#used to go fishing with my best friend as a little kid
Text
twin beads | luke castellan
wc + pairing: 6.7k, luke x daughter of poseidon! reader
synopsis: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder. (based on this ask!)
warnings: best friends to lovers <3, percy/reader sibling dynamic, fluff and angst then fluff again, hurt/comfort, shameless making out. sorry this one is so long but besties to lovers is my lifeblood!!! i get so attached!! designated song is true blue by boygenius:)
i. you said you wanted to feel alive, so we went to the beach
“Ahoy, sailor!”
The familiar voice ricochets across the lake. You turn, leaving glimmers of sun behind you as you stare back at the docks of Camp Half-Blood. An orange blob with a curly mop of hair is beckoning you. You laugh, wave back at him, and plunge into the water. It cools your face after staying above the surface for so long—you just love watching the light reflected off the waves. But the second you’re under the water, the soreness in your muscles, the heat on your face, the exhaustion from treading for so long, are washed away from you. You swim with precision and vigor, relishing the feel of the river cupping your limbs to spur you forward. Not to sound lame, but you fucking love swimming.
But maybe not as much as you love your best friend.
He laughs when your head pops out of the water at the edge of the dock. “Wow, that took you longer than usual,” he teases, brown eyes glinting in the dawn. “You getting sloppy?”
You huff, splashing some water up at him but it barely touches him. “I’m tired, you moron. I’ve been out there for an hour.”
Luke leans down at the edge of the dock, offering you a hand. His face is bemused when you latch onto him, and with a good flex of his bicep he pulls you up. “All right, c’mon,” he grunts.
All your energy evaporates the second your body’s out of the water. You’re far too lazy to be graceful, so you sprawl out onto the dock like a dying fish, letting the sun kiss every inch of you. “Eww,” Luke giggles overtop you, prodding your side with the tip of his shoe. “Get up, you mermaid.”
“Make me, you mailman.”
Your arm drapes over your eyes, and you sigh. There really is nothing better than these moments; droplets of water soaking into your skin after an early morning swim, your best friend right beside you.
He keeps nudging you with your shoe, over and over until your ribs start to hurt. You groan, swatting him away and stretching out your limbs with a groan, letting them pop and relax, until you blearily make your way to your feet.
“You forgot your towel again,” Luke condones, but like always, he’s brought one for you.
He goes through a practiced routine of drying you off, wrapping the towel around your shoulders and down your arms, across your back, scrunching the water out of your hair. It doesn’t matter how cold the water gets—this part always makes you warm.
“Thanks,” you smile as he hands the towel off to you. “Anything interesting happen this morning, O Captain, my captain?”
“Not yet, sailor, sir,” he replies in a stuffy, gruff voice the two of you have joked around with since you were kids. “Just grabbing you for breakfast.”
You giggle, following him past the docks and to the shore. Once you’ve grabbed all your stuff, you both fall in stride and head towards your cabin, your twin five-beaded necklaces hanging over your shirts.
Five years ago, when you got to Camp for the first time, you were as big a loser as any. You were bad at everything—everything—and had no real friends until you accidentally whacked some other friendless loser in the head with an oar when you were about to go canoeing. Luke got mad at you, but his little sister Annabeth was even more furious. He offered to be your partner for the day anyway. You’ve been partners ever since.
Over the years the two of you have grown in status at the camp, more so Luke than you. He’s an excellent cabin leader and by far the greatest swordsman in camp. You, still unclaimed, have found solace in giving younger campers swimming lessons and wading out there on your own till you get sunstroke. (It’s happened a few times. Luke is never pleased, but also refuses to let the Apollo campers take care of you. He nurses you back to health with ice cream and horrible gossip.)
But every night you return to the Hermes cabin with a hollowness in your chest. One bunk emptied, then immediately filled. You’ve had the same one for five years, and the only condolence is that it’s right next to Luke’s, and sometimes you spend hours at night making faces at each other till your laughter endangers other people’s sleep.
Yes, you love the water at Camp Half-Blood, but you love Luke most.
Rumours of a new kid are rustling at camp. You haven’t seen him, but you’re just dying to get in on the gossip. Apparently he slayed a minotaur. Apparently Annabeth has seen him. And apparently he’s unclaimed. You hate to admit it, but this is the most exciting news you’ve heard in weeks!
Your afternoon is spent giving some swimming lessons and taking some Demeter campers canoeing. (Some of them freak out on the water. so it’s a nice challenge to untangle the sea plants they get hooked around their boat.) It feels like you’ve been here forever. A break is in desperate demand right now.
You have no idea what kind of God heard your prayers, but your fellow counsellor has an unimpressed look on her face when she taps you on the shoulder and goes, “Your friend’s calling you.”
The way she says it is almost degrading. You turn to look back at the shore to see the dark curly hair you’d spot a mile away. Next to him is a much shorter orange blob, shuffling awkwardly as Luke attempts to flag you down. Score!
You shoot an apologetic look at her. “Uh … I’ll be right back.” You wince, already disposing of your baggy orange shirt (it’s Luke’s) with your bathing suit underneath.
“No you won’t,” she says dryly. “Just go.”
You flash a smile you hope is loaded with charm, and you’re off into water. As you swim, the only thing on your mind is I really really hope that’s the new kid, and I wonder what Luke’s face looks like right now. (He’s probably grinning, eyes crinkled at the sides as he tries to follow your figure beneath the waves. Maybe he’s doing that cute thing where his head tilts to the side as he watches.)
When you’re close enough to the shore, you come out of the water, wringing your hair. “Hey, guys!” It’s Luke, Chris, and some blonde kid you’re sure is the new one. “What’s up?”
Luke is about to say something, then he frowns. “Where’s my shirt?”
“Left it in the canoe, I’ll go back for it later,” you reply, limply gesturing behind you.
“And where’s your towel?”
“Okay, I did bring one this time!” You counter. “I just gave it to a little Ares kid ‘cause she forgot hers.”
Luke clicks his tongue, shakes his head at you, but of course he’s got one in his hands so what’s the worry? He’s endearingly amused when you take the cloth and dry yourself off, and the new boy, having watched this all raptly, widens his eyes and drawls, “Ohhhh, so you’re his gi—”
“This is Camp’s resident mermaid, Percy.” Chris butts in, adding your name almost as an afterthought.
After you fasten your towel around you, you’re put off by Percy’s scrutinizing stare. “Look, it’s been a pretty weird day so I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I’m not a mermaid,” you snipe, throwing Chris a dirty look. “People just call me that because I give swimming lessons here.” You stick your hand out to the blonde boy. “Nice to meet you, Percy.”
He gives a polite nod, a little awkward. “Right back at ya.” The two of you study each other as you shake. He’s young, probably about twelve, a smatter of freckles across his face. His eyes look like the lake. Something itches in the back of your brain. There’s a moment where the shake is suspended, neither of you have let go but are no longer actively holding on, and you see it in his face that he’s studying you, too. Huh.
The conversation continues as normal, but you almost start to feel queasy for a second. “We’re trying to find something Percy’s good at,” Luke says with a pat on Percy’s shoulder. “You got any ideas?”
“Yes, please, because I really would like to have a word with my father,” Percy clips. “Is Glory, like, purely a skill thing or can I get some if I tie someone else’s shoes or something?”
“I don’t have shoes,” you add unhelpfully.
“It’s okay, dude,” Luke squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Camp is great, no matter where you end up.”
Even if you’re like her, he means without saying. Even if you don’t end up anywhere.
You meet Luke’s eyes. This is a kid that wants so badly to meet his father, to ease the ache inside him. You are the absolute worst person for this. One of the longest current unclaimed streaks and your ache remains. To Percy, you’re the biggest example of a failure there is, and Luke is only just now realizing it.
“Maybe try the infirmary?” You pipe, shuffling back and forth on the sand. “You might have a knack for medicine.”
“Doubt it,” Percy swallows. “But yeah, okay. Who’s your parent, again?”
Percy can’t see it, but Luke and Chris send you a shifty look and all you can do is widen your eyes to be like, Help! Don’t make me crush his dreams! I don’t want another kid to hate me!
You swallow. No matter how fast you think, you cannot come to a logical sentence. “I, uh—”
Just then, in another stroke of luck (wow, that’s two more than usual) an Athena counsellor that looks insanely disgruntled is running towards you. “Stolls put spiders in our cabin again,” he heaves once at a stop. “Please get rid of them.”
“Can’t you just squash ‘em?” Percy asks.
“Not the spiders, the twins.”
Chris is already nodding, but Luke looks to you first. He’s anxious, disappointed. You wish you could smooth out the creases in his brow with your thumb. “Don’t worry,” you stretch out a smile. “I’ll chill with Percy. It won’t take you guys too long.”
He’s still hesitant. You’re not sure this is a good call either. But he reaches out, quickly squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “Thank you.” Your skin feels gooey when he touches it.
His signature roguish smile returns as he looks back to Percy. The side of his face is shadowed by the sun so well it makes you jealous. “Don’t give her a hard time, eh?” He reprimands playfully.
Percy smiles a little. “I’ll try not to.”
You are once again reminded just how easy it is to love Luke. How effortlessly he moves into your heart. It happened to you after you slapped him with an oar. It’s already happening to Percy.
You’re sure he won’t like you nearly half as much.
After Luke and Chris leave, Percy resigns to staring out at the campers canoeing on the lake. Maybe now is a good time to admit you’re not good with kids. Luke has tried many times to make you his welcome partner, but you can’t take to the role nearly as well. You’re perpetually antsy. And sweaty.
“So, what cabin are you a part of that lets you do this all day?” Percy asks, squinting against the sun.
Your heart gets heavy. With a sigh, you sit yourself down, and Percy soon follows. “Hermes, actually,” you say as casually as you can.
Percy goes pale as a sheet. “Uh, what?”
“I’m unclaimed,” you clarify. “I don’t … I don’t have a parent.”
There’s always a pitiful pause whenever a camper figures that out. This one is somehow … clunkier. “Oh,” Percy says. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense. For a second I thought—phew.” Then his eyes trail down to the thread hooked around your fingers, the five beads you run your thumb over. “How long have you been here?”
“Five long, blissful years,” you hum dryly.
Water ripples over pebbles on the shore. Every new camper’s ambition is eroded by the truth you represent. Percy’s no different. His brows furrow and his face falls. “And you’ve never been claimed?” He asks, and you can feel the noxious mix of pity, confusion and despair laced beneath it.
You shake your head, watching some Demeter kids splashing each other’s canoes with their oars. “Nope. But it’s not so bad. I like my cabin, you know? I like my life. Doesn’t really matter who your parents are anyway, I think. You do the same activities as everyone else, just on different teams.”
“But doesn’t it make you mad?”
“It used to,” you shrug, “But not anymore. It’s just …” You sigh, rolling a bead against your thumb. “If I’m unclaimed, I’m unclaimed. That’s the way it is. You can’t force the Gods to do anything.”
“That’s what Luke said,” Percy remarks, almost bitterly.
“I’m a rare case though, Percy,” you half-lie to him, nudging him a bit with your shoulder. “You’ll get claimed. It’s your first day. And until then you’re kind of free to be whatever. You don’t have to fit into anything, which is kinda nice, and you can screw around as much as you want and nobody can really get mad at you ‘cause you’re new.” A smile rises on your face. “And I heard you killed a minotaur, so you’ve already got some cool points.”
His face screws up in a grimace, and it makes you laugh. “Oh joy, cool points. Can’t live without those.”
Okay, maybe you’re not bad with kids. Maybe you’re just bad with boring kids. Because this is going decent, right?
“What if I don’t get claimed, though?” Percy asks after a moment, a vulnerable note eclipsing him. It resonates inside your chest. You pause for a moment, heaving a loaded breath.
“Do you fart a lot in your sleep?”
His melancholy pauses. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Uh … what? No? I think?”
“Then you can take the bunk above mine if you want. It’s empty now,” you say. “And if you’re never claimed you can come swimming with me, and we can find seashells to put under Luke’s pillow every night until he starts thinking they’ve always been there.”
Percy blinks. “Do you have any friends?”
“Yes, and I’m going to torture him until I die. Cabin eleven is oodles of fun, Percy, you’ll see!”
He looks a little horrified. “Luke said I was going to like you,” he mutters. “I … am not sure if he’s right.”
Oh, well. You’ll take it.
ii. you can't help but become the sun
You can’t sleep, and Luke knows it. His eyes burn into the side of your face as you stare up at your bunk. You sneak him a look. He smiles ruefully. Sweeping his arm up from beneath his covers, a makeshift tent is formed next to him. He nods to you. Before you know it, you’ve abandoned your own bed, taking a single step until you skirt into the pocket of his mattress Luke has carved for you. He lets the sheets fall, cocooning you with him the way he always does.
You’ve been sharing beds on occasion for years. One of you gets cold, has a nightmare, or wants to talk until your mind fades out, the only solution is a place next to each other. Whispers against cheeks, giggles muffled into pillows, necklaces knocking together. You used to be further apart. Now you can’t remember the last time Luke hasn’t latched onto you the second you’re within reach. It warms you a little more each time.
When your head hits his pillow, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, lips pursed in amusement. His face is so wildly nostalgic to you—five years seems like too short a time to have known him. His eyes are pitch-dark and soft with exhaustion, but you can still pick out the trademark Hermes mirth glimmering through. You sometimes forget his scar, probably because you know he wants you to forget it. He’d kill you for thinking this, but you kind of like the way it hugs the curve of his cheek, bunches up when his dimple appears. It makes you sad. It makes you happy. It makes you love him.
“Percy likes you,” he whispers, opening himself up so your chin brushes his shoulder. “That’s a first.”
He’s only wearing a tank top to sleep, so his warmth seeps through his skin when you tap him on the chest. “Shut up!” You hiss back, tapering into a giggle. “Has he picked up on anything yet?”
Luke bites the inside of his cheek, regretfully shaking his head. “Nope. But all that skill stuff is kinda arbitrary anyways. He’s still hung up on kleos, though, so … that’ll come in handy for Capture the Flag.”
“Ah, yes. Using a child’s misguided need for fulfilment as a weapon. A camp classic.”
“Well someone’s gotta be useful for Capture the Flag in this cabin and it sure as hell isn’t you, mermaid,” he barbs back.
Your jaw drops in mock offense and you squeeze a hand around his shoulder to shake him. “I will put you in a headlock right now, Luke, I’ll break your arm—”
“Be quiet!” He giggles as you attempt to wrangle yourself on top of him. “I’ll be nice to you, I’ll be nice, stop!” You get absolutely nowhere before the bed creaks and Luke shoves you back down. Your pulse rattles through your mouth as you laugh silently. “You’re the worst,” he mutters in your ear, raising the hairs on your neck.
“Well Percy likes me, so,” you turn your nose to the sky like a haughty old lady.
“Percy’s a funnier, less annoying version of you,” he pokes your side. “That’s how I knew you’d get along, you weirdo.”
The momentary adrenaline this conversation has brought you is mellowing. “Hey, I’m very—very funny,” you mumble through a yawn.
Luke laughs quietly. “Sure you are.”
He pulls you back to him, arm slung around the dip of your waist. When you make no protest, he seals you against his shoulder again. It’s started to feel a little different, him holding you like this. There’s an uncertainty your body faces about how to respond. His thumb runs over your spine and you decide to relax into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Your chin knocks against his collarbone and you have the urge to curl yourself against his chest, just to feel him breathe.
“Get some sleep, sailor,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Your cheeks warm, and you bury yourself even further into the space against his shoulder and his pillow. Gods, there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?
“Will do, soldier.” The campy voice you do is half hearted at best as you find yourself absorbed in the closest thing to a full home you’ll ever get. In this sleepy hollow with bedsheets and a boy, there is acceptance.
Well, mostly. You think you dream about Luke brushing a kiss along your hairline in your last bit of consciousness. You think you wish it was real. You think you want him to do it again.
iii. when you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out
The last time your cabin lost a game of Capture the Flag, you’d still been taller than Luke. That’s how long your winning streak has felt. There’s no reason you foresee that changing today. Even when Annabeth drags Percy along with her on whatever surely precarious quest to victory she’s created. It’s unlike her, to bring a newbie along. It’s concerning.
“He’s fine,” Luke drawls to you when your face has been tense for twenty minutes. “Annabeth’s got a plan.” He’s a little winded after clearing out some Ares kids with Chris. You aren’t much use when it comes to weapons—your friends take the lead as you wait from a distance, ready for backup. Thank the Gods they didn’t need it this time. You’re content to just watch, but whenever Luke grins after getting another kid to surrender, veins in his arms raised like rivers on a map, you get a little distracted and you’re not sure why.
You just huff back at him, totally normal when he wipes a sheen of sweat off his jaw. “Annabeth’s gonna use him as cannon fodder,” you mutter back, and Luke hits your arm with an appalled grin.
Annabeth did, in fact, have a plan. So you won. Obviously.
You’re still doubtful Percy wasn’t cannon fodder, though, with how beat up he looks on the shoreline when the rest of your team flocks to the stolen flag to claim victory. He’s slumped down on the rocky shore, a few equally beaten Ares kids straggling away from him.
“So I was right, huh?” Luke hums in your ear, pulling your eyes to him.
He’s revelling in newfound glory, and damn it, you get confused when you look at him when he’s like this. You’re not sure when it happened but you want to tear your heart out of its chest because of how sick it makes you. Some of his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hair suffering a serious case of helmet-head. But it’s the pride oozing off him, the infectious happiness laced through his smile, that makes you fond of him in a way you’re not sure you should be. He’s beloved for a reason—he looks almost prophetic after winning a match, and he knows it. A glaring difference between the gangly boy you met all those summers ago. If you weren’t his best friend, you’d probably be one of his many admirers, watching his teammates fawn over his talent and wishing you were beside him.
But you are beside him. And you’re his friend. Not an admirer. So everything’s fine.
“You wouldn’t be saying that if we lost,” you retort, knocking your chestplate against his. It’s meant to be a friendly nudge, but Luke leans into it until you swear you feel his heart beating through the metal.
He’s grown into his smile, less boyish and more wry. “You know I never lose, sailor.”
You want to reply, but his eyes are startlingly pretty in the sunlight. That’s normal. Whatever. A heat rises in the apples of your cheeks so you scoff lightly and turn away as soon as possible. You feel Luke’s gaze following as you turn attention elsewhere. Your sternum feels fluttery.
Percy catches your attention again. Gods, he looks beat. He’s talking to Annabeth as she helps him up, and you see the gnarly scrape marring his cheek. You should probably check on him, right?
You’re halfway to the kids when Annabeth shoves Percy backwards into the water. Like, shoves.
“Annabeth!” You’re scowling at her the same way she scowled at you when you first hit Luke with that oar, rushing over to help Percy.
“What is wrong with you?” Percy sputters out lying in the lake, but you’re ankles-deep in the water before you know it. He’s glaring daggers at Annabeth, but she looks relatively unimpressed. What happened during this game?
“Thanks,” Percy mutters as you help him up.
You say something to shrug it off but you can’t remember what, because your eyes are drawn to the scrape on his cheek. You have to blink a few times to get it, but you’re pretty sure it’s dissolving. Vanishing off his skin. “What the hell?”
Everyone on the shore is watching him now, trying to memorize his injuries before they wash away. Percy’s staring down at himself like he’s just been body-swapped. “I don’t understand.”
You’ve never seen anything like this before. The strangest feeling fuels you—your bones feel firmer somehow, like the blood inside your body has weight to it. Like something is happening. A fear pierces your gut.
Annabeth’s eyes have raised, and so have Percy’s. Your mouth goes dry. Right above him is the symbol of a trident, radiating so blue it washes out the sky itself.
The claiming symbol of Poseidon.
“Your dad’s calling,” Annabeth says, a smile itching the corners of her mouth.
Percy looks like he’s going to pass out. You probably do too. “Told you you’d get claimed,” you manage to squeeze the words through the knot in your chest.
You’re smiling until Percy looks at you, then looks up. His face goes white as a sheet. Or, as white as it can bathed in a pale blue glow. “Uh…” He blinks slowly, and your stomach twists. “I think she was talking to you.”
When you look up and see an identical trident looming over your head, you know something’s wrong. It’s made worse when Chiron rings out your and Percy’s name, branding you as children of Poseidon.
Poseidon.
You have a father. And he’s known you all this time. Your ears hollow out like a rush of water in a cavern.
Luke is the first to kneel. The rest of the camp follows. You watch as the entire camp basks in the glory of newcomer Percy Jackson, so quickly claimed by one of the most powerful Gods of Olympus. And you, who has waited five years to earn even a shred of his favour.
This thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly the greatest insult in the world. Your best friend can’t even meet your eyes.
iv. i remember who i am when i'm with you
You stare at Percy as he unpacks his things. Waiting to see traces of yourself in his face, traces of your father. Anything that could give you an inkling of what he looks like. Of what you look like. Of how this happened in the first place.
It’s a futile search. Percy’s blue eyes, his freckles, the bridge of his nose, they’re all … nothing. Half of you is half of him, but there’s no indication of which parts. The cabin is cold. You’re not going to sleep well without Luke nearby. You’re not going to sleep well ever again.
You feel nothing but strife, your throat closing in every time you take even a second to think. You don’t want Percy to see you cry. So you do what you always do.
This has to be in the running for most overwhelming day of all time ever. Even when submerged in your favourite place on earth, you can’t get away from your dad. Your dumb stupid dad that has made the things you love and has ruined your life.
You swim hard, and you loathe how good it feels. At least you know why now, but that doesn’t do much to ease you. When you pop up again, the sun has started to sink into the sea. And Gods, you have to give your dad credit. The landscape is so gorgeous you almost forget how long he’s ignored you.
You wonder if this is the last time you’ll find solace in the lake. If eventually, it’ll be nothing but an extension of your father’s neglect.
The water ripples around you. You frown, barely having noticed it when someone taps your shoulder. You turn. “Luke?” You swallow, but why are you surprised?
He’s panting, cheeks splotched with sun as he treads water, droplets worming down his face from his soaking curls. “Been looking for you,” he puffs, “Percy’s worried. Called you from the—from the thingie but don’t think you heard me.”
You assume he means the docks, but you don’t say anything as he takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’ve been out here for hours. Hours. For a second I thought you drowned.”
“Now we know that can’t fucking happen,” you mutter a touch too bitterly, staring down at your legs warped beneath the water.
Luke’s silent as he watches you. “…Have you been crying?”
When you don’t reply, Luke tugs on your wrist. “C’mon, sailor, let’s go.”
“Not tired,” you say, frozen by the hot tears brimming on your lashes.
“I’m not leaving you out here. Come on.” He frowns when you yank your hand away as he tries pulling you again. “You’re gonna get heatstroke.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
He reaches for you again and you try to reject it for a moment, but he’s stronger than you, and he loves you better than even the water could. The second he has you close your resolve falters. He holds you against his shoulder, knees knocking against yours as you tread.
“It’s okay,” he croons when you involuntarily start to cry. For a Poseidon kid, you can’t seem to control your waterworks. “It’s okay, I know.”
His hand cards through your scalp and you relish in the warmth of his bare skin on your cheek. He smells like comfort. You cling to it with all you have, until your nails start to dig into his skin and your eyesight blurs.
“Come back with me and I’ll dry you off, okay?” He kisses the top of your head, the way you dreamed it last night. “I’ll take care of it.”
You’re not sure which it he’s referring to, because it could honestly apply to anything. When you both set off for shore, you’re so distracted by your own misery that Luke’s actually able to keep up with you. He’s up on the dock before you so he can pull you out.��
The second you’re out of the water you feel like you’ve been gutted with a lead pipe. All the energy it gave you leaves, and you realize just how right Luke was about spending too much time out there. You can’t feel your legs.
You buckle over almost instantly, but Luke holds you before you can even think of falling. “I’ve got you,” he assures, guiding you down to sit on the dock. Your eyes are too weak to even admire the sunset. Luke drapes a towel over your shoulders, rubbing it over your arms, a welcome familiarity. He takes his time, wringing your hair and drying your back as you gaze blankly ahead. There’s a tenderness to it now. Luke’s ruthless when it comes to a lot of things. When it comes to how he loves, too. But there’s nothing demanding here. He lets your tears fall in silence, undisturbed, the touch of his hands through the cloth a silent promise.
When you’re fairly dry, he fetches something then quickly comes back. “Here.”
It’s his shirt. You only notice you’ve been shivering as he pulls it over your head, lets you fill in the sleeves, gently gathers your hair back. “Thanks,” you say. His fingertips brush your neck as he hooks them around your necklace to rest it over the shirt. You think he does it to remind you you’re still the same. You’ve had five years together. It doesn’t have to end now.
“Why did it take him so long?” You struggle to say, eyes glossed like sea glass. “Why—why now? What did I do?”
Luke puts an arm around you. “I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly.
You sink into his warmth like a wave meets the shore. “Five years, Luke. He ignored me for five years. And he takes Percy right—right away.” It’s hard not to choke between every word. “I just thought I’d never get claimed, and I was fine with that, and now I’m … this!”
Its hard to tell if the dampness of your cheeks are the remnants of saltwater or your tears. “I don’t want this,” you sniffle. “I waited so long … and I just don’t want it.”
Luke rubs your shoulder, lips pursed against your head. He murmurs into your hair, “I know, sailor. It’ll be okay. Promise.”
His voice is reserved. You look up at him. His jaw is resolute, his eyes red-rimmed in a way you hadn’t noticed before. “You’re upset too,” you comment quietly.
He laughs listlessly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m losing my favourite cabin mate.”
You sniff and try to smile. “Percy?”
He rolls his eyes fondly, and it feels like all you want. He squeezes your shoulders tight and you long desperately to be closer. “I just don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into him. “Why didn’t he see me until he saw Percy? Am I just … unremarkable or something?”
“No, no. Absolutely not—c’mere.” Luke loops an arm around your waist and manoeuvres you into his arms, cradled on his lap so you can bury your face in his neck. You can’t stop fucking crying, but his patience for you is infinite. “You are by far the most remarkable person I know.” He seals you against his chest, scratching your scalp the way he knows you like. “None of this is you, okay? Your dad’s an idiot. You are—you’re everything. They’re all mindless up there, they don’t know how to love you. They don’t deserve to.”
An edge seeps into his timbre that gives you pause. You feel weak, discarded. It sounds like he’s talking about a different person. But he’s right. He has to be, because he knows you better than you know yourself.
Luke keeps going. You peek at his face when he speaks. Stubborn as ever. “He doesn’t have any fucking right to you. If he wanted that he should’ve claimed you when you got here. You have a life. You … you had a home. And now just because he’s got another kid he kills two birds with one stone? He pretends like this is some Godly intervention? Like he didn’t ignore you the whole time you’ve been here because he couldn’t stand how much you didn’t need him? How much better you are? You’re my …” He struggles, brows furrowed, the sun melting in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, and we’re supposed to be together. He’s not allowed to take that from you.”
Your heart stirs. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you try to tease.
Luke heaves a sigh, his muscles rippling against your chest. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he’s got no shirt on. And that he’s pressed against you in a way that makes you question if you should be this close. Beads of water cling to the divots in his skin, and you linger a little too long on one nestled in his collarbone. You swear you think this every time he goes swimming with you: when did he get so … hot? And every time you think it, you want to gouge your heart out with a spoon.
“Can you blame me?” A melancholy smile plays on his face. “I liked having you all to myself.”
Tears spring to your eyes all over again. “I liked that too.”
It’s a whisper that sends you forward, Luke bringing his forehead to your own, and you want to live in the warmth that coils through you. His nose catches against yours when he laughs, but he doesn’t move. You take a moment to savour it. You think he does too.
He wipes a tear off your face as you say, “I’m still yours.”
“Yeah?” Luke hums a bit, his hand sliding up your waist in a most unfriendly manner. “How?”
You catch the glimmer in his eyes, that plucky smile he’s had since fourteen. Something shifts.
“What are you asking me, Luke?” You can’t fight the smile.
“What do you want me to ask you?”
“I dunno, what do you want me to want you to ask you—”
“My Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”
He groans, throws his head back, and kisses you like you aren’t the most annoying person in the world.
It’s so cliché, but for a brief moment your strife is well worth it. You yank him closer before he pulls away. It’s a little unsure, the two of you so used to toeing the line, but soon you’ve given in and your hands are in his hair, mouths parting, and it’s messy and wanting and everything you need.
Luke slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, palms flattening against your sun-beaten skin. It feels so good, better because the shirt is already his, a whine scratching your throat as he moves up so his thumbs graze the skin beneath the tie in your bathing suit.
“Oh, sailor,” he coos against your mouth. You want to retaliate but it’s lost when he squeezes your thighs, warming you in all the right places. It’s hard to understand this is even happening—it feels like you’re underwater, a blissful fuzziness growing in your head entirely at his mercy.
He razes kisses down your still-damp neck, catching pearls of water on his tongue. You cling to his shoulders, raking your hands down his back just so you can feel more of him. Luke’s dropped down to your collarbone at this point, tugging the neck of your shirt down as his teeth graze the bone. “You’re my best friend,” he mutters over your skin. “Still mine. Always mine.”
“Mmhm,” is all you can say back, the husk in his voice making your eyes screw shut. He teases a spot so sensitive you groan and laugh at the same time. The regret is immediate, but you feel a chuckle pass his lips, too. “Luke,” you purse a smile. He dots kisses back up your neck until you start returning the favour.
You kiss his jaw, a few spots on his neck, feeling the flex of his muscle all around you as he squeezes the fat of your hips. You finally sweep up the water in the hollow of his collarbones, and his grunt of your name makes you, frankly, delirious.
He brings your mouth back to his, skin sticking to each other. It’s harder to kiss as fervently when you’re both giggling against each other’s tongues, running fingers along the planes of each other’s bodies trying to see which places feel new and which are known from memory. It’s a fifty-fifty split, and you love it.
Somewhere along the way he peeled off your shirt because it was clinging in places you knew he wanted, but now you’re panting and giggling into his hair, his nose pressed into your neck, both of you melded together with salt and sun. “You really know how to cheer a girl up, mailman,” you grin.
His lips fix to your skin. “Really? You’re still gonna call me that right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Like it better when you call me captain,” he murmurs, nose grazing along your pulse.
You swallow, “That doesn’t work unless we’re doing the whole sailor-ship bit.”
“We’re always doing the sailor-ship bit.”
“I seriously can’t believe I’m in love with you.”
He sighs warmly at the words. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying for you to say that. Even though I knew you would.”
You roll your eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, and you’re more glad than ever that his face is the one you love so much. It’s a pretty great face.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he says tenderly. “You’re too incredible for Poseidon. You’re worth more than that.”
He still looks gorgeous blurred by your tears. You listen to the beat of his heart and the waves rolling. “More than any water anywhere?”
“More than the fucking Styx, sailor. I’ll promise you that.”
That night, Luke stays with you and Percy in your cold chapel of a cabin. You exchange stories until Percy falls asleep in his bed, curled up like a sea otter. “He’s a drooler,” Luke notes fondly, eyes flicking to yours. “Like you.”
You shove his chest playfully until he wraps his arms around you and anchors you to sleep, like every night before. This time, as you drift off, he kisses your forehead again. Once because he loves you, and twice to make sure you know it’s real.
luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant
let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
#perrie’s fics#perrie's requests#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan pjo#pjo fic#pjo fanfic#luke castellan fic#luke castellan x you#percy jackson and the olympians#charlie bushnell#pjo x reader#pjo#luke castellan angst#luke castellan fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
kavuk si
kavuk si [English] vin. betray
Neteyam has chosen a woman, and you know it isn’t you.
1,471 words
Fishing was supposed to clear my mind and calm my nerves, but I was throwing my spear too forcefully, and it was making the fish almost unusable. Plus, I was missing a lot, and that was only serving to further fuel my anger and frustration.
“It’s just a rumor,” my sister said again as I huffed and pulled my spear from the sandy riverbed.
“It is not,” I replied. “His own mother is said to have confirmed it. He has chosen.”
Even without looking at her, I knew Kawti was rolling her eyes behind me. It had been my wish to come fishing alone, but there wasn’t much I had truly done alone since Kawti was born 13 years ago. Despite our seven year age difference, she was my best friend, and I was usually happy to have her along.
Just - not today. All morning, all anyone at home could talk about was how the eldest son of Toruk Makto was finally going to choose a woman, and he was going to make his declaration soon. I knew, in my heart, that Neteyam would have told me already if I was his choice. Just last night we had gone hunting together, and I had eaten the evening meal with his family - he had plenty of opportunity to tell me himself.
Even though we hadn’t exactly expressed how we’d felt, I thought I had been pretty clear in my affections and desires, and I’d thought Neteyam was just shy. Now I felt like a fool. He had not stolen any kisses, or any other affections, and I had been leading myself on. He simply wasn’t interested.
“Come, Y/N. Mom will be expecting us back soon.” Kawti hopped down from her seat atop a tree branch, and extended her small hand to mine.
I grabbed my meager bag of mangled fish, and followed her back to Home Tree.
--
When the rest of my family went to dinner, I stayed back. I wasn’t hungry, in fact I was feeling a little ill, and really did need a little bit of time alone.
Kawti was annoyed, but her optimism was childish. Not only did she think it was just a rumor, but she claimed to be sure Neteyam was ‘completely in love’ with me.
As if she knew anything about love. She was just a kid.
I could only sit in our little alcove of Home Tree for so long before becoming restless. I was feeling ridiculous, too. If Neteyam did not want me, and had chosen another, then I would have to grow up and move on. There were many fine men in our village, and I knew one would choose me - and I would choose them in return.
I could only barely lie to myself, as dread gripped my chest at the thought of mating with anyone else. So I stood up, trying to shake the thoughts from my head, and walked outside. It was quiet, as most were gathered for the evening meal, and the quietness left me too much to my dark, depressing thoughts.
Without direction, I began walking towards the forest.
“Y/N!” a familiar voice called, and I hesitated before turning.
“Teyam,” I said through gritted teeth. I looked over my shoulder to see him jogging to catch up, a wooden bowl full of food in his hands.
He looked handsome, I thought before I could stop myself. Neteyam always looked handsome, but there was something different... he was wearing a large necklace made of leather that was reserved for special occasions, and his face was painted as if for battle or a ceremony.
“Your mother said you were ill. I brought you this.” He extended it to me, and something about the gesture turned my sadness to rage.
He could choose another woman, ask her to be his mate, and still pretend to be concerned about me? To bring me food? How dare he!
“Bah!” I said, waving my hand. “Leave me, Neteyam.”
He furrowed his brow in confusion and tilted his head to the side, his ears flicking back and forth. “Do you need the healer?”
“No. I need to be alone.” I stepped back, but he stepped forward to follow.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice firm, and extended his hand to me.
I looked at him skeptically, tilting my head to the side, and sighed. It had always been hard to stay mad at Neteyam, and the look on his face was very serious.
I put my hand into his, noting how much larger his was, and we went back into my family’s alcove in Home Tree together.
Neteyam did not let go of my hand when we stepped inside, and I tried to savor it. If he was to belong to someone else soon, this might be the last time we were ever truly alone.
“Well, what do you need to talk about?” I asked, trying not to let my voice waiver. “My family will be back soon.”
This was not even close to the truth, and Neteyam knew it. My mother could talk for hours every night, and my sister was usually exhausted by the time they returned from their socializing. It would be at least an hour before they returned.
Neteyam looked everywhere in our modest home but at me, and I squeezed his hand. “Teyam, spit it out!”
“Damn, you don’t make it easy, Y/N!” he replied in a huff, and my eyes widened in surprise.
“Sorry,” I said, unsure of what I was apologizing for. He was the one who should have been apologizing to me.
Why had we gone on all those rides together? Hunted together? Taken meals together, spent time with each other’s families, if he had not intended to be mine?
“You are mad at me,” he said quietly, and I finally allowed myself to look into his eyes.
“Yes,” I said in a near-whisper. “I am.”
“Why?”
I took my hand from his and crossed my arms over my chest. “They are saying.. they are saying you have chosen a woman. Everyone is to celebrate the mating of the Chief’s son.”
His eyebrows rose up and his shoulders fell. “Well... this is true.”
I nodded, stepping away from him. “Who is she? Ni’awtu? She’s a fine hunter. Or... Petani? She has a fine skill on the loom, and would make a good mate.” I blinked hard to stop the tears rushing into my eyes.
I jumped with surprise when Neteyam laughed so hard that he threw his head back. “You are joking!” he exclaimed.
“I am not! Tell me who it is!”
With considerable effort, Neteyam stopped laughing and closed the gap between us again. He reached out, gripping my upper arms with his hands, and leaned in close.
“You are mad because you are jealous, but you are jealous of yourself, Y/N. Ni’awfu may be a fine hunter, and Petani weaves very well on the loom, but I do not love them. I do not love anyone else.”
Blinking hard, it took me a few moments to understand what Neteyam was saying to me. I stood, slack jawed and stunned, forcing him to continue speaking.
“I wish to ask you to be my mate before Ewya, to spend your life with me, to mother my children, Y/N.”
I took in a long, deep breath. My hands were shaking and the tears had filled my eyes, I could no longer hold them back. It was so hard to find any appropriate response. I had spent years pining over Neteyam, and all day today sure that my chance was gone and I was going to have to watch him with someone else - which would have been a fate worse than death.
“Neteyam, I... of course, yes. I, I have always...” I stuttered and stammered as tears fell down my face.
Graciously, Neteyam stopped our needs for words by leaning down and pressing his soft lips to mine in a kiss I felt as if I had waited so long for.
My body felt on fire instantly, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned into him, deepening the kiss.
It felt like a long time before we pulled apart, both smiling like a couple of idiots.
“You are mine, Y/N,” Neteyam whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “How could you have thought I would choose anyone else? I have always been yours.”
Tears spilled freely now, and I put my hands on either side of his face. “I feel foolish. I have always been yours, Neteyam.”
He hugged me tightly, pulling my body completely flush with mine, and I breathed him in deeply.
“Always.”
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Childhood Friends Danny and Jason
(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)
Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)
AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.
This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+
this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.
Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.
While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.
(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)
So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.
When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.
(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)
Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.
Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.
(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)
He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)
He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.
Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.
Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.
They... sort it out eventually.
Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.
When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.
Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.
(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)
When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.
"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"
She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.
(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)
(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)
he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.
They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.
Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.
He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.
The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.
His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.
And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.
Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.
Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.
His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.
Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.
"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.
"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"
"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.
"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.
Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.
There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.
Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.
Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.
The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.
He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.
Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."
Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.
He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.
He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.
Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."
Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."
Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.
"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."
And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.
Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.
Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.
Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.
At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.
Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."
"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."
At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.
"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.
It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.
And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.
Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.
There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.
The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.
He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.
The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.
"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."
Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."
"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"
Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.
Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."
Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."
Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.
When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.
By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."
The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.
Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.
Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.
Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.
When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.
He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?
When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.
"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."
There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"
There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."
Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"
When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.
Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.
He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.
Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.
"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."
Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.
Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."
Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.
Danny never returns to Gotham.
Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.
Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.
Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.
That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.
Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.
A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.
Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.
They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"
Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.
Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.
"It was the Joker." Jason says.
That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."
It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.
Not died. Killed.
Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.
They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.
And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.
And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.
His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.
Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.
(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)
When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.
He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.
"Don't give me that look."
"That stuff kills, you know"
"I'm already dead."
It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.
Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"
If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.
But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?
Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.
He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.
Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.
"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."
"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."
"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.
His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.
Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.
The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.
The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.
Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."
"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."
Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.
He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.
He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.
Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."
Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."
"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.
"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."
An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"
Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.
Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.
"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."
He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.
"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."
Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.
He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.
Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."
"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."
"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."
"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”
Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.
Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.
The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.
“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”
Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.
He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.
There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”
Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”
“Not Dick?”
“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”
Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”
“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”
“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”
“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.
He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.
Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.
It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.
He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”
Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.
“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“
“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”
Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.
———————
(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.
Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]
Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.
Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?
Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.
Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.
Dick: they are funny
Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.
Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?
There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.
Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?
Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?
Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here
Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol
Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence
Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised
His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.
Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.
Jason: that’s danny?
Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.
Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming
Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here
Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive
Tim: how would you know that?
Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter
Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay
Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.
Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first
Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.
Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)
———————
Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.
It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.
“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.
He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.
Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.
The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.
He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.
Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.
His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.
He misses Jason. He misses Jason.
Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.
Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.
He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.
He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.
Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.
“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”
Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.
It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.
Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.
Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”
He’s already begun to move towards the door.
The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.
He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.
“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”
…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”
The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.
He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.
He frowns. And says nothing.
When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.
The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.
Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.
His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.
“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.
Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.
Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.
‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’
Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?
“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”
The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”
He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”
The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.
Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.
The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”
“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”
He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.
#….AND THATS ALL I HAVE FOR THIS AU#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dp crossover#dpdc#dp dc crossover#childhood friends au#whats the jasonxdanny ship name again??#Undead ship?#no no wait its dead on main#dead on main#cw cigarettes#cw smoking#smoking tw#oh fuck this got long (story of my life) but onfg i didnt wanna make#more than one part#anyways Danny and Jason are buddies uwu#thank god that tumblr has a seemingly endless word count#one sided timxdanny#tim’s crush on danny is basically the same thing#as a little sibling developing a crush on their older brother’s friend#he’ll get over it in a few months#its a small infatuation not to worry#danny is completely oblivious to it#thanks dc writers for making Tim imortally sixteen#it makes everyone else’s ages a little easier to remember#you can see me running out of steam at the last stretch of this monster thing
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)
Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.
He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.
Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.
Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.
"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"
SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"
Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.
"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"
And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!
-----------------------------------------
Clark has no idea what's happening.
He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.
Not unusual, right?
Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!
Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?
Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.
This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!
Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!
Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"
And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-
A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??
What in the world-
-----------------------------------------
"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"
Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.
"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"
"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"
"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"
Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."
And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.
"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"
#that's it i'm done#fair warning- i am not a superman expert and the characterization is prolly wrong#but uh yeah#brain worms#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc#dc x dp#dc#dc comics#superman#danny fenton#he's Just Some Guy#that's how he sees himself#and how the people who know him see him#like yeah he's a little odd#but so are most people
414 notes
·
View notes
Note
HI MOOTIEE anyways I got smth for ya
Of course it's Adam cause YEA.
what if Adam and his goth girlfriend who is an angel of course can be fluff can be smut anything you want
Thanks mootie have a wonderful dayyy
HIIII MY BELOVED!!!! Ahhhh I hope you like thissss I enjoyed working on it! Have a fantastic day for everyone reading! Also I low-key think I’m turning into a slut with all the smut I’ve been writing recently 😭
“Looking Pretty!”
Adam x Goth gf reader
Masterlist
Warnings: blow job
Taglist: @adamsfavoritesinner @sashaphantomhive @leathesimp @ladyninggs @michelleszn @sirenetgeblogger
—
Adam had first met you when he was on stage performing at a concert. You saw you next to Lute singing all the lyrics on the top of your lungs. He threw two guitar picks y’all’s way, one for each of you and moved on to the other side of the stage.
After the concert had ending Lute introduced you two. You were her sister, and he was her boss.
—
“Sir?” Lute called out to her boss. She was behind stage and wanted to introduce her best friend to her sister. “Yeah danger tits?” Adam asked looking over his shoulder for a spilt second. He was signing autographs for girl and guys, and even little kids.
“I’d like you too meet someone if you’d have the time.” Adam brain flashed to you and Lute together in the audience. Shirley his lieutenant. wanted to introduce him to you. “Sure thing. I’ll be back ladies.”
He and lute walked over to where you were, talking to the drummer. Adam felt his eye twitch. Said drummer always pissed him off — copied Adam 24/7.
“Y/N. This is Adam.” Lute said, taking your attention away from the drummer. You looked to the first man and felt a whole bundle of nerves and excitement gather in your stomach.
“Hi! I’m Y/N!” You stuck your hand out and Adam took it. “Never expected to see a big toy goth girl in heaven.” Leave Adam to be… Adam.
Lute was screaming in her head at Adam. That was her SISTER. And what if you said something slick back?! That’s her BOSS!
“Guess I’m special.”
“Sure babe, but you ain’t better than me.”
—
The thing that made Adam really start to notice you was your outfits. He loved all the necklaces you would wear, loved the make up you did most days. He also loves your fishnets.
He couldn���t count how many times he gotten hard when you would walk around in them. It gotten that porn wouldn’t even help him anymore, but the thoughts of you did.
Adam had invited you to every one of his concerts, and even if Lute didn’t show, you still did. You were his biggest fan, his biggest supporter.
—
Adam had to be on stage in thirty minutes and every thing had started to go wrong. First his guitar wasn’t in tune. Next his singer called out last minute, something about forgetting an date. So he would have to sing, and his throat had been hurting all day. Then he couldn’t find his mask. And finally while he was trying to calm himself down, there was knock at his dressing room door. He couldn’t get a fucking minute alone.
“Fuck off!” He shouted, trying to tune his guitar. But the person didn’t fuck off. You opened the door and poked your head through the door. “Need help?” Your eyes widened. You hadn’t ever seen him with out his mask.
He was handsome safe to say. Rich brown hair, golden shimmering eyes, and a stubble that suited him. He wore black ripped jeans and a white tank top, typical rockstar outfit.
Adam glared at you but the ultimately decided you could be useful. “Come here.” His voice had a certain chill, it sent shocks of excitement down your spine. You walked over to him, and stood waiting for what he needed.
Adam looked you up and down and silently cursed. You wore a short ass skirt, with a crop maroon tank top — that did a poor job in hood your tits from spilling in Adams opinion. The platforms you wore, made you a bit taller but Adam still towered over you. And you wore those fucking fish nets.
Adam sat you down on the couch and put his guitar in your hands. He got behind you and put his hands over your own. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his gloves, you had also noticed how vain-y his hands really were along with his fore arms. “Do you know how to tune a guitar?” His breath fanned over your ear and blowing you hair the faintest bit.
“No,” you went to turn your head around to him but he grabbed your chin with his hand and pushed your head to look back at the guitar. “You see these nobs? The make the strings tighter and loser.” Adam reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.
Once he had his tuning app pulled he placed said phone your thigh. He didn’t move his hand away from it, at least not before gripping your fishnets, wishing to tear them.
“Adjust the nobs accordingly and the app will tell you if it’s in tune or not, and if it needs to be looser or tighter. Understand?” You nodded your head, and he reluctantly pulled away from you.
He started to look around for his mask. He couldn’t preform without it. He was surprised that he was comfortable with you seeing his face. Despite that, he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable performing without it.
You started to tune his guitar, slightly confused at first, but slowly got the hang of it.
Adam had trouble finding his mask. He would look at you and think thoughts that would, we’ll send him to hell probably. When he would look away — after telling himself to stop being creepy — it wouldn’t be long till his eyes were back on you. So yeah, he couldn’t find his mask.
You looked up over to him and saw him staring directly at you. Placing the guitar on the couch you got up and walked over to him. Normally you would be wearing necklaces that would move with your steps but he took notice in your bare neck.
“It’s tuned.” He hummed and acted on his intrusive thoughts. He pulled you closer to him by your neck. “You know what would compliment this outfit? A collar.” His hand wrapped around your neck, and squeezed the tiniest bit, his veins bulging.
Your breath got caught in your throat as you tired to find your next words. “What kind?” Adam took another step, you chest now pushing against each other. “One with my name on it.”
Cocky bastard.
"20 MINUTES TILL SHOW TIME!” Someone called out from the hallways. Adam clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Ya wanna suck me off before I go on?” He said in a joking tone, but holy fuck that would take away about 85% of his problems. He was pent up. He wasn’t expecting you to do anything. You’d always brush away his sexual comments, which unsurprisingly was more often than not.
You raised a brow and started to unbutton his pants. “You have twenty minutes.” His hand on your throat tightened and you started to get on your knees.
You brought the zipper and started to pulled down with your teeth. Most girls he fucked tried to act innocent. Always looking at the package he had to offer as if it was the first dick they seen. But you — you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes begging. Like a fucking slut. You pulled his pants down a little — along with his boxers and started to pump him. Getting him hard but you did need to do it for long — seeing as he was already leaning precum.
Fuck if he had twenty minutes he was gonna make it worth it.
“I’ve gotten a hand job before babe, I prefer a blowjob.” He really couldn’t shut his mouth.
You brought your lips to his shaft and started to kiss him gentle, and so soft he shuttered. You continued to move you hand as you slowly took him in your mouth.
Your mouth was warm and you started to suck him off. You couldn’t fit him all the way in your mouth — fulling his ego more — so you made up with the inches you couldn’t fit with your hand.
Your hand twisted around him and you sucked harder, making him throw his head back in a groan. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the moan wanting to escape.
“10 MINUTES!”
It was like a switch in Adam. He started to thrust into your mouth, desperately trying to release his frustration. Spit started to fall past your bottom lips — fuck, I need to be neat, you thought, insanely hot, Adam thought. You rest reached up and started to play with your nipples with your now free hands.
You could feel your gag reflex kicking, tightening your throat up. That had done it for Adam. “Fuck!” He poured himself into your mouth. Some dripped onto you lips and chin.
You looked up at licking you lips and wiping your chin with your pointer finger, before sucking that as well.
You throat had started to become sore. “THREE MINUTES! ANYONE SEEN ADAM?!” You looked to the door, but something caught your eye. Adams mask was under a desk. You crawled to it, seeing as it wasn’t far.
“If you don’t get up right now, I’m fucking you.”
You rolled your eyes and got up, handing Adam his mask.
Adam was wrong, it didn’t fix 85% of his problems. It fixed 100% of his issues. “TWO MINUTES!” That send Adam into over drive, but before he could put his mask on you grabbed his chin and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Your lipstick was ruined, but a kiss mark still showed on him face. “See you out there.” You grabbed tissues and walked out. Adam not far behind you.
—
Once the concert was over, Like normal you went to find Adam backstage. You stood behind him as he signed autographs. Your feet started to hurt from wearing play forms all day. Adam seemed to take notice.
“Take your shoes off.”
“And walk bare foot on this ground?” You raised you brow to him as if he was insane. Adam rolled his eyes and bent down on one knee in front of you.
He started to take your shoes off, you did little protest, happy to get them off. He then took off his own shoes and put your feet in them. Tying them tightly so they wouldn’t fall off.
Fans started to look in shock, people started to take photos while other glared in envy.
You kind of half expected Adam to wear your shoes — you didn’t know why — but he didn’t. He carried them for you and when you two left the building he slung an arm around you. “So this means we’re dating.” Even though it didn’t sound like a question, it was.
“If you can get Lutes blessing, sure.”
—
Fuck. Adam hadn’t tried to ever convince someone of something so much before. He spent a total of 5 months proving himself to Lute. Proving himself to you. He could see why Lute wouldn’t trust him. He was a huge playboy but in those five months he gave that up. Only wanting one.
So when Lute gave him his blessing to date you, another five months later he was asking for your hand in marriage. To which you both called him deranged.
—
Ahhhh I hope that was good? I feel like the ending was rushed so I may edit this sometime in the future
#hazbin hotel#hazbin#masterlist#x reader#adam hazbin hotel#adam is actually hilarious#adam x reader#goth#goth reader#goth gf#Adam x goth reader
315 notes
·
View notes
Text
it's impossible to win — daniel ricciardo
daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.5k
summary – when you buy concert tickets with your ex but break up a couple of months before the gig, do you go or cut your losses?
rating – mature (sexual references, coarse language)
a/n – this was inspired by a lovely ask i received during my 2k celebration and based around the band alexisonfire x
masterlist
just sent you the AOF tickets.
i told you to keep yours. you love them as much as i do.
read
The glow of your phone was too bright, too harsh and so was the reality you didn’t want to face any time soon. You couldn’t keep them. How could you when the reputation of being the ‘notorious ex girlfriend of Daniel Ricciardo’ – man of the people, loved by millions shadowed you everywhere you went?
He was loved more than most and certainly more than you.
She was never good enough anyway; a parasite, they said when the news broke on the petty gossip pages, exposing that you and Daniel were no longer together, itemising every little detail of your downfall for the world to see. Those years of memories, years of loving privately disappeared and in its place were painful ones to heal. They were the best years of your life, or so you thought – blissfully unaware of the distance slowly growing between you and the man you loved more than most – but it wasn’t enough.
You weren't enough to fight for and especially not enough to love more than driving around a racetrack eight months out of the year. He was never there, out of sight and out of mind, leaving you battling for his attention. You weren’t cut out for it, simply put by him while on the other side of the world. It started as a late night phone call to ease the ache in your chest and to keep him close but he couldn’t have been further away. Physically and emotionally. Drifting.
“Babe, this is what you signed up for.”
“No, it’s what I tolerate – it’s what I sacrifice to love you.”
You broke down, knowing this was the end of your relationship and the only thing you could genuinely put your name to. You had lost yourself completely to his life, no longer something you could call your own. Abandoned dreams and forsaken friendships all so you could be there for him; drawn in to his world, naively consumed by his safety and the promise of a life lived together, not divided by oceans – lost to the fishes.
That was until you re-emerged from the lavish hotels and the private planes, sans Daniel – sans your soulmate. The day you ended that phone call, you knew he would be the hardest one to let go of; eternally the one that got away and the one relationship you would have to tell future boyfriends about. And they would probably gasp and ask, not the formula one driver? and you would have to nod and quash their insecurities because everyone loved Daniel.
But nobody loved him more than you do – did. Not even close.
“He said you should use the ticket and honestly, I don’t even think he’ll show up. He hasn’t come to anything we’ve organised since you two broke up – he’s not the kid we knew back in high school anymore… That’s why you dumped his arse, right?”
Right, but you couldn’t say that.
“I didn’t dump him. I just…” Just told him that he’s wasted the best years of my life chasing him around the world.
“… Said that if he couldn’t be there when I needed him or spent more than two seconds a year with me then I couldn’t do it anymore. And that’s it.” Well, not exactly.
“Sounds like a dumping to me and rightfully so. Look, I love Danny but he’s hard to be friends with, let alone pretending to be in domestic bliss with…”
Yes, but you respected Daniel too much to admit that. Hannah was his friend too, all of them were. You were kids all grown up, now adults wading their way through the treacherous seas of the real world, pretending like they had it all figured out. Ungracefully and riddled with anxiety but finally immune to bullshit and aware of what to expect out of an adult relationship.
The standards were higher now than when you were young and in love. Daniel was your childhood best friend, after all. Or more accurately, the boy you met on the first day of high school, all crooked teeth and bundles of frizzy brown curls. You were acne-ridden and shy, the weirdo girl, they called you until you became friends with Danny. He knew everyone and was loved by everyone – that was the one trait that had followed him through life.
He was the class clown and a cute distraction from the torture of high school but you weren’t the only one who thought so. Lunchtime quickly became your favourite part of every day because you got to sit beside him and eat your Vegemite sandwich, knowing all the other girls in your year seethed seeing you with him. 'That weird mole and Riccardo being friends doesn’t make sense' they’d whisper thinking you couldn’t hear them. But you could and they were right about one thing – you were only friends.
The slightest scent of a spring breeze reminded you of the hours you spent sat under the shady gum trees, watching him playing footy with the other boys while you fiddled with your walk-man and scratched the discs beyond repair as you changed them out, battling with the Sony aux chord that was hanging on for dear life by a slither of duct tape. You were fifteen when Daniel handed you a burnt CD with a hand-drawn skull in the shape of a heart and the letters AOF written in bold black sharpie, smudged from his impatience.
“What’s this?” You asked with squinted eyes, looking up at him and the blistering sun.
“The best fucking album you’ll ever hear.”
He told you years later that he was so proud of himself, thrilled that he was showing you new music. His competitive streak wasn’t exclusive to the karting track – no, it snuck its way into everything he did, specifically when it came to album recommendations and especially with you.
“It’s called Watch Out by Alexisonfire… you know, that punk band I said you would love. Give it a try. I promise it’s better than that fuckin’ Offspring album you won’t stop listenin’ to.”
“Well even if I do like it, I wont tell you now dickhead.”
But he was right. So infuriatingly right. You loved it, maybe because you loved him. He was your best friend, your closest confidante, your twin flame – all cheesy grin and beautiful brown eyes. Lips so full that whenever he spoke, you couldn’t look away. Dangerously entranced by your best friend. A label that haunted you every time it slipped from his tongue and one you desperately wanted to rip off like a band-aid.
You thought those feelings would be the kind of ones you'd painfully bury and take to your grave, heartbreakingly unrequited – until you found a hand-written note crumpled up at the bottom of the ripped CD sleeve. The blotchy blue pen and creases in the lined paper made it hard for you to read his distinctive, yet messy boyish cursive.
song 4 – side walk when she walks (made me think of you)
The sound of frantic clicking bounced off your lilac coloured walls as you skipped to track four; a spinning screech filled the anticipated silence before the sound of a melodic guitar filtered through the muffled headset.
Dressed to kill, you look so right
I am drunk with lust tonight
Your wounds are opening wide
And they might be just my size
Warmth rushed to your chest, your neck and up to your cheeks when you realised what it all meant. And it wasn’t the last time Daniel made your body feel like it was on fire, sitting on his messy bedroom floor and kissing until you couldn’t breathe, the soft sounds of your new favourite band playing on his stereo – heart beating so fast you could’ve died, happily in his arms.
But you weren’t horny teenagers anymore and that memory was blurrier now than it had ever been. It had been muddied with all the sad ones, the fights and the tears – the irreversible emotional damage that you had done to each other. You weren’t a saint, god knows and you took full responsibility for your part and so did Daniel. But that was where it ended – in a seemingly amicable split.
No love lost, only misplaced for a while.
It felt like all eyes were watching you as you walked into the small club, ears already tingling with the reverberation bouncing off the blackened walls – if only they could talk. Musky bodies and the hint of cigarettes filled the air while your combat boots stuck to the floor with every step you took into the lion’s den, making your path to closure hard fought. Maybe it was a sign to turn back; anything could’ve convinced you to swing by the exit on your left until you saw him.
He was dressed head to toe in black with a cap securely pulled over his eyes, hiding away from the curious ones. In any other crowd it would’ve been a piss-poor disguise, so obviously him but he blended in with the dark walls and the growing crowd, all wearing the unofficial uniform of an elder emo – baggy sweater, ripped skinny jeans and torn up Vans. And you were no different.
"You made it!!", a friend greeted, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug while you took in the circling faces. There were a few you never thought you would see again, people who were only your friend by proxy and ones he’d picked up along the way. And it was clear by the way everyone greeted you that he hadn’t dragged your name through the mud, maybe he kept the details of the break up quiet like you.
But the reality for Daniel was that he was too broken to even process what had happened. He came home to an empty apartment after a double-header with no way to contact you, to make things right. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the couple of months you’d been apart was enough either. And he was right. The sharp pain in his chest and the way his hands shook when he saw you confirmed it. He was fucked.
“Fuck,” Daniel groaned and turned to his mate, “What am I doing here, man…”
All he could do was let out a soft laugh and pat his friend on the shoulder, “You’re an idiot.”
Daniel readjusted his cap and let out a strangled, “I know.”
You promised your friend that you’d be fine, like water off a ducks back. All the side glances and murmurs meant nothing to you anymore, the insecurity you had now was nothing compared to when you were actually dating Daniel. Consumed in his bubble, unable to escape the crushing scrutiny. Another wag bites the dust, they said, gone with no explanation other than your obvious absence in the paddock.
It didn’t matter anymore; nothing could hurt more than losing him.
But you still felt it, bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night, especially when you thought it would last forever. Nostalgia won the battle against the wound in your chest for a moment, still festering without treatment – knowing the only person who could heal it was miles away emotionally but was now in your line of vision. Seeing him in the flesh hurt more than you’d anticipated, more than you could’ve ever imagined. You still loved him, after everything.
The bubbles of excitement quickly dissipated and twisted into knots when you thought about what you had lost – a wave of anxiety washed over, churning away at any ounce of courage you’d mustered to even turn up to this stupid fucking show. You were cursing yourself, cursing your friend who had convinced you that he probably wouldn’t even turn up and that the odds were in your favour. She was so, so wrong.
“Ignore him and come dance.”
She was in damage control, dragging you away from the small gathering of friends and Daniel, who couldn’t tear his eyes away. His warm stare burned holes through your leather jacket as he watched you walk off into the crowd – and away from him again. It was becoming a habit of yours that he loathed.
The house lights felt like a spotlight on your bruised ego but you pushed through the warm bodies, putting as much distance as you could between you and your past. The support band sounded great, mostly because it drowned out the soul-crushing thoughts swirling in your mind and brought you some much needed reprieve from your pity party.
You didn’t feel like yourself at all – you were the shell of the woman you used to be and you certainly weren’t the woman you wanted to show up as either. Strong, independent, single and thriving – you were none of those things, entirely the opposite in every way, so you had to dig deep and fake it.
And you were a great actor but not tonight.
Not when you felt a gentle poke to your bicep. The lights rotating and strobing above made it impossible to see who was standing beside you, hand offering an icy bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime. It nearly slipped from your shaky fingers when you grasped it, whispering a soft thank you as the house lights went down and the swell of the surging crowd rumbled under foot.
“I wanted to have a chat but…” Daniel pointed to the stage, yelling over the drummer that had taken his rightful place behind his kit.
“Maybe later?” And you nodded yes, sending him a reassuring smile as the band began to play.
You could be diplomatic and hear him out – you owed yourself that at least and deserved closure from all the unanswered questions.
Daniel kept his distance, knowing he was in the wrong and that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life. And it wasn’t long until his heart stalled in his chest when he heard that painfully recognisable guitar riff filter through the thick air, the one he couldn’t listen to without thinking of you and he could see the way your eyes glazed with tears when you heard it; the opening chords to the song he had dedicated to you all those years ago on that stupid burnt cd.
Maybe you missed him too.
“This ones called side walk when she walks.”
You reached down, without even looking and grasped his hand that was hanging loosely between your stiff bodies. Daniel interlocked his shaking fingers with yours and squeezed them as your head dropped to his shoulder, resting there while you both swayed to the music. You felt safe for the first time in months, comforted by his presence.
Of course you missed him. He was your person.
And this was your band; the band you shared together for over half your lives, their songs played while you fell in love with one another. They were the band you lost your virginity to, humming softly in the background and wishing that feeling would last forever. You remembered blasting ‘to a friend’ in the car on the way to your graduation and Daniel nearly getting pulled over by the cops, laughing until your sides hurt. And they were the band you would always save for your road trips along the coast, both there in Los Angeles and back home.
These were the songs that soundtracked your life with Daniel.
They were your band – and they’d brought you back together.
a//n – this was wildly self indulgent so if you hated it, let me know lol but also lmk if you liked it because i loved writing it x
masterlist | askbox
#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo one shot#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x reader#f1 writing#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#monzamashmasterlist#monzamash
649 notes
·
View notes
Text
Or: Soulmates share their dreams every night and can communicate in them, but it's Spiderbit
For day three of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Soulmates
-
Dream One: How to Train Your Dragon
He blinks awake and finds himself far from the battlefield. His clothes are dry and not muddy, his skin is clean, his teeth feel dull in his mouth.
He's in a strange room: fireplace, stiff bed beneath him(but, really, any kind of bed is better than what he's had since the War started.) The smell of cooked fish.
He grimaces. He likes cooked flesh better, thanks.
This is a dream. He knows it's a dream, so he doesn't hesitate in hopping out of bed and stretching. There isn't a burn in his muscles, and the dull ache of his growing bones is finally gone. Heck yeah.
It's peaceful, in a way. Weird, but peaceful. Really disconcerting, but peaceful.
And then a monster screeches outside loud enough to shake the windowpanes.
He instinctively reaches for his sword, realizes that, right, dream. Of course he wouldn't have his sword in his dreams, that would be stupid.
He runs outside, anyway, because duh. If there's a monster, he wants to see it!
He sees the dragon first: large and yellow and missing one of its legs. It growls at him with a weird dragony smile, and he smiles back.
He sees the child second: short with messy hair and freckles. He gasps when he sees him and runs at him with a gap-toothed smile.
"Hi!" he chirps. He's speaking Portuguese, but that isn't what his mouth is saying. Dream stuff, huh, must be translating everything.
Neat.
"You're my soulmate, right?" the boy asks. He looks him over appraisingly. "You aren't that much older than me."
He scoffs, crosses his arms. "I'm literally so much older than you."
"Yeah? Well, how old are you, then?"
He blinks, throat dry. "I'm-" (He can't remember. But Bad always says that he looks to be about 13, so...) "-13. So I'm way older than you."
The boy puffs his chest out annoyedly. "Only by a few years. Screw you!"
The dragon flies off, bored. He would care more if there wasn't an annoying little kid in front of him pissing him off.
He takes an angry step forward, arms falling to his sides and hands balling into fists. He might not have his sword, but he can still beat up a kid easy.
"Screw you!" he shouts. "Get out of my dream! I wanna go hang out with the dragons."
"It's our dream, idiot," the kid huffs. "We're soulmates, duh. My grandpa says that everyone shares dreams with their soulmates, so we're obviously soulmates."
"What the fuck is a soulmate?"
The kid gasps, all anger pouring out of his tiny little body. "You don't know what a soulmate is?"
He doesn't know what his own name is, but he isn't exactly gonna tell some kid that.
He turns to leave and go find the dragon, but he's stopped by both of the kid's tiny hands grabbing his sleeve and pulling at him until he stays.
He turns to look at the kid, and the kid smiles and explains.
-
"Soulmates are, well, soulmates, okay? They're like super best friends, that's what my grandpa says. His soulmate is dead, but they still hang out in his dreams because that's where your soulmate lives until you find them. And after you find them, too, I think, but I dunno. He says he never met his soulmate before they died, but I think he's lying 'cause he's really silly sometimes."
"Okay, but. Us? You and me? You're a kid."
"You're a kid, too, you know."
"Nuh-uh. I'm a soldier."
"A kid soldier. But, anyway, we're soulmates! When we meet in the real world, we're gonna be best friends, I can tell!"
"Yeah? Well, don't be too sure. I don't do friends."
"Wow, you're emo."
"What the fuck did you just say to me?!"
-
Dream Thirty-Two: Cyberpunk
He laughs as he chases the kid through the slimy, neon-ridden back alleys of the city. He's on a motorcycle, because of course he is, but the kid is on foot.
"Just give up already!" he shouts.
The kid flips him off over his shoulder, grinning widely. He keeps tripping over his own shoelaces, because he's running like an idiot, but he's somehow still faster than the motorcycle.
He doesn't know the kid's name because the kid decided it wouldn't be fair to have a name when he doesn't know his own. Sweet kid. Shame he's annoying.
"Fuck you!" the kid replies. He then proceeds to trip over the cuff of his pants and fall right onto his face in a muddy puddle.
He cackles triumphantly and slows the bike to a stop. He hops off it and goes to poke at the kid until he gives up, but... but he's crying. Quietly, he's crying quietly, but his shoulders are shaking, and, oh, right, he's a child. He's the younger one.
His face falls. He kneels next to the kid and helps him sit up with a frown.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
The kid's lip wobbles, and his eyes shine, but he nods. "It's just a dream. It doesn't really hurt."
He isn't convinced, but, well. It is a dream. Nothing matters in a dream, right?
"Okay," he hesitantly says. "Come on, let's go play laser tag or something."
The kid's eyes light up. "Cool! I'm gonna kick your ass!"
"Oh, really?" he challenges. "You're on!"
And they run off, motorcycle forgotten.
-
"How did you beat me!?"
"I'm just a God Gamer, dude. Get on my level."
"You are so annoying."
-
Dream Seven Hundred and Fifty-Two: High School
"I think I'm going to give myself a name," he announces.
The kid's eyes widen. "Really? Took you long enough."
He rolls his eyes, but the kid isn't wrong. They've been meeting in their dreams for, what, two years? And they still don't have anything to call each other but "idiot" and "you" and "asshole".
But, well, it's about time, he thinks. The War is ending soon, he thinks. Bad says so, at least, and he's pretty good with knowing when things end.
With the War ending, he's going to have to go out into the "real world"... if he doesn't manage to follow Bad where he goes next. But where's the fun in that?
He shrugs. "I need a name. If I don't have one, I can't join the army."
"Why do you wanna join the army?"
"So I can keep killing people, duh. How else am I supposed to get food?"
"Uh, the store?"
"What's that?"
The kid rolls his eyes and pushes his shoulder. "You're literally stupid, what the heck?"
They're in some kind of food line, he thinks. They shuffle forward as the faceless teenagers in front of them get their trays and continue through the line.
He picks up his own tray and wrinkles his nose at the food he sincerely hopes isn't about to be placed on it. Where's the meat?
"What kind of name do you want?" the kid asks.
He's hit some kind of growth spurt, because he's finally up to his shoulder. Still short, though. Loser.
"Dunno," he responds. "I'll think of something later, probably."
-
"What about... Peter?"
"No."
"Miles."
"No."
"Miguel."
"No."
"Ben."
"No."
"You suck!"
-
Dream One Thousand and Ninety-Five: Mermaids
"Call me Cell," he says.
The kid- not quite a kid anymore, much closer to Cell's age when the soulmate dreams started- cocks his head curiously.
"Like, as in a cell phone?" he asks.
Cell grins as shark-like as the tail he's currently sporting.
"Exactly," he says.
The kid's eyes narrow. "Or, like in a prison cell. Did you kill someone again?"
"...Maybe, but-"
"Oh my God, how are we supposed to meet each other if you're in jail!"
The kid swims around in a frustrated circle around Cell, who just watches him, placid. Calm. Totally cool, definitely not at all sheepish over pissing his soulmate off.
That would be ridiculous.
Cell doesn't get sheepish, and he definitely doesn't feel regret. Not over some kid.
...Some kid who's his soulmate. They're best friends already, though, so he should be fine with Cell being stuck in prison for a bit.
Cell rolls his eyes and reaches out and grabs the kid and stops him from swimming. He looks him in the eyes, and he smiles, softer than intended. (He's Cell! He isn't soft. He's a killer!)
"Calm down," he drawls. "I'll be out of here before you know it."
"Really?" the kid asks. "Is your sentence that short?"
"Nah, I'm gonna break out."
He lets the kid go and starts swimming off in a random direction, not waiting for the kid to follow. (He does.)
"Must be a shitty prison, then," the kid comments.
"Trust me, I'll be out soon, and then I can try getting up to Mexico again to see you."
"Then I can teach you how to drive."
Cell flicks his tail at him annoyedly. "Shut up, I can already drive."
"No way."
"Yes way!"
They continue bickering and chasing each other through the coral until Cell feels consciousness tickling at him.
"Hey," he asks, "I told you my name. You tell me yours."
The kid smiles, and he does.
-
"My name is Roier."
"And my name is Cell."
"You already told me that, idiot."
"Oh, yeah."
-
Dream One Thousand, Eight Hundred, and Twenty-Seven: 1920s Mafia
Even in his dreams, he's dying. He's in a pool of his own blood with a couple dozen bullets plugged into his chest, but it doesn't hurt quite as much as the goddamn betrayal burning his skin from the inside out.
If he dies in the dream, he wakes up. Cell knows this, so he's more than a little annoyed about the whole dying thing. At least in his dreams, dying doesn't hurt.
The cops that killed him have already long gone. They may not have had faces, but Cell knows precisely who they looked like. All four of them were traitors, all four of them!
"Bastards," he spits. He groans as the movement of his tongue alone sets off flares of imaginary pain (because he can't feel pain in dreams, but he sure can imagine what it feels like) all throughout his body.
In the real world, he's starving to death in a cave. In the dream world, he's choking on his own blood.
Great.
His eyes slip closed, and he waits to wake up.
He doesn't react as a pair of heels click towards him.
"Cell?" Roier asks, but his voice is just the slightest bit off. But, then again, he is a teenager now. His voice is going to be doing all sorts of weird shit. "Oh my God, Cell! What the- hold on!"
Cell gasps as he's rolled onto his back. His eyes flutter open, and he sees... a girl? A girl in a really bad wig. With even worse makeup.
"Roier?" he mumbles. "What are you wearing?"
Roier looks down at himself- red sparkly dress and all- and blushes slightly. "I'm... trying something out. But what happened? You showed up in the dream and you ran off and I heard gunshots and you're so stupid, what the fuck?!"
He grits his teeth and smacks Cell lightly on the shoulder. But that's still enough to wrack Cell's body with pain.
"I'm sorry," he wheezes, eyes squinting closed once more. "I'm dying."
"It's a dream, Cell. I'm just pissed you're leaving this early. You just got here!"
"No, Roier. I'm dying. In the real world."
Roier goes quiet.
Cell swallows the blood in his throat and continues, "Pac and Mike and... and Guaxinim. They betrayed me. Left me on an island. I'm dying."
"You can't be," Roier faintly says. "We haven't met yet."
"Didn't your grandfather say he sees his soulmate in his dreams? We'll be fine."
"My grandpa is also senile. Cell, I- you're so stupid."
Something wet falls onto Cell's cheek, but it isn't rain. It never rains in dreams. It's always sunny.
Fuck. He made Roier cry. Maybe is a monster after all, and not in the good way.
The dream world starts dissolving, starting with Cell's fingertips. It... tingles.
Why can't real death be as soft?
-
"You better live, or... or I'll never talk to you again!"
"I... I'll try. Roier, I'll try."
-
Dream Two Thousand, Five Hundred, and Fifty-Five: My Little Pony
Tonight, he's a horse.
Why not.
It's his first dream in, what, two weeks? He hasn't slept long enough to dream. It's hard to sleep when all he sees until the dreams kick in is his own mistakes.
But, well. Cell turned 20 today (he thinks, he's still not sure about his actual age), and Felps got him drunk to celebrate. Drunk means sleepy, and sleepy means dreams, and dreams mean-
"Roier!" he calls, running through the streets of the pony town desperately. "I made it!"
Roier knows that he's been having trouble sleeping since his whole moral dilemma thing started after Alcatraz. He doesn't quite get it, but he's trying, and that's all that matters, right?
None of the faceless ponies pay Cell any attention as he goes, but that's fine. Fuck them. He promised his best friend that they'd see each other, and they're going to see each other.
He doesn't have to look too far, thankfully, because, a few moments in, a blazing red blur bolts out of the sky and tackles Cell to the ground.
"Happy birthday!" Roier exclaims.
He grins, wings flaring behind him. What's this called, a pegasus?
Roier's eyes widen, and his jaw drops in shock. "What the fuck, you're a unicorn? Lucky!"
Cell tries looking at his own horn, going so far as to go cross-eyed, but all he manages to do is make himself look goofy.
It makes Roier laugh, at least. That's good. He's been having... a rough time, Cell thinks. He's been quieter when they have been able to meet up. Something about his brother leaving to go to college: a child prodigy gone to an exclusive university and leaving his twin behind.
Cell can't imagine what it would be like to have a twin. Weird, right? Someone that looks just like him but is different? Yeah, no thanks.
(He gave up on any ideas of family a long time ago. Thinking about whoever he had before the War just makes him sad.)
"You're red," Cell intelligently says.
"And you're green. You look like shit."
Cell bites Roier's ear and smiles as Roier lets out an exaggerated scream.
"Missed you," Cell says, and he means it.
"Yeah, well, I didn't miss you at all," Roier sniffs.
But Cell doesn't believe him at all.
-
"I still can't believe your brother's name is Doied."
"Our parents weren't very original."
"Maybe you should do what I did and just pick a name."
"Fuck you, man, I like my name!"
"Lucky. I wish I could change mine. It's too... heavy."
"I mean, you already did it once. Just do it again."
"...You're right."
"I usually am."
-
Dream Four Thousand, Seven Hundred, and Forty-Eight: Medieval
Cellbit hasn't seen Roier for days, and he's maybe starting to freak out. Maybe. Just a little.
Just before he'd disappeared, Roier had mentioned winning some kind of lottery. He was excited, and Cellbit was excited for him. He'd been looking for his asshole twin brother for years, he deserved a break.
But then the break happened.
And Roier hasn't slept since, apparently.
But Cellbit sleeps every night, anyway, even if he'd much rather be spending his nights trying to figure out where the fuck his soulmate went. Because Roier's... Roier is his soulmate. They've been sharing dreams for thirteen years now, they're best friends, and Cellbit is dying without him.
Tonight's dream has Cellbit in a knight's costume drinking flavorless alcohol in a bar. Nothing has tasted right since Roier has disappeared.
He isn't dead, at least. If he was dead, then he would be in the dreams. So he's just... not sleeping. Somewhere. Somewhere not sleeping.
Cellbit's hand shakes with rage and fear as he raises his cup to his lips.
He isn't a killer anymore. Well, he is, but he only kills animals now. He's a butcher, but not in the serial killer way. In the... in the butcher way.
(His hands itch for more blood, but he's been trying to do better.
He can't meet Roier if he's in prison, after all.)
It's as he's drinking that the bar's door slams open and stumbling in comes Roier in fancy robes with a gold crown perched on top of his head.
Cellbit drops his cup and immediately gets off of his stool to rush to Roier's side.
"Roier, what the fuck?" he demands. "Where have you been?"
He pulls Roier into a tight hug, mindful of his armor.
God, is he crying? How embarrassing, but Roier's seen worse from him.
But:
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Roier asks.
And Cellbit's heart drops.
Roier wriggles free and looks Cellbit over. This... this can't be Roier, can it? Because there's no recognition in his eyes as he looks at Cellbit, and no slight blush as Cellbit looks at him.
Roier gasps. "Oh, wow. Are you my soulmate?"
Cellbit's eyes sting. "I- yes, Roier, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Kinda annoyed that you took so long, though."
Roier smacks Cellbit's shoulder.
Cellbit can't breathe.
"I'm 21, motherfucker!" Roier shouts. "What took you so long!"
"I've been here," Cellbit faintly says. "Roier, I've been here. What happened to you? You said you- you got invited to some island? And then you disappeared? What happened?"
Something sparks behind Roier's eyes, but it's gone as fast as it appears.
"I've been alone for years!" Roier exclaims. He groans and runs his hands through his hair, almost knocking the crown off his head. "God, what is Spreen going to think?"
"Spreen? Who's Spreen?"
And then Roier blushes, and he grins, and Cellbit feels sick to his goddamn stomach.
"Spreen is my best friend," Roier tells him, and Cellbit wants to kill.
-
"Where are you? In the real world?"
"On the island. Where are you? Maybe Osito Bimbo can bring you or something. We have train stations, there's gotta be special tickets for soulmates."
"I'm in Brazil. What island?"
"Quesadilla Island, of course."
-
Reality: Day One
Cellbit's head is killing him. Fucking... what happened? He can't... he can't remember...
"Cellbit, you doing okay?" Felps asks.
He seems fine, sitting on the ground and not at all caring about the literal shipwreck they're stuck in.
"Oh, sure, as Cellbit if he's doing okay," Mike scoffs. He's still not over the whole prison thing, but he'd been angry enough when hearing about Cellbit's soulmate being kidnapped to help kickstart the whole rescue mission.
What a good friend.
Pac rolls his eyes. "He's literally bleeding, Mike. Look at him!"
Oh, shit, is Cellbit bleeding?
He raises a hand to his head; it comes away bloody, oh.
At least it's stopped raining outside. Cellbit can't see much, trapped with the others in what might be some kind of office space just below-deck. But he can't hear the rain anymore, and he can't hear any thunder.
"I'm fine," he sighs. "I've had worse. We should-"
He's cut off by a shout from outside.
Pac's eyes widen comically. "This island is occupied?"
Apparently so, because in comes a whole stream of people through a single door inlaid in the far wall. Tall man in what has to be anime cosplay, slightly shorter man covered in... green goo? Woman in purple. Man in bucket hat. And...
Cellbit's eyes meet Roier's, and the world slots into place around them.
Cellbit stumbles up to the glass wall and presses his hands against it. So close...
Roier is much more hesitant to approach (he still hasn't found that Spreen guy yet, of course he's hesitant...), but he offers Cellbit a small, genuine smile.
(He's so much more handsome in person, what the fuck? When did this happen? He was shorter than Cellbit just a moment ago, he swears.)
"Finally," Cellbit breathes.
The crowd around them is drowned out by the sound of Roier's voice as he says, awed-sounding, "You actually came for me."
"Of course I did," Cellbit replies. He smiles. "We're soulmates, aren't we?"
Tears well up in Roier's eyes- happy tears, Cellbit knows him well enough to be able to tell the different by now.
And then the door opens.
#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.#guapoduo#spiderbit#i feel like i must say that any and all romantic feelings form after they're both 18+#i tried making that clear but yk. this is Not the reading comprehension site.
256 notes
·
View notes
Text
People talk a lot about how Fit didn't want a kid when the Egg event happened, but I'm watching his Egg Event Day stream for the first time and picking up a few interesting things that both confirm and contradict what a lot of people say about Fit's perspective of the Egg event, So here are some notes from his VOD:
Fit immediately went over to Ramon when he saw him and cooed at his cute little mustache.
Fit repeatedly said to himself "I'm not a dad I'm not a dad I'm not a dad" while the informational videos were playing. HOWEVER--
When Ramon flashes the "Egg" sign repeatedly to them, Fit says he has eggs at his base and tells Ramon to wait with Spreen. Ramon chases after him, and Fit insists that he stays with Spreen, saying: "I will be right back, Ramon. Don't worry, I will return. I promise." ~ 1h 17m
Moments later when he's on his own, Fit says "Spreen better keep that Egg alive. I'm not emotionally attached to the Egg with the mustache, ok? I'm not emotionally attached." (Mirroring the things he often says these days about not having separation anxiety. Which is a lie). ~1h 18m
Fit says even though Ramon has a mustache, he doesn't know if Ramon is a boy, girl, or enby. (This isn't really relevant lore-wise, but I thought that was sweet). ~1h 20m
Foolish and Vegetta introduce Leonarda to Ramon, and Vegetta says "Look look, it's a friend, it's a friend! 😊" and then two seconds later says "Now fight to the death! 😊" ~1h 25m
(The QSMP admins also make a whoopsies here and call Fit "Feet" in chat LMAO)
Despite joking that he's going to build Ramon a dog house near his place, when Spreen asks if they should build a simple house or something nicer for Ramon, Fit says, "Well he is our kid, so he deserves only the best, right? Maybe we should make a big mansion." ~1h 31m
Ramon makes a beeline to Fit's starter house (which the admins poked fun at) and excitedly jumps on the bed
Spreen accidentally hits Ramon (again) and Ramon runs off, and Spreen apologizes while he and Fit chase him down. Fit says "He didn't mean to do that, he loves you very much!" ~1h 36m
Fit gifts Ramon a seashell. ~1h 42m
Fit jokes that there's no doubt he's the father because Ramon looks just like him -- bald as an egg
They put Ramon to bed, but Spreen and Fit introduce Roier, Jaiden, and Bobby to Ramon while he's asleep. ~2h 10m
Spreen says he left food for Ramon in case he gets hungry at night. They get worried about Ramon because he's been sleeping for a long time and check to make sure he's still breathing. ~ 2h 14m
Spreen says they'll be a really good team, and Fit says, "We will be very good parents together, I can feel it." (oof) ~ 2h 15m
Fit and Spreen say goodbye to each other, and Fit says "Being a father is not easy, that's why I've put off fatherhood for so long, I don't know if I'm ready." He says it doesn't seem so bad, but Ramon's sleeping a lot and he's kinda lazy, so he doesn't know how he feels about this child, but "We'll make it work." Right after he says this, he suddenly finds Ramon climbing up the hill towards him, and they go fishing together. ~2h 16m
Fit calls Ramon "Mi huevito." ~2h 19m
"I dunno how I got roped into this fatherhood thing" he says while waiting for Ramon to finish using the bathroom. Then he teaches Ramon how to cook the fish they caught (classic Dad behavior) ~2h 21m
Spreen tells Fit he's going out and to take care of Ramon. Fit teases him and says it's a shared responsibility, and Spreen says he has to go to work. ~2h 26m
IMAGES THAT AGED VERY VERY BADLY
The subtitles don't show it, but Spreen is saying "Don't worry, Ramon. You'll see me tomorrow." Fit says he'll teach Ramon how to grow crops, and Spreen says, "That's right Ramon, I want to hear all about how to grow crops when I get back."
Fit tells Ramon "You are my huevito" and sings him a lullaby. 2h 30m
"Spreen going out for cigarettes my ass! I'm not gonna see him for months now. See - someone's gotta step up and be a parent, and be there, and take the responsibility! That's me. That's me. It's weird though, I mean, I'm not used to this whole "fatherhood" thing, keeping a living thing alive. It's weird." ~ 2h 31m
Fit says he thinks he and Spreen will be a good parenting pair if Spreen comes back. But he's glad the child is doing well right now. ~ 2h 36m
Not related to Fit and Ramon, but these are some other funny moments:
Fit gets kicked for "flying" (he was jumping off a tall tower, but manages to clutch it) ~ 2h 43m
Fit meets JuanaFlippa! ~3h 12m
Slimecicle gives JuanaFlippa a landmine. ~ 3h 21m
#i talk#qsmp talk#sharing these things since it's been almost a year and I'm sure some people have forgotten / never saw this (like me)#it's interesting#Fit#FitMC#Ramon#qsmp info#QSMP analysis
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
Could You Imagine That?
JJ Maybank x fem!reader
Summery: You failed. The gold, the cross, the fame, the fortune. But really, who cared? Not when you had the best gift of all. Inspired by the song: Forever by Noah Kahan
We listen to Pope and Kiara argue about who knows how to build a fire better, throwing logs into a heap by a pile of rocks and lining stones in a circle in the sand. John B and Cleo make beds for everyone to sleep on and Sarah works on some sort of spear for us. Yet, JJ and I haven’t even given a second thought of how long we just might be here for.
Maybe a few more hours, a couple days or years. In the end, did it really matter? We’d been just fine so far and we’d swear the feeling of freedom was worth it no matter how starved we became or how cold the nights were. We’d screamed about Poguelandia hundreds or times already, calling out the name of this great island and hoisting the flag we’d painted with rocks and the mud packed beneath them. Our hands pruning from the salt water and our shorts left on the edge of the shore line while we ran around in our underwear, splashing around like little kids and laughing like old friends should.
“We’re broke!” We laughed, finding the fact that we failed more funny than anything. Because had we really failed if we got a greater gift than what being filthy rich could give us?
“But real rich in our heads!” JJ would scream back, chasing me down along the edge of the ocean. And when the waves slowed my strides he lifted me from my waist with his tanned arms, not minding how our wet bodies stuck together like glue and our clothes would surely stink like ocean for as long as we’d be here.
“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” I laughed in his hold, and his grip restricted my lungs but I would take the ache that came with it over any other feeling in the world. Because even after he loosens his grip, he never really lets me go and I am reminded of how he’s always within arms reach. Ready to make me smile, make me laugh. And it’s worth more than anything money could buy.
“Can you guys help us?” Kiara calls out desperately, but even she can’t hide the smile on her face, how much she loves the idea of it just being her and the Pogues all together and safe for just a small moment in the grand timeline of adventure ahead. No parents, no threats, no blood or tears. Just the sun and sand beneath our feet. A good cooked fish roasting over the fire and beds woven with leaves under our heads.
“Come in the waters just fine!” JJ splashes, catching a glare from Pope as the salt water briefly tames the fire they just started. And when Kiara catches his line of vision, we don’t have to look back to know their broken laughter is because their stripping to join us in the sea. Ready to splash around carelessly like children do, like we do.
“Can you imagine being here, like this forever? No more window shopping or late rent!” I laugh, bearing all my teeth in my smile when Kiara wraps her arms over my shoulders and places a sloppy kiss to my cheek.
“Won’t be alone for the rest of our lives!” She repeats my words back to me, eyes shining with the glow of the sunset that casts a warm hue over her sunburnt cheeks.
“Poguelandia forever, baby!” JJ’s arms pull Kiara away from me, and like glue, I’m stuck to him with nothing more to offer than the sweetest smile and the world shining in my eyes. I feel more alive than ever and theres not an ounce of gold that could replace it.
“Oh my god!” Cleo laughs at the scene in front of her, dry wood under her arm and a soft blush in her cheek from the sun. We’re all drenched in salt or sweat but we can’t help but feel absolutely okay with it.
You could fly over head at that very moment, on the search for miserable teens in need of help and you wouldn’t even look twice. The way everyone laughed like brothers and sisters and cherished what the world gave them, you’d think we were on some vacation. Like we hadn’t washed up here by accident.
Broken bones and aching muscles worth every moment that led us to this island and this life.
Looking back at JJ, I see the stars in his eyes and the world under his feet. It’s all we’ve ever wanted. A simple life by the ocean with all the people we love. So, we might be broke, we might be hungry and by god we might smell but by god are we richer than most.
“Poguelandia forever.” JJ whispers only for my ears to hear, forehead pressing against mine and his eyes observing the crinkles by my eyes. His thumbs lift from my hips to rub against my cheeks. Then he kisses me, kisses me in a way I hadn’t felt since before death looked at us in the eyes and grief was all we knew. Like we both knew finally that it would all work out and we would be okay.
When we pull away, we share the same hazy look we had plastered on our cheeks before and his hands plant themselves firmly on my hips once again. Squeezing the skin between his fingers playfully and drowning out the world around us.
“Could you imagine that.”
#jj maybank x you#jj mayback imagine#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank#jjmaybankangst#jj maybank fluff#p4l#jj maybank x pogue!reader#poguelandia#the pogues#pogue!reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x routledge!reader
147 notes
·
View notes
Note
I wanna be best buds with Lucifer. All my brain cells r now fixated on the short munchkin dressed like a haunted puppet with depression who CLEARLY needs a new passion project in his life.
Depressed Dad is clearly in need of something or someONE to kick him out of his depression funk. Y/N could be just the ESA he needs. The hell equivalent of those little marimo moss balls parents buy for kids who are too irresponsible to remember to feed fish.
What I'm saying is, the platonic yandere potential is off the charts. We go to Valentino to get hungover and fucked, but we go to Luci for a hangover cure and a comfy couch to crash on.
Honestly I was thinking of something, like
Lucifer just wants to assume everyone down there is the worst, but imagine he comes to the Hotel to see Charlie and Reader is there as a guest and, SOMETHING happens
Like I was imagining it would be really cute if Lucifer's first visit to the Hotel went significantly worse and Charlie and him are arguing and Reader is the one who tries to help them make amends. Constantly fighting the feminine urge to put musicals in these fucking fics or posts but you wind up singing a tune about how WAIT, please don't go, the two of them have to make up, and clearly he's a good person and an even better dad because CHARLIE is like rhe nicest sweetest bestest person you've ever met
and then after you're done Charlie is like BAWLING like when Angel forgave her, just grabbing you and her Dad, "this is the first time they've saaaaang, they've been too shy and they did it for US, that's so beautiful!!!" just like HARD CRYING and you're basically like Honorary Child 2 at that point
I can just. mmm, imagine if you knew Val first and then befriended the Morningstars. Valentino tries to force you to do something one day and you're just like, picking up your phone, staring Val dead in the face as you text someone. FIVE MINUTES LATER, there's a knock to the door of the set, and you rush to open it, and everyone starts losing their fucking MIIIINDS as LUCIFER HIMSELF walks in
You give Valentino a grin that would have made a demon proud as if to say "fucking try me bitch" before turning back to Lucifer, "heeeeeey short king! I'm sorry for messaging out of the blue but I missed you! Hey, i think my friend Mr Valentino was about to like, give me a job or something?"
Lucifer's just all, "oh, you mean like working the lights or, helping mop the floors cause, I don't think that suits a young lady/man/whatever like yourself!"
Like can you imagine Val was having you read some AWFUL like NAAAAASTY script before Luci came in and it's still in his hand and you point at it, "hey isn't that it right there?" And Valentino and potentially even Vox have to SCRAMBLE, "No no not at all, this is, uh, my laundromat receipt!" *shoves the entire booklet into a nearby shark demon's mouth
Lucifer is standing there being, kinda judgy like he was with Charlie's hotel but otherwise being friendly and YOURE the one being the "silent" menace. Valentino is GRINDING his teeth, "soooo, Mr Morningstar, sir, big fan, excellent work, uh, what can we do for you?" And you're just slinging an arm around THE DEVIL "oh, me and him were gonna go grab lunch and I was maybe gonna crash at his daughter's new place where Mr Lucifer here is gonna be visiting all the time. You don't mind right?" and Vox has to step in and answer "yeah, sure no problem!!!" because Valentino is about to devolve into nothing but furious squeaking
This is an idea I'm prolly gonna wind up using for a platonic Husker thing but, Reader having an abusive childhood and Lucifer becomes aware that YOUR dad was a mean piece of shit, definitely down in Hell too or previously exterminated, and Lucifer just finds you like DRUNK IN THE GUTTER, "I'm a looooooser just like my dad". Like. Yandad Luci here is probably the type where he sees you having ONE bad hangover and he's concrete convinced you're a hardcore alcoholic and need rehab STAT. Which may be true but what I'm saying is is that, he sees you at your weakest ONCE and he's suddenly like "Oh no, duckling! cmon, let, uh, let ... Daaaaaad help you? 🥺" and you find out his idea of help is like. Extremely well intentioned but horribly well executed as he's over here, "you know what helps MY depression? Inventing things in my workshop" and you look around to 4000 versions of the same rubber duck and you're like "s so.... is it working" and he just emphatically declares "No! :D but I think it's getting a little better with you here!" and your fate is fucking sealed and wait until Lilith moseys on back into town and finds the "savior" of her goofy little husband and best bud of her daughter and now you've got every Morningstar on your side in totally The Most Normal Ways Possible :)
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap
Word Count: 1.6K
Alternate Endings Here
Warnings: The tiniest smidgen of angst but it ends nice so you better not complain, not super proofread
A/N: Yeah I dunno, came up with this last night and just crammed it out today in a sort of word diarrhea in which I blacked out and woke up naked and alone in the middle of the bush with this on my laptop screen. Make of that what you will
Contrary to his callsign, Soap is, and always has been, a gross little goober of a man
He’s been gross since you were kids, going digging for worms, collecting hermit crabs to take home from the beach in his pockets, rolling around in the dirt and coming home tracking mud on the carpet. Of course, it wasn’t all bad. He’d always offer to kiss your scrapes and bruises better, even if they were bloody or muddy. He’d always find pretty seashells to give you amidst his hunt for the largest hermit crab. He was gross within reason.
You had many a fond memory of going off to the creek at the back of your neighbouring houses with him. You'd climb up to what felt like perilous heights in your child minds, to sit on the highest point of the creek. From there, you would watch as Johnny dug for the perfect stones for you both to skim, watch him build dams and change the currents of the water. Watch as he would lunge at bugs, fish, tadpoles, lizards, and present them up to you from below, the squirming creatures clutched in his mud covered hands.
At the end of the day, just before your parents would call you back home for dinner, Johnny would climb up on the rock with you, just to sit and hold your hand. If he was feeling particularly bold, he would plant a kiss on your hand, and tell you he was going to marry you one day. You called him gross for that too, but latched onto the idea all the same.
Your early teen years, where puberty had begun for the both of you, was plagued with a myriad of varying smells and odours. Forget sweating like a pig, Johnny sweat like a boar; walking home from school with him after P.E. was a nightmare for your nasal cavities. You didn't mind though, he made good enough conversation that you ended up getting used to the stink.
For the amount of afternoons you spent in his room, you'd think you would eventually get used to the sight of his dirty clothes and mugs littering his floor and desk. You never did, always scolding him for not keeping his room clean knowing he had a lady coming over. He would always laugh, even as you threw his pillow at him, copping it square in the face.
So many nights were spent laying side by side in his bed, talking late into the night, curious hands too scared to do more than brush pinkies with the other laying inches away. You always felt as though you could feel him staring at you in the quieter moments of those nights, but you never caught him.
You spent your later teen years feeling bitterly towards him. You went from thinking you'd be best friends forever, to being an afterthought for Johnny. You did try, of course, to keep close to him.
In his late teen years, Johnny was gross in the sense that he’d go off to parties just to see how many people he could make out with. Would have sex with anyone who offered, just for the hell of it. Accompanying him to parties was a nightmare.
"You promise you won't abandon me this time?" You found yourself asking this more than once, each time slightly less optimistic than the last, but never losing your faith in him.
"Of course not, lass," he would always say. "Yer ma' girl! I'll stick right by yer side this time, lass. I promise."
What shallow promises they were. You were always demoted to the third wheel, the one who held the drinks while he went off to flirt with someone new he hadn't fucked yet. You found yourself leaving early and alone most nights, walking home and hugging your sides to keep yourself from falling apart, kicking stones imagining they were Johnny's face. Cursing yourself for thinking this time would be different, and that maybe he'd look at you for once. Going to bed cold and bitter, knowing just next door, Johnny would be waking up with someone else next to him in his bed. You just hoped he remembered to keep his room clean for them.
You both graduated, with Johnny leaving to join the military and you leaving to go to university. You kept in scarce contact over the years, occasionally calling to catch up, Johnny telling you where he was stationed, you telling him what you were working on at uni, apologising for missing birthdays, missing holidays, promises to call again soon, promising to catch up when he's home, all shallow. At least, that's what it felt like to you.
Until one night, when you were out at a bar with you friends, celebrating your recent graduation. You were all discussing with great vigour what you would all get up to with your newfound freedom from studies, when you felt the familiar feeling of eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. A little unsettled, you took a look around the bar, trying to see who could possibly be staring at you so intensely, but you couldn't quite catch their eye. You sipped at your drink, a frown furrowing your brows for a moment, before you brushed the feeling off altogether.
An hour passed and you'd forgotten the feeling in the haze of the alcohol. You were ordering yourself another drink, and as you reached into your wallet to grab out your card, another hand swooped in front of you to pay for your drink. You looked up, startled, before you met his gaze. Johnny. Staring down at you with a smile that could melt glaciers.
"Johnny, you didn't tell me you were in town," you murmured, eyes greedily taking in as much of him as you could in this moment of reunion. Scars on his chin covering the one he got from splitting his chin riding a bike for the first time. Stubble covering his jaw. The corniest mohawk that he had always talked about getting, sitting on top of his head. Your face flushed beet red when your eyes dragged over his built form; apparently that childhood crush you'd had on him all those years ago hadn't quite faded as much as you'd thought it had.
"You didn't tell me you'd graduated university, lass," he replied, the sound of his voice—finally in person again and not over the phone—sending shivers down your spine. "Had to find out myself from yer mum."
You hid your guilt behind the drink you tipped back into your mouth, averting your gaze as he watched you with dark eyes. "Thanks for the drink," you breathed, and he laughed.
"Don't even mention it, 's the least I can do. Why don't we go sit down somewhere 'n catch up, aye? Come on, lass."
You found yourself being guided over to a booth, Johnny's hand on the small of your back, sending ripples of warmth through you and into places the alcohol couldn't quite reach. You sat down first, with Johnny shuffling in close beside you, your shoulders brushing, electricity coursing through your veins.
As you sat and spoke, catching up on what you've missed in each other's lives, you found yourself noticing something. Johnny was using all the moves he used to use on people he fancied in high school, the ones he used to get them all flustered, to get in their pants.
You had to admit, you could see why so many people slept with him; he was charismatic as all hell, that boyish charm spawning those all too familiar butterflies in your gut, and he was quite literally always in contact with you. Whether it be the arm resting behind you on the seat of the booth, his knee gently nudging yours beneath the table, or a hand tucking a hair behind your ear, it seemed Johnny had turned the charm up to the max.
It was nice to be on the receiving end of it for once, but there was a certain bitterness that still lingered behind like a foul taste in the back of your throat. Was this just meaningless flirting to him, were you just another girl on his list to fuck and be done with? With all the alcohol in your system, you were well and truly past the point of caring, but you knew that if you woke up tomorrow morning in an empty bed you'd not only be cursing him, but yourself as well.
You let him lean in closer, tracing a finger down your cheek, and you let yourself be giddy, blushing like a schoolgirl when he winked at you. You let yourself swoon when he kissed you, cradling your face in his calloused palms. You let him take you back to his parent's place, nestled just next to your own home. You let him take you upstairs and into his room, holding your hand and shushing you when you both laughed a little too loud.
You let yourself feel like teens once more as you stumbled into that all too familiar room, hit with the smell of Johnny, the smell of home. You felt guilty, ashamed, as you let yourself savour the taste of him, the feeling of his naked body pressed against yours, his hands raking along your body as if you'd disappear if he let go. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms, smiling as he carded his fingers through your hair and pressed kisses to your scalp, whispering incoherent things into your skin.
You awoke the next morning, expecting to find Johnny's bed empty. But it wasn't. And neither was it the next morning, or the morning after that. In fact, the pair of you spent a lot of time waking up together.
This is where you find yourself now, lying in the early morning light in Johnny's bed, the man in question sprawled out next to you, snoring with his mouth wide open, drool leaking on his pillow.
"Gross," you murmur to yourself with a fond smile, tucking yourself into his side and closing your eyes once more.
#john soap mactavish#john soap mctavish x reader#soap call of duty#soap cod#soap x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#childhood best friend x reader
290 notes
·
View notes
Text
Inside Her Fantasy, Part 1
Summary: Ransom was a sweet playboy, and you are America's sweetheart. Two opposite people that met in an unlikely way. Things move fast when you're in the spotlight, and you fell more everyday. He was happy he had someone who he could trust with his vulnerable side. You were happy to have someone who could stand tall and not be irritated by your own fame. Fast love and living in a fish bowl isn't always easy. But can you and Ransom beat the odds?
Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader
Rating: fluff
Warnings: none, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 4.5K
Series Masterlist
*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics
Early morning muffled giggles, and the pitter patter of feet make Ransom stir in his sleep. His face burrows deeper into the pastel pink ruffles. Feet hanging off the edge of the bed, but his eyes remain close.
“Daddy,” a giggly voice echoes in the hallway as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Uncle Ranny is in my bed again.”
“Is he,” the big beefy man picks up his littlest daughter, throwing her in the air. “Why are you sitting in the hallway?”
“Because,” she points a finger to her bedroom before covering her mouth with her hand. “I think he has twinkle toes!”
“Not the twinkle toes! Why weren’t you in your bed last night?”
“Uhh,” she draws out, shrugging her shoulders. Usually she didn’t sleep in her room on nights before her parents had to go to the hospital. “I — daddy, I slept in Maevey’s room. And then I wake up to go play, and Uncle Ranny is drooling on my satin!”
“Oh, dear. Let’s wake Mr. Twinkle Toes up, okay?” She responds with an okay, nodding her head while he walks into the room. Ransom let’s out a loud snore, hugging onto one of the little girl’s Squishmallows, and she giggles again.
“Ransom,” her father says, but Ransom snores lower. “Ransom!” He kicks the bed, and Ransom shoots up immediately, groaning before flopping back down on the bed. “You’re drooling on the princess’ pillow.”
“Yeah! That’s my pillow. Why do you always sleep in my bed when you have twinkle toes.”
“I don’t have twinkle toes,” Ransom harrumphs, flipping over to his side. He hugs tighter to her stuffed animal, giving her a peek. “Why are you up so early?”
“You do have twinkle toes! You always drool with twinkle toes!”
“Charlie, baby, I,” he stops talking looking at his best friend and teammate before nodding his head, “Yes, princess, I had twinkle toes, and pranced right in here. I’m sorry, but I’ll buy you a new squishy thing,” Bucky clears his throat, and shakes his head. “I’ll buy you something.”
“Ahh! Daddy, I need to see Maevey. Put me down,” she wiggles out of her daddy’s arms before darting towards her sister’s room.
Bucky gives a long look to Ransom before leaning up against his daughter’s dresser. “Yeah, I had twinkle toes, which by the way, why does your wife call it that?”
“Next time we’ll tell the kids you got shit faced, and stumbled into our house because you used my kids as an excuse to call a cab for some girl of the night,” rolling his eyes, Ransom turns his back to Bucky. “You deserve more than one night stands. Ones you can look at without your beer goggles.”
“Not all of us are cut out to marry our highschool sweethearts.”
“You think it was easy for us?” Bucky sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She had Maeve when she was sixteen. Pregnant when she was fifteen, and yeah, we struggled and made it work. But you…”
“Grew up in a life of privilege. I didn’t buy my way into the NFL. I worked hard to get there,” Bucky sighs, watching his friend. It had become a frequent pattern with Ransom coming to his house to hide from his problems. The extra help with the kids was nice, but Ransom wasn’t living his life.
“Didn’t say you did. I’m saying those kids love you, and you adore them. You’re worth more than being a fake uncle,” yawning Ransom turns to look at Bucky with an unreadable face. There is zero emotions on his face as he looks at his friend. “There’s going to be some woman who the kids love, and she’s going to send you on a whirlwind. You two are going to fall so hard for each other.”
“Why are you in here, Buck?” He responds pitifully. Ransom was never much into love. It was a made up word that very few could ever hold in their hands. They made excuses and claimed they loved or were in love, but people always disappoint you.
“You’re in my house, and in my daughter’s bed. But Nixon has an appointment. We’re staying overnight, and the girls would rather…”
“You don't have to ask. I don’t want them with anyone else anyways. They’re the only women in my life that don’t make my life a living hell,” Charlie’s bedroom door squeaks open, and the little girl runs onto Ransom’s lap, while the oldest bashfully walks in. She looks at her dad before back at Ransom.
The tall man looks towards the teenager, narrowing his eyes, and pursing his lips. He’s seen this look more than once in his life. “What do you want, Maeve?”
“So, you know my favorite artist right?” Her voice is nearly a whisper. Almost embarrassed to ask Ransom this.
“Picasso?”
“No, recording artist,” she giggles, shaking her head. She whispers out your name, and looks back at her father quickly. “Umm, she’s playing Gillette tonight. Mom already said we could go, but…”
“Who is that?” Ransom asks, confused. “She…what do you mean she’s playing Gillette?”
“Well, she is the number one artist in the world right now. She’s doing this stadium tour, and she’s going to be here for a few days. I think the itinerary I got online is correct. I know you can’t always believe everything you see on the internet, but I really want to go. Charlie likes her, too,” her little sister nods her head, and whispers into Ransom’s ear about how pretty you are. “It would mean everything to me.”
“Maevey, if she’s as big as you say she is, I might not be able to get us in,” there was only one way he could get the girls in, and he really didn’t want to go down that road again.
“You’re literally the starting tight end of the Patriots,” Maeve wasn’t going to give up without a bit of a fight.
“Your dad is the quarterback.”
“And didn’t you date some…”
“Ahh! I didn’t date her! No, absolutely not,” Ransom decides quickly he isn’t going to ask his ex about tickets to one of the biggest concerts of the year. But then the littlest girl looks up at him, sweetly asking pretty please with a cherry on top, and he can’t say no.
You bite at your lip, getting a little slap on your wrist by your makeup artist. She hates when you ruin her work. Your lipstick was already on, and now she has to go back and fix it. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you hardly recognize that girl anymore. She’d been through hell recently. Bad breakups are never easy. Worse when the world can watch.
Sighing, you look towards the door. There is always something that bothers you about this talk show. She was invasive, and played up what the tabloids said. You couldn’t keep a man. You just date around to write songs. You were seeing just how many notches you could get. It was insulting.
You are sure you’re not the only woman in the world to date or date around. What you did just was viewed by the world. Growing up in front of the camera may not be ideal, but you didn’t know anything else. This life was all you knew. It gave you the world, while also taking away so much. You loved it, and feared it. You welcomed it, and also wished you could turn it off sometimes. There was never a break.
Someone knocks on the door, and whispers out your name, letting you know it was time to go on to the set of Leslie Locke. Your team always wanted you to put in a good face for this show. It was fun, and the fans enjoyed it, but too bad the press enjoyed your humiliation more.
You squint from the lights as you walk onto set, greeted halfway by Leslie when you take a seat in a chair opposite her. Her blue eyes give you a strange look, and you look out to the audience awkwardly. She was up to something. You just knew it, but what is the question?
“So you had a pretty rough start to the year,” you smile at her, and give her a nod. She was already starting in on you and your relationship. “But the good thing is I’m sure you got some good songs out of it, right?”
“I’d say most writers use their life experiences to tell a story. How is it any different than a writer of a book?” Leslie isn’t used to you snapping back. With age comes a need to protect your peace. Her mouth goes tight as she looks at the camera and then back at you.
“But aren’t authors embellishing the story?” With the breakup came a new realization that you had the power and voice. You didn’t need someone to protect you. You could do it yourself. “We all embellish. Even when I talk to my girlfriends, I’m embellishing the story.”
“So you admit that you use your songs to make yourself look better in the breakup?” She always twisted your words. It was her schtick. You smile, shaking your head no, but have no intentions of elaborating. It wasn’t worth the argument.
“Well, I want to play a game with you,” oh good grief. She loved these stupid games. “Since you’re back on the market, I thought it would be fun to show you some single men,” you turn to look towards one of the cameras with a deadpan look. “No, this will be fun. They’re hot men, just not your usual type.”
“Okay, fine,” you sigh, knowing that it would be easier just to agree.
“Good, good,” she holds up the first picture, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head rapidly. “What’s wrong with Dayton White?”
“I don’t date race car drivers.”
“You mean you haven’t, but you could?” This is a hard no. You wouldn’t date him. “Okay, what about this guy? Big, tall, buff, and he’s a boxer,” you wait a moment for her to give you a name. “This is August Walker.”
“I don’t like the mustache. I like mean without too much going on with their face. Clean cut, ya know?”
“Well, that leaves out these two. Okay, so he’s a football player,” you scrunch up your nose, already looking disgusted. Why would you date a football player? “He’s 6’5”, tight end for the New England Patriots,” not interested. “Blue eyes, all of 265 pounds of man, and a bit of a wild card,” your ears perk up because of course they do. You love those men that have that slight toxicity. They are your weakness. And you hate it.
“Completely baby faced, and he does love going out,” please be ugly. Please be ugly. “You have no idea who Ransom Drysdale is, huh?”
“Ransom?” She flips the card over showing you what he looks like, and you’re a goner. “Oh,” you stutter, trying to look away from his face. “Oh, he’s kinda cute,” the fact that he was holding a small little girl, while hugging another. It made him even more attractive, if his angelic face wasn’t enough.
“Kinda? That is one hell of a man,” yeah, he was. You can’t even imagine how big he would be next to you.
“He’s got kids?” They were adorable little girls. You didn’t think you wanted to date someone with kids, but he could be worth it. You had never dated someone with kids. No, it didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t going to date this man. You were going to look him up. Maybe check out a few pictures of him.
“No, these are his teammate Bucky Barnes’ daughters. He’s very close with the quarterback on the team,” sure he was. He didn’t have kids, that was better. You loved kids, but weren't ready for that. But him being good with kids is a good quality. “You have no idea what the QB does, huh?”
“He throws the ball? Catches it? Tackles?”
“Football isn’t your thing, I see,” she didn’t even answer the question. Fine, you made a public declaration of finding him attractive. Great. You can already see the tabloids writing some stupid nonsense. He is cute though. And somehow loving kids that aren’t his is making him more attractive. It shows he could be a father, but was smart enough to prevent it. Ugh, you can’t be thinking about things like this. You just know his name. But a name is a start. No! Not this one. You will not fall into this trap again.
Maeve plops down on the couch, sighing as she looks out the window. Ransom was running late, and that only meant one thing. She wasn’t going to the concert tonight.
“Maevey!” Charlie says, bouncing on her older sister’s lap. “Don’t be sad. Uncle Ranny is watching us tonight, and she’ll be at Gillette tomorrow night, too. Can we make bracelets again?” Maeve wants to say no, until she sees her sister’s dark green eyes pleading up at her. “Pretty please?”
“Fine, go get the stuff. I’m sure Ran will just have pizza delivered. And…we’ll watch her interview on Leslie Locke’s today,” it wasn’t the same as actually seeing you in concert, but it would be fine. Maybe you’d talk about some upcoming music. Maybe you’d talk about a new project.
Charlie runs into her room to grab up her beads and elastic. Anything to play and spend time with her big sister. Bringing it back with the biggest smile on her face.
By the time Ransom walks into the house, he gives Maeve a regretful smile, shaking his head, “Maeve, I did try. Me and Candy didn’t end well, so I didn’t think she would help me out. And hey, your dad is the QB, shouldn’t he be able to help?”
“They’re sold out,” her voice is flat as she returns to stringing on a bead. “She’ll be on Leslie’s soon.”
“Leslie Locke’s?” Ransom groans, sitting on the floor with the girls. “All that woman wants to do is hook people up with another celebrity. She’s obnoxious, but she asks questions that nobody wants to ask. You guys really watch that trash?” Maeve shrugs her shoulders, adding another bead to her current bracelet. “What is this?”
“I love friendship bracelets! Here, Uncle Ranny, you start one. You gonna get twinkle toes this weekend?” Snorting, he shakes his head no. Giving a groan when the Leslie Locke theme song plays in the background. It is like he was getting irritated by just the thought of having to hear her voice. “I like when you get twinkle toes. It means we’re going to wake up with you here.”
“I’m here now to watch you because,” he pauses, looking up at Charlie whose eyes darken a moment. “Nixon will be okay. They think there’s a new…”
“Ran, don’t,” Maeve pulls Charlie over into her lap, giving her tiny sister a kiss on the head. “He’s going to be okay, sissy.”
“Of course he is, princess. Nixie boy is going to be so strong, and going to be the best linebacker that the east coast has ever seen,” reaching out his hand, he gives the little girl a tap to her nose, “I promise, Nixon will be okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Hey, look! Maevey! There she is. Oh, she’s so pretty, huh, Uncle Ranny?” Both girls turn to look towards Ransom, and he is only staring at you as you wave to the camera. Giving the audience the prettiest smile. He’s notices the fake smile you give Leslie. He’s done it a few times.
“What do you think?” Maeve leans towards him, bumping his shoulder. “You have just as much chance as those normal people. But she has this tendency to,” Maeve’s words turn into mush as Ransom watches you. He hadn’t ever seen anyone more beautiful. He isn’t sure why he hadn’t ever thought to look you up. Especially when there was the rumor you would be singing at the Super Bowl.
Your fake little giggle as you look at Leslie is even adorable. He isn’t paying attention to whatever little game Leslie is playing with you until Charlie sees it.
“That’s me!” Charlie shouts, jumping out of her sister’s lap. “That’s me! Maevey, she’s looking at us.”
“Oh, my god,” Maeve chokes out, hearing you mention how Ransom was cute. “Oh my god! She’s seen my face. She…she’s — Ransom, do you understand what this means?” Ransom can’t think of anything other than the fact that you are staring at a picture of him.
“I have an idea. Ran, I have — Ransom Drysdale! She’s going to be at the children’s hospital before her concert. Ransom! Ransom, pay attention to me.”
You thought he was cute. You smiled a genuine smile looking at him. His phone hadn’t rang. Leslie wasn’t trying to put her meddling nose where it didn’t belong. He could call his people, and get them to call your people. This could work. One date. One night.
“Ransom!”
“What?” He asks, finally looking at Maeve.
“I have an idea, and you won’t have to get anyone’s teams involved. It would just be you and her. It’s perfect, and she loves simple things. She loves little sneaks. And I think she kinda liked the idea that you don’t have kids, but you’re around them. Ran, I know what we need to do.”
Performing was the easy part of your career. Having moments to tell your stories with a guitar in your hand. Nothing else matters. Just you and the movement of the lyrics. Looking up to see the children’s faces makes you smile.
You wanted a family. One day you would have some of your own. Even though you’re sealed up in a studio alone, this is one of your favorite crowds to perform for. Big beaming smiles as they hang on to every word that you say. They always called you powerful, but they were the powerful ones. Always able to have a smile on their face.
Smiling despite whatever was going on in their lives. Enjoying life regardless of what their diagnoses were. Simple. Peaceful. Looking back down at your guitar, you close your eyes for a moment, and just feel the music. Everyone always had something going on in their life. Money couldn’t buy you everything. Definitely couldn’t make bad stuff from happening to you.
Opening them back up, you look out into the small audience and choke. Having to look away from the handsome man that was standing in front of you. You had only just seen him in a photo recently, and there he was. It was like the clouds had opened up, and the sun shone right on him. His blue shirt setting off his eyes even more. And those jeans made his legs look days long. He is staying casual, even a brand new pair of Nikes on. He wasn’t even remotely your type, and still you feel drawn to him.
“Uncle Ranny she saw you,” Ransom shakes his head no. He imagined the crack in your voice when you looked up at him. He has to hold Charlie up, so she could actually see over the crowd in front, and Maeve leans over on his shoulder. “Yeah huh. She did. Or it was me.”
“It was definitely you,” Ransom responds without looking away from you. You looked delicate in that room all by yourself. Strumming on a guitar and peaceful. He didn’t have the best reputation in the NFL. The reputation of a perpetual playboy. Love them and leave them, so if you wanted to even talk to him, you would have to accept that. And from what research he did on you, any male in your vicinity was automatically your Prince Charming.
Two people from very different careers, and rumors that ruled your careers just as much as your talent. The rumors aren't always true. Some nights Ransom doesn’t even go home with those women. He crawls into a tiny little twin sized princess bed with pink ruffles. The tabloids could write what they wanted to. But this — this is an intimate setting, and he’s never seen anyone more beautiful than you.
You might not realize it, but you look at each child that is watching you perform. Giving them a moment of joy. There are no cameras, and nobody to see what you’re doing but these kids and family. And then he realizes he must look like the biggest asshole because he was here.
“We should go,” he whispers, and he swears he sees you shake your head no. Could you read lips, and were you asking him not to go?
“No, we can’t,” Maeve whispers, her eyes staying on you the entire time. “You have to give her what you made.”
“Maeve, this is silly,” she gives her quasi uncle a quick pinch on his forearm. Something she’s done most of her life. Her silent way of letting him know that she wasn’t going to change her mind, she needs to see this through. “I can just get…”
“She doesn’t like setups like that. She wants things to be organic.”
“I showed up at the children’s hospital to see her,” and saying it out loud sounds even more absurd than it felt. He was crossing a line by coming here.
“You are just bringing us to our parents, so we can check on our little brother because he’s going to have another surgery. This is as random as you can get,” Maeve’s words stop in her mouth as you smile at the three of them. Your eyes looking back to the kids in the front. You aren’t sure why they are there, but you aren’t entirely upset about it either.
He looks more handsome in person. And the way those girls are so comfortable with him. A quick Google search told you how close he was with his QB. How he spent a ton of free time with him, and his kids. You hope that they linger. You always want to give time to everyone before they are shuffled back into their room. Hoping a smile towards them, and holding up a finger, asking them to give you a minute will be enough.
You know it isn’t going to be long before you are going to be ushered away in preparation for the show. Taking a deep breath, you go to hug each and every one of them. Watching your PA from the side who is constantly checking on the time. Hopefully Ransom and his nieces understood it wasn’t being rude. She was always conscious of your time.
As soon as the last person is pulled away from your side, you stand up straight to look at Ransom with whatever smile your social battery will allow. Your PA says your name, and motions you with her head it was time to leave, “Give me ten more minutes?” She looks at Ransom and the girls, and holds up her whole hand. Five minutes was better than nothing.
“So,” you huff out walking towards them. Having to gulp when you realize just how massive Ransom is. No wonder the little girl looked tiny in his arms. “Uh,” you giggle, not knowing exactly what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“My brother is here,” the oldest girl blurts out, and pulls at Ransom’s arm. “He has something for you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes. You do. He’s on the Pats. He tried to get tickets to your show last night, but they were sold out. I’ve always wanted to see you. I’m your biggest fan. My little sister, Charlotte, loves you, too. She’s just four, so she doesn’t understand all the lyrics. But I do. I love how you kinda tease your fans, and give us little Easter eggs in anticipation for your next album, or sneak things into your videos. It’s so cool,” panicking she looks up at Ransom. Realizing she had word vomited all of that to you. This wasn’t how she imagined meeting you would go.
“Maevey, breathe,” the little girl giggles, before hiding her face on Ransom.
“She talks a lot when she’s nervous,” Maeve gives him a pinch to his arm, and if you weren’t standing right in front of him, laughing a tiny bit, he wouldn’t do what he was about to do. “I did try.”
“Well, what if I told you that I have a few extra tickets to the show. I always ask for a box at these stadium shows to stay empty for me just in case. It’s still empty,” both the girls squeal, and Maeve tugs on Ransom’s arm a bit. “I should probably go, honestly. But…I’ll have my people call yours?”
“Uhh…where is,” You point over to a few hidden areas in the hospital. You had people everywhere. He’s sure most are for security. But still one could figure out what it was Ransom needed to do to get to the stadium. Maeve gives him another pinch to his arm, and he grunts as you start to turn around.
“Uh, me and the girls, we uh — we made you something.”
“That’s adorable,” you preen, looking between both of the girls. Ransom reaches his giant hand into his pocket, and pulls out a crude bracelet.
“We made friendship bracelets last night instead of watching your concert. I just brought them here to see their parents and baby brother.”
“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you’ve had sweet things given to you. But there is something about envisioning this man on the floor with two girls, and making a bracelets with those thick fingers. “Thank you. Honestly, I want to see you guys in the box tonight. Jared will get you all the info that you need.”
“Yes. Yes, you will. Ransom has nothing to do. Nothing at all,” you liked the teenager with him. Even when nervous, she still said what she thought.
Ransom sighs as you walk away. Thankful you hadn’t looked at what the bracelet said while you were in front of him. He could breathe again, but you couldn’t. Walking with your PA, your fingers play with the bracelet until you are helped into your car.
“June, he’s so hot. Like hot hot obviously. He’s so big and wide, and the way he delicately held Charlotte? Oh my god. That was the sweetest thing, and I need them at the show tonight.”
“Don’t let him be a distraction.”
“I won’t,” you roll your eyes, finally giving the bracelet a look. He was smooth. You stuff it back in your pocket. Smiling from ear to ear, and knowing that when you go alone, you were going to pick up your phone, and make sure that he had your number, too.
Next
Masterlist
Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @fenixstar @astrorogers @musingsfromthemitten @patzammit @stillthatbetch
#inside her fantasy#ransom drysdale#football player!ransom drysdale#football au#football alternate universe#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale x fem!reader#ransom drysdale x y/n#ransom drysdale x you#ransom drysdale fic#ransom drysdale fics#ransom drysdale fanfiction#ransom drysdale fanfic#chris evans#chris evans character
231 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Beach House
Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader (and some Yelena Belova x Female Reader)
You spend your summers at a beach house with Natasha and Yelena. You’ve always had a crush on the oldest girl, but what happens this summer when Yelena starts crushing on you?
Note: This was fun to write! It’s partially based on the show The Summer I Turned Pretty, so if you’ve seen that you know things get messy and juicy 😂 It’s mostly Nat x reader, but Yelena can’t be ignored here. Enjoy it and let me know what you think!
Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist
For as long as you can remember, you have spent every summer at the beach house with Yelena, Natasha, and their parents.
Your parents had been friends for a long time and growing up together you have always been close with Yelena and Natasha. Especially Yelena.
The blonde girl is close to your age, and you’ve clicked since day one. Running around the beach and baking cookies together before watching movies have been some of your favorite pastimes every summer.
Natasha used to join in, but last summer you noticed a change in her. She is older, and fresh out of college while you and Yelena are only in your second year. Natasha started acting like she was too old for your antics.
But you missed her. During those moments, you kept wishing she was there. And you had to admit to yourself that you liked her. There had been a summer a few years back when you realized that you were attracted to her, but the crush continued to blossom.
And now, this summer, it’s in full effect. You arrive at the beach house with your parents and hop out of the car to find Yelena waiting for you.
“Y/n! You’re here!” she shouts, pulling you into a hug.
“I missed you so much!” you tell her, burying your face in her neck.
Yelena pulls away from the hug and looks you over.
“Damn, you got hot,” she says. A heat rises up your neck. Nat may be the one you have a crush on, but Yelena is far from unattractive. “Alright come on in. My mama wants to see you.”
You follow the girl inside and Melina is waiting by the kitchen counter.
“Ah, dorogoy, come here!” Melina says, her accented voice sounds nostalgic. “My goodness, you grew up even more than last year!”
She pulls you into a hug and you greet her happily. She has always been like a second mother to you.
“It’s good to see you, Melina. Where’s Alexei?”
“Oh, he’s out with Natasha. They are fishing today,” she says.
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s not,” Yelena says. Her head is buried in her phone, and you make a mental note to ask her what that’s about.
After all the greetings, you go upstairs to put your luggage in your room. It’s the same one you’ve been using since you were a little kid, and it feels like coming home every time you step inside. The walls are lined with pictures from every summer before. And the dresser is littered with movie tickets, seashells, and a stuffed bear that Natasha won for you at the summer carnival.
You were only 10 at the time and wanted it more than anything. She spent over an hour playing a game to get enough tickets to cash them in for the bear. You miss that version of her.
“Y/n,” Yelena barges into your room and interrupts your thoughts. She plops onto your bed. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“I’m just settling in, Yel. Maybe another time,” you tell her.
“Come onnnnn,” she begs. “I haven’t been today, and I waited for my best friend to go with me. Please, please, please!”
“Fine,” you relent.
“Yes! Meet you downstairs in ten,” she says.
You grin at her antics and get changed into a swimsuit. Most summers you have been modest, but this year you decided to try out a new bikini. Your friend Jane had convinced you that it was about time. You slip on a Hawaiian button-up shirt and go downstairs.
As you open the front door, you are met with two people on the other side.
“Y/n!” Alexei yells. “I would hug you, but I smell like fish!”
“Nice to see you, Alexei,” you say.
He moves inside and reveals Natasha standing behind him. She doesn’t look like she’s been fishing all day. She looks perfect.
“Hey- hi Natasha,” you say.
Her eyes rake over your body and land back on yours.
“You grew up,” Natasha acknowledges.
“Yeah, I guess,” you reply, not really knowing what to say. “I’m going to swim with Yelena, so excuse me.”
“Have fun,” she says. You walk by her, and she watches you go. She kicks herself for not saying something better to you, but she didn’t know how to react. You were always beautiful to her, but something felt different when she saw you this time.
You spend the rest of the day with Yelena on the beach laughing and catching up with each other. She tells you about this new girl she’s talking to, Kate, and how she doesn’t know if the girl feels the same. Yelena explains that Kate is going to be at a party and practically begs you to say yes to going.
The first day ends like every day at the beach house does, watching the sunset with your friends and family.
The next morning, Natasha and Yelena are up early to go help Alexei at the docks. They tried to convince you to go with them, but you got out of it. One time of getting seasick years ago and they accept your excuse that it could happen again.
Instead, you go to town and buy drinks for the party tonight. At the store, you run into a beautiful girl.
“Are you new around here?” the girl asks.
“I’ve been coming here since I was a kid actually. But this,” you gesture to the drinks in front of you, “is new.”
The girl laughs gloriously and sticks her hand out for you to shake.
“I’m Wanda,” she says.
“Y/n,” you reply. “Are you going to the party tonight?”
“I was thinking about it,” Wanda answers. “If a pretty girl like you is going to be there, then I think I’ll make an appearance.”
“I’ll see you there then,” you say. You’re not sure where the sudden wave of confidence comes from, but you’re satisfied with yourself.
You bid Wanda a goodbye and drive back to the house. Later when Yelena and Nat return, they get dressed and you tell your parents you’re going out. They don’t love the idea, but Natasha promises to keep a watch on everyone.
Natasha drives to the other side of the beach and there’s already a good number of people at the party. A bonfire rests in the middle as everyone talks and music plays from the speakers.
“Don’t get into any trouble,” Nat says, taking her own bag of drinks and disappearing into the crowd. You try not to feel disappointed that she’s not going to hang out with you and Yelena.
“Oh, god, okay there she is,” Yelena says. She turns towards you to avoid staring directly at Kate.
“She’s cute,” you tease her. “Go talk to her.”
“No way,” Yelena says.
“Why? Don’t you text her like all the time?”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“Fair enough,” you say.
Yelena takes a long sip of her drink, and you laugh. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the girl from the store today. Wanda.
“Oh shit, she actually came,” you mumble.
“Who?” Yelena asks.
“I forgot to tell you,” you begin. “I met a girl today at the store and kind of invited her.”
“Well, well, well. Y/n, the smooth talker,” Yelena teases. “Where is she?”
You point to the girl who’s standing by the bonfire and talking to a guy.
“Fuck,” Yelena mumbles.
“What?”
“That’s Wanda Maximoff,” Yelena says.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?”
“She hooks up with like everyone, including Natasha.”
“Oh,” you say. The idea of someone else hooking up with Nat breaks your heart.
“Trust me, you don’t want to go down that path,” Yelena says. Her usual funny nature fades into a serious voice.
“I won’t,” you say. “Oh, look here comes Kate. You look great.”
The tall brunette approaches you and Yelena. She smiles at Yelena and the blonde’s legs threaten to give out.
“Hey I’m Kate, I don’t think we’ve met,” she speaks to you first.
“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” you tell her.
“Hey Yelena,” Kate says. Both girls blush.
“I’m going to grab another drink,” you excuse yourself.
Walking towards the drinks, you run into Wanda.
“There’s the prettiest girl here,” Wanda says. “I was looking for you.”
“Oh, hey yeah I was with some friends,” you say. You try not to sound too interested, but the woman is compelling.
You don’t notice Natasha’s eyes on you and Wanda.
“Nat? Are you even listening?” Maria asks the woman.
“Hm? Yeah, yes, I’m sorry,” Natasha says. She kisses the woman on the cheek quickly. “I’ll be right back.”
Natasha makes her way over to you and Wanda. Yelena notices and tries to interfere.
“Nat, I already told her to not get with her. She’s fine. They’re just talking,” Yelena says.
“I don’t fucking care. She needs to stay away from y/n,” Natasha says.
The redhead barges past Yelena. She places a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.
“Well hello Romanoff,” Wanda says with a grin.
“Don’t. Why are you talking to y/n? I thought I told you to stay away from these parties,” Natasha says.
“Natasha, hey it’s fine. I can handle myself. We were just talking,” you try to cut in.
“You heard the girl,” Wanda says.
“Leave her alone,” Natasha grits out. “Or I swear to god you will regret it.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Wanda asks, getting in the girl’s face.
“Alright, let’s just calm down here,” Yelena tries to diffuse the situation. “Why don’t you just leave Wanda?”
“I have a right to be here,” Wanda says.
The girl is taller than Natasha, but Nat doesn’t back down. Not even slightly.
They stare each other down for what feels like forever before Carol, whose party this is in the first place, comes over to the group of you.
“All of you have to go,” Carol says. “Come on, Natasha, I thought you were better than this.”
“Whatever,” Nat mumbles. You and Yelena follow her to the car. Yelena apologizes to Kate.
“Hey, you can’t just do that shit to me Nat! I was just talking to her!” You yell.
“Just get in the car,” Nat instructs.
“Get in, y/n,” Yelena says.
You relent and get into the car.
The next morning you see Natasha sitting on the balcony overlooking the beach. You take a deep breath and walk toward her.
“Hey Natasha,” you say. She lifts up her head from the book she’s reading. “Can we talk?”
She doesn’t reply but she pulls out the chair next to her and gestures to it.
“I don’t think it was cool that you interrupted me and Wanda last night,” you say. “Nothing was going to happen.”
Nat shakes her head. “You need to stay away from her.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know. I know- it’s just that I have the urge to protect you,” Nat admits. “Maybe I did overreact though. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” you say.
“So, are you going to the carnival tonight?” Nat asks. It’s the first effort she’s made at small talk all week.
“I think so, yeah. Yel wants to go,” you say. “What about you?”
“Maria wants to go, but I would rather just stay here and read,” Natasha says.
“Are you- um- dating Maria?”
Natasha seems to think about it for a moment. “No, but we’ve gone out a few times. She’s pretty and nice, but it’s nothing serious.”
“Right,” you say. You see Yelena come towards the balcony, so you excuse yourself. “I’ll see you later.”
Before Nat can reply, you’re out the door and Yelena fills the empty seat next to her. She sits in it sideways, and half of her legs end up in Natasha’s lap.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Natasha says.
“I know you are,” Yelena says. “But I do want to ask you why you got so defensive of y/n. We’re not little kids anymore, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Nat says. She looks out over the water and the morning sky.
“You do know.”
“I don’t.”
“Natasha,” Yelena says sternly.
“Yelena,” the redhead matches her tone. “Fine. I may possibly be somewhat into her.”
“I knew it!” Yelena says. “Ever since last summer you’ve been weird about her!”
“Shut up,” Natasha says. “It’s just a crush. It’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Yelena says. “She’s beautiful. I’ve even had my moments this summer where I think about her.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep,” Yelena says. “But liking your best friend is a shitty idea.”
“I don’t know about that,” Natasha says. “Odds are she doesn’t like either of us.”
“That’s probably true,” Yelena says.
The two sisters laugh and start talking about other stuff. You didn’t mean to overhear their conversation. And you definitely shouldn’t have stayed once they started talking about you, but you did, and you can’t believe both girls like you. You don’t even always like yourself.
For the rest of the day, you mostly avoid the girls. It wasn’t too hard since Melina and your mom asked you to go shopping with them. Melina always does too much and buys you more clothes than you could ever need. But it’s a fun day, nonetheless.
When you get back to the house, Yelena is waiting for you by the stairs. She is wearing a swimsuit and you can’t pretend not to notice. You never let yourself think of her like this, but God she is beautiful. She follows you up the stairs.
“Are you still down to go to the carnival tonight?” Yelena asks.
“Yeah. Who else is going?” You ask.
“I was thinking just us. Like old times,” Yelena responds. A cute smile is on her face.
“Sounds perfect. I’ll get changed.”
In your room, you wonder what you should wear. It’s just two old friends going to the carnival, you remind yourself. You slip on a dress and go to Yelena’s room.
You knock on the door frame. “You ready?”
“Yes,” she says, turning from her vanity. “You look good.”
“Thank you,” you reply a little shyly. “So do you.”
She’s wearing high-waisted blue jean shorts and a green crop top. Her eyes are perfectly accented by the color.
Yelena drives to the pier and you two enter the carnival. You play all of the usual games and eat way too much food. She asks you to go on the Ferris wheel with her.
“I’m scared of heights,” you remind her.
“It’ll be fun! I promise I’ll keep you safe! Please!” the girl begs.
“Alright, fine,” you relent.
You wait in line and sit in the seat together. It starts going up and you hold her hand.
“You’re good, detka. You’re good,” Yelena says.
“What does that mean?” You ask before you bury your face in her neck in fear.
She laughs and soon you come to a halt at the top.
“Y/n, look,” Yelena says. She uses her hand to pull your head from her and you peak out at the view. “Look how beautiful it is.”
“Oh, wow,” you say, looking at the way the moon falls over the ocean. You accidentally glance too far down and scare yourself again.
“Woah, hey you’re alright, malysh. Relax,” Yelena says. “Just look at me.”
And you do. You look at her eyes. And her perfect lips. Her hands on either side of your face brush softly against your skin.
“Yelena-”
You’re cut off by her lips on yours. They’re so soft and gentle. It doesn’t feel odd at all to kiss your best friend, but you’re not sure if sparks are flying either. The kiss breaks when the Ferris wheel starts moving again.
“That was-”
“Yeah,” you interrupt Yelena this time. “I didn’t know you- um- liked me like that.”
“I honestly didn’t realize it until this summer,” Yelena explains.
“Look Yelena, maybe we should just be friends?”
“Oh.”
“Not that that kiss wasn’t amazing or anything! But I just don’t want things to get fucked up, you know,” you explain.
“Right. No, you’re making sense,” Yelena says. She wonders if maybe Nat was right.
“You should text Kate,” you tell her. The ride is over, and you hop off. “I’m going to head out.”
“I’ll drive you,” Yelena says.
“That’s okay. Kate is here and you two should hang out.”
Yelena pulls you into a long hug. “I love you, y/n.”
“I love you too, Yelena,” you say.
You catch a ride with another friend of yours, Monica. She takes you to the beach house. You thank her and catch sight of Natasha in the pool.
“So, you didn’t make it to the carnival?” you ask her.
“Nah,” Nat says. “You did?”
“Yep,” you say.
You sit on the edge and put your feet in the pool. Nat swims over to you. Her red hair looks beautiful as it falls over her back.
“How was it?” Natasha asks.
“Eventful,” is all you supply. “How was your night?”
“TBD,” she says.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Join me?” She asks.
“In the pool?”
“Where else?”
“I’m not in a swimsuit,” you say.
“So? Like old times, come on,” Natasha says. The alluring smile on her face doesn’t leave you room to argue.
You let her pull you into the pool. She holds you under the water like she did when you were kids.
“Hey!” you splash her with water when you come up to the surface. “Meanie!”
“Meanie? What are you seven?”
“Shut up,” you say.
Natasha tries to grab you to pull you under again, but you escape her grasp. She pushes you against the wall and you’re pinned by her. Her legs intertwine with yours. Natasha’s lips hover just inches from yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” Nat says. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”
Your heart is screaming yes, but your mind is in dilemma.
“Y/n?” Nat tries.
“Yeah- yes please,” you say. Fuck it.
Natasha smiles and pulls you by the neck into a kiss. It’s rougher than the one with Yelena. It’s hungrier and more handsy. Nat’s hand slips under the neckline of your dress.
“Wait,” you say into the kiss.
Natasha pulls away and looks at you. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I just- I can’t do this right now,” you say.
You get out of the pool quickly and leave Natasha there confused. And Yelena was watching the whole thing from the driveway.
God, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#yelena belova#yelena belova x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#kate bishop#carol danvers#monica rambeau
583 notes
·
View notes
Text
resident evil: 4 remake starters
❝ man, that stinks. ❞
❝ this just keeps getting worse. ❞
❝ you’re still a kid holding onto fantasies of what’s right and wrong. ❞
❝ i’m gonna let you in on a little secret. just between us. ❞
❝ the hell is going on? ❞
❝ hey, we’re a team, right? ❞
❝ where’s everyone going? bingo? ❞
❝ you and me are two sides of the same coin. ❞
❝ that’s just like you. you always had poor judgement. ❞
❝ ah, so you aren’t heartless after all. ❞
❝ like i told you, i’m gonna get you home safe. ❞
❝ i’m not falling for your mind games. ❞
❝ you proved you can handle yourself. ❞
❝ you haven’t changed a damn bit. ❞
❝ you look like you’ve got something to say. ❞
❝ gotta fix everything myself. ❞
❝ you can’t run. you got to keep moving forward. ❞
❝ you’re nothing but an extra in my script. ❞
❝ i thought you were gonna die. ❞
❝ i don’t pay you to ask questions. ❞
❝ there’s no time for resting. ❞
❝ revenge? you think i’m doing all this...for revenge? ❞
❝ i need you to trust me, and do exactly as i say. ❞
❝ you’re too soft to do what’s necessary. ❞
❝ i know your potential better than anyone. ❞
❝ you’ve made it all this way, but you haven’t learned a thing. ❞
❝ maybe you’ll live to meet me again. ❞
❝ the most important thing in this world is pure, unadulterated power. ❞
❝ i’ve something to ask you...but i don’t think i’ll get a straight answer. ❞
❝ you didn’t answer my question. what’re you after? ❞
❝ you know, you were always an asshole. ❞
❝ you have a strange sense of humor. ❞
❝ you are nothing if not unyielding. ❞
❝ i just wanna feel good about myself. make amends. or something like that. ❞
❝ just give me a heads-up before you stab me next time, okay? ❞
❝ it’s okay to be afraid, you know. ❞
❝ what do you think? people can change, right? ❞
❝ not looking good, eh, my friend? ❞
❝ you try to save one person; a hundred others die. ❞
❝ was that an act of defiance? against me? ❞
❝ a well-tuned weapon can make up for a lack of skill. ❞
❝ i’ll let myself out. ❞
❝ you won’t get away with this. ❞
❝ be a shame to live the rest of your life wondering ‘what if’ - am i right? ❞
❝ you have the stench of battle on you. ❞
❝ so, tell me, why did you come to this horrible place? ❞
❝ you wanna help? cause i could use it. ❞
❝ if i could just forget what happened that night, the pain - even for a second... ❞
❝ i knew i could count on you. ❞
❝ i think you’d be pretty dashing in it. ❞
❝ i’m not used to having such good company. ❞
❝ hey. it’s dangerous outside. ❞
❝ god damn...i was almost a pancake. ❞
❝ a lot of people have gone missing around here. and it’s been like that for a while now. ❞
❝ sorry. i, uh, screwed up. ❞
❝ i’m so scared. when that happened...i wasn’t myself any more. ❞
❝ well done. you’ve proven yourself reliable. ❞
❝ won’t be going anywhere in this thing. ❞
❝ sorry, didn’t realize that was yours. ❞
❝ this time, it can be different. it has to. ❞
�� everything will work out just fine. ❞
❝ you missed. that’s not like you. ❞
❝ come to my rescue, prince charming! ❞
❝ sometimes it’s more fun not knowing. ❞
❝ if you do well, i’ll make it worth your while. ❞
❝ that hurts, you know. ❞
❝ this is one hell of a gloomy place. ❞
❝ why help me, though? what’s in it for you? ❞
❝ oh, well, maybe just untie me then? ❞
❝ knowledge is power. remember that. ❞
❝ i can’t tell if that’s meant to be a compliment. ❞
❝ i’m sure you’ll do your best to help me. ❞
❝ bill me for the repairs later. ❞
❝ it seemed like you really wanted to talk. ❞
❝ you know, those things will kill you. ❞
❝ you haven’t changed. you just think you have. ❞
❝ don’t let the smallfry distract you from the big fish. ❞
❝ quiet type, eh? ❞
❝ guess you picked the wrong spot to vacation. ❞
❝ a most warm welcome to my castle. ❞
❝ bet you’ve been in spots like this before. ❞
❝ to think you could be this foolish. ❞
❝ give me a break already. ❞
❝ i’m sorry. i wish i could do more to help. ❞
❝ i don’t want to recall what happened down there. ❞
❝ years haven’t been kind to us, i suppose. ❞
❝ finally, some peace and quiet. ❞
❝ who are you? and what are you doing here? ❞
❝ i’m just an average guy who happens to be quite the ladies’ man. ❞
❝ you should really be telling me what a good job i did. ❞
❝ is this the first time you coughed up blood like this? ❞
❝ so much for helping me. ❞
❝ so, who are you working for this time? ❞
❝ you think i’m gonna give up that easily? ❞
❝ hey, are you sure you’re good? ❞
❝ i’m gonna get you home safe. ❞
❝ i have a plan. but you’re going to have to trust me. ❞
❝ gimme some space. ❞
❝ i don’t get you. why risk your life like this? ❞
❝ it’s a little over-the-top, don’t you think? ❞
❝ they’re coming! get behind me. ❞
❝ does that hurt? are you in pain? distressed? ❞
❝ you are really starting to become a giant pain in my ass. ❞
❝ you know i don’t work and tell. ❞
❝ you’ve done well to make it this far. ❞
❝ tell someone who gives a shit. ❞
❝ happy to help. now you owe me. ❞
❝ are you just trying to use me again? ❞
❝ what’re you, my mother? ❞
❝ i’m definitely gonna catch a cold. ❞
❝ this artwork...doesn’t it look like it’s telling some kind of story? ❞
❝ what do we do? there’s no way out. ❞
❝ what’s wrong with wanting the same for myself? ❞
❝ it’s a little old fashioned for my taste. ❞
❝ you’re losing your cool. making mistakes. ❞
❝ don’t scare me like that. ❞
❝ you’re slow. and so goddamn weak. ❞
❝ wow, you’ve really gone all out for me! you shouldn’t have. ❞
❝ i will send you back to the hell you came from. ❞
❝ heheh, having a rough day? ❞
❝ the reaper comes for cowards and the careless alike. which are you? ❞
❝ i’ve got to think. need to get my head straight. ❞
❝ i shall leave tomorrow. go far away. ❞
❝ here’s my question...have you changed? ❞
❝ we will beat this. together. ❞
❝ what’s wrong? show no mercy! ❞
❝ i admit - you’ve done well to stay alive this long. ❞
❝ this means death. a slow, miserable death. ❞
857 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you pls do a Eunchae x female reader[fluff]
It can be a series that is decided for you.
{I don’t see Eunchae x female reader,it’s really rare and she’s my bias.i get that she is a minor and so am I}
(eunchae is our cute babe, sure !!)
aquarium lovers
non idol!hong eunchae x fem!reader
genre: fluff
summary: you had a passion, jellyfishes. and you fell in love with someone that never seen one of them in her entire life.
you absolutely loved jellyfishes.
ever since you're a little kid, you had a sort of passion about them. when you used to go to the beach with your parents, they would usually warn you about them.
you kneeled down curiously, hands on your lap as your eyes narrowed watching the fish probably dying. your curiosity taking over what your parents had told you, you tried to touch it.
"y/n!" your dad yelled from across the beach running toward you as people all started to stared. he suddenly pulled you into his arms in panic as your mom also run over you.
"are you okay!? did you touched it!?" she asked, her hands travelling your face, looking for any kind of pain. you shook your head as you glanced back down.
poor jellyfish.
meeting eunchae was unexpected and probably the best thing that ever happened to you.
you loved to study in the quiet and chill place the cafe down your street was. almost 7pm, you decided it was now your time to go back home probably dropping something because a girl with blonde hair stopped you.
"sorry is this yours–? wow you're pretty.." eunchae stopped smiling, her face in total admiration.
you were taken aback not knowing what to do and in (gay) panic you rushed out.
since then, she would show up exactly at the same hour everyday just hoping to see you again. waiting for hours, giving herself an excuse to 'study', also because she wanted to reassure herself that she wasn't a creepy obsessed psycho.
she even told about you to her friends chaewon and kazuha.
and finally, you came. eunchae recognised you right away, her eyes like glued to you trying to build up the courage to talk to you.
"um hello..!" the voice got your attention, surprised to see the pretty blonde girl again.
"i still have your pencil..." she said getting it out of her bag immediately as if it was waiting for you.
you smiled and she swear it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"thank you." you said waiting for her name.
"eunchae!" she said a little too exited, earning a cute giggle from you.
"and i'm y/n."
"what do you mean, you've never seen a jellyfish in real life?? like never ever??" you asked getting up from your girlfriends lap as her arms tried to hold you back.
she slightly whine confused.
"no i haven't, like you've seen a jellyfish before?"
"of course i have! i talk about it every time i got the opportunity to!" you defended yourself as eunchae giggled pulling you back into her warm cuddles.
she placed a slight kiss right below your eye.
"then, we should probably do an aquarium date."
"oh my-! yes that's such a good idea actually!" you exclaimed exited about her idea as she smiled at you.
and here you were.
holding hands and walking through the aquarium. you way more than exited to tell some more of your knowing about jellyfishes.
"– well sharks look cute." eunchae declared as you roll your eyes.
you could see the way her eyes were captive. maybe she also found herself a admiration for something, even if it was sharks.
finally, it was the time to go into the jellyfishes room.
your eyes sparkled at the sight of your favourite thing (besides eunchae), rambling about how happy you were that eunchae got to see them for real.
eunchae glanced at them curious, probably why you were so obsessed over those thing and then grin at you.
"they're super cool!"
"told you!"
chuckling a bit, eunchae handed you her phone and you understood that she wanted you to picture the moment surely for her instagram feed.
eunchae wrapped her arms around you still watching carefully the jellyfishes as she laid her head on yours.
"i love you, y/n." she kissed your cheek as she continued to listen about whatever facts you knew about jellyfishes.
she's now sure, it was the best date you two had shared, also wondering if there would be any jellyfish plushies at the memory store.
152 notes
·
View notes
Text
100 things i like love about you.
group: stray kids !
pairing: nonidol!lee know x f!reader
genre: romance, slow burn, fluff, little angst???
warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, drinking, vomiting, kissing, other members of JYP groups are side characters, overthinker lino, whipped reader, lee know is referred to as minho and min.
authors note: hiii im niki (nikita) ! this is my first time writing a fic and i decided to try and make one for lee knows birthday. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)
wc: 6191
(pt. 2)
it’s mid july and you’re sat at your computer at home, unable to think about what you should get your roommate for his birthday.
it’s never too early to plan right?
minho had given you the best birthday you could have possibly asked for. he brought you all of your favorite snacks and you two pulled an all nighter watching dorky kdramas.
you truly didn’t know how to feel about the gift he gave you at the end of the day though. all he gave you was an envelope before he headed to bed.
you still remember everything that was said in the note he gave you. you didn’t know minho had it in him to write such a beautiful letter. inside were a few cute polaroids you guys took over the years as well.
you wanted minho’s birthday gift to be as special as his was to you.
then it hit you.
the best idea ever.
you decide to call it “100 things”. you knew minho deserved a thoughtful gift, and you knew he’d appreciate it. you immediately went out to buy cute notecards and kitty print washi tape.
once you returned, you got back on your laptop and check the date.
july 16… perfect !
you decided that you’re going to use this extra day to plan. you open an empty document and start creating a list.
at first, you thought it’d be too difficult to think of so many things, but once you actually started writing it was difficult to stop yourself. you start wondering if minho would realize your true feelings towards him after reading all those cards.
it was no secret to you or your friends that you’ve been head over heels for lee minho for the past two or so years.
you make sure to brainstorm carefully. you don’t know what you would do if he were to find out, and quite honestly you didn’t want to pain yourself with the thought either.
you were brought out of your thoughts when you heard a loud knock on the door. you quickly saved your progress, and shut your laptop.
“come in!”
as soon as minho opened the door, you were met with a toothy grin on his face.
“i made your favorite, are you hungry?” you nodded quickly, blushing a little at the gesture, but not enough for minho to notice.
slowly, you got out of your chair and made your way to the door. you senses were immediately filled with the savory aromas, and you couldn’t help but smile.
you’ve always loved minho’s cooking, and minho loved cooking, so it worked out perfectly for the both of you.
what you didn’t know though, was that the main reason he always cooked for you was to see that adorable smile on your face while you were eating. he loved the way your cheeks would puff up whenever you stuffed more food in your mouth and how you’d thank him with a grin after every meal.
he didn’t mean to be weird, but he always found himself staring at you while eating. normally, he’d try to focus on finishing his food but he couldn’t help but watch your cheeks inflate more and more.
this time was no different. you used the chopsticks to quickly fish out the bell peppers, something minho noticed you’ve always done.
you glance over at minho to see that he’s not even half done with his plate yet.
“what’s wrong? are you not hungry?”
“oh no, sorry. i just zoned out i guess” he continued eating but stopped again when he noticed your eyes soften.
“do you want to watch a movie after this? you don’t have to, i just thought you needed a break from all your wo-“
“yeah of course y/n.” he cut off your rambling, and chuckled a little at your words. you smiled back, quickly finishing your food and getting up to wash your plate.
minho finished not too long after, and he went to go meet you at the couch. “so what do you want to watch?” you asked. “we can continue watching that show we were watching earlier if you want”
you put on the show and laid back, grabbing a blanket from your side to lay over the both of you. minho stared intently at the tv, and you were starting to think he loved this show even more than you did. soon you found yourself staring at his eyes, his gaze still focused on the tv. you made a mental note to add it to the list. there was just something about his brown boba eyes that you found so perfect.
soon, you started to doze off, but tried your best to stay awake. it was the best part of the show, when the leads find out they’ve been in love with each other for months, but you were tired. you’ve studied for so long today, and you just couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.
your eyes slowly fluttered shut, your breathing becoming even. not too long after, the episode ended and minho was broken out of his trance. he was so focused on the plot that he didn’t even notice you had fallen asleep. a smile slowly appeared on his face, you looked so peaceful when you were sleeping.
minho carefully pushed himself off the couch, not wanting to wake you, and went over to your room. he pulled up the covers and kept the door wide open.
quickly, he made his way back to the living room and picked you up, making sure not to shake you that much. he carried you to your room, silently giggling at the way you nuzzled into his warmth. he placed you down on the bed carefully, and tucked you in.
he left your room and shut the door behind him. he wondered if you could hear how fast his heart was beating. he noticed the kitty washi tape on your desk, and reminded himself to ask you if he could borrow it later.
you woke up the next morning, not remembering how you got into your bed. you got ready for the day ahead, even though you were gonna spend most of it inside.
you quickly made yourself a bagel, and headed back to your room to write. you decided on writing about his bunny teeth first. his cute bunny teeth that would peek out whenever he was sleeping or focused on something. you thought his bunny teeth suited him wonderfully.
you made sure to make the note sound as friendly as possible, you didn’t want to ruin your friendship after all. you kept writing, but it all sounded too sappy. when you finally got it right, you put all the wasted notecards in the bin, and headed to the living room again to watch the last of the episode you missed last night.
on your way to the living room, you passed by minho’s room, but you didn’t expect him to still be asleep. his bunny teeth were on full display, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his face is still puffy from his sleeping state.
you quickly make your way to the kitchen, cooking breakfast for minho to surprise him.
noticing that he wasn’t awake yet, you left the house as quietly as you could and ran to the local convenience store to buy him some pudding.
once you reenter your house, you see minho walking out of the corridor, indicating that he’s probably just gotten ready for the day. he was surprised to see food on the table, and even more surprised to see 3 cups of pudding in your hands. the second he saw what you were holding, his eyes lit up and he grinned.
“awhhh you did all this for meeee?” he teased. “shut up, this is just for last night” you retorted. you made your way to minho and handed him a pudding cup, storing the remaining two in the fridge to cool.
“thank you, y/n”
you were a little thrown off by the sincerity in his voice, contradicting the teasing voice he had just used. your heart fluttered at the tone, “your welcome” you quickly mumbled.
you watched as he quickly finished his food and headed back to his room. you didn’t really feel like watching your show right now anymore, so you walked back into your room to quickly complete your list.
a week later, you were working on an upcoming assignment, and you jumped a little when you heard your phone ringing. you smiled when you saw the name, “jinnie” written in bold at the top.
“hyunjin! hey, what’s up?”
“hey y/nnie. i was just wondering if you were coming to the party tonight!” you weren’t much of a partier, it wasn’t really your thing. “probably not, why?” hyunjins exaggerated groan made you laugh.
“but you never come to parties! please?” he begged. “no, there’s nothing to do there anyways”
“what do you mean? there’s lots to do! we play so many games and…”
“and…?”
“minho’s gonna be there”
“wait what? minho never goes to parties though?” you were careful not to talk too loudly so minho wouldn’t hear. “yeah, he wanted to see chan since it’s been so long”, hyunjin started giggling at how invested you were now.
“fine, i’ll think about it, but only if minho agrees to drive me.”
“fine with me! hopefully i’ll see you there y/nnie. bye now!” you laughed a little at his excitement. “bye jinnie”
minho was deep in his work during your phone call, trying to think of new lines to implement into his song. all of a sudden, he heard a knock on his door. “come in!”
you make your way into his room stepping over the mess on the floor. you know he always gets like this when he’s working on new songs. “are you going to the party tonight?”
“yeah, you going?”
“yeah, hyunjin somehow convinced me to” you awkwardly chuckle.
“i’m guessing you need a ride?”, you laughed. “well yeah, obviously”, you retorted, rolling your eyes. he chuckled at your actions, “i’d be happy to drive you”
you walk over to him and ruffle his hair playfully “thanks min!” and you trotted out. all he could do was stare at the door as left, still in shock. he started to wonder if you’d play with his hair like that if you two were actually together, but he quickly snapped himself out of it and decided not to pain himself with such thoughts.
a couple hours later, you pick out a nice red dress and do your makeup. you know jisung’s parties are always crazy, hyunjin’s always talking about them. you expect there to be a lot of partying, so you dress nice.
you make your way out just on time, minho’s exiting his room too, but halts his movements when he sees you. he’s never seen you like this before, and suddenly he feels underdressed. he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.
you seem to notice this, and your confidence has suddenly boosted. “you can stop staring now”, a smug smile plastered on your face.
minho meets your gaze and suddenly realizes what he’s been doing. “oh what- wait sorry i didnt realize i was-“, you giggled at his stammering.
“dork”
you quickly made your way to the entrance of your home. minho’s ears start to turn the same shade as his crimson cheeks, frozen in the corridor.
“COME ON WE’RE GONNA BE LATE” you yell from the hall.
he rushes to the door and grabs his keys, locking the door behind him and settling in his car. he waits for you to get in, and then you’re off to jisung’s.
the drive wasn’t too far away, but it felt like forever for minho. you were sat there humming a song in peace, but he couldn’t get his mind off of what happened before in the hall.
could you see how much he liked you? did he make you uncomfortable? thoughts like these were running through his mind the entire time, but he was just hoping that he could forget about them at the party.
when you both walked into jisung’s house, you were instantly greeted by changbin, who was sitting on the couch near the front door with hyunjin.
“Y/N! YOU MADE IT” hyunjin yelled out of excitement.
“YAH! keep it down hyunjin” changbin scolded.
you laughed and made your way into the kitchen, where you saw chan greet minho with a smile. you were met with ryujin and yuna, who squealed at the sight of you.
“y/n… finally at a party hm?”, yuna said as she pulled you in for a hug. ryujin chimed in, “that dress is gorgeous by the way”. you smiled, “thank you”. you don’t wear dresses very often, but they make you feel pretty. maybe you should start wearing them more.
the drinks were all set out on the table, you haven’t had any alcohol in a while. minho had already told you beforehand that he wouldn’t be drinking so he could drive you home safe, so you figured you might as well. you took a shot with yeji.
and another.
and then another…
it was too early in the party to get wasted, but to be honest you didn’t really care. it’s been a while since you drank and you wanted to let loose.
“shall we start the games?” asked jisung.
“what types of games?” questioned changbin.
“oh you know… the usual”
you haven’t been to any of ji’s parties, so you weren’t really sure what the usual was. it’s not like you were sober enough to care anyways.
the set of games started with 7 minutes in heaven.
minho’s heart dropped. he was scared. the thought of you kissing one of the guys here made him sick to his stomach.
“y/n’s turn first!”, seungmin slurred.
you slowly went over to the hat to pick a name out.
“chan” you read aloud.
slowly, chan got up and led you to the room. it was dark, but the rules were the rules. you sat down on the bed with chan, a small frown on your face.
he laughed a little at your disappointment, “what’s wrong, were you hoping to pick minho?”
your eyes widened and you stared up to look at him. “how did you-“
“you’re not very good at hiding your feelings you know”, he cuts you off and smiles at you again.
“i’m sorry chan, i know this isn’t how the game is really supposed to be played but i want to save my first kiss for someone special and-“
“FIRST KISS?!” chan screamed.
you smacked a hand over his mouth, “shut up they’ll hear you!” you whispered
“sorry, sorry” he mumbled
minho heard chan through the thin walls of the room. it wasn’t too hard to hear considering the fact that chan practically yelled it. minho’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. did chan just steal your first kiss? were you even thinking straight considering that you were drunk?
questions ran through his mind, and hyunjin noticed minho’s eyes darting around the room. hyunjin holds on to minho’s shoulder, “you okay min?”
“yeah i’m fine, i’m gonna go grab some water”
once minho returns, he sees that you and chan have already left the room.
“have fun you two?” jeongin teased.
“you know we did”, you replied with a wink.
chan started laughing, and the lump growing in minho’s throat started growing bigger.
suddenly, you felt sick. it was probably the alcohol, so you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom.
worried, minho followed you there, only to see you on the ground in front of the toilet. he quickly rushed to you and held your hair so it wouldn’t get wet. you were embarrassed but it’s not like you could really do anything when you’re throwing up buckets.
you had finally calmed down and looked at him. his hands were intertwined with yours, and you made sure to add his touch to the list too. pure worry swirled around in his chocolate eyes.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-“
“it’s okay. are you feeling better? do you want to leave?”
you really did just want to go home and rest, but didn’t want minho to miss out on the fun.
“do you want to stay?”, you asked hesitantly.
“if you’re feeling sick i’m more than happy to bring you home now y/n.” ‘you’re my top priority’ he wanted to add.
he helped you up and dried your face after you washed it, he preferred you without makeup anyways. it was easier to see your perfect features clearly. he tucked a stray hair sticking to your forehead behind your ear, and walked out of the bathroom with you.
“guys y/n is feeling a little sick so we’ll have to be leaving now. sorry to cut it so short” he quickly announces. he leads you out, listening to the “get well soon!”s and “hope you feel better”s. the drive back home is silent. minho can’t stop thinking about what happened between you and chan today. he didn’t know that you’ve never kissed anyone before. and now that he knows, he wished you had saved it for him.
you arrive home and he walks you back into your room. minho brings you your sweats and a t-shirt, his t-shirt, along with a pair of undergarments straight from the dryer. you reminded yourself to add to the list later. you admired how caring he was towards people, even if he didn’t show it much.
“call me if you need help okay? i’ll be right outside the door. tell me when you’re done changing”
not too long after, you call him back in your room. he smiled at you, the oversized t-shirt hanging off one of your shoulders. he probably thought you’d be too drunk to notice, but you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if you were to steal his clothes everyday to wear.
you make your way into the bed, exhausted and tired from what had happened earlier. minho places a glass of water next to you, and sits down on the bed next to you. you didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t stop yourself from cuddling up into the warmth of his body.
he let himself sink down a little in the pillows, so it was more comfortable for you. his heart was beating so fast that he thought you could hear it. he couldn’t control his thoughts, and his mind drifted back to what happened between you and chan.
“was chan really your first kiss?, he asks softly. you suddenly felt a pang in your chest. “no, we just talked. i told him i wanted to save my first kiss for someone special and he kind of freaked”
minho let out a light sigh of relief, and prayed you didn’t hear. he began to rub soothing circles on your back with his thumbs.
you know minho isn’t a very big fan of physical touch, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. in fact, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. you felt tears well up in your eyes, no one has really taken the time to care for you like this.
as much as you tried to fight it, light sobs shook your body. you’ve been so overwhelmed with your feelings, you truly just needed a hug. minho felt your body shake, and pulled away in panic.
he slid down further on the bed. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”, he made sure to speak softly. he didn’t want to overwhelm you. you clutched his shirt tightly in your hands, balled into fists.
he was scared. he didn’t know what was wrong, but the least he could do was be there for you. he stayed. he made sure to stay awake till you fell asleep. and soon after, sleep overtook his body as well.
you never talked about that night after that. you woke up in his arms that day, you still remember the way your heart started doing somersaults. he later brought you all the essentials for your hangover, and cooked you some food too. you couldn’t get over the domesticity of it all. you wanted him to be there for the rest of your life. you just couldn’t spit it out already.
you never returned his shirt.
a couple weeks later, you’re writing another card again, this time about his ears. you found it adorable the way they would get red whenever he was flustered.
you hear the door open and check the time. it’s late, almost half past midnight. you open your door to see a disheveled minho staring at you. your heart cracks at the sight.
“sorry, did i wake you? i just got back from dance, i didn’t-“
“no it’s fine, i was up working on… a couple assignments. are you okay?”
minho didn’t answer your question. not because he was ignoring you but just because he didn’t know how to.
you tell him you’d be right back, and run over to the bathroom, leaving him in the hallways confused. while he waits for you, he places down his bag and gets out a comfortable shirt and some sweats.
you run a warm bubble bath for him, making sure it wasn’t uncomfortably hot, and put in a couple bath salts to color the water a soft shade of pink.
you make your way back to minho’s room. “min”, you spoke softly, “i ran you a bubble bath”
his heart twists at your tone, he wasn’t expecting something like this. he wanted to thank you, but he was too exhausted to do so, so he just smiled. he walked over to the bathroom and locked the door. you hoped he’d feel better soon.
it was early september now, and you were writing another one of your notes. you thought minho would really appreciate your gift, you just had a lot of trouble making it sound more platonic.
minho knocked on your door again, handing you a plate with cut up fruit on it. you smiled at him, “thanks min”. and got back to work.
“what’re you working on?”
“oh nothing important, just a present”
he didn’t think anything of it so he left it alone. as he was walking out, he saw your trash bin filled to the brim. “i’ll swap this out”
“oh sorry! i didn’t notice it was that full already. thanks again minho”
now, minho wasn’t trying to snoop. he was honestly just trying to help you. he was taking out the trash when one of the scrapped notecards fell out the bin. he picked it up and read the title. ‘your lips’
he wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he was curious, and couldn’t stop himself from reading the rest. ‘i love the way your lips sit-‘ and just a bunch of scribbles.
his heart drops. were you writing love letters to someone? he picked up another one. ‘your warmth’ ‘i love the way your warmth makes me feel like im wrapped in a safety blanket-’ and more scribbles
who was making you feel this way? minho decided not to ask about it. he didn’t think you’d appreciate his snooping. he trashed the letters and made his way into his room. he wrapped himself in a blanket, but his room just felt cold.
everything felt cold. minho felt cold. maybe he was too late. maybe he should have confessed to you a year ago. he felt empty. he couldn’t sleep that night.
it was nearing the end of october now, meaning minho’s birthday was coming up. you two have gotten closer over the past couple months, and you couldn’t be more grateful, but recently he seemed off.
when you wake up, you quickly go to the convenience store to grab some flour. even though you already had a gift, you wanted his birthday to be special. he had no plans so you figured why not?
while at the store, you also made sure to pick up some blue food dye for the frosting.
recently, minho couldn’t get seem to get out out his mind. he wondered if you were a secret admirer of someone, or maybe you were seeing them. he hasn’t been as affectionate recently either, he didn’t want to ruin anything for you.
it’s october 24th now, just one more day until his birthday. you prepare your cards, and place them neatly in a decorated blue box. you decided that you’d write the last one at midnight on his birthday along with a small letter.
you leave your room to see minho at the kitchen table, quickly eating lunch before he went out for groceries.
you groaned “oh come on, stay home! it’s your birthday tomorrow for gods sake.” he laughed at your whining “i’ll go, just text me the list.”, you continued.
“nah i need some fresh air anyways. do you want to…”, he trailed off.
“want to what?”
“would you like to come with me?”
you didn’t understand why he was so hesitant, but you nodded and just grabbed your jacket.
you both arrived at the shop and you immediately ran off towards the pastry section. minho had to chase after you so he didn’t lose you.
“do you want the cherry or the peach filled ones?”, you asked him excitedly.
“cherry”
minho couldn’t help but smile at you. he wished he could go grocery shopping with you for the rest of his life, but he couldn’t. he stopped his mind before it could get off track, and decided to focus on his time with you instead.
you two finish grocery shopping, and you made sure to grab an extra two cups of pudding.
it was now nearing the end of the day, only two hours before midnight. you set up your gift, and got your last card ready for writing later.
as the time got closer, you suddenly became nervous. you were worried that minho would be able to see right through you and discover your true feelings.
it’s was only ten minutes before his birthday. once you had finished brainstorming what you would write on his last card, you made your way over to his room at 11:58.
you knocked quietly on the door. “min? can i come in?”. no answer.
you thought he’d fallen asleep, so you opened the door and peered through the crack, not wanting the hallways lights to wake him. to your surprise you see minho at his desk, busy with some work. he hummed along to the tune of the track, his voice low.
he hadn’t heard you come in due to his noise-canceling headset. you checked your phone. october 25. you slowly walked over to his chair where he was sitting and put your hands over his.
he shook a little bit, a little surprised by the sudden touch and he took off his headset. “sorry i didn’t mean to startle you…”, you paused. “happy birthday min”
he teared up a little at the softness in your voice while saying this. he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips, and soon it became a grin. you were happy to see him smile, and wondered if he’d feel the same way after opening your gift. “thank you y/n”.
you heard a small quiver in his voice, but accounted it for his tiredness.
“go to sleep soon, we have a long day tomorrow”
“oh yeah? what are we doing?”, you giggled. “making you the best cake you’ll ever have”, he smiled at your confidence. he was a great cook, but isn’t all that great at making sweets.
“thank you, y/n. it means a lot that you waited down to the minute”
your eyes widened a little at his sincerity. he only uses this soft voice when you’re sick or dozing off.
“of course min, goodnight”
you walked into your room and you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. you packed up all the cards and decorated the box with cute little cat drawings.
you decided to head to bed for the night, and set your alarm at the same time as minho’s. you didn’t want to miss a single second with him.
you got ready for the day ahead, meeting minho in the kitchen. you got the cocoa powder out from the pantry. “what do you say we have some chocolate cake for breakfast?”
“hopefully you don’t set the kitchen on fire again”
you thought back to the last time you tried to bake something last time. you got distracted watching tv and couldn’t smell the poor pie burning.
you and minho began to make the batter, some splattering on the counter. while mixing, some of the batter got on your finger, and you couldn’t stop yourself from tasting it. even though it probably isn’t safe to eat raw eggs, a drop can’t hurt right?
you turn to see minho staring at you, laughing. “you just couldn’t resist, huh?”
you turned back to your bowl and continued mixing, and minho couldn’t help but smile. he wondered what it would be like if you could always cook together.
minho began to work on making the frosting, a light chocolate buttercream. you put the cake in the oven and waited for it to finish while minho brought out the cooling rack and placed it on the counter.
you checked the time. 1:47 PM. you didn’t expect this to take so long, and your stomach was grumbling just about every second.
minho laughed at your groaning. “would you like some pudding?”
“no i’m okay, i’ll just wait for the cake”
minho grabbed a spoon from the drawer and picked up some pudding.
“here, you’re hungry”
all you could do was smile. you wanted minho to enjoy his pudding, but if you were going to be honest, you were really hungry.
you finally gave in, the vanilla coating your tongue. you hummed in satisfaction. “thank you minho!”
he couldn’t help but smile at how you sounded like a child. the cake was finally finished after a while, and minho went to go chill the cake while you enjoyed your pudding.
once the cake was fully baked through, you grabbed the piping bag and started icing the cake. you drew pretty chocolate rosettes around the top.
minho admired your skill, surprised that you knew how to pipe perfect rosettes. he continued to let you do your thing, and soon the cake was done.
it was about 2:38 now, and you both were so hungry. you each cut yourself a slice of cake and sat down at the couch.
“oh my gosh this is amazing, genuinely the best chocolate cake i’ve ever had”
after hearing minho’s reaction you were glad you had looked up so many recipes.
“thank you”, you replied, mouth still full.
minho loved seeing how happy you were while you were eating. it’s great to appreciate good food.
not too long after, you both finish your cake and put the rest in the fridge. you both sit back down on the couch to watch a movie. you decided to treat minho to a horror movie, since he loved them.
you were a little skeptical about it, since you get scared easily, but figured you should make an exception today, for him. minho didn’t understand why you were being so incredibly caring, but he didn’t mind it.
you started the movie, and the intro was already unsettling. you started to shift in your seat uncomfortably next to minho. you tried not to move too much since you didn’t want to bother.
the movie started getting more suspenseful. you were practically on edge, trying not to make a noise. all of a sudden you feel something warm under the blanked. you tore your eyes off of the tv to see minho staring at you.
“are you okay? if it’s too scary i can shut it off”
as much as you wanted to be honest, you couldn’t. “no it’s okay, i don’t mind”
minho’s hand never let go of yours during the duration of the rest of the movie. it was heavily comforting, and you didn’t seem to be as scared anymore.
“i can’t believe you did all this for me y/n. i was really just planning on treating myself to some pudding today.”
“well, im not done just yet”
minho was appalled. “there’s more?!”, he exclaimed. “it’s nothing much, just meet me in your room in five, i have to get it ready.”
minho was curious as to what it could possibly be. he made his way back to his room, while you grabbed the decorated blue box and made sure the notecards were sorted in the right order.
you make your way to minho’s room, your heart beating loudly. you suddenly felt incredibly nervous, but it’s not like you could change your mind now.
minho’s eyes drift to the blue box in your hands. “what’s that?”. you sit on the bed next to him and hand him the box.
“open it”
he removed the lid of the box and his jaw dropped. the notecards. he picked one up, the first line had the date and time. ‘your smile’
‘you have such an amazing smile. i love the way your eyes crinkle and how you smile with your whole being. it warms my heart to be able to see it so often’
he was speechless. he could feel the tears pricking at his eyes. he picked up another card. ‘the mole on your nose’, and then another, ‘your lips’, except this time, the description was complete.
you were practically beaming at him as he shuffled through the cards. but you didn’t expect him to look back up at you with tears in his eyes.
i love you so much
your eyes widened.
shit. did he just say that out loud?
“i’m sorry, i didn’t- i didn’t mean to say that out loud”
“you love me…?”, you stared at him in complete shock. you didn’t know what to say.
fuck. he knew there was no turning back now. “of course i love you. how could i not? you do so much for me y/n. you make me feel like i can be myself. your touch feels like im being lit on fire. my heart feels like it’s going to beat out my chest every time i see you. not to mention you’re absolutely gorgeous and-“
before he could say anything else, you crashed your lips into his. you didn’t know where it was going or what you were going to do, but you knew you wanted to save your first for someone special. you wanted to save it for minho. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. the kiss wasn’t really urgent or needy, and instead it was comforting. you loved the feeling of his lips on yours.
you slowly pulled away from him, foreheads touching and breath fanning just under his nose. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited to do that”, your words coming out breathy.
you can’t get over how beautiful minho looks right now. his hair is a mess due to your hands pulling at it. his lips swollen and pink from the kiss you had just shared.
“i love you y/n”
you kiss the small mole on his nose and smile at him.
“i love you more minho”
his entire face lit up at those few words. he let the tears fall freely now, burying his head into your shoulder. “thank you for everything y/n. you’re the best gift i could have ever asked for”
his voice was honest. sincere. soft. you knew he meant it, and you could hear the raw emotion that his words contained. you brought you hand to his face to wipe away a stray tear.
“i can’t wait to experience so many new exciting things with you.”
he looked back up at you and smiled, picking up the box behind him and setting it on his dresser. there was the familiar look in his eyes again, and you were stupid not to notice it before. he pulls you into bed and wraps you in a hug.
“min? what are you-“
“shhh. please, just for a little while”
you smiled at his words, and held him back. you peppered kisses all over his face, listening to his soft whines. you could definitely get used to the feeling of minhos skin on your lips.
slowly, you heard his heavy breathing turn into light snores. you reached over him to turn off the lights, and held him for the rest of the night. you wanted him to sleep peacefully now. he deserved it.
you two would talk about what happened in the morning, but right now this moment was too special to waste.
<3
#lee know#skz#skz x reader#lee know x reader#straykids x reader#skz fluff#skz angst#skz slow burn#lee know scenarios#lee know skz#lee minho#lee know birthday#stray kids imagines#stray kids soft hours#lee know imagines
191 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fugginaidandoesadraw
Fuggin' Aidan's Fuggin Art
setyawanpradana
Berusaha nirmala
urlocalbadomen
Spider(-lilly)
simnovels-blog
Sim Novels
kingofcaltech
Okay, he wasn't *that* high...