the school building. you saw none other than isagi yoichi repeatedly doing target practice, shooting flawlessly in your eyes, but letting out a loud groan and trying again, clearly agitated by his performance. you stopped in your tracks, mesmerised by his sheer dedication for the sport, eyes widening when he eventually stopped and turned to see you standing there, caught in the act.

embarrassed, you made a move to walk away to save face, halting once more when he called out your name.

“l/n!”

he jogged up to you, breathing heavily once he was right in front of you, silent for a moment before continuing.

“i— uh, are you okay? you looked spaced out for a bit.”

“i’m…fine, thanks.”

the tension in the air was highly awkward, neither party knowing what to say, especially because isagi knew you didn’t particularly favour him. doesn’t mean he can’t try and rectify his wrongs though.

“i wanna apologise to you l/n, i didn’t mean to say your hair looks weird, i just didn’t know how to describe it in that moment. i think it’s cool, honestly. your curls are really nice. please forgive me, i swear to you i wasn’t trying to be mean.”

you stood, all walls up and feeling very defensive. you didn’t know what to do. in reality, isagi was the only person besides your mother who seemed to have a genuine interest in you. call it cowardice, but you’d rather that than have to experience more anguish than you’ve already gone through. however, the reality is, and it’s something you would just have to understand someday, that you grow and learn from different experiences. and perhaps, isagi was the best experience to start with.

from that day on, you and isagi became close friends, traversing through life together. he was there through it all; family events, sleepovers, fun days out. you two were inseparable, and it was only a matter of time before both of you realised you had feelings each other. that day came when you broke up with your first boyfriend at 16 due to him cheating.

isagi came over, holding you close while you clutched him and cried your eyes out, rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

you sat up on his couch, tears in your eyes and emotions on an all time high. he wiped both tears with his thumbs and held your face. you personally believed you looked a mess, but all he could think of was how damn beautiful you looked. and before he could stop himself, the words he’d been wanting to say to you through your whole relationship tumbled out of his mouth.

“he doesn’t deserve you y/n. he shouldn’t be allowed to make you feel this way. he shouldn’t be allowed to hurt you when all i want to do is love you.”

you both froze, processing the words he just spoke. he wanted to take them back immediately, but he couldn’t. not when he knows he meant every single word.

you stared into his eyes, his dark, blue irises that stared hard into yours. his dark hair framing his face so prettily. that cowlick that you admired more times than you’d like to admit. his posture shook slightly, with the anxious anticipation of what you would say back.

you didn’t speak however, letting your actions speak for itself. you reached up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and planting a long kiss that spoke a thousand words for you. he immediately kissed back, eyebrows pinching together with desperation as he placed a hand on top of your head, the other wrapped around your waist.

on that day, you left one doomed relationship and began a blossoming new one. and boy were you glad you did, for isagi was the best partner you could ever ask for for. although football was a high priority, you were even higher, making sure you were taken care of before himself. when you had your monthly period, he’d always buy your favourite snacks. he’d also memorise which hair products you used, buying them when you ran out. it wasn’t just you who loved isagi, your mother did too. she was always rooting for you to get together, as isagi was the most perfect gentleman. helping her with groceries, washing up dishes when he had dinner or stayed over at your house and always so polite no matter what.

when the letter from blue lock came, inviting him to partake, it was you who persuaded him to put himself first for once. you reassured him you would be there once he came out.

imagine his surprise when he saw you in the stands during the u20 match between blue lock and the japan national team cheering him on with his old school team jersey displaying his name on the back. you had attended with his mother and father. he had to calm himself down on the pitch as he blushed furiously.

and when they won? oh how your smile lit up the stadium, cheering louder than anyone else could, clutching his mother when he scored the winning goal. he noticed your hair was in braids, and you looked prettier than ever.

eventually the blue lock program came and ended, his professional career springing to life. and with his increasing media attention over the years he gained many fans who wanted to know more about him. by this point you were living together, your relationship thriving at the ripe age of 23. you had both decided to keep your relationship private though, for the sake of your safety in particular.

but now, the world wanted to know just who isagi’s partner was. he had made it clear he was off the market, but made no mention of who, taking upon themselves to play matchmaker and pair isagi up with any and every famous figure he came into contact with. and it just so happened you had enough one day.

“-‘yoi, i wanna be real with you for a second, i don’t like what the tabloids are saying baby.”

you and isagi were stood in the kitchen. he was stood behind you while your head was bent into the sink. he was washing your hair. you had just taken out your braids (with his help) and wanted to do a wash and go for the next week coming up.

he pondered on your statement for a second while he massaged your scalp which had shampoo in it, effectively lathering it.

“i know my love, i’m tired too. i can’t even do paired sponsorships without the media crawling up my neck. i know we’re private, but they should be able to get the idea that i don’t want them prying.”

you pulled the towel higher up your neck, feeling it slipping slightly, exposing your neck to a few water droplets as isagi rinsed your hair, preparing to condition it.

“it just—” you paused for a moment, partly not wanting to continue. “it makes me feel inadequate, knowing that the world are expecting you to be with a super hot and famous model or actor…how are they gonna react when they eventually find out that i’m neither of those things? just simple, plain old…me.”

he paused in the middle of distributing the conditioner to your hair. he pulled you up gently, turning you so you faced him, the water from your hair soaking into the towel.

“y/n, baby, don’t let the media bring you down like that. whoever i date is my business, not theirs. and if they’re disappointed by whoever that may be, then fuck them. disrespectfully. they don’t get to see just how much of a joy to my life you are. they don’t deserve it. and super hot model? don’t make me laugh. they should be scared if you ever enter the modelling industry because you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. no one can compare to you. and you’d better believe that.”

his words brought you back to many years ago when he was consoling you after your first breakup. those similar words that reminded you just how lucky your were to have such a sweet boyfriend like isagi.

he kissed you, thumb caressing your chin as he held you tenderly.

“c’mon, let’s finish your hair. we’re getting wet.”

“when has that ever stopped you? last night says enough about that.”

“you’ll find out if you don’t put your head back in that sink y/n.”

you let out a laugh, complying for the sake of getting your hair finished.

once the conditioner was evenly distributed he picked up your detangling brush, making sure to brush out all tangles and knots in sections. after some time he was done, rinsing out all the product and squeezing your hair to wring out the water, promptly wrapping the towel that was once around your neck around your hair, to further bring out any excess water.

you both then walked into your shared bedroom, while isagi placed you to stand in front of the tall mirror in your bedroom. he grabbed your hair products and your wide toothed comb and numerous hair ties.

he walked back to you and placed it all onto a table besides the both of you, allowing you to start your routine. you let the towel fall from your head, your hair falling into place. just as you were about to start combing through your hair again isagi stopped you, wrapping his arms around you, phone in hand and placing a kiss to your cheek, snapping a picture.

you smiled at the gesture, feeling butterflies in your stomach. one thing about isagi was he never failed to make you feel some type of way about him, and you fell in love with him harder each time.

“what was that for ‘yoi?”

“can i post it? i want the world to see us, see you and how beautiful my girlfriend is.”

you immediately grinned, turning around and kissing him deeply.

“okay. let’s break the internet.”

bro i need a typa love like this *cries*

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strawbs-screaming · 7 months

Text

☆ How The Boxers Drive ☆

made this bc evil (im running out of excuses) this has been rotting in my queue for a while now

Glass Joe

- Really paranoid, i dont blame him cars are really flammable

- will panic if even one scratch gets on his car

- Just really careful with where he parks & when he parks

- if anything suspicious is on his windshield he'll panic because what if its used to mark him for something

-you know how moms go "slow down your gonna crash!!" if you speed up while driving? Yeah thats him

Von Kaiser

- unhinged driver, he'll go 50 kilometers a hour with the most bored expression ever

- put on your seatbelts because he loves to take sudden turns

- you have to hold on for dear life to anything because he doesnt understand what the words "slow down" means

- do not turn on the lights, just dont or he'll literally hiss at you

- driving like hes in a police chase, damn peepaw slow down

Disco Kid

- blasting his ears out + also going ridiculously fast

- you better hope the radio stops after a crash or you'll die to california girls

- doesnt do sudden turns thankfully

- drives even faster at nighttime, disco is really out for blood

- dont even bother honking at him, he cant hear you over his 92827298272 hour playlist

King Hippo

- he cant drive, what are you all on

- no literally, even if he could find a car to fit him, he still wouldnt be able to operate it

- too overwhelming for him anyways

- He gets carsick too easily

Piston Hondo

- actually responsible & obeys traffic laws (LIKE A LOSER!! BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO RUN OVER PEOPLE INSTEAD!!)

- cant listen to music while driving, it just doesnt work for him

- if you honk at him he'll stare into your soul

- actually reading the road signs (LIKE A NERD!! BOO TOMATO TOMATO TOMATO THE LAW SUCKS)

- overall responsible driver

Great Tiger

- another driver from hell

- honks to communicate with people, at some point you'll have to consider ripping off the steering wheel or your ears

- blasting his music, he has damaged hearing because of that

- speed limits are for cowards,he'll gladly go 100 in a 30 zone

- reading road signs but not caring at all

Bear Hugger

- oh no.

- okay driver but wont shut up, bear we get it you shouldnt piss off or piss ON a moose you couldve ended it there

- eating snacks in the backseat makes him do the ultimate dad move™ (the hand thingy dads do when you eat snacks)

- "yeah you can push those to the side make yourself comfortable" as his backseat is filled with maple syrup bottles, a pair of moose antlers and the weirdest shit you can imagine, bear im really sure you dont need a entire ass stop sign

- doesnt speed but takes sudden turns way too often for your stomach to stay in one piece (can we get much higherrr, so highhh)

- also honks to communicate

Don Flamenco

- this fucking menace needs to be stopped

- He sings in the car, Don nobody needs to hear you sing poker face please dont crash

- unintentionally speeding, always 5 km over the speed limit

- holy shit he needs his license taken away

- He texts while driving, how worse can you get??

- you know "get in loser, we're going shopping."? yeah thats him whenever he comes to pick someone up

- Does more singing than driving

Aran Ryan

- wait what

- He actually obeys traffic laws & is okay with speed limits? What a switch

- He knows how to shut up too

- He may be a nuisance but he keeps it off the road because nuh uh no one is dying in a car crash today

- has sobbed in his car multiple times (mostly while driving) thats the most you can get him

- him & his car have been through thick and thin, he has laughed in that car, cried in that car, screamed in that car, sung in that car, he has went through everything with his car, it legally counts as an artifact

Soda Popinski

- license, on the kitchen table, NOW.

- he used to drive when drunk when he was a alcoholic (hence his past name, vodka drunkenski)

- doesnt use any kind of navigation when driving, he uses his gut feelings & they either: work, fail miserably or have you end up in a seperate country and either way its concerning

- has crashed into multiple signs & trees

- speeds when bored

- oh my god this man is a mess

Bald Bull

- calm the fuck down

- same deal as kaiser, unhinged driver with the most bored expression ever while asking you "how was your day?" like dude please slow down

- hes the reason the term road rage exists

- will gladly get out of the car to fight someone

- honking at him is a one way ticket to fucking die - land

- i hope awkward conversations are your thing because he'll try to do a icebreaker and ask stuff

- keep the lights off unless its the night or he'll chuck you out of the car like you're a McDonald's™ napkin

Super Macho Man

- jail.

- hes driving on the sidewalk. DRIVING ON THE SIDE FUCKING WALK.

- drives even if hes tired

-suprisingly brash with his car considering it costs a fortune

- He didnt hit the street lamp, it hit him

- blasting the worst music ever as he goes through a quiet neighborhood at 3 am

Mr Sandman

- oh my god finally a good driver

- hes a law abiding citizen

- hes the only one allowed to drive

- the only thing you can get him on is slamming his car door a little too hard but thats better than going 92827281962629912619916281972729229 in a 30 km zone or stopping halfway through to fight someone

- will not talk, ever.

- hes the first option when the wvba needs to ride somewhere and cant find a driver

#punch out #headcanon #punch out wii #punch out headcanons #don flamenco #bald bull #piston hondo #glass joe #aran ryan #great tiger

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jaegerisim · 9 months

Text

You Promised Me Heaven (and put me through hell)

DESCENDANTS AU Y'ALL YESS! Who cheered? (Absolutely nobody lmao). If y'all are wondering I wrote this while listening to the Descendants OST (particularly Rotten To The Core) like God intended. As always, name taken from "You Give Love A Bad Name" by Bon Jovi. If this is a bit all over the place, I'm sorry. It's 1 AM and my beta reader is me, myself and I (not even Grammarly, bro 😭😭😭😭) Anyways enjoy! 💕🌈

TW: implied alcohol and drug use (they're 16 m'kay?), the language is pretty strong (nothing too bad tho) and there are mentions go throwing up.

Will's day began shitty, like always. His head throbbed and, distantly, he could hear his father, Lonnie Byers, scream about whatever it was that had angered him today. Will groaned, another day in The Isle of the Lost aka where every villain and their children - the Villain Kids or VKs for short - lived. The Isle of the Lost was an island (if it could even be called such) in the middle of the fucking ocean with no WIFI, no electricity and no way out. It also had an extremely clear view of Auradon, the place where all the perfect little princes and princesses lived their happily ever after; while all the VKs where left to rot in the lame ass excuse of a home.

Will's head felt like it was about to explode, he definitely drank too much last night. He considered going back to sleep but he knew that if he woke up now, his father would most likely scream at Will to make himself useful but he also knew that if he didn't wake up the his father would scream at him for being a lazy ass. So if his father was good to scream at him regardless of what he did, he'd rather wake up now and annoy his friends sleeping next to him. He kicked the sleeping person next to him, his best friend Max Mayfield. She gasped and her eyes flew open. Will cackled maliciously and received a playful punch to the arm.

"You asshole!" she shrieked "Your feet are so fucking cold!"

The person next to Will stirred and cursed.

"Can both of you just shit the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep, right El?" the person, Lucas Sinclair, cursed.

"Yeah! Don't you think it's a bit early to be screaming?" El Hopper chided, rubbing her bleary eyes.

"Tell my Dad that. He was the one who woke me up." quipped Will.

As if on queue, Lonnie began to call their names with fury.

"What did we do now?" moaned El.

"Well, we stole Argyle's stash, we wrecked Robin's restaurant, we also stole a bunch of shit from a bunch of places, we also-" listed Lucas off with irony.

"Yeah, ok, fine, we get it Lucas. Thank you." snapped Max.

"Wow, someone is in a mood today." laughed El pressing a kiss to Max's cheek.

"Ugh, get off me." Max grumbled just for Lucas to grab her hand.

Will looked away, they were a group of 4 and 3 of them were dating each other. So Will, as the poor single schmuck that he was, was stuck having to bare their terribly sappy flirting. Deep down, he was happy for them but he'd rather kiss Ursula's tentacle than admit it. Will cleared his throat and signaled for them to follow him to the living room/kitchen/second bedroom/bathroom.

Lonnie was a thin man, with a stubble and salt-and-pepper hair. The man was grinning like a madman next to Jonathan, Will's older brother, who was shaking his head, amused.

"Hey, Dad." said Will, strutting through the long singular table occupying most of the space. His black boots breaking several stolen trinkets under his weight.

His dad didn't even bother to even wave at him. Will kept a neutral expression, but it stung a little, being ignored by even his own father. Weren't parents supposed to love their kids unconditionally? This rule, apparently did not apply to his father.

"Everyone, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" yelled Lonnie and everyone turned to look at him "I have news. As everyone already knows, the crown prince of Auradon Michael Wheeler will be crowned king in 1 month."

Will grit his teeth, he detested that prince. He had detested him ever since their first and only meeting.

It all began when a group of VKs tried to break the barrier surrounding the Isle, unsuccessfully. This event ended in thousands of innocent VKs and villains being slaughtered by King Theodore's knights. One of these villains had been Will's own mother.

"Oohhhh, how delightful, truly." Cooed Max with mockery. Lucas snorted and Will snickered. Why should they care? As if that affected them in anyway.

"And so, he has done his first proclamation: to allow 4 villain kids to go to Auradon. These 4 villain kids are the son of Charles Sinclair, the daughter of Susan Mayfield, the daughter of Captain Jim Hopper and finally, my youngest son."

The following silence was deafening. Nobody dared to say anything. Finally Will spoke up.

"They want us to go to Auradon?" he asked.

"Son, listen to me, this my- our chance to fight back against our oppressors and the people who killed your mother. You and Jonathan can have your revenge, and show the world you are your father's sons. All you guys need to do is steal Fairy Godmother's wand and with it, break the barrier." Lonnie told Will.

Max and El were having a silent conversation while Lucas was having his card reads by his younger sister, Erica.

"But Dad-" Will tried to say.

"No buts, William. Show me you truly deserve the title of being the son of the cruelest villain in the whole Isle."

Will sighed "Fine, we'll go. We'll do it. Whatever."

"When the fuck are we leaving, anyways?" scoffed Max.

"Maxine, language!" chided Susan, while doing her nails.

"Mom, I told you to call me Max!" Snapped her daughter

Lonnie ignored their bickering.

"Well, Maxine" - Max huffed, annoyed - "to answer your question, you are leaving today. Now, even." Stated Lonnie with a grin.

Everyone gaped at the man.

"Now, regarding your bags. I've already taken care of that and the limo is already waiting for you outside." Lonnie stayed as he ushered Max and Lucas outside

Will seemed to snap out of his daze.

Limo? Now? Did his dad really pack their bags? Why the fuck would the damn prince choose them?

Will vaguely registered El giving her dad a hug and following Max out of the door..

Lonnie grabbed him by his leather jacket.

"What are you waiting for, son?" demanded his father. "This is our chance, don't you see? We could have the world at our very feet. I'd you don't blow it, of course."

"I won't, I swear." Will reassured him.

His father grunted and shoved him out the door.

Will was faced with absolute chaos.

Jonathan was in a heated discussion with a smartly dressed man, who Will guessed was the driver.

"I don't care if your Dad is a fucking king! In the Isle you have no domains or right to tell me to fuck off! This is my damn home!" screamed Jonathan, jabbing a finger in the man's torso.

The man growled at Jonathan and huffed indignantly.

"Fucking villain kids." He scoffed.

Will entered the limousine where Max boasted of how he stole the driver's wallet.

"It's says here, that this is Prince Steve Harrington! Son of, ooooohhhh, the Beast!" Max quirked an eyebrow "That's why he is so hairy!"

"Punch him in the face! Come on, Jonathan, I'm rooting for you!'' yelled El

Apparently, Jonathan had gotten into a fist-fight with Steve.

Half an hour later, Steve entered the limo looking pissed.

"Give me that!" Harrington said as he snatched his wallet from Lucas' hand. Sadly, his money was long gone.

-----

The moment they stepped out of the limo, several things happened:

1. Max puked on the floor.

2. Will trying not to step on the vomit, tried to jump over the disgusting puddle but tripped over and fell on top of someone

3. That someone turned out to be the Michael Wheeler.

Will blushed, he literally had the man pinned on the ground. Now that Will had the chance to stare without being weird or creepy, he noticed the man's attractiveness. Michael had a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his strong nose and high cheeks. His face was framed by elegantly styled, black curls. Michael's face was surprisingly red, was his face always that red?

Will decided to get up and got to stand next to his friends. Max was already standing up looking defensive.

"Wow, your friend sure gets carsick easily, huh? I take it you don't ride car ride very often" chuckled Michael

Lucas snorted and El fell into a fit of laughter.

"You hear that Max? We mustn't rides cars that often?" laughed El, wiping the tears of her eyes.

Will couldn't tell if Michael was joking or not.

"What did I say?'' Mike asked to the guy next to him.

"I dunno." shrugged the other.

"Well, you said that we don't ride cars often. Of course we don't. In fact we've never done that, before. It's a small Isle, in which we don't even have electricity. You think we'd have cars?" sneered Will.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I-". Mike tried to apologize. Will felt that the man was genuinely sorry about that. But in the Isle, you don't trust anybody, even if at first glance they look harmless.

Will sighed, it was going to be a long month.

#and that's it #hope y'all like it #the first chapter is slow cuz it's an introduction to the plot #we'll get to it tho dw #byler #byler descendants au #byler au #byler fanfic #stranger things #byler endgame #byler brainrot #will byers #mike wheeler #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #el hopper #mike x will #will x mike #byler fic

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mermaidfanficlibrary · 7 months

Text

Of A Melody there once was | Ouran Highschool Host Club x Male reader

This is one of my longest fanfics ever! It's been sitting in my head, rotting away. The description is down below. This is also on my Wattpad and Quotev! Enjoy!

Description: Of A Melody there once was | {You are here}

Prolouge: Prologue before the Chorus begins

Chapter 1: An introduction to the first note

Chapter 2: The joining of notes to create a nostalgic song

Chapter 3: Violin of Harmony

Chapter 4: Remembering the screeching tune in the memory | TBR

Chapter 5: TBD

Chapter 6: TBD

Chapter 7: TBD

Chapter 8: TBD

Chapter 9: TBD

Chapter 10: TBD

Chapter 11: TBD

Chapter 12: TBD

Chapter 13: TBD

Chapter 14: TBD

Chapter 15: TBD

Chapter 16: TBD

Chapter 17: TBD

Chapter 18: TBD

Chapter 19: TBD

Chapter 20: TBD

Chapter 21: TBD

Chapter 22: TBD

Chapter 23: TBD

Chapter 24: TBD

Chapter 25: TBD

Chapter 26: TBD

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LOADING. Of a Melody There once was into queue..

Of a Melody there once was loaded succesfully ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

██ 20% ❀

███ 40% ❀

████ 60% ❀

█████ 80% ❀

██████ 100% _❀

Where a boy of great renowned for his musical talent was accepted to the one and only elite school, Ouran Academy. His once quite tune will become that of which is a boisterous song for all to hear! And this is all thanks to the help of 7 people in the famous Host Club. Some wouldn't even think twice that this boy was a commoner.

Warning: Music and art isn't mine, I do not own ohshc, but I do own this story. Talks of sexual assault and other forms of abuse, but not explicit

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

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in-need-of-gally-content · 7 months

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|Chapter•Nineteen|

•|Masterlist|•

When (M/n) opened his eyes, he guessed it was rather early still, the silence of the Glade buzzing in his ears, filled by the ambience sounds around, but there were no sounds that could be produced by humans.

He sat on the bed, slowly and carefully, and he was able to feel how his pain was almost fully gone, he just had to be careful with certain movements and probably not lift heavy stuff, but he felt fine and the bruises looked good as well. Maybe he could get some work done if he could make Gally give in.

And that was gonna be his objective, he only had one obstacle in his path, and it had the name of; Gally.

Hopefully, it won't be too hard.

But first, he had to use the bathroom.

//////

He went back to his treehouse with a light jog, going up the ladder to change his clothes into something more light, the day was getting warm but hoped it wouldn't be too hot later in the afternoon, and he stepped down again, greeting Bark with a good morning hug.

"Oh, you're already up," he looked up, squinting his eyes due to the sunlight coming through the tree branches and leaves, and there was Gally, making his way to them. Bark backed away from (M/n) and went to greet the blond as well, who smiled and messed with his fur a bit.

"Yeah, that's unusual," they chuckled and soon began making their way back to the Homestead, "I feel pretty good today, actually..." He said acting nonchalantly, but Gally didn't miss it.

He looked at (M/n), who had his lips pursed and wasn't looking at him. Gally had a grin on his face, shaking his head and softly patting his shoulder, now (M/n) was looking at him.

"We'll see, dummy, we'll see," he huffed and pouted but didn't say anything, following Gally inside and waiting in line for their breakfast portion.

The blond looked at him, almost dumbfounded at the fact that (M/n) was queueing with him to eat, even Fry was pleasantly surprised, and with a smile, he served (M/n) a smaller portion of his breakfast and they made their way to their table. Only a few of their friends were already there, eating and simultaneously falling asleep.

(M/n) waited until Gally had eaten something before asking him if he could work, telling him that he was feeling good and felt like he could handle it. So when Gally was smiling and talking to the others as they began fully waking up, he took a deep breath.

"Gally-," his voice got cut off by the sound of thunder going on outside. A few guys jumped at the loud and sudden sound, and they glanced outside, seeing how the sunlight they had less than five minutes ago was disappearing behind dark clouds, the sky turning grey.

Everyone was silent, just waiting for the rain to start, and they didn't have to wait too long, because it began pouring.

"Well..." He turned to look at Gally as he spoke, picking up some more of his breakfast, "Now we gotta wait."

(M/n) remembered that Minho had once told him about the rainy days in the Glade, this was the first one he'd witnessed ever since he arrived, so he was kind of lost on what to do. Minho said that the Glade gets a little boring when it's raining, they have stuff to entertain themselves with while they wait, and enough shelter around to not be all of them packed inside the Homestead, but the majority had to wait until the rain passed to be able to work.

Runners can't go in the Maze or they have to come back as soon as it starts raining because the floor gets slippery. Builders can't work under the rain and have to watch over everything to make sure nothing starts to rot, and if it does, replace it immediately before it collapses. Slicers can still work if they want, but they complain about how staying in the Blood House for too long makes them nauseous.

The only ones that didn't mind the rainy days were the Track-hoes, the plants would get watered and they just had to check up on the sticks holding them up.

(M/n) was curious to see how everyone would keep themselves busy while they waited for the rain to leave.

//////

So far, everyone had chosen to stay inside in the dining area, playing board games or joking around and talking. They had a lighter lunch since they weren't working or using their energy, and now, (M/n) had excused himself to go stay in the living room as well.

The sound of rain was relaxing, and there were only minor leaks in the Homestead. He watched Dmitri and Brandon, walking around the place and taking notes of where the leaks were while placing down buckets to hold the water in.

Even if looking out the window was nice and all, he was getting just a little bit bored.

"Doll?" (M/n)'s whole body tensed when he heard the distinctive pet name and voice of Lucas. Slowly, he turned to look up at him, shifting on his spot on the couch, and he watched how the greenie smiled at him, inching closer to take the available spot next to him, "How have you been? We haven't been talking recently-"

Another loud thunder echoed making the greenie jump, slightly startled and scared. He instinctively latched onto (M/n)'s arm, which he didn't like, and he was subtly trying to pull away from his hold, but Lucas just held onto him tighter.

"Sorry, I'm... Scared of thunder..." He mumbled, almost unsure of his words, and (M/n) frowned, trying not to look like a complete asshole that didn't give a damn. But that was the issue, he did not care about Lucas.

He just cared about having something to do or somewhere else to go where there wasn't an annoying greenie poking around his business.

And it seemed like his thoughts were heard.

"(M/n)..." Gally came back inside the Homestead, his clothes wet from the rain, he had taken off his boots by the front door to not get the floor covered in mud, and he had walked in calling for him, when his green eyes landed on Lucas, specifically staring at his grip around (M/n)'s arm.

He frowned and took a few steps forward, feeling just a little satisfied when he saw the greenie back away immediately.

"Come with me," he reached his hand out and waited for (M/n) to grab it, who took it in less than five seconds, thrilled at the thought of getting away from Lucas, and spending time with Gally.

They went up the stairs and into his room, closing the door behind them.

Without saying a word, Gally began undressing and (M/n) forced himself to turn around, slightly flustered at the thought of Gally feeling comfortable enough around him to simply start taking his clothes off.

As he tried to distract himself from the shuffling sound of clothes behind him, his eyes landed on Gally's desk. He saw a few journals, some more worn than others, crumbled paper and some drawings placed around in a messy manner, but something else caught his eye.

It was a wooden statue. A really small and cute one.

(M/n) smiled and chuckled as he took a step and gently grabbed it. He spun it around in his fingers, observing the chunky-looking wooden bear he was holding.

Gally heard his quiet laughing and turned around, fully changed into dry clothes and walked up behind (M/n), looking over his shoulder what he was laughing at. And that's when he saw that he was holding one of his most recent wood sculptures. It had been a while since he had done one, so he made something simple. A tiny bear. He was happy that (M/n) liked it.

"You can keep it, if you want," he spoke in a whisper, not wanting to ruin the chill ambience between them. (M/n) glanced up at him, and Gally felt his breath getting stuck in his throat for a few seconds, realizing how close to each other they were standing, again.

He was definitely thinking about it. He wanted to do it... But he couldn't.

"Really?" (M/n)'s voice snapped him out of his conflicted thoughts and he nodded, knowing his voice would waver if he spoke, "Thank you, Gally, it's so cute."

Gally nodded and watched how (M/n) put the tiny bear in the pocket of his hoodie. And he decided to say it, otherwise, who else would appreciate his sculptures and compliment his abilities if not (M/n)?

"Here, I have more, take a look," they approached Gally's bed, and the blond reached for another crate he kept under his bed. He had a few of those full of things that had some kind of sentimental value, and it helped him keep going, now he had an excuse to show them to someone else.

And the thought scared him as much as it excited him.

//////

Unfortunately, the rain did not stop until really late in the evening, stopping a little while after the Maze Doors closed for another night. While everyone was bored out of their mind, but enjoying the day off they got, (M/n) and Gally were still locked up in his room.

(M/n) told him he would like to learn how to wood carve and Gally was eager to teach him, so far, he hadn't been able to do anything with much detail, but he was getting there. (M/n) was just enjoying spending time with Gally, away from the greenie, sometimes getting lost in the way he would excitedly explain him something, or how he would chuckle at his struggles before helping him.

He could never get tired of spending time with Gally, could he?

A knock on the door distracted them from their fun, and Gally stood up, walking to the door. Newt was standing there.

(M/n) noticed, of course he did. He saw the happy grin growing on Newt's lips when he came face to face with Gally, shifting slightly in place to support his weight on his right leg, his head tilting ever so slightly to the left.

"Fry told me to come get you because dinner is ready, Gally, and I wanted to talk to you about something..." Newt's eyes caught sight of (M/n) sitting on Gally's bed, fidgeting with a piece of wood in his hands.

And he saw it. He saw how Newt's expression soured, the smile fading to show a frown instead, and (M/n)'s body tensed. He thought he and Newt were okay after the whole incident the other day, what happened during the time they didn't talk?

"Talk about what, Newt?" Gally pressed, leaning against the door, but Newt simply shook his head and turned around.

"It's nothing, uh... Dinner's ready, guys," he muttered again, making a subtle motion with his hand to dismiss the matter, and turned around to leave.

(M/n) stood up from his bed and stood next to Gally. Both of them observed Newt's back as he left, carefully making his way down the stairs.

"Did I..." (M/n) frowned as he spoke, catching Gally's attention as they stepped outside of the room, "Did I do something to Newt?"

A quizzical expression came across his face, and he looked down at (M/n), noticing that he was confused as well as hurt, though he tried to hide it. Gally hummed and shook his head, "I don't think so. Why?"

(M/n) grimaced at his response, and began walking toward the stairs, "He looked at me and just... Got annoyed at me, I don't know what happened."

Gally blinked a few times, trailing behind (M/n), wondering to himself, what could've been bothering Newt? Could it be that he was tired of constantly hearing Gally babble about (M/n) when they were together?

He will have to ask him, and try to get him to tell him, but he doubted Newt would just openly talk about his feelings and what was bothering him.

///////

When Gally woke up, the first thing he did was wait for Newt to wake up, maybe ask him what was going on, but his approach might've been just a little too aggressive and oppressive because the last thing he got wasn't the truth out of him.

"Just drop it, nothing's wrong, now stop being a twat," and he walked away just like that.

Gally let out a heavy sigh and made his way into the dining area, getting his breakfast and dragging his feet to the usual table where (M/n) was already sitting at, drinking from his coffee cup and eating a muffin. He looked at it a little confused, and sat down in front of him.

"Where you did get that?" He asked (M/n) right as he took a bite of it. The (h/c) haired male chewed enough to be able to swallow it without choking.

"Jim is learning how to bake, and I was there to taste test," he responded with a grin, before taking a sip of his coffee, humming in content at its taste.

Gally grabbed his utensil and started eating his breakfast, "And how's the taste?" He was expecting a verbal answer from (M/n), caught off guard by his action.

"Wanna try?" He lifted the muffin to his face, and Gally looked at it for a few seconds, debating whether he should or not, but he trusted (M/n) to not give him anything that tasted bad, so he shrugged and leaned closer, taking a bite off of it.

"Hm," he hummed as he felt the dough coming apart in his mouth, just the right amount of sweetness where it was nice but not overwhelming and had some flavour, "This is pretty good."

(M/n) chuckled and smiled, nodding, "I know, right? He has a talent for baking."

While breakfast went by pretty fast, (M/n) was debating asking Gally if he could finally go back to work, seeing as yesterday the rain prevented him from doing so.

They walked outside, stepping on the dirt that had stiffened up again after a couple of hours, only a few spots had mud and there were a couple of puddles around the whole Glade. He trailed behind Gally, holding his hands behind his back.

"So... Can I work today?" The blond glanced over his shoulder at him and huffed, shaking his head.

"No," (M/n)'s mouth opened in shock at his quick answer, he didn't even hesitate.

He quickly jogged until he was walking right next to him, "But I- I feel fine, Gally, please, can I-?"

"Knowing you, you'll be overworking yourself, and I can't let that happen, so again, no." And he just left him standing there.

(M/n) frowned, feeling just a little mad at Gally's concern, but he also couldn't blame him for assuming he'll overwork himself... Because he was a hundred percent right. He sighed and crossed his arms. He wasn't gonna give up that easily, he wouldn't stop bothering him until he agreed to let him work.

//////

And (M/n) stayed true to his word.

While everyone around enjoyed how annoyed Gally was getting at him, he wasn't saying anything other than 'no' over and over again at (M/n)'s request. Something about seeing their Keeper in distress, caused by the newbie, made the majority of Builders smile or laugh, but they always made sure to look away, wipe the grin off their faces and continue working, or pretend like they were getting progress whenever Gally would glare at them.

They were aware of the punishment Gally could give to them and they did not want to mess with him. But they were having fun at his expense.

(M/n) knew he was being a cheeky bastard, asking over and over again 'can I work?' without giving Gally a break, but in the end, his hard work paid off.

"Okay! Fine, you win, you can work today, (M/n)," Gally said just a little exasperated at the (h/c) haired male, who let out a snicker and quiet yet victorious 'yes!'. Gally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "'Bout to give me a headache."

(M/n) apologized quietly and began making his way to the group doing the heaviest work, but he was held back by the collar of his shirt, preventing him from doing so and making him whine.

"Light work, (M/n), don't a slinthead, come on," he looked back at Gally, who had a smirk on his face, pretty sure this was payback for almost driving him nuts with his constant bothering.

//////

The work he was given was really the lightest. He had to bring ivy or rope over, sticks and even the toolbox. But other than that he had nothing to do, he was resting against a nearby tree and watching them do all the work he wanted to do.

He was getting bored out of his mind, so he decided to be nice and do something while everyone was busy working.

(M/n) began making his way to the Homestead and into the kitchen. He saw an empty crate by the door and he grabbed it, placing it on the counter before checking the cabinets and the fridges.

He carefully put six water bottles inside the crate, and a snack for each Builder. Dinner was still a few hours away and he figured they were thirsty and hungry, and he wanted to be helpful.

During his search for a snack or sweet everyone liked, he spotted the last sweet out of the bunch. He grabbed it and put it in his hoodie pocket instead of in the crate with the rest, he picked it up and made his way outside.

(M/n) walked toward the Builders, who looked at him from afar, and Alec was the first one to come up to him as he arrived.

"Where were you?" (M/n) smiled and looked at everyone, slightly swaying side to side and bringing attention to the crate in his hands.

"I went and got some water and snacks for you guys, figured you wanted some," everyone cheered and walked up to (M/n), thanking him and ruffling his hair, too happy about having a break to even feel bothered with having to share the bottles.

Alongside his hair being ruffled, he was hugged by the majority, while Mikah and Doug, leaned closer to kiss him, whether it'll be his head or cheek.

Gally stood a bit away, frowning about the affection (M/n) received from Mikah, unable to stop himself from feeling jealous. But the way (M/n) laughed the kiss off confused him, he acted as if getting kissed by the guy he liked was nothing... Unless he didn't like Mikah...?

But that didn't make sense, Gally was convinced it was the curly-haired blond (M/n) liked, he interacted with him differently from how he was with Minho, whom he simply acted as he did with everyone else he was friends with. So, of course, he was gonna be confused by how (M/n) shrugged it off and manoeuvred between everyone to make his way over to him.

The crate had found its way to the ground, placed on top of planks and (M/n) had grabbed a bottle. He stood in front of Gally and handed it to him.

"Unfortunately, they took all the snacks and sweets I brought," he mumbled glancing back at everyone else, Gally hummed and took a few gulps of his water, handing it to (M/n) who silently denied it, and kept watching how the rest enjoyed their food.

"Yeah, well, that's alright, I'll have to wait 'til dinner," he muttered, trying to ignore the subtle growling of his already empty stomach, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed (M/n) reaching for something inside the pocket of his hoodie.

Gally turned to look at him, a subtle frown on his brow, and he watched him, attentively.

(M/n) completely avoided eye contact and silently handed Gally the sweet he hid. No way in hell he could forget this was Gally's favourite sweet.

"It was the last one left and I know you like it, so I took it with me," this wasn't that big of a deal, and it didn't have to mean something, yet somehow Gally couldn't shake the feeling of knowing that (M/n) remembered something he said in passing, just mentioning things to the air.

And here (M/n) was, bringing him the last share of it.

He could've kissed him, and he did. Just a small kiss on his forehead, "Thank you," he mumbled as he lingered close to (M/n).

Gally turned around as soon as he backed away, too embarrassed to look at (M/n), who was thankful he did, otherwise, he would've seen his reaction.

He covered his face with his hands, feeling the heat on his cheeks against his palms as his body got covered in goosebumps.

However, even if he avoided Gally seeing him, there was a small group of Builders who did see them, they witnessed their interaction from start to finish. Alec, Xan, Kurt, Mikah and Doug were frozen in place, eyes opened wide as they followed Gally with their sight before going back to stare at (M/n). The situation was... Unusual, but not unwelcomed.

"Should we help them?" Doug looked at the rest, who were now staring at him, with frowns on their brow as they looked at him, "Or maybe... Not?"

The first one to break his serious demeanour was Mikah, who wrapped his arm around Doug's shoulders and brought him closer, "You didn't have to ask, Doug."

//////

After managing to calm down, (M/n) looked around at everyone, and decided it had passed long enough, so he was gonna bring the crate back from where he took it. He greeted a few guys he came across with and hurried to make his way back to the Builders, but when he was already out of the Homestead, he made eye contact with Lucas. He was making his way over to the Homestead, or he, (M/n) wasn't sure and he didn't want to know.

But his opportunity to pretend like he hadn't seen him was gone when the greenie smiled at him, so he couldn't walk away as if nothing had happened because that would be rude.

He clenched his jaw for an instant and made his way to lean against one of the supports that held up the roof above the hammocks, and he waited, looking away awkwardly.

"Hey, doll," (M/n) released a quiet groan at his pet name, why does Lucas keep calling him like that? He didn't care and did not want to know either way, "We couldn't talk at all yesterday so I wanted to..."

Lucas continued to try and make small talk with him, not realizing, or more like not caring, that (M/n) wasn't responding or talking back. But (M/n) noticed how the greenie tried to get closer to him, which he didn't like, so he backed away from the support he was leaning on and took a few steps forward.

"Why don't we walk around the Glade?" It definitely wasn't a question, he needed to be in an open space where anyone could spot them easily.

Lucas was about to refute, say that he didn't want to, that he wanted to stay here and talk, but (M/n) already got a head start so he followed him.

He smiled and looked around at Glade, sighing at the gentle breeze moving their hair, "Oh, I see, you want everyone to know," that you're annoying? Absolutely, "Well, I'm sure Gally would not be happy once he finds out that we like each other, doll."

They what?

(M/n) immediately stopped walking and abruptly turned around, staring at Lucas with anger in his eyes and internally starting to freak out.

"We what, greenie?" Lucas chuckled and held (M/n)'s hands gently, acting as if it was the most obvious thing.

"I know you like me, you can't stop looking at me, doll," in what kind of world was this shank living in? It didn't make sense, "And I know you're scared of admitting it because Gally is so possessive and he can't take no for an answer, but you don't have to hide it anymore," (M/n) was frozen in place, shocked and disgusted.

This guy was delusional to an extreme he didn't even know was possible.

He assumed (M/n)'s feelings and read them as love ones? Instead of dislike? Nah, he had to say something to make Lucas understand how he felt about everything he just said and all of the things that had happened, "Greenie, I don't -"

"Just Lucas, doll, although... I wouldn't mind it if you call me yours," oh mother-, (M/n) had to swallow his spit quite harshly, otherwise he would've puked.

"Okay- no, listen, I... Greenie, I am a guy, and I feel like a guy, even though I... Look like a girl," Lucas' smile didn't falter, looking at him and slowly caressing his hand, "You're just confused, you don't like me, you're attracted to who you wished I was, alright? And I don't..." His hold was getting tighter, but he continued, he had to be clear with him or he'll never understand, "I don't see you that way either."

(M/n) wasn't expecting to hear Lucas laughing at his words, releasing his hand and reaching up to hold his face instead, staring into his (e/c) eyes with his sharp grey ones.

"No, doll, I'm not confused, you are, now is time to stop lying to me and to yourself," (M/n) felt his throat tight as his stomach churned, but Lucas was nowhere near done, "You can be the perfect wife if you live life the way you're supposed to, as a woman," it was safe to say he was speechless, his mind spinning, "You've been living with only guys for so long that you think you're one of them too."

(M/n) found it in himself to take a deep breath, an attempt at easing the rising anger inside him, who does he think he is, trying to tell him who he is and what he isn't?

Even though he really wanted to punch the greenie in the face, he remained relatively calm.

"No, Lucas, I am a man-" he had barely started arguing back when a deep frown appeared on Lucas' face, his hands lowering to hold his arms, just above his elbows, his hold rather tight and painful.

(M/n) held back a grunt of pain as his bones pressed against his ribs, and maintained their eye contact, despite the crazed look on Lucas' eyes, open wide as he glared at him.

"I could never like a weirdo, you hear me? I like the woman that I see in front of me, not a guy... I'm not gay, doll, that's disgusting," (M/n)'s teeth gritted, determined to punch some sense into him, just to get his point across.

But while he tried to behave and be civilized, he could hear how Lucas kept mumbling, mostly to himself but (M/n) could hear him due to their proximity.

"I won't forgive you if you keep pretending to be a guy just to fit in. You're wrong. Everyone that sees you as a guy is wrong. They're truly messed up for believing your nonsense, doll."

Well, that was all it took.

(M/n) lifted his arms as much as he could and pressed them against Lucas' chest, pushing him hard enough to make him trip and fall to the ground. He looked up at him with an angry look in his eyes, ready to yell at him for what he did, but (M/n) didn't give a damn about Lucas or his feelings.

"I am not interested in you like that, greenie, now shut the hell up!"

Thankfully, (M/n)'s outburst caught the attention of those nearby, including the Builders.

Gally was the first one to be next to him, instinctively holding (M/n)'s hand and standing in front of him, just guarding him slightly, "Back to work, greenie."

Lucas glared at both of them from the ground, but Gally took (M/n) away before he got to say anything to them.

#gally x reader #gally x y/n #gally x male reader #the maze runner x male reader #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #gally the maze runner #gally maze runner #ftm reader #trans reader #trans #will poulter #will poulter x reader #will poulter fanfiction

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