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leviscolwill · 8 months

Text

adore

pairing: bsf!jude x fem!reader

summary: you adored your friendship with jude, but sometimes you wished things weren't so complicated between the two of you. [wc: 3,2k]

contents: mostly angst ??? a few cute moments here and there bc i'm fluff girly thru and thru 🤞, they can't communicate to save their life, drunk jude, a random man being annoying, jude being a dumb fuck, language, did i miss anything ?

note: this wip has been rotting in my drafts for a couple of months, i hope you enjoy it because i really enjoyed writing it 🫶

now playing adore by cashmere cat & ariana grande...

"please don't leave me y/n... you don't understand, i need you here."

"jude, i'm literally going to the toilet. i'll be back in 5 minutes, now let me go."

your best friend had always been the clingy type whenever he'd reach his alcohol limit (which was usually only after a couple of drinks). but tonight he was practically glued to your side, not that you minded, you basically spent your whole life attached by the hip. but you had to admit, it hurt a bit to see the person you couldn't have, not in the way you wanted to have him, at least, act all lovey-dovey with you.

the nature of your relationship with jude was complex, to say the least. he was your best friend since you were kids and you wouldn't change that for the world. but the way he looked at you sometimes made you yearn for something more, or whenever his touches on your shoulder or your waist would linger a bit too long to be friendly. maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, after all, the chances of jude wanting you the way you wanted him were very low, not to mention the fact you led two different lives. but it didn't matter, you could manage to live and long for him with the hope that one day you could be more than a best friend to him. and this thought was all you needed to face him and his sparkly eyes for the rest of the night.

when you got out of the bathroom, your mind was still full of thoughts of your relationship with jude running in your mind. you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you bumped into a man's chest, not really being careful about your surroundings.

"i'm sorry, i wasn't looking." you quickly apologise to him, you were already on your way to your friends before the man grabbed your wrist, quickly letting it go.

"it's okay sweetheart, can i get your name as an apology ?" you cringed at his poor attempt at flirting with you, but you weren't feeling confrontational tonight.

"i'm-"

"y/n !" jude's voice made your head turn in surprise.

"you were gone for so long i almost forgot what your beautiful face looked like." he said smashing his face on your shoulder.

"is that your boyfriend?"

"ummm, no he's my-"

"depends who's asking." jude interrupted you, side-eyeing the nameless man.

"jude. i can speak for myself." the look he gave you broke your heart a bit, his lips pouting in sadness.

"if he is not your boyfriend, i'd gladly take your number, might even take you back to my hotel room..." it was obvious to everyone around that the situation was uncomfortable for you, that familiar feeling of disgust you always got when a man was being too friendly creeping on you.

"who do you think you are?" your best friend stared at the man with a frown on his face.

"jude, let's not..." the tension between the two men was evident as people stopped to stare at whatever was happening.

"relax mate, i just wanna talk to your friend nothing more." the stranger grabbed your wrist, still looking at jude, testing him, testing how far he would go to stop this.

"let me go." you didn't have to try getting away from him because jude did it for you.

the nameless guy suddenly let you go, and seeing him hold his jaw while screaming profanities at your best friend was all you needed to understand what just happened. jude punched him, but the alcohol in his veins prevented him from dodging the punch that came straight for his eyebrow.

immediately you took jude's arm before he found another idea to mess up your night some more, and walked out of the packed club for some air. you ordered a uber for the two of you and texted your friends that you were getting home early.

even fresh air couldn't rid you of the anger that coursed through your body. of course, you were mad at the man who couldn't keep his hands to himself. but another part of you couldn't help but be pissed at jude and his impulsive behaviour. but when you looked at him and saw blood trickle down from his eyebrow, everything was suddenly forgotten and you could only worry.

"fuck you're bleeding, why didn't you tell me? fuck, fuck, fuck." you searched through your bag for a tissue, mentally cursing yourself for how messy it was, and handed one to jude.

"just didn't wanna bother you..." he mumbled, holding it to his wound.

you both waited for the uber in complete silence, you knew you needed to have a conversation with jude about what just happened but you'd do it tomorrow, when he was sober and when your judgement wouldn't be clouded by anger.

thankfully, your uber didn't take too long to arrive, you helped jude put his seatbelt on after watching him struggle with it for a good minute. the atmosphere was tense and it seemed the driver felt it so he didn't try to make conversation with any of you.

you were halfway to your destination when you felt jude's fingers brush against yours lightly. you took a glance at where your hand lay, on the middle seat, jude's hand was right next to yours and when you looked at him he was suddenly entranced by his shoes, busy pretending it never happened.

you were sick of him acting like a child, so you held his hand, since he obviously wouldn't do it himself. the rest of the drive was silent but the atmosphere was peaceful, a nice change from the club.

you let go of jude's hand once you arrived at the villa you rented with your group of friends. you immediately took jude to the bathroom to clean his cut, he looked like a child while you were gathering the material you needed, mumbling words to himself with a frown on his face.

"is it gonna hurt?"

"probably not." these were the first words you exchanged since the club, the uneasy atmosphere of the room wasn't one you were used to whenever you were with jude. he was the one person who could understand you the best in the world, but it just wasn't the case tonight.

"can you hold my hand?" it was like he turned four again. but you couldn't deny anything from him, especially not when his eyes were glassy from all the drinks he had, so you took jude's hand in yours.

you started cleaning the cut, fully focused on your task, trying your best not to be distracted by the way your faces were inches from each other's.

"you're so pretty..."

if there was one thing you knew about drunk jude, it was that had loose lips. he couldn't keep any secret from you whenever he had the right amount of alcohol in his veins, and that often worked in your favour, but right now his words were only distracting you from your job.

"don't say that..." your heart was racing both at his words and at the proximity you two shared.

"i mean it." he was tracing your jaw with his fingers. you felt your hand quiver at the unexpected contact, and afraid you might mess something up because of jude, you quickly put a bandage on top of his, now clean, cut.

you started tidying up everything you used and expected jude to go to his room but he didn't budge.

"what's wrong?" you were a bit worried his injury was more serious than you thought and his brain was just working a bit slower than usual.

"kiss it better... please?" he said pointing at his bandage with a kissy face.

you were torn between kissing or slapping some sense into the boy standing in front of you. jude bent down so your face was in front of his, you obliged because you knew hammered jude would not have let you go to bed before you kissed him better. not because you wanted to, of course.

he was still unmoved, looking deep into your eyes so you took his hand in yours and led him to his bedroom for him to get a good night of sleep.

once you got jude to his bedroom safely, which wasn't an easy task given how starstruck he was at every little everyday thing in the house, he threw himself on his bed and grumbled something about clothes, before taking off his shirt with no prior notice. you immediately looked at your feet to give him some privacy while he changed clothes. he only giggled at your action saying he knows how much you would like to watch undress. which wasn't true, of course.

you took a quick peek, to make sure he was under his sheets. handing him a glass of water once he had his sheets pulled up to his chin and a content look on his face.

"no thanks, i'm not hungry."

"this is a glass of water?" you were perplexed at jude's words. the fatigue of your body preventing you from trying to understand his nonsense.

"well, i'm not hungry for water." you sighed at his childlike behaviour and considered shoving the water down his throat at some point before retracting, not really wanting to deal with the homicide of one the most in-demand football players of the moment.

you placed the glass on his bedside table and walked towards the door, unwilling to talk to a very drunk jude when all your body asked for was a good night of sleep.

but you couldn't ignore jude calling your name in a tired voice. you turned around to listen to whatever he had to say to you, only for him to beckon you closer with his hand. you rolled your eyes but still obliged, sitting on the unoccupied side of his bed.

"i just wanted to know why you were mad at me tonight." you didn't want to have this conversation tonight, but it seemed jude had other plans.

"because even if your intention was right, i think we could've solved the issue with no fits of screaming and fighting. i know you meant right but you can't just act without thinking all the time." you weren't even sure jude was registering your words properly, his eyes moving up and down your face.

"but i was mad at him too, he kept talking to my girl as if i wasn't right there." although jude was hardly convincing by the way the words came out of his mouth all slurred, you had to admit him calling you his girl put a faint smile on your face.

you thought your best friend was done but he just kept right on.

"fuck, you don't even know how many times i wished i was your boyfriend to stop these men looking at you that way. i mean i wished i was your boyfriend all the time, but especially then and also when you show me whoever you're talking to, you really have a vile taste in men y'know."

you looked at jude in total shock, he wasn't aware of what he just said from the way his face had the same drunken expression as before.

"do you mean it?" maybe he was pulling a prank on you. the look on his face didn't seem too serious, but then again he was drunk, how could you know how serious he was?

he laughed, how could he laugh in what was a very serious situation from your point of view?

"of course i mean it, sometimes it even looks like you want me too, maybe i just thought wrong. just tell me you don't want me, i reckon i could live with the fact i'm your best friend a bit longer." jude's nonsense somehow got even more nonsensical. how could he be saying all this with a smile on his face? even worse, how could he possibly think you didn't want him to be your boyfriend? you didn't even know what to say to him. hell, was there even a right thing to say in this exact situation?

"you can't do this to me jude... you can't just say this shit to me when you're drunk out of your mind. what do you expect me to say? i don't even know if you're aware of what you're telling me right now." words finally found their way out, your voice was much less cheery and much angrier than his as you felt a sense of injustice seeping through your veins. how could he say this to you like it was the simplest thing in the world? did he only love you when he was drunk? did he actually mean that, or was he over-exaggerating things under the influence?

"i love you and i loved you for a long time, please believe me, i know you're my best friend, and i don't want to ruin things between us... but i just needed to get this off my chest." jude was truly confused as to why you were so mad at him for this sudden 'confession'. of course, you didn't have to reciprocate his feelings, but he could only think about how he ruined your friendship for good from the way you responded so vehemently.

"goodnight jude." you left his room before he could add anything, and your thoughts were already running wild. you weren't sure if you should be feeling happy that he felt for you what you felt for him, or if you should be mad at jude for dropping this bomb on you so suddenly when he could clearly not think straight, making you doubt about the whole thing.

if you were overthinking before, your brain was now about to explode from everything that just happened in the span of an hour.

once you got under your sheets, no amount of sheep counting, lofi music, or breathing methods could put you to sleep. your brain was screaming at you, urging you to freak out about what just happened. every and each of your thoughts led back to jude, your own brain was torturing you, forcing you to separate truth from fiction at 3am.

you wished jude told you the truth, you wished his drunken words were his sober thoughts. but you didn't know how you were supposed to act like this never happened if this wasn't the case. how could you possibly come back to your little role, so well perfected over the years, of jude's best friend after he gave you the smallest glimpse of hope? your friendship with jude was the most important thing for you, but you wondered if you'd be able to pretend for the rest of your life or if you would go insane before that.

when sleep finally started taking over your endless train of thought, you came to the conclusion that if he meant what he said earlier, he'd have no issues telling you once he sobered up. you comforted yourself with this idea while your eyes closed by themselves, no more energy left in them to fight for the sake of overthinking.

jude had been avoiding you all day. the only time you exchanged an eye contact was during breakfast and even then he quickly went back to his room, not speaking a word to you. you could tell he was avoiding you like the plague, if he happened to be where you were he'd immediately flee the room, suddenly mesmerized by his phone.

you wished you were mad at him for how he was treating you and how he was making you feel, but the truth is, you could only focus on your heart breaking a little more each time he'd walk past you like you were two strangers.

after dining with the rest of your friends, you decided you were sick of jude's little games. if he didn't want to talk to you, then you would confront him whether he liked it or not.

it took you all the strength of the world to knock on his door after taking a deep breath.

no answer.

there was no way he knew it was you, you were sure of it. maybe he was just avoiding everyone tonight? you quickly refuted this idea, you saw him laugh with a couple of your friends half an hour ago.

you knocked again, a bit harsher this time to make sure he'd hear it. still nothing. you were preparing yourself to knock one more time, with much less hope than the first time.

"y/n, what are you doing?" yasmeen's voice startled you, it almost felt like getting caught doing something you shouldn't be doing.

"um... just needed to talk to jude, do you know where he is?" you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the question. you were his best friend, if anyone should know where he was, that would be you. and your friend's dumbfounded look wasn't helping the heat creeping on your face right now.

"what do you mean? he left like an hour ago, had an unexpected meeting in london or something like that... he didn't tell you?"

it had been a very long time since you felt this way, maybe since middle school when your math teacher made fun of you in front of the whole class. your mouth suddenly drying, the sensation of your heart constricting, and your eyes stinging, trying their best not to let the sadness spill. it all felt like one big joke, you hoped jude would open the door, he'd tell you he was messing with you, he'd tell you everything he said last night again.

but that moment did not come. you couldn't answer yasmeen, afraid that the truth might spill along with your tears if you uttered a word. you simply shook your head, and went to your room, trying your best not to meet her eyes. your friends weren't blind, they could tell something was wrong between jude and you today, although none of them asked you what happened, they just kept a watchful eye on you and the way you looked at jude, in hopes he'd look back.

it felt good to cry in the privacy of your own room, far from the speculative conversation others were most likely having about the whole situation.

once your eyes were short of tears, you somehow found the strength to take your phone and click on your messages with jude to type a new one.

let's just keep doing what you did all day

i'll pretend you don't exist and last night never happened

probably best for us :)

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youunravelme · 8 months

Text

it's nice to have a friend

author's note: this is a little all over the place, but i saw a tiktok edit of seven by taylor swfit and then thought to myself, what if i ignore all my wips and wrote childhood friends to lovers with a hint of childhood trauma? and this was born. and if the timeline isn't perfect with reality, oh well. i'm but a human girl. also!! if you have ever experienced or currently experiencing abuse, please know that it was never your fault. you don't deserve to be treated that way.

pairing: mat barzal x reader

summary: wherever mat went, you were never too far behind or the one where you are childhood besties

warnings: cursing (as always), mentions of parental abuse and alcholism, tumultuous childhood, drinking, mentions of sex

there was a saying that floated around in your elementary, middle, and high school days, surrounding you like a warm oversized cardigan.

wherever mat went, you were never too far behind.

the saying could also be flipped, the two of you stuck to each other like glue.

mat, despite not being one for fights, had a bad habit of running his mouth whenever you were concerned. in fourth grade, he used newly learned vocabulary words to berate a girl who made fun of your beat up shoes and nearly got detention for it.

and you had a nasty habit of squaring up with anyone who looked at mat wrong, even if they towered over you.

your friendship worked well because of it.

age eight

you could remember summer days swimming in the pool with mat and liana, laughing as you and mat teamed up against his little sister until his mother scolded the two of you when she started crying.

but there was always a darkness that sat in the corners of your memories like fingerprints that had damaged an old photograph.

you didn't have to try to remember your parents' screaming and yelling at each other, just like you didn't have to try to recall the smell of alcohol on your father's breath. it didn't take any effort to remember the way your hands shook when you locked your room at night and climbed out of a second story window to go to mat's.

you could feel the splinters digging into your fingertips as you climbed the trellis up to his window. you could still feel the way your stomach dropped when you slipped and fell halfway up in the pouring rain, nearly breaking your arm in the process. you could still hear nadia come out and usher you inside moments before mat's eight year old feet came pattering down the stairs.

he didn't even give you time to explain, he just wrapped you up in a hug.

it took you that long to understand it was never raining, it was just tears.

the next week, you found yourselves at the park laying on your backs in the grass.

"what would you do if a genie gave you one wish?" mat asked out of the blue.

the summer sun kept you warm as the breeze kept sweeping in and blowing strands of hair into your face.

"get far away from here."

"would you bring me?" mat asked.

you turned your head to look at him only to find him already staring. "i wouldn't go anywhere without you." and you meant every word, spoke them with as much conviction as an eight year old could have.

mat reached out and squeezed your hand in his own.

"what would you wish for?"

he shrugged. "to be bigger."

you furrowed your brow. "why bigger?"

"so i could protect you better."

age nine

at nine, you and mat were playing cards in your room when the front door slammed. it was like you were on autopilot. of all the times that had happened, mat was never home with you. immediately, you were locking your door and shoving things in your backpack, pulling mat towards the window and climbing out as quickly as you could. the two of you ran to your bikes and biked all the way to an empty field where you collapsed in the tall grass and cried.

mat immediately brought you into his arms, hushing you and running his hand down your braids.

"what if--" he started stopped abruptly to clear his throat. "what if you stayed with me and liana and mom and dad? we could get bunk beds and a night light, if you want, and you wouldn't have to lock the door."

you just sobbed harder into his chest and shook your head.

it's not that simple, you wanted to tell him. but i wish it was.

age thirteen

you never moved in with mat, never got to get the bunk beds, but by middle school, your mom moved the two of you out of your old house. it was then that he started packing two lunches, one for you and another for himself.

things hadn't changed much since leaving your dad in that shitty house full of demons. you still spent most of your time at mat's house (your mom was working). still spent your saturdays going to his tournaments and games. you still cheered him on and let him cheat off your homework on sunday nights.

things shifted though, regardless if you wanted them to change or not. time, you found, never gave a shit about your opinion, thoughts, or desires.

because it felt like just yesterday, you were riding your bikes down the street, racing each other back home.

now, you were helping mat draft msn messages to a girl he had a crush on in your biology class. there was an uncomfortable sensation in your stomach that was comparable to the time you got food poisoning, but you couldn't place a reason for it.

you could paint the pink on his cheeks as the girl replied.

and you would've given anything to be the reason for it.

maybe it was silly, a small crush for the sheer convenience of it all. maybe it was the fact that he'd saved you so many times from the darkness that always seemed to follow you. maybe it was because he was a tether for you, pulling you back when you went too far in your head.

so when he laughed at something she said (which wasn't even really funny), you wanted to go back to the times the two of you would cloud gaze in the middle of the day just so you wouldn't have to be home.

age fifteen

you knew mat was a kind person, knew he was handsome and a good hockey player, that was never in question.

you just didn't realize other girls realized it too.

mat always walked in front of you in the hallways because he could make way through the crowds in ways you couldn't. (he grew like a weed over the summer and while you hated how you couldn't reach things when he held them above his head, you appreciated the way crowds moved out of the way for him).

you were used to him being in front, his grip light on your wrist as he tugged you behind him. you weren't used to walking behind his new girlfriend, chloe, who had the honor of walking beside him.

mat used to tell you how much it irritated him that people would take up so much space in the hallway and make it impossible to move around them.

but there you were, an awkward moving triangle of your best friend, his girlfriend, and you trailing pathetically behind.

chloe was cool. she never felt threatened by your friendship with mat, which might've hurt your feelings if you were delusional. you knew you had no chance with mat, so you'd take him in whatever form you could get him.

lately, that looked like spending time with liana in the stands at mat's tournaments. you would both do your homework before dissolving into gossip sessions while you braided her hair.

chloe even showed up for some games, smiling and cheering as he played. at one game, he scored and came up and tapped the glass in front of you, pointing at you and smiling.

they broke up two weeks later.

age sixteen

you openly cried when mat left for seattle. you were used to times when mat had hockey camps and would be gone for two weeks, a month at a time. but he would be gone indefinitely now.

and leading up to the day he was leaving, you thought it would be harder on you, considering mat hadn't shown anything but excitement. but when it came time for him to leave, he wouldn't let you go.

both of your moms had to pry you apart with promises that he would call and text as soon as he got to seattle.

and he did.

he hadn't even gotten into his new home when he was facetiming you.

you did your best to smile as he showed you around his new place, but your eyes were watering still. he was indefinitely two and a half hours away from you.

"you okay?" he asked when you stopped responding.

you gave him your best smile, but knew he wouldn't buy it. "just miss you is all."

he nodded, eyes going blank for a second before you saw water appear in them. mat wasn't as emotional as you were, and he for sure wasn't as teary eyed as he used to be when you still lived with your dad, but his eyes were watering all the same. "let's just treat it like summer camp," he said. "i'll be back before you know it, and if you need something, you can always call me."

you had no intentions of calling him with your problems, but then your dad showed up at your house screaming and beating the door and calling for your mother while she was at work. the doors were locked, he had no way in, and the police were on the way, but your hands were still shaking.

you couldn't run to his house to hug him anymore.

so you called him sobbing.

he picked up on the second ring.

he was lounging in bed, playing call of duty or something like it. "hey--" he cut himself off and paused his game, jumping out of bed. "what's wrong?"

"my dad," you sobbed.

mat was back in coquitlam in three hours, holding you tight to his chest and rocking you back and forth. you were openly weeping into his shirt, clinging to him. you weren't gonna let him go, and mat wasn't willing to give you up either.

you and your mom spent the night at the barzal's, with her taking the guest room while nadia brought a twin mattress into mat's room under the pretense that you would sleep on it.

you didn't.

everyone knew that you got into mat's queen sized bed and clung to him all night long.

just like everyone pretended that mat wouldn't have to leave in two days to go back to seattle.

just like you pretended like you wouldn't absolutely shatter on impact the second he left your sight.

age nineteen

when mat was drafted to the islanders, you stopped breathing. sure, it was dramatic, but you only moved into vancouver for school.

mat was moving across the fucking continent.

but he came back to seattle, and for a moment, the world was right again.

until he went to new york full time.

and the full weight of his absence hit you like a damn eighteen wheeler.

you'd watch him on the tv, when you used to watch him live in much smaller stands. you used to use puff paint to make t-shirts with his name on it, now they were selling his jersey in the arena he played in.

he didn't pick up the phone as much as he used to. he would respond to your texts days later until you stopped texting him altogether.

you should've seen it coming, especially when you saw him hanging out with instagram models and going out to bars. were you really expecting him to sit at home and wait for you to call him with a panic attack?

you had to get a grip.

so you did.

you threw yourself into your studies, pretending you didn't know his game schedule or stats. and when a cute boy named thomas came along and took interest, you allowed him to get to know you better.

you told him you grew up in coquitlam, that you were an only child, and your favorite school subject growing up was english.

(you never told him that your favorite color was the shade of mat's eyes, that you haven't spoken to your dad since the night your mom left him, or that every night, you fall asleep to career highlights of the best friend you haven't spoken to in months).

you learned he was a business major, something that should've been a red flag, but you were so focused on proving to yourself that you could be loved, that you overlooked it.

you went on dates, had sex, made plans for the future, met each other's families.

but he never met the barzals, despite the fact that you could drive to their house blindfolded.

no, they felt like a precious secret. the world could have number 13, they could have the calder memorial trophy winner, but you would not allow them to have the little sister whose hair you braided, the mother who brought you inside after you wrecked her trellis, the father who covered your scraped knees with bandaids and neosporin when your biological one was drunk at 2pm.

you might have lost mat to the awful curse called distance, but you would not lose his family.

you couldn't afford to lose them too.

now thomas, you lost a month after you turned twenty when you found him balls deep in your freshman roommate.

you went back to your apartment and cried, because it hurt, but mainly because you realized how alone you were. you had no one to call other than your mom or liana. but liana didn't even know about thomas, and your mom was dating a new guy now.

your thumb hovered over mat's contact for five minutes before you locked your phone and just went to bed.

age twenty-three

you were single for a whole year before you met dawson. his brown eyes and salt and pepper hair captivated you.

you were hooked, despite the seven year age gap.

he gave you the number to a good psychologist to help you work through your past and was willing to listen to you talk about it or sit in silence when your therapy session was emotionally exhausting.

he remembered your favorite flowers and brought a bouquet of them to your college graduation and kissed you in front of your mom and the barzals (minus mat, but that was a given at that point).

and on your twenty-third birthday, he proposed.

you said yes while actively trying to forget the dreams you and mat had when you were six.

you were building a fort in his bedroom with thumbtacks and blankets and sheets you'd stolen from around his house. when the project was complete, the two of you found yourselves laying in it, staring up at the blanket canopy shoddily held up by thumbtacks pushed into the wall.

"do you wanna get married?" mat had asked randomly.

"only if i get to marry you," you replied.

mat smiled a toothy grin, it was the only time you remembered him having imperfect teeth, given that he'd just lost his two front teeth. "i thought the same thing!"

and it was the most honest you had ever been. though, that wasn't a strange concept, most people were the most honest when they were either children or drunk. and considering you stayed far away from alcohol (guided by the anxiety in your stomach and the advice of your therapist), your childhood memories held the most truth.

despite not having seen him in years, you still thought of him often. you tried to see if you could remember the sound of his laugh without looking up an interview. you tried to recall the way his hair felt through your fingers.

but you couldn't.

it was crazy how much he meant to you as a child, how you still remembered the order in which he ate his breakfast, but you hadn't spoken to him in years.

you found yourself sobbing at the kitchen table one night as you poured over who to invite to the wedding. liana was a bridesmaid, mike and nadia had to be invited.

but what about mat?

you felt sick to your stomach at not inviting him. when you were in high school, when you'd gotten a grip on reality, you believed he'd walk you down the aisle in lieu of your piece of shit father.

but you hadn't spoken to him in so long.

though you couldn't imagine which would suck worse, not inviting him, or mat rejecting the invitation.

that was how dawson found you, sobbing over photos from your childhood that you wouldn't let him see. and when you tried to talk to him about it, he suggested talking to your therapist.

he broke off the engagement two weeks later. he said he didn't feel "the spark" anymore.

age twenty-four

you'd been out of college for two years now and all you had to show for it was debt and a stupid piece of paper. you were working in a coffee shop ten minutes from your mom's house and wishing you could've gotten out of coquitlam like mat did.

maybe this was your cursed existence, going to the grocery store wondering if you were going to ever run into your father again.

you'd just gotten off your shift at the coffee shop when you stopped by your local grocery store to pick some things up for dinner. it was supposed to be a normal day, but you turned the corner out of an aisle and damn near ran into someone.

"sorry, my bad--"

you looked up and suddenly the earth stopped in its rotation. you hadn't seen in him years but you'd know him blind.

his hands were around your elbows, keeping you upright. his touch almost burned you. it was an uncomfortable feeling, like putting on jeans you loved and realizing they don't fit anymore.

you pulled away, ducked your head, and started walking the opposite direction without another word.

but you should've known he would follow you, like a moth to a flame. or maybe that wasn't the right analogy, you were used to being the bug while mat was the light of your life.

but he followed you like there was a string attached to your wrists and he wasn't used to you pulling in an opposite direction.

he managed to catch up to you in the self care aisle right in front of the menstrual products. any other man you'd known would've shied away from standing in front of the tampons and pads as you deliberated which products to get, but mat's eyes wouldn't even leave your face.

you should've known he was going to come back eventually. you'd avoided seeing him in the offseason pretty well considering you were off doing internships and working out of town in the summer.

but now you were stuck in a dead end job with no passion for anything anymore, feeling more alone than you had ever felt before.

and because nature or god or the universe hated you, naturally, that was when mat showed back up.

when you had nothing to show for the years you didn't speak.

you could see the wheels turning in mat's head as he tried to think of something to say. it was an interesting turn of events that simultaneously sent an ache straight through your heart. when you were kids, he never hesitated to say exactly what was on his mind. now, he was deliberating.

"you wanna come over for dinner?" he asked. "mom's making tomato soup and grilled cheese."

you wished you could've denied him, it would've been smarter in the long run. mathew michael paul barzal could get you to do anything, and you hated that even after all those years, he still could.

you found yourself sitting at his old kitchen table surrounded by his family, dipping your grilled cheese into the soup like you were six years old again.

except the difference now was you were laughing with liana, sitting next to liana, instead of mat.

you'd occasionally meet his eyes from across the table, but it wasn't the same.

when you were kids, you sat next to each other at every opportunity. when you were kids, mat pretended to steal food off your plate. when you were kids, you knew everything about each other.

but you were adults now. and he was effectively a stranger you knew too much about.

after dinner, everyone scattered. you tried to leave, but mat caught up with you.

"what're you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"working," you replied.

he nodded and looked around. "can i see you?"

you wanted so badly to say no, that you were busy, but as much as you wanted to pretend that he didn't, mat knew you better than anyone else, even if he had been absent for five years.

you ended up going for a walk in the park the next day, deciding that getting dinner wasn't worth the headache of mat getting recognized.

his hands were shoved in his pockets with a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. if you were brave enough to look over, you could still see his eyes taking glances at you.

"how's your mom?" mat asked, immediately jumping into topics you'd planned on ignoring.

you shrugged. "fine."

he nodded and scuffed his feet along the sidewalk. "how have you been?"

"fine." you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. you didn't mean to be cold, you meant it even less when you looked over and saw mat desperate for connection with you again.

in the end, you could never really deny him anything he wanted.

"life sucks right now," you admitted. "feel like i've wasted my life away here."

mat nodded along. "didn't you say your genie wish would be to leave?"

"i think my words were to 'get far away from here.'"

"you know," he started. "new york is far from here."

you couldn't help yourself. you looked up at him and saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "are you being serious?"

he nodded. "as a heart attack."

could this be the moment? the moment your life suddenly comes back into color? things haven't felt right since mat left for new york, and maybe moving, being with him all the time, would fix whatever existential crisis you were currently having.

the two of you were packing up your childhood room a month later .

you were on a flight to new york city two days after that.

mat was bouncing on his toes when he picked you up from the airport, having come home a few days early to get his apartment set up.

"you have to meet tito," he said as soon as the both of you got in his car. "you'll get along just fine. my childhood best friend meeting my other best friend? things couldn't be more perfect!"

you smiled though you felt like dying inside. no wonder you two lost touch, you were too ashamed to message him and he was too busy befriending his entire hockey team.

the apartment itself was large. larger than you could've ever afforded, even in coquitlam. mat brought your bags to your room and gently placed them on the floor.

"do you need any help unpacking?" he asked.

maybe a bitter part of you wanted to say no, but you'd waited for this moment for years. you nodded and mat's face lit up like a christmas tree.

while he was putting your clothes away in the dresser, he told you about his team, about his career, and all that you missed. he tried to ask about your life, but you kept up the story that nothing much had happened to you. and for the most part, you weren't lying.

you hadn't spoken to your dad, you hadn't dated anyone seriously in the last year (you conveniently left out the failed engagement. you just got into town, and couldn't afford a plane ticket to fly back to coquitlam just to bail mat out of jail).

but mat was more than content to listen to your work stories from when you were working at the coffee shop. he asked questions along the way, and momentarily, it felt like everything was headed back to normal.

you shooed him out of the room so you could shower. it was kinda incredible how a nice apartment meant that his shower was better than any other one you'd ever had growing up. when you stepped out into the nicely updated bathroom and changed into some gym shorts and a t-shirt, you felt the full weight of your insecurities hit you all at once.

your mat lived down the road from you. he had a twin bed until he was fifteen when his mom could no longer ignore the way his ankles hung off the end. he had posters of sidney crosby hanging up on the walls of his bedroom.

but this mat had expensive bathrooms and egyptian cotton sheets. you didn't get to see it yet, but you were willing to bet he had state of the art kitchen appliances that he didn't fully understand how to use outside of making eggs.

you were fully ready to walk into the living room, where you heard mat clicking through what must've been streaming services (because he could afford all of them), and tell him moving here was a mistake. too much had changed, he didn't know you anymore.

but you walked out and saw blankets and sheets strung up, pinned to the walls with pillows on the floor.

almost on cue, mat's head popped out from the makeshift fort, a bright smile on his face. "i don't have bunk beds, but i thought this would be a nice alternative."

you could've cried. you almost did.

but you sat down on a pillow and watched a movie with him instead.

two months later

mat had introduced you to anthony the second week you lived in new york. anders and matt you met the next week. the rest of the team you met over the course of the two months you'd lived with mat so far. they were all nice, and you could see why mat was so enthusiastic about his job, his passion for the sport aside.

you met his "not-girlfriend" as tito called her the day before. ashley was nice enough, but clearly not in the same tax bracket as you, who had recently gotten a job working at an indie bookstore while you worked on grad school applications.

you pretended to be too busy to notice the ache in your chest when he held her hand, remembering chloe and the nasty sensation internally of insecurity bubble up. you weren't dumb enough to not know you were jealous, insecurity was a closer friend than mat was, you'd known her longer.

and if comparison was a sport, you'd be making more money than he was at this rate.

because if it wasn't the way ashley laughed, it was her smile, or her stomach, or the gap between her thighs.

or the fact that mat looked at her with something more than a savior complex.

you stupidly agreed to go out to a bar with him, ashley, and a few islanders that night. it was dumb, you knew that going in, but you were finally with mat again, why wouldn't you spend every free moment with him?

it turned out to be a mistake.

you were left sipping a diet coke by your lonesome while he was dancing with ashley. you knew you shouldn't have done it, it was a bad idea, but you found yourself at the bar asking for a shot of literally anything the bartender would give you.

but anthony slid into the seat next to you a beat later and fixed you with a knowing look. "where's your diet coke?" he asked.

your mouth dried up when the shot was placed in front of you. your heart was pounding and for a moment, it felt like you could've thrown up.

when you didn't respond, anthony nodded and stood up. "wanna go take a breather?" and he sounded so genuine that your eyes immediately welled up with tears as you nodded.

the two of you walked outside and stood in the cool air, letting the wind hit your wet cheeks.

you looked out onto the street while anthony texted on his phone. "do you want to go home?" he asked as soon as he slipped his cellphone back into his pocket.

you shrugged. "i don't know what i want."

that was a lie. you wanted to go back to a time where mat was just your best friend, before he was number 13 for the islanders, before he won the calder memorial trophy. you wanted your best friend, the one who raced you down the neighborhood streets on bikes, who drove three hours to see you when you had a panic attack.

you wanted a childhood that wasn't tainted with the darkness of your father's mistakes. you wanted to be able to go into a room and not immediately check if you could lock the door. you wanted to be able to fall asleep in a dark room without being deathly afraid.

mat was outside a second later, huffing and puffing like he'd just run a mile. his gaze was fixed on you almost immediately, while he ignored the way ashley hung off of him. "what's wrong?" he asked. he even went as far as to pry ashley off of his body so he could frame your face in his large hands.

in the corner of you eye, you saw anthony usher ashley back inside while you and mat had a staring contest. "what happened?"

you shook your head and tried to speak, but more tears spilled out. mat nodded and pursed his lips before grabbing your hand and walking you home.

he didn't say anything else until the front door shut behind you. you had no intentions of staying in the common area, you just wanted to curl up in bed and cry yourself to sleep out of shame and pity.

"what were you doing at the bar?" mat asked before you could go anywhere. "you still had diet coke in your glass."

your throat seized up at feeling caught, but you stood your ground.

"i didn't think you drank," he continued. "mainly because--"

"because my dad's an abusive alcholic? yeah, you don't need to tell me that, mat, i already know."

"so if you know that, why did tito see you order a shot from the bartender?"

you threw your hands up in the air and shrugged. "i don't know, mathew. why do you invite me to bars when you know i don't drink?" he didn't have an answer. "you don't get to shame me for considering having a drink when a bar is the only place i get to hang out with you during the season!"

"that's not--" but he cut himself off. "what're you talking about?"

"i hardly see you! why did i move across the continent if i have to go to a scary place just to spend time with you?"

"i--"

"i mean it's not fair, you left and now i have to pay the consequences of it--"

"i'm sorry, what?"

"you left--"

"i heard you. did you forget the part where you stopped contacting me?" you rolled your eyes to keep yourself from crying even more. "uh uh, don't do that. don't blame me without taking accountability for this friendship ending."

you blinked.

but mat wasn't done. "because i always called you back when i missed your calls. you were the one who stopped texting me."

"you were too busy!"

"i'm in the nhl! did you expect me to just be laying around my apartment all day? i have practices and meetings and games at weird times, but i always made sure to get back to you."

you said nothing, the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you kept them in. the verbal lashing from mat was enough, you didn't need to further embarrass yourself by crying too.

he kept going, yelling and waving his hands around, occasionally pacing and dragging his fingers through his unruly hair.

but you zoned out.

you could hear glass bottles rattling as your father came up the stairs. you sat on your bed, hoping to god he'd just keep walking. mat was out of town for a tournament, and you were grounded.

your dad stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at you. your heart was racing in your chest and you wanted nothing more than to text mat, but your mom had your phone. "what're you lookin' at?" he slurred.

it was only 1pm.

and your mom was still at work.

but he apparently didn't feel like bothering you because he turned into his bedroom and shut the door.

you could feel the air release from your lungs before you went back to reading your book.

but the peace never lasted long. thirty minutes later you could hear him yelling and screaming obscenities before he opened his door. you launched yourself out of bed and slammed your own door shut, quickly locking it with an efficiency you'd learned at a young age. the door handle rattled and you flinched backwards, nearly tripping over clothes on the floor.

but you weren't a stranger to this situation.

you opened the window and climbed out.

but he was ready for you this time because he was at the front door screaming at you as you rode away on your bike.

you didn't stop pedaling until you got to the park where you collapsed on the grass and cried.

something in your face must've changed, because mat stopped yelling and looked at you, really looked at you.

"hey," he said, voice much quieter than before. "where'd you go?"

you shook your head, tears falling down your face uncontrollably.

"don't do that," he said. "don't shut me out." mat took a step closer to you, but you immediately stepped backwards. he breathed your name, but something in his eyes shifted, like he could read your mind. "i'm not him," he whispered. "i'm not your dad, i'm not going to hurt you. you know me, you know i wouldn't do that."

"you left," was all you could say.

mat nodded. "i did, but i didn't leave you, okay? i would never leave you." he closed the distance between you and held your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the constant flow of water from the corners of your eyes.

"but--"

he shook his head. "no, you mean too much to me to leave you, okay? you're my best friend. if you had called me and needed me? i would've been there as soon as i could."

"you would've been too busy--"

he pulled back, a bit bewildered. "when have i ever been too busy for you?"

you held your tongue, knowing that it wasn't him per se.

"what is it?" he asked, his eyes searching your own. "what aren't you telling me?"

so you told him about how you hadn't talked to your dad, and even though you were thousands of miles away, you were still scared he'd find you and ruin your life even more. you told him about thomas, about how you thought he could be the thing that fixed you, but he cheated on you.

you told him about dawson, who was older and more mature. you told mat how dawson got you going to therapy which you thought was a good sign, until you realized he never actually wanted to talk about your bad days. he proposed, you said yes, and then he broke off the engagement when he saw you sobbing over invitations.

your eyes were too blurry to see the way mat's jaw clenched, but you could feel him pull his hands away.before you could even stop yourself, you stretched out for him, but he was just out of reach.

"mat, what," you weeped. "what's wrong?"

"you were engaged?" he mumbled. "you were engaged and didn't tell me?" you expected him to look mad, but the only thing reflected in those deep brown eyes was hurt.

"that's why he broke up with me, i was crying over childhood photos while trying to figure out if i should invite you even when we hadn't talked in years." you shrugged pathetically and gave mat a watery smile. "guess he thought it was too immature of me."

mat's hands were clenching and unclenching by his side, like he couldn't decide what he wanted to do with them.

"please don't hate me," you whispered. "i don't think i could handle it if you hated me." but he didn't say anything, mat just resulted to pacing the living room. "i think my dad fucked me up beyond repair." your eyes never left his profile. if he wouldn't look at you, that was fine, you'd continue to stare at him. "i think i'm too codependent and messed up for anyone to love me." mat's head snapped up at that comment.

"i mean," you continued. "i wasn't enough for my dad to get sober, i wasn't enough to not get cheated on, i wasn't enough for someone to marry me. maybe it's not them. maybe i'm the issue."

"no," he said immediately, shaking his head in the process, crossing the room until he could pull you into his chest. "no. that's not true."

"yes it is! my dad doesn't love anything more than alcohol--"

mat cut you off. "anyone would've been proud to have you as a daughter."

"thomas wanted my freshman roommate--"

"thomas was an idiot."

"dawson couldn't handle me when i wasn't happy--"

"fuck him too. he was thirty dating a college student."

"and you left and i--"

mat pulled you back far enough to look you in the face. "and if i could do it all over again, i'd take you with me." he pressed his forehead against yours. "here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna make a fort and watch the mighty ducks. and tomorrow, we're gonna find you the best therapist money can buy and set up an appointment because i don't like you talking about yourself this way." your stomach twisted at the idea of therapy, hesitant because of dawson-- "and i wanna hear as much as you're willing to tell me, okay?"

you nodded.

"now, i need to see you smile so i know we'll be alright." you gave him a watery smile right before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "there she is."

you held onto each other for another minute before reluctantly letting go to gather blankets and pillows.

four months later

you hadn't been able to make it to many of mat's games until tonight when they played the devils at home. you sat with sydney and grace and their kids.

earlier that night, you'd gone to your therapy session and cried your eyes out. after years of feeling like you weren't a human being worthy of love, you just started seeing value in just existing.

and mat was as supportive as ever. he gave you space after therapy sessions to process until you were ready to talk to him, if you wanted to. the two of you made plans to hang out at cafes and central park rather than at bars every weekend.

"look at your man go," grace nudged you with her elbow. "he's feeling good tonight."

"i'm sure it has everything to do with you being here," sydney commented. "i've never seen that man more in love than he is right now."

you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you shook your head. "he's my best friend."

"a best friend who loves you so much, he's willing to keep things platonic for your sake."

almost immediately, an insecure thought popped in your head, but you stopped it in its tracks, imagining the thought on a conveyor belt, moving down the belt until it was out of sight completely.

your shoulders relaxed.

you deserved to be loved, and it if was mat, great.

if not, you'd still have him as your best friend.

a buzzer sounded through the arena and a quick glance at the ice told you all you needed to know. mat was skating into a cluster of his teammates, smiling wide before pointing up at where he knew you were sitting.

grace and sydney jostled you around a little while fans, male and female alike, screamed at the idea of the mat barzal pointing at them.

when the game ended (5-4 with the islanders win), you followed sydney and grace down to the locker rooms. you met up with the other wags and smiled when they greeted you. some chatted and passed time while others rocked babies in their arms. you however were anxiously looking through your photos on your phone, specifically the album labeled mat that you'd had since you'd first gotten an iphone. you didn't glance up until you hear the sound of doors opening.

mat was the seventh person out, not that you were counting. he wore a bright smile when he saw you standing there and immediately crossed the distance between the two of you to wrap you in a huge hug.

"how was therapy?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "why do we always talk about me?"

"because i care." he lightly nudged your shoulder. "so how did it go?"

"it was good, actually," you remarked. "figured out and accepted that i deserve love."

if it was even possible, mat's smile got wider. "yeah you do."

"and maybe there are people waiting around for me to figure it out..." you trailed off before shyly meeting his gaze. and before you could stop yourself, before you ran out of courage, you stood on your tiptoes (like you've been doing since he hit his growth spurt in seventh grade) and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

you lingered for a moment before pulling away and loooking up at your bewildered best friend whose mouth was wide open.

"what?" you asked. "did i read that wrong? sydney and grace said--"

"that's all i get?" he asked. "i've waited for this since i was six years old and i don't even get the real thing?"

you furrowed your brow. "what're you talking about? six years old?"

but mat was leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. "six year old mat had the biggest crush on six year old you," he said.

"and what about twenty-four year old mat?"

he kissed you again. "head over heels for you."

age twenty-six

after a less than stellar playoff run, you and mat headed back to canada for a portion of the off season, mainly to visit family.

but it was also nice to get out of new york, even if it was just for a short period.

in hindsight, you should've known something was going to happen. your mother, nadia, and liana took you to get your nails done and to grab lunch while you were out shopping. but you were so caught up in how nice it was to be back home (words you never thought you'd ever say), you paid no attention to the lack of mat time.

so when you walked into the backyard of his parents' house and saw a giant projector screen with blankets and pillows strewn about to make yet another fort, you almost cried.

mat's head popped out from the middle with a smile on his face until he saw the tears in your eyes. "why're you crying baby? this is supposed to be happy!"

"i love you" was all you could blubber out.

mat laughed to himself, taking your hands in his own. "i love you too baby." he knelt down and the tears kept coming down your face. "ever since i was a kid, i thought i'd be the one walking you down the aisle to the man you'd marry because i never thought you'd be crazy enough to fall in love with me."

you scoffed. "i'm definitely the one batting out of my league here, mathew."

"don't talk about the love of my life that way," he said before continuing on. "we've gone through a lot together, and i couldn't imagine getting through life without you by my side." mat took a deep breath. "so tell me, do you wanna get married?" mat asked.

you nodded through your weeping. "only if i get to marry you," you smiled.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb

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mageofseven · 1 year

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How about a reader that was pregnant when they were chosen as an exchange student ? Like the baby's father is not in the picture and reader *isn't* involved with boys romantically and when the boys discover readers pregnant after lesson 16 they're just "oh Shi-"

This is an old ask from before my long ass hiatus, but I'm honestly still really interested in this.

Okay so here's some set up info for how Imma do this:

MC knew she was pregnant, but was so overwhelmed about it that she welcomed the fact that she was magically kidnapped into going to demon school and that she had something to distract herself from the literal growing problem in her uterus.

The baby was also transfered to the new body after what Belphie did to her.

Like it was requested, MC is not currently dating any of the Boys.

They found out because they had her get checked by a doctor despite Barbatos making sure she was okay with his time power; this was mostly done out of over-protectiveness and no one actually thought anything would come of it.

I don't do reader posts so obviously this will be MC.

Now that that's out of the way, let's give this a go!

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Lucifer:

Is visibly shocked by this and has MC explain herself.

When he hears how her boyfriend knocked her up and abandoned her not long before she was brought to the Devildom, the pride demon makes a mental note to ask her for the man's name at another time so he can handle that little pest.

Feels terrible guilty about what she went through and even worse that she went through it while pregnant.

I see Lucifer as this heavily anxious man with a soft spot for kids and that includes babies that are works-in-progress (WIP).

Hovers around her constantly after that, making sure she taking every vitamin and supplement she and her child needs.

Just becomes super protective of her while also trying to pretend he's not.

Eventually takes her off of cooking duty so she'll have one less thing to worry about.

Despite not being the father or having such a relationship with her, he takes full responsibility for all aspects of this from teleporting her here while pregnant to Belphie offing both her and her child in her last body.

Doesn't go as far as to call himself this child's father, but anyone who saw this man hovering over her would definitely think he was.

Like always, Lucifer just wants to take care of his family and now sees MC and her child as such.

Mammon:

Literally freaks out while trying to pretend he isn't.

To him, her being pregnant just made this whole situation 1000000x worse.

Feels bad that he didn't know about her kid.

Like, he's the brother whose been by her side the most and he never even noticed anything was off with her.

He's not the most observant man so I'm not surprised.

He's her First! She should have just told him, or so he tells her.

Keeps an extra close eye on her to keep this crazy freaking human from doing anything bad for herself or her kid

And let's face it, she literally got herself killed not long ago so anything can happen.

The further her pregnancy gets, the more this man tries to keep his brothers away from her.

He just extra possessive as time goes on.

I mean yeah, this kid ain't his but he wishes it was so freaking much but he's still gonna look after the two of them.

Honestly, this man wouldn't be able to handle a single other bad thing happening to his Human.

Leviathan:

Ohmanohmanohman--

Is really freaking out and doesn't even try to hide it.

I mean this is serious!

Not only did MC die but so did her WIP kid????

I mean yeah, they are both back but this all still sucks.

You know the phrase 'kicking a person while they're down'? Well this is like using a freaking flamethrower while the human was already down!

Honestly becomes super awkward with his Henry after learning about her pregnancy

But slowly gets used to it as he discovers that MC just wants him to treat her as he always has.

Yeah! He can do that!...kinda.

He feels bad that he can't help her through most of it.

This man knows absolutely nothing about pregnancy and feels like he is mediocre at comforting people at best.

Still, if she ever needs someone to distract her with anime so she doesn't have to think of the little WIP in her uterus then Levi is her man.

Satan:

Honestly...this man is less than thrilled.

MC is the first person he's ever truly gotten close to and that includes his 'brothers'

So to hear that the person he cares about most is pregnant...

Well on the plus side, he knows there's a human man in the other realm for him to torture so that makes him feel better.

Doesn't like kids, but is at MC's side as much as possible.

One of the brothers willing to hold her hair back during bouts of morning sickness.

Not one to hover, but does get a little protective when Belphie is in the same room as her.

Knows the Avatar of Sloth won't hurt her anymore but...well, he still can't get the image of MC's dead body out of his head

And angy boy is still angy at him for it.

Other than that, he reads a shit ton of pregnancy books to learn what MC's body is going through and different methods to comfort her through it.

Asmodeus:

Honestly, this usually chatty brother was speechless when it was announced.

When he saw all eyes fall on the human and make her overwhelmed, he ran to his friend and hugged her tightly.

Was the one to hype up the other guys and get everyone to say they'll take care of her and that they have her back

Because honestly, this woman and her child literally died for his family; you can bet your ass he's going to make sure each and every one of his brothers does their part in taking care of the pregnant human.

Doesn't immediately think about killing the runaway baby daddy, but if it becomes a family field trip to hunt the bastard and kill him, Asmo is so down for it.

Mostly focuses on what he can do for MC in the moment though.

Another brother to comfort her during morning sickness.

It's gross af but he uses it to remind his brothers that hey! I'm getting close to a vomiting woman each morning so y'all better be as dedicated to the cause as I am.

Beelzebub:

This man literally did nothing wrong, but acts as if it's all his fault.

So much happened in his family right under his nose and things led to such extremes that his twin literally killed this woman and her child.

More or less feels like he needs to step up and pay atonement for what his twin did

And is probably the brother who takes care of her the most.

This situation has shown how much he actually wants to be a parent one day

And literally asks MC later in her pregnancy if he can be her baby's daddy

He doesn't care about genetics at all, just wants MC to let him help her raise the child and make him a daddy 🥺

Literally the sweetest man to ever exist.

MC would be a fool not to accept.

Belphegor:

Probably the guiltiest of all of the men.

I mean, he did it. He killed MC and relished in it.

Granted, he didn't know she was carrying a little hitchhiker, but still.

Belphie lost himself in his pain to such a strong degree that...he wonders that even if he did know...would he have been able to stop himself from doing what he did

And honestly, the fact that he doesn't know scares the hell out of him.

Avoids MC for the first couple months of her pregnancy because honestly, he feels too guilty to even look at her

And... honestly, he doesn't know if he even trusts himself around her.

Thanks to Beel's encouragement, the sloth demon slowly finds himself interacting with the pregnant human

And eventually decides that the best way to atone for what he did (if it's even possible) is to take care of her and the kid the best he can.

He doesn't like kids and just sees pregnancy as unnecessary torture for people with uteruses

But honestly, none of that matters anymore.

He may not have been the one to knock the woman up, but he did fuck up the worst out of everyone in this situation.

Will feel better whenever the family hunting party starts and he can give that pathetic man a taste of what he deserves.

Looks like it's Human Season for this hunting demon.

Diavolo:

Also a man with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Other than the actual process of making the baby, everything that happened was either because of something he directly or indirectly did to start up the exchange program.

Also regrets not having regular check ups on his exchange students because surely they all would have discovered this sooner and prevented anything from happening to the pregnant woman.

Has regular doctor visits scheduled for MC to make sure she and her baby stay healthy and pays for all of it, including any medications she may need during this progress.

Pregnancy can be really fucking expensive, but the prince makes sure she never has to worry about that side of things.

Just focus on staying healthy and letting your baby grow, MC; he and the other men will handle everything else.

Barbatos:

Knew before everyone else did.

I mean, this man literally had to make sure the baby transfered over too.

This man is seriously a hero that doesn't get the credit he deserves nor does he seek such.

MC and her baby are safe now and that's all that matters to the butler.

Honestly frets over the woman on the inside, but shows no sign of it externally.

Is the man that takes her to all her doctors appointments and was there when she discovered the gender of her baby.

Congratulated her as she sobbed happy tears and was honestly grateful that he could share such a moment with her.

Honestly becomed really attached to MC during her pregnancy and looks forward to watching her child grow up.

Solomon:

Honestly, his intuition had been tingling for a while on this subject.

He suspected this pregnancy, but figured it was none of his business and didn't want to pry into the fellow human's personal life.

If he would have known such an event would happen with Belphie though, he would have stepped in and got answers.

He didn't though. The sorcerer had no clue how events were going to unfold.

Hindsight is telling him that he should have pryed more, but his manners told him it was right to respect the woman's privacy.

Doesn't do too much in regards to taking care of his friend since the demons seem to have it all covered and even seem to somewhat resent the sorcerer when he tries.

Believe it's better not to step on any toes, so to speak.

Is still a good friend to MC though and always offers an ear if they need to vent about the process with someone.

Simeon:

This all happened before the pregnancy had progressed enough for him to sense the baby.

He did however sense...something within the human since he met her, but didn't understand what.

Hindsight is really hurting this poor angel's heart 😔

Become the woman's biggest support in an emotional sense.

Pregnancy is hard and hormones flare and everything can seem so stressful, especially to a scared single mom.

This man is often the one comforting her when she breaks down into tears, even when it's over small stuff like someone ate the last cookie or she lost her pen.

He makes sure MC knows how strong she is and that she will make it through this this difficult time.

Luke:

Demons!!! Back away from the pregnant woman or this chihuahua will bite.

Okay, not really, but the brothers make this joke a lot.

Luke is very protective of MC in this situation.

Since he is just a child, he wasn't told what happened between her and Belphie in complete detail.

Really just thinks the stupid demon hurt her feelings and the angelic boy will not allow it to happen again!

Grows increasingly curious as MC's belly grows; angels don't have kids in this way so this boy has a lot of questions about what's happening to her body.

The fact that there's an actual baby just chilling and growing in her belly boggles this boy's mind.

Is honestly excited for MC's baby and feels like he about to be come a big brother!

This boy is determined to do his part and take care of her just like the adults do.

Mostly just keeps her company and bakes for her when her cravings give her a sweet tooth.

Little Lukey keeps her spirits up and MC loves him for it.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #obey me undateables #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke

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hippolotamus · 9 days

Text

thought i planned for everything (just didn’t count on you) | 1.6k | E (BuckTommy)

Earlier today I promised my wife @bidisasterevankinard an incentive for studying in exchange for making her think about too many WIP ideas. Since husband @diazsdimples is also going through it with schooling, this is for both of you 😘 ps: idk anything about what certs and licenses and stuff Tommy would need. Just roll with it and be nice, yeah? Also, this is unbeta’d so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.

Tommy scrubs at his forehead, blowing out a frustrated breath. He’s looked at the material in front of him for months now, determined to ace his recertifications. And it had been going well. Really well, in fact. He had a study schedule mapped out, accounting for his shifts and time with friends. He even left a small margin for the unexpected. There was just one factor he hadn’t accounted for. Evan.

The past few years of dating haven’t exactly gone anywhere serious. Some casual dates, one that he thought could go the distance but only broke his heart. So the expectation of having that feeling again? Of having someone thoughtful and caring, who gives him butterflies and makes him want things? Pretty much zero.

But then a hurricane happened. Actual and metaphorical. It tore through his life, upending the idea that love – or anything close to it – just wasn’t in the cards for him. And when everything settled, there was Evan. Evan, who asks how his shift was, tells him when he gets back from a call, and turns a pretty shade of pink as he blushes and says ‘I missed you’.

Tommy doesn’t regret any of it, but he does wish the universe’s cosmic timing could’ve held off just a little longer. At least until the state of California tells him what he already knows and says he’s fit to pilot an aircraft.

A knock on the door gets his attention, but he seriously contemplates ignoring it. He didn’t order anything and he doesn’t have plans. Unfortunately, the first responder in him can’t help wondering if one of his elderly neighbors needs something.

Fine. He sets down the pen he’s been chewing on and reminds himself it’s been too long since he stood up and walked around anyway.

“Evan?” Tommy asks, surprised to see him standing there. He instinctively looks him up and down for obvious injuries or signs of distress, but finds nothing. Only his gorgeous boyfriend, smiling coyly. “I didn’t forget about a date, did I?”

“No, uh, nothing like that. Because you are supposed to be studying.” Evan raises one eyebrow like Tommy is in the wrong for answering his own door after somehow manifesting Evan’s presence.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Evan says shyly. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately and wanted to help.”

For the first time, Tommy notices Evan’s got his hands behind his back and wonders what his definition of ‘help’ is. He’s dressed down, soft and adorable in a hoodie and joggers, so it’s unlikely to be a booty call. Though not completely out of the question. And not that Tommy would complain either.

“Did you bring flashcards or something?”

“As a matter of fact…” Evan steps over the threshold, past Tommy, like he owns the place. While shy, demure Evan is a favorite, confident Evan is by no means a turn off. Especially as he whirls around and proudly holds up a set of blue, yellow and pink index cards. “I did.”

“Evan-”

“A few nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I might have taken some notes of my own. And, like I said, thought I could make myself useful for my hot, pilot boyfriend.” He rocks up on his tiptoes, capturing Tommy’s lips for a chaste kiss before he meanders to the kitchen.

Tommy pushes the door closed, following Evan where he lays the cards down on the table, opposite the books and manuals Tommy has scattered. Evan walks to the cabinets and helps himself to a glass, filling it with water before returning. Next he makes himself comfortable in a chair, sitting slightly back with his legs spread apart.

“So, can I help?”

There’s a glimmer of mischief in the way Evan looks at him now that has his heart racing. Like helping is the last thing Evan plans to do.

Tommy gathers himself enough to sit down in his own seat and flashes Evan a confident smirk.

“Do your worst, kid.”

“I’ll start with an easy one. What is the atmospheric gas composition?”

“Twenty-one percent oxygen, seventy-eight percent nitrogen, one percent other,” Tommy rattles off.

“Well done.” Evan flicks the card down then casually leans over to untie one shoe and slip it off.

“What are you-”

Evan clicks his tongue, tutting in fake admonishment. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, baby. Next question. Each one hundred meter climb in elevation causes a temperature drop of what?”

“One degree Celsius.”

Evan simply grins and removes his other shoe, leaving him in socked feet. Tommy would be lying if he said his dick wasn’t taking interest now that he’s caught on to Evan’s game. It is thoroughly unhelpful.

“PAIP should be implemented how many minutes after an aircraft fails to give its position report or is overdue for arrival?”

“Fifteen. Got anything harder for me?”

Evan’s tongue darts out, licking along his lower lip. “Oh, you bet I do.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure and think about… anything except bending Evan over the table. If only it was that simple.

They repeat the process, volleying questions and answers back and forth until Evan’s stripped down to his boxers, his cock obviously hard and leaking beneath the tented fabric. It’s distracting as hell and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate.

“Come on, old man,” Evan teases, palming himself lazily. “Lives are on the line here. You need to be able to think under tense conditions.”

“You’re such a brat.” Tommy’s jeans press uncomfortably on his own straining erection and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from mirroring Evan’s movements.

“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” Evan applies more pressure, letting out an obscene moan as he strokes himself. “Or I could be – ahh – if you get this – mmph – question right.”

“Fuck, Evan.” Tommy undoes his belt and zipper, creating the tiniest bit of relief.

“That’s the idea. Even – oh, fuck – wore the new plug I told you about.”

Christ, Evan’s gonna kill him before they get the chance to see this all play out. And that’s unacceptable.

“Don’t stop,” Tommy orders, stalking off to grab the lube stashed in the couch cushions. When he returns, Evan is still stroking himself exactly like he was instructed. “Good boy, Evan. Doing what I told you.”

Tommy grips his chin and crashes their mouths together in a filthy kiss, delighted as Evan makes the most beautiful whine.

“But, you – ah – didn’t answer me,” Evan protests when they separate.

“Myoglobin.” He leans close to Evan’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “Lesson’s over, kid. Face down over the table. Naked. Now.”

Evan nearly trips over himself, leaping up from his chair and shoving his boxers down. He drapes himself over the piles of papers and index cards, wiggling his ass like he’ll die if he has to go one more second without being fucked.

“Gotta say, I like your methods,” Tommy murmurs, starting to work the plug in and out, tracing his other hand along Evan’s bare skin. “But now I think it’s time for your reward. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, yes. Please.”

“So desperate, my Evan,” Tommy coos. “Thought you would be in control, getting me all worked up. And here you are, laid out so gorgeously for me, just begging for it.”

Tommy pulls the plug out completely, discarding it to the floor. Evan keens and clenches around nothing, just waiting to be full again.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Tommy shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He slicks himself up with the lube and smears a generous amount on his fingers, fucking them in and out of Evan’s hole. Just enough to ease the way.

“Tommy,” Evan pants, practically crying when he pulls out.

He lines himself up, gripping Evan’s hips and pushing in without additional warning. He doesn’t pause for adjustments before he sets a relentless pace. It’s unlikely either of them are going to last, but he’s not going for longevity here.

Evan curls his hands around the edges of the table, leveraging it to fuck himself back against Tommy’s cock. It’s stunning and breathtaking, the rhythm they’re creating. A symphony of moans, squelches and skin against skin.

Soon the familiar heat pools in his belly, bringing him closer to the edge.

“Ohfuuuuck,” Evan moans, purposely tightening around him.

Tommy digs his fingertips into Evan’s sides, the world around him being reduced to static and white noise as he comes, filling Evan up. He thinks he might shout Evan’s name, but he’s not really sure, nor does he really care as he slumps forward, draping himself across Evan’s glistening skin.

“Gimmeasec,” he mumbles. “I’ll take careayou.”

“No need,” Evan murmurs back. “All good.”

Tommy presses a lazy kiss to Evan’s spine, enjoying the resulting small shudder. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He kisses another ridge, and another, before answering. “For taking notes. For caring. Wanting to help out. For being you.”

“It wasn’t too much?” Evan whispers, hesitantly.

“Never,” Tommy assures him, dropping gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders, mindful of the mess forming between them as he maneuvers to properly reach. “Never too much, baby.”

He bites back words that are too early to say, even if he definitely feels them. Has felt them building in his chest, creating a near endless chant. He wonders how long he’ll be able to smother them before they burst forth. Hopefully long enough. Enough for Evan to feel them, too. For Evan to want to stay.

“Clean up and nap?” Tommy asks instead.

“Sounds good. Earned it.”

Tommy huffs an amused sound against Evan’s skin before pressing one last kiss there. God, I hope so, kid.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #hippo writes #tevan #tevan fic #what can i say #i love my spice #di tag 💙💍#james tag 💍#fic: thought i planned for everything

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zialltops · 5 months

Text

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: Howdy Ya’ll! The song for this chapter is Shake the Frost by Tyler Childers! Im not going to lie, after three chapters writing from Joels POV, this chapter was hard to get into at first. Ive always had a vision for the different ways they perceive each other and it was realllly fun to paint two different pictures of the same people from each others POV. So without further ado, the moment we’ve alllll been waiting for, I give you honeys POV.

Masterlink

ao3 link | spotify link

4. Shake The Frost

Your life in a nutshell has been…uneventful. Your parents had you into their late thirties, you were their last shot at the child they had always wanted and that was a lot to live up to, being the only surviving member of your family when they are gone and the sole proprietor of the Rising Sun Ranch. It was a lot for one awkward, clumsy girl to take on, but you packed up your bags and moved to the city for just long enough to get a real education in keeping your family's dream alive. When you left this place, you had twenty dollars and a full tank of gas. You had horrible hormonal acne, the same damn braces you’ve had for the past six years and you were the furthest thing from desirable a person could ever get.

You were never very popular in school, but considering your graduating class was a whole eight people, you understood why. Everyone around these parts kept to themselves, passed judgment too quickly and all they ever saw in you was an inelegant, unskilled, ugly little duckling.

Four years away earned you a new outlook on life, the discovery of skincare and a little bit of confidence in yourself, but not nearly enough to hoof it in this cruel world. That's why you found so much comfort in the thought of running home, as much as you would miss your friends from college. Here you weren’t gangly and clueless—you could just be yourself.

Yourself with just…a little bit of alteration. Because two years ago, your mom called you to tell you about the new ranch hands that started working, how much weight it took off their plate. A few weeks later, she told you as much about them as she could, about Joel who was charming and gruff. Tommy, who was kind of strange but a nice boy, how Joel takes care of him and watches out for him. A month after that, your mother calls to tell you how much of a gentleman he is.

Two months later, you call your mom and tell her about the date that stood you up and she tells you how handsome Joel is, how kind his eyes are and how she thinks you would really like him, how much you would hit it off and she wished you’d find someone a little more like that—someone who could appreciate you.

Two years pass the same way, your mom calls you all the time just to talk about Joel and Tommy—you understand it's the most exciting thing that's happened around the ranch in the last twenty years, but the more you talk about it with her, the more you build up this impossible dream about a man you’ve never even laid eyes on. You daydream about going home and meeting him, hitting it off like two old flames. You imagine his eyes in the middle of class and miss half your lecture, you think about the way his voice sounds the few times you accidentally overheard him in the background of your moms calls.

Your best friend and roommate, Melly, tells you that's you’re delusional to make up fake scenarios in your head about a relationship you don’t have with a man you’ve never met, but you’ve already hyper focused on it long before that conversation happens, so getting it out of your head is already out the window by then.

All that build up, all the imaginary things you thought up, the way you’d meet—what you would say to him to catch his attention from the moment he sets eyes on you. All of it is for nothing, because he’s not prince charming like you’d imagined, he’s rude and he left you in the fucking snow to die, when you’d spent so long falling in love with a man that didn’t exist. He avoids you like the plague, like it hurts him to be in the same room with you, thinks you’re this stuck up too good city girl, when you’d been so proud to have your shit together. You’d been so fucking excited to get home and finally put a face to two years worth of ghost like fantasies of a person you didn’t know.

And god did it make you so angry at him, when you’d spent so long wanting to meet him, and he was nothing like you’d expected him to be. What is it about you that repulses him? Every time you leave anything exposed, he’s running away with his tail tucked. You look at him from across the dinner table and he takes his food and leaves. Sometimes you can't help the way your anger gets the best of you, starting arguments just so he’ll talk to you, trying to do things that might impress him even though he thinks you’re the most incapable person in the whole world, apparently.

You help your mom with dinner because you remember her telling you that her chili was Joel’s favorite, so you spent half of the afternoon making it, maybe then you could both move on—something, anything. You watch him from the fridge while he fills his bowl with Tommy and they head off to the dining room. By the time you’ve made your own bowl, hatching a plan to tell him you made this, his spot sits empty and his food is untouched for the rest of the evening.

That night, your dad shows you the statement from the bank, the mortgage is two months behind and they don’t have two nickels to rub together. You cry at the kitchen table for an hour, wondering what you did in a past life to struggle so badly in this one. Of course Joel would catch you there, tear stained cheeks and a desperate desire to curl into that broad chest and sob.

He hightails it out of the house before the real water works come down.

Theres a ache in your chest that doesn’t leave you for days—when you spot him in the stable on Christmas eve, it pounds in your chest worse than ever, it hurts so fucking bad to look at him in that brown coat, that long curly hair and scruffy beard. You want to run out the door across the yard and jump into those strong arms, have him twirl you around in the snowfall and kiss you silly. But that's not plausible, so you turn away from the window and make yourself some hot cocoa to starve off the cold, eating you up from the inside.

On Christmas morning, you watch him shovel from the window of your bedroom, hiding behind the curtain while you think about how much he hates to be around you, he must think you’re so unpleasant and hard to look at, because he never even meets your eyes. It bubbles up so much emotion, you cry angry tears before you can make it out of your room. You wash your face in the bathroom to rid yourself of the evidence and make your way down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the steps when you spot him at the bottom, smiling at himself in the vanity mirror, wearing a goddamned cowboy hat like all your wild fantasies about slipping his hat on your head and riding him until he’s a mumbling mess. You would have changed if you knew he was here—would have put on some clothes so he doesn’t go running out on you again. He takes one look up the stairs at you and your brain goes fuzzy and angry, how dare he look so good when you know you can’t touch, how dare he flaunt it right in your face just to take it away again. Who does he think he is, smiling at you like that when he abandoned the dinner you’d made him at the table the night before?

He tells you Merry Christmas and you want to sock him in the mouth.

You chase him off all on your own this time and the guilt eats you up when you watch him work from the window. He doesn’t stop for a second, just keeps going and going and going while you sit on the couch and listen to Tommy’s insufferable rambling about things you don’t care about. He doesn’t come to dinner, so you make him a plate in the kitchen when your mom comes in behind you. “What are you doing, dear?” You wrap tin foil over the hefty plate and give her a look. “I thought I should bring him dinner…no one deserves to be hungry on christmas.”

Your mom squeezes your shoulder and smiles brightly, waves you off when you head out into the storm with his dinner in your hand.

When you meet him on the porch, sleepy look in his eyes with messy hair, you almost invite yourself inside—hardly fighting off the urge to set that plate down and offer yourself for his Christmas dinner instead.

You're halfway thankful for the half mile walk tugging a one ton heifer behind you, at least this way the cold wills away the throbbing between your legs.

That night, you wrap two fingers in the necklace chain, burry your face in the pillows while you fuck yourself on three fingers wishing they were the man sleeping on your couch instead of your own. You try not to whimper his name when you cum, but it slips right out with a rush of air.

Wanting him—is absolutely killing you.

You want to call it a turning point, finally he can see you as capable of something. By the end of the following two weeks, he’s right back to the way he acted before, but it’s like it’s worse somehow. You come down the stairs with a chipper smile in your favorite pair of Levi’s one morning and he nearly falls out of his chair trying to get away from you. You show up in the stable with your old white straw hat on and he hides in the bathroom for a half hour until you leave, like he’s repulsed by you, like he can’t stand to be around you. Is it something you’re doing? Something you’re wearing? He gets so uncomfortable when you have any skin exposed, you can tell based on the way his eyes will bounce to you then away in a hurry, trying to find something—anything else to keep himself busy. Is it because you're his boss's daughter? Because you’re ugly? Because you’re too young and too inexperienced?

By the end of January, you’ve successfully chased him back to his cabin in the evenings unless you aren’t in attendance. He’s avoiding you again, but at least now you have Tommy, who you would consider a friend, a friend who flirts with you too damn much and drinks way too much alcohol. He’s also lazy and doesn’t take much initiative, Joel does most of the work around here, you’ve noticed. But Tommy listens to you when you talk and he doesn’t run away from you any time you try to make conversation.

This morning, you were in the kitchen when Joel came in, cowboy hat and wranglers that hugged his ass. You walked out of the kitchen in an apron with a bowl of preserved raspberries ready to can. “Mornin’, Joel.” You greeted him with a smile and picked the spoon up out of the bowl. “Want to try some? I’m making jam.” You were about to wash the spoon anyways.

“Uh, no, thank you—I ate this morning.” You shrug and lick the spoon clean with one stripe. Five seconds later, Joel is out the front door with a hurried step, like he can't wait to get away from you. Did your breath stink? Was there something on your face, in your tone? By the time Joel is gone, Tommy comes in like there's a rotating door on the house, constantly filtering out one Miller for another.

“He’s in a hurry.” Tommy laughs, pointing behind him with his thumb. “I think I said something.” You roll your eyes at him and finish off the spoon. “Dang girl, how come you don’t ever lick me like that?” It's a light hearted joke, you know that, but you still slug him in the arm for good measure. “Oh, fuck off, Tommy.” You make your way back to the kitchen to can up the preserves and he follows right behind you. “So I was thinking, Joel is heading into town this mornin’, what do you say we scrounge up some change and grab a bottle of something strong?” You used to drink heavily when you were in college, lots of parties and Friday nights out with friends, but now it's closer to once a month if you’re lucky and you can't remember the last time you were good and drunk. “You know what, lets do it. But you have to ask him.” Tommy makes a pained face and shakes his head. “No, I asked last time—it’s your turn.”

“He’s already pissed at me for no reason, and I don’t even know where he is!” Tommy laughs at you and takes the bowl from your hands. “And besides, I have to pee—why can't you go?”

He pulls the jars out and starts to fill them. “Go ask him and then go pee—I saw him go into the stable.” You huff dramatically and turn on your heel, removing your apron, trying to get rid of your nerves as you head towards the door. What’s he going to do, shout at you? Get angry? Say no? You can handle all of that, you’ve handled it up until now.

When you reach the barn, you search around the stalls with no sign of Joel. Wherever he is, he’s long gone. Whatever you did to him, it was enough to send him running all over again. For the millionth time, you find yourself wishing you could just read his mind, know what it is about you that has him running for the hills any time to approach him.

You pet a few muzzles on your way towards the door, wishing it was spring already so you could ride like you’ve longed to do for the last four years. There's less of a chill today, there hasn’t been a storm in a week, but that’s going to change soon. You could stay out here until Joel shows up, but christ do you need to pee right now, so you take a quick detour to the small bathroom in the corner of the barn. The door doesn’t have a working latch, so it pushes open easily.

You just needed to pee, that's it—just needed to pee but it’s too late by the time the artificial light inside mixes with the sunlight filtering into the barn. Lent over the sink with his hand pressed to the mirror, his other on his cock, stands Joel—his balled up fist working up and back down, those huge hands that look tiny on his dick—holy shit, it’s massive, bigger than you’ve ever seen in real life, bigger than most exaggerated porn videos you’ve watched—he could probably fit both hands around that thing, has to be at least ten inches of just Joel. He must hear your tight gasp, because his hand stills and he whips his head around to look at you, his face flushed with shock and shame. You step away quickly and the door slams shut behind you.

You aren’t sure what it is bubbling up inside of you—anxiety, desire, a bit of curiosity and a whole lot of confusion. You saw him not five minutes ago and he was fine, but now you can hear him scrambling in the bathroom across from where your feet have glued themselves to the floor.

“Fuck! Fuck, Honey, hold on.”

Joel Miller is the most hung man you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s also the most annoying and hard headed—but all of that flies straight to the back of your mind when he pulls the small door open, having stuffed himself back in his jeans, jesus christ it goes half way down his leg, how does he have any room in there? His chest is absolutely heaving and his face is beat red from embarrassment. “I…I’m sorry, I just needed to use the bathroom.”

His hand reaches down and you follow the movement, how he stuffs it into his pants and adjusts himself. “I can explain—“ you shake your head quickly, eyes bouncing back up to meet his. Fuck, he looks like he’s going to cry right now. “Please spare me the details, I should have…knocked, that's my fault.” What was he doing in the first place? He ran away from you because…because he needed to jerk off? Is that where he’s been going every time he runs away from you?

Did you make him do that? But no—of course not, because Joel hates you, hates you enough to actively avoid you even after buying you the same damn necklace you clutch every night when you sink your hand between your thighs, bite your pillow and attempt to muffle his name on your lips.

Joel doesn’t want you, when you’ve been thrown around every corner trying to hang on to him. He left you in that damn snow and all your mind could think about was how sharp his jaw was, how big his hands were, how angry you were that he robbed you of your fantasy of him.

“I just—I…don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean for you to see that.” Well of course he didn’t mean for you to see that. “Yeah, no I assumed—I’m the last person you want seeing you—like that. I’m sorry, again.” There's something in his eyes, a deep sorrow woven into his features. “How…how much did you see?”

God, does he really have to go there, when your thighs are pressed as tightly together as you can get them, when heat is pooling between your thighs and you have the urge to run up stairs and lock your door behind you. You reach up for your necklace out of instinct, run your fingers along the chain for an absent sensory input, thinking about the way it feels in your hand when you clutch it for dear life.

“I mean—about all ten inches, I’d say.” Its an easy joke you're hoping will ease the stress of the encounter, but Joel leans back against the walk and his head flops against the wood, eyes closing tight. You take the opportunity to drink your fill, let your eyes really roam over the softening bulge in his jeans. “Nine and a half—I…It’s nothing to…boast about or anything like that. I try not to…let anyone see that.”

See that? The biggest dick you’ve ever laid eyes on? He’s just walking around, hiding it from the world? “Why?” You don’t mean to ask, but how could Joel just walk around all day with a third fucking leg and not tell anyone about it?

“It’s embarrassin’. No one wants anything to do with that, nobody wants to deal with what it entails—I sure as hell don’t. Look, can we please just—please forget this happened? Don’t…tell anyone, please.”

Don’t tell anyone? You can't keep this to yourself? Joel miller, every daydream and fantasy you’ve had for the last two years—you can’t just keep that in if you tried—you have to tell someone. “Yeah, no of course not. This was traumatizing enough for both of us.”

His face drops further and he turns himself away, running his hand over his face—the same hand he just had on his dick—oh, fuck, you have to get out of here before you offer to finish him off, just to see how heavy it would feel in your hands, your mouth, your pussy—“I gotta go—“ you start to head for the door, but you remember why you came in the barn in the first place. “Can me and Tommy come with you to town later?”

He only turns for a moment to gaze at you. His eyes look shinny, his lip is drawn between his teeth because its shaking. Had you really embarrassed him that much?

When he speaks, his voice is tight and wobbly. “Yeah, that's fine.”

You leave as quickly as you came, already pulling out your phone and pulling up your best friend's number. When you get into the house, you make a bee-line for your room, slamming the door behind you while the call goes through. When she picks up on the other end, you’re already rambling. “Girl—hold on, I can't hear you. You’re talking too fast, slow down.”

You take a deep breath, clutch your necklace and try to calm yourself down. “I just walked in on Joel—it was an accident, but dude—dude it was huge.” There's a sharp gasp and a laugh on the other end of the phone. “Wait like, you walked in on him and someone?”

“No—I walked in on him jerkin’ off in the bathroom, he…ran away from me again this morning and Tommy came in right after, asked me to ask Joel if we could go to town with him and when I went to look for him, he was in the bathroom with his hand on literally the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” Melly, on the other end, is laughing her ass off at you, trying her best not to snort at your bad luck. “This isn’t funny! He was so embarrassed, Mel—he said he doesn’t show it to people!”

She huffs on the other end of the phone. “Then how does he fuck anyone?”

And—well… “I never thought about that. Maybe he just…doesn’t? He seemed so ashamed, I don’t know what on earth there is to be ashamed of.” Ashamed of being blessed? Ashamed you walked in on him? Maybe it was because it’s you and you’re the last person he wants seeing him naked.

“Alright, let me get this straight—he ran away from you and five minutes later you found him beating his meat in the bathroom?” For lack of better words, well, yeah.

“Yes—that’s basically what happened, but it was more like three minutes? Because I wasn't far behind him.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is deafening, then Melly clears her throat. “Have you considered the idea that he runs away from you because you turn him on?”

You? You turn him on? You with your awkward posture and too gangly features? You can't even turn a car on half the time, let alone a grown man like Joel Miller. “Not a chance—he hates me, Mel, we’ve been over this.”

“You’ve been over this—you say he hates you all the time when maybe this whole time he thinks its you that hates him.” But that can't be true, because Joel can’t stand being around you. He hated you from the moment he saw you, hated your stupid fucking shoes you don’t wear anymore, hates that you went to college and lived in a big city and don’t let people walk on you. He hates you because you wanted to look pretty for him and he told you to crawl back to whatever place you came from, not even knowing that place was filled with longing to meet him. “No, you have to see it for yourself. You’re still coming down here for my birthday, right?” It’s in the middle of February, when the snow starts to subside.

She tells you that she is, but that she has to get back to work, so you hang up the phone and let yourself sink into the mattress. Its a lot to process—Joel running away from you to…masterbate, catching him in the act—that dick, Christ, even if you want to fuck him, you aren’t even sure if you’d be able to take him. A little deep dive into the internet tells you that you absolutely can—if you work up to it. With ample time and stretching, you’d be able to work up to that, and should it ever happen, you want it to be easy for him, after all, he seemed so ashamed that you’d seen him like that. He said he doesn’t show people, so that must mean it’s been a while since he’s had sex. That in and of itself, makes your heart ache from him—no matter how much he pisses you off, no one deserves to have the ability to receive pleasure stripped from them for merely having a larger—uh, tool. It’s not his fault he was born that way.

A few wrong turns on amazon and you find a (within your budget) toy that's, you guessed it—nine and a half inches and by the looks of it, the same girth as Joel. There is no other option for you but to purchase it—express mail straight to your doorstep.

And even if you never stand a chance with a six-foot towering cowboy, you can at least pretend for the rest of your life. Maybe that will finally starve off your want, fill that void you’ve had for the last two years longing for a made up man and this version of Joel wearing his skin.

It’s a few more agonizing minutes of thinking about the way he’d looked at you in the mirror when you’d spotted him in that bathroom, before you can actually track back to the before, how into it he was—working himself over quickly with a rough calloused hand and his ragged pant.

Fuck it—you have time, lots of time—Joel is probably going to avoid you for half the day before he heads to town, that is—if he even tells you he’s leaving. So you do what you're best at, roll yourself over to bury your face in the pillow while you sink your hand past your waistband and get to work. Its easy to picture something still so fresh in your mind, the way his shoulders heaved when he drew in a breath, how he would probably feel in your hand, your mouth, you’ll have to practice that too, how he’d probably hold you down and tell you to take it. He’d probably be ravenous if he could get past the hatred part. How long has it been since he’s been inside of someone?

You sink your teeth into the pillow and try to retain the sharp whine in your throat, but when you picture his disdain for you morphing into desire, the way the two would clash together in the most impossible way—it’s easy to bring yourself right to the edge. Easy to let yourself drift into that full bodied bliss that shoots up your spine and blooms at the base of your skull. God, the things he would probably say—the filthy fucking words that were made for that accent—the way he’d call you—

“Honey?”

“Amph-“ your eyes shoot open but its too damn late, that twangy southern draw sounds so fucking good saying your name like that and it’s the final straw, deep shadows of your relief robbing the vision from your eyes as they roll back, hand stilling with just the faintest of muffled whimpers to follow it. Yeah—he’d say your name just like that—just like he did on the other side of your locked door while you get off to the sound of it.

Your first big draws of air when you start to come down are into the pillow, trying your best to stifle the ragged way your lungs fill with oxygen until you’ve caught back up with yourself.

“We’re headin’ out in a few, if you're comin’.”

You pull your hand away and jump off your bed, trying to fix your hair and pull yourself together. One glance in the mirror tells you that this is as good as its going to get. You pull the door open and he’s already trying to find anywhere to else to put his eyes than on you, on your tight workout leggings and crew neck sweater—you aren’t anything special and you just saw his dick a half hour ago, so you understand why he wouldn’t want to look. “I was just, uhm—doing a workout zoom with my friend, you ever done one of those?”

God, did you just say that out loud? A fucking workout zoom, its no wonder this man wants nothing to do with you. “A…zoom workout? No—I get my cardio in before the sun's up. Real fuckin’ weird world you come from.” He turns his body slightly, like he’s trying to make his way out of this conversation but he doesn’t quite know how, so you lead the way. “I’ll just get my shoes on and I’ll be right down.”

He turns back and this time he does look at you, but it's at your feet, then a swift bounce up to your eyes. “You’re wearing shoes.”

One glance down and what do you fucking know—you are wearing shoes—stupid fucking shoes you suddenly hate. You hate that you can't get a single thought through your head when it's swimming in dopamine and adrenaline. Hate that he’s taken up so much space in your brain you can't think straight anymore. “If you don’t want to go because you’re…uncomfortable, you don’t have to stall so that I’ll leave. You can say it.” He holds his chin up bravely, you have to give him props for that. Thirty minutes and he can still hold his head up with dignity when he feels like he needs to stand up to you, but does he have to do it so accusingly? When did you give him the impression that you wanted to stay behind? When you’d asked him if you could go not two minutes after seeing him white knuckling it in the bathroom? When he knocked on your door and talked you through an orgasm without even knowing?

“Why do you always do that?” You cross your arms and feel that attitude creeping up on you. “Do what? Spare myself the humiliation?” The humiliation like he’s not staring you down fresh off a mind boggling orgasm. “No, decide what I’m feeling for me—what the fuck gives you the right to make up my mind for me?”

This bastard, who can pull an argument out of you in an instant—when you’d just been thinking nice things about him. “I’m coming with. Tommy’s promise of hard booze is sounding better and better by the minute.”

He huffs at you and it's all you get for a response. You follow him down the stairs and out to the truck, Tommy is waiting down stairs with a confused look, but you shake your head at him and he tails behind you on the way out the door. Joel moves fast across the snow covered yard, climbing in the already running truck with a slam of the drivers door. “What’s his problem?” Tommy makes a face at you when you stop at the tailgate of the truck. “He’s not in a good mood.” Tommy nods his head and walks over to the passenger door. “Course he isn’t, why would he be?” There's a laugh and he opens the door for you, but he doesn’t get in first—he makes you sit beside Joel, with his knee bouncing and his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He won't look at you, but you can tell he’s riddled with anxiety right now. When Tommy squeezes in beside you, you find yourself pressed up against Joel, from shoulder to his solid thigh.

The drive is uneventful because Joel turns on the radio and he doesn’t say anything. Not for the whole twenty five minute drive, Joel doesn’t make a sound, so you and Tommy sit in the uncomfortable silence and try to ignore the way his fingers tap and flex against the steering wheel. When you get into town, you give Tommy all the money you were able to scrounge up and he runs into the liquor store close to the feed store. You were going to sit in the truck and wait, but Joel leans against the door frame with his hands perched on the roof and his cowboy hat blocking the run from your eyes. “Since Tommy’s preoccupied, you’re gonna have to help me.”

Help him? You? “I have three hundred pounds of feed to load, unless you're afraid you’ll break a nail.” Does he have any idea how that works, that you don’t have long fake nails anymore like you did in college? “Well, I guess it's a good thing they are already busted then.”

Helping Joel load the truck means you get to watch him work, carrying two feed bags to your one, but his shoulders bulge when he lifts and you nearly have to cross your legs to push away the nagging thought. He probably looks so damn built under all those layers, beneath that Carhartt. By the time the truck is loaded, Tommy is back with a half gallon of bottom shelf whiskey that looks like a hangover just waiting to happen.

Joel doesn’t give the bottle a second look, but the ride home is just as quiet as the drive there.

It isn’t until later that night when you and Tommy crack open the bottle. It’s dark, but Joel is nowhere to be seen when Tommy makes a fire in the pit out front of the cabin. Your parents went to bed early and the last thing you wanted to do was keep them up, so you took the long walk to the cabin with a few blankets to keep you warm until the whiskey kicks in.

Thirty minutes of having your feet propped up by the fire while you pass the bottle back and forth and Joel finally comes into view, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tries to walk straight past the two of you. “Come on man, can’t you join us? Sit by the fire with your brother?”

The older man shoots him a look, one you can't read but Tommy obviously does. “Come on, Joel—Tommy’s going to make me drink all of this by myself.” He steps onto the porch with his back turned, wiping the snow off his boots. “I don’t drink anymore.” Is the only response he gives. Like you hadn’t seen him drunk off his ass before.

Another hour passes before you see Joel again and by that time the half gallon is half empty, sitting between the two of you while you giggle and laugh about stupid humor Joel would probably huff at. Can someone remind you why it's the broody brother you want? Not the slightly asshole-ish one who knows how to take a joke? Tommy doesn’t exactly do it for you—not your type, no drive, no motivation—but he is Joel's brother, the closest thing you ever get to having the real thing.

You wonder if he’d fuck you like Joel would—they are brothers, so Tommy has to be just as well endowed at Joel, right?

Right on que, like he could hear you thinking about him, Joel comes out and stands behind your chairs. “Think you guys have had enough. Last thing I need is to be up all night because Tommy’s pukin’.”

He gives the emptying bottle a tap with his foot and you glance up at him. “Oh, come on, Joel—why are you always such a fun sucker? You just hate seeing people smile, is that it? Is it bad for maintaining your shitty mood?” Tommy laughs beside you and you ride off that chuckle, but not for long. “And here I thought alcohol would make you plaint, but I guess it just makes you more of a bitch.”

If your head wasn’t swimming in booze right now, you’d probably swing at him, but you aren’t coordinated enough for that right now, so you settle on a hard glare. “I don’t know man, I think I have a good idea of how she gets when she’s drunk.”

Joel's eyes shoot over to him like he already knows exactly where this is going. “Bet you get real feisty, huh? Whiskey always makes girls want it—get’s um horny.” When he talks, he’s looking straight at you—if Joel wasn’t standing right beside you, you probably couldn’t have the courage to hold his younger brother's gaze like that. You want it right now, god you do, but not from the brother that's asking.

“You’ve got no idea,” you tell him and Tommy smirks at you, then up at his brother who’s gone stiff. “Is it me or him? Because this one doesn’t look too willing to give you any kind of sugar.”

Joel downright growls at his brother. “Knock it the fuck off, Tommy—she’s a lady.” A lady that wants him to bend her in half and stuff her full right now—no matter how much it might hurt. “No she ain’t! A lady doesn’t drink half a bottle and want to fuck.”

There's a hard thud behind you and when you look at Tommy, he’s holding the back of his head where Joel smacked him. “I’m walkin’ her home.” He tells his brother, but doesn’t once ask what you want. It’s been too long, been way too long since someone touched you—and it might be the alcohol in your system or the desperation for a Miller that sends you down this path, but both directions lead you to the same destruction.

“Like fuck you are! You aren’t my dad, Joel—you don’t get to decide what I want all the time. If I want to drink half a bottle and fuck your brother, then you’re going to have to suck it up and listen through the damn wall.”

Joel’s look of anger quickly morphs into something you’ve never seen on Joel Miller—fear. Oh—yeah, you struck a nerve on that one. What does he think? You’re going to soil his baby brother? Does he really look down on you that much, that he’s afraid of you sinking your claws into Tommy? You don’t want Tommy, you want Joel, but you’ll never have that—so you grab Tommy by the hand, yank him up until he’s standing on equally wobbly feet before pulling him down to meet your mouth. He tastes like whiskey and it's nothing to write home about. There's no electricity, no real desire on your part. But you know you hit your mark when there's hard footsteps headed towards the house and a hard slam of the front door.

Tommy gets into it fast, his hands on your hips and his teeth nipping at your lips like he’s as desperate for you as you are for his brother. “Let’s go inside,” he hums and you agree—you’re already this far and you want to make Joel feel what you’ve felt for the past twos months, all this anger and bitterness, why the fuck doesn’t he want you like you want him.

“Do you think he’ll hear us, through the wall?” Tommy pulls away and makes a face of confusion. “Do you want him to?”

Do you? Want him to hear the way you could moan and gasp for him? The way you could beg him for more, deeper, harder? Absolutely. “Yeah—I want him to hear it.”

It's a rough and awkward tumble to his room, you fall against the wall and Tommy does his best to keep you up straight. The door beside Tommy’s room is closed and the light is off, but you can't hear anything inside.

You try not to think—try your hardest not to imagine Joel instead of his brother, but it's a futile attempt. All you can see right now is Joel with his cock in his hand lent over the bathroom sink and how much you wanted to get on your knees for him right then and there. “Can I suck your dick?” Tommy groans from where he stands at the end of the bed, you propped against his pillows, both of you in the midst of discarding your clothes. You get down to your panties and underwear by the time Tommy is left in just his briefs. “Yeah-fuck yeah, you can.”

It’s good, it’s working for you—until he drops his underwear and you’re left…underwhelmed. “You aren’t as big as him?” If it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system, you probably wouldn’t have said it in the first place—but how could you not? He’s half the size of his brother, if you’re being generous. He’s still decent sized, you’ve had bigger, but you cant help the pang of disappointment that you won't be able to pretend just for now.

“I—no, wait you saw it?” You wince and Tommy pulls his boxers back up, suddenly the room is filled with something other than desire. “It was an accident—I didn’t mean to, but I just thought…you’re brothers and all.”

Tommy sighs, turns himself and sits down at the end of the bed with his head in his hands. “You don’t want to do this with me.” He says. “I didn’t say that—“ he shakes his head at you and turns enough to look at you. “You’re disappointed that my dick isn’t as big as his—you don’t want this with me. I don’t want to fuck you while you’re imagining my brother.”

Okay—ouch, that one stung. But you can't argue a point because you have no truth behind it even if you tried. You were going to imagine him—press your hands to the wall and imagine you were on the other side of it. “I’m sorry, Tommy…It’s not you, I promise…you’re a good friend and you’re a nice guy, I just…”

He smiles at you and it eases some of your anxiety. Tommy might not be Joel, but he is a good friend. “It’s okay, I can see it…Don’t think I could take somethin’ that's already his.” But you aren’t, his, after all. He doesn’t look at you like that, doesn’t want you—doesn’t want to touch you like this when he’s so busy despising you.

“He doesn’t want me like that, Tommy.”

Doesn’t want to see you like this in his bed, half naked and begging for him. “How do you know that?” You fiddle your hands with the band of your underwear, where a string is fraying on the edge. “He hates me…can’t even stand to look at me, he’s made that pretty clear.”

Tommy chuckles slowly and tosses you his shirt. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Honey. Try, you might surprise yourself.”

You pull the shirt on and curl up on the pillow, letting your head swim in the whiskey that's starting to take its toll on you now. “Sleep in here tonight, won't try anything—I promise.”

He takes the spot beside you and you smile sleepily, pulling the blanket over the top of you. “Thanks Tommy.”

Sleep comes easy when you’ve drank as much as you have tonight and you try not to think about the other side of this wall.

In the next room, Joel sits fully clothed at the end of his bed with his head in his hands, trying his damndest to stop the tears burning his eyes and tracking down his face.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel #dbf joel miller

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fumifooms · 2 months

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i know you aren't really into marcille/laios any longer, but since you went looking online for dungeon meshi doujins, did you happen to find any other marcille/laios ones? (funnily enough at the convention i was at a couple weeks back they had like five, but they were extremely over-exaggerated and personally i prefer my fan content relatively in character...)

Ok first of all: Yeah listen laimar doesn’t have a grip on me anymore but I still quite enjoy it! Just more passively… Altho I do have an analysis that focuses a lot on the importance they hold to each other in my early stage wips drafts, and listen in canon I do think they’re queerplatonic flavored, call me an ot3 qpr truther because Laios Marcille and Falin have a something going on and it transcends being put into a box. But hey hey I reblog laimar artworks I bought that recent doujin I put laimar fics in my -checks- 106 pages long to-read list… Also I have like 5 pages of fanfic prompts for them I may or may not get to writing. Though yeah I do feel bad whenever I notice people following after liking all my laimar posts haha

Sadly to get to the meat of the topic, not really… I don’t go to cons for lack of opportunity so whatever I find is through online. The one I got is The Fourth Basement Floor, it has an english ver and seems so so very in character I can’t wait to get it! Otherwise I’ve looked on Otakurepublic & Doujinrepublic since I use their services for merch from Japan, warning if you click on the link, there are 18+ ones and covers can be pretty explicit. I don’t remember any other laimar one except the one nsfw one I think, but on the plus side there are a lot of gen no ships doujins. I’m bothered because looking back I feel like the catalogue of doujins was wider when I looked all those months ago and it feels like I’m forgetting something hmm… I wish I could help more, but yeah 😔 Pixiv has many laimar comics up (in japanese) if that sates the hunger any

As consolation since I’m already here, why not show some of my laimar things laying around gathering dust I’m fond of. Don’t look if you don’t want to be spoiled for fics I may or may not write I guess? All down below is just laimar prompts

I spoke about some various ones and esp my timeline where she gets him into Daltian Clan here. "Laios… I was wondering, because you enjoy fantasy stories right? I was wondering if you’d like to give my favorite book series a go… It has monsters!" I love love love post-canon laimar where he gets the habit of chewing on her hair because he’s stimming and hungry. Like a goat.

Laios goes to Marcille for love advice. "You like someone?! Do I know them?" She eagerly asked. "Erm… Yes…?" // Post-canon. He’s so nervous and puts his foot in his mouth n lets things slip out that he thought would give him away. (Comic) "You like someone??! What are they like? Who are they?" And he’s like "Well… She’s a half-elf." He’s like shit she’ll probably know right away. And she goes still. "I’ve never met another half-elf!! We’re so rare! You’re saying you met one and didn’t tell me???!" She’s shaking him. And then she goes still again, contempt drawing on her face. "Wait… Are you asking me for advice because I’m a half-elf?" Laios runs with it "Yes!! And because you’re so savvy with romance and what people like…? If, uh, if you were a half-elf, what would you like to get as a gift? What sort of confession would you want?" "… You saved it there. Okay so since I’m so knowledgeable on romance, tell me what is she like?" "-describes Marcille-" She nods, smug yet oblivious. "Aah I can already tell we’d be great friends. Good taste." (then Thinking bubble with him giving her flowers at a restaurant "Did you know roses are edible and used in recipes", candlelit dinner, or wait maybe the most romantic is cooking together alone at home, chocolate! It’s expensive though… Wait I’m king now!)

Lil comic, Laios wakes up snuggled against Marcille’s back then promptly falls off the bed. The noise makes Marcille wake up and she’s like omg are u ok?? Laios is so sweaty and panicked and in denial about her being special to him. She explains, disgruntled at the memory "Izutsumi is bunking in with Chilchuck again, they’re taking the whole bedrolls." Pause. "Sorry, I should have told you, but you like sleeping with Izutsumi too so I figured…" She looked sheepish. "Between you and Senshi, I much prefer sleeping with you. It feels sort of nostalgic, like a sleepover, no?" He relaxes and gets in the bed again, smiling. "But… We’ve never had a sleepover?" She chuckles "I guess not. I must be getting that impression because of Falin…" And the air between them is warm yet bittersweet now, as she smiles like that and his eyes and smile cloud over. The earlier instinctive reluctance to touch is gone now. She snuggles into his arms and is like "Hug me?" "Okay." And he does, wraps his arms around her and tucks his chin over her head.

Post canon, marcille takes him to a squid restaurant. Cute lighthearted hehe. He sulks "If there are any parasites in this I will ban squid from this kingdom or so help me…"

Short post canon fluff marcille pov about laios gaining weight n becoming chubby. She used to dream of chiseled abs and angular elves, laios in every way, shape and form is so far from the beauty standards she idealized so. And yet… She loves how soft sleeping against him is, how much there’s more of him for her to hug and nuzzle her face in. She loves seeing him and seeing someone strong, who isn’t malnourished or underweight, someone healthy with color in their skin. An healthy appetite. He used to look more like a rectangle, severe and strict, but now he looked rounder, and seeing him smile at her always made her feel like that roundness suited him. She smiled back, and melted thinking about how her boyfriend was the sweetest in the world. ^I still wanna do this one really bad. Sometimes a fic premise comes from nowhere and puts you in a chokehold and you must finish it to obtain catharsis

Short oneshot about laios musing about Marcille’s smile, how important it is to him in subtle ways etc: Ends with Laios being like wait there’s something off (succubus). Then he grabbed her throat. Or smth

Laios seeing her dungeon like "this is so wrong Marcille you can’t run a dungeon for shit" and also "WHAT ARE THESE HORRORS OF MONSTERS NOO THEY CAN’T BE EFFECTIVE LIKE THAT"

Dinner for two: Very warm. Marcille and Laios are meeting up and cooking a dinner just for them both, no one else is there. They’re being so domestic and it’s light. Laios pauses at some point, doing the dishes, saying… I’ve always worried, thinking doing things like these would remind me of my parents.

Laios doesn’t know what to do when he realizes he actually *likes* likes Marcille, so he avoids her. Everyone notices and is disapproving of him.

Her mana acts up and she shares her dream with someone, kinda like with Izutsumi. Listen the premise could be smutty but I think it’d be more fun if they just hanged out n were silly, like the nightmares chapter without the nightmare

Laimar pining but from the view of Chilchuck, his love hatred sensing a storm brewing. The giggling, the looks. Ugh! It reminded him of himself and his wife when they were young and newly dating.

I love Laios and Izu being worsties so. Laios sees izutsumi rubbing her scent on marcille’s clothes and gets possessive. Maybe Golden Kingdom maybe something else I have no clue but Laios being ridiculous and cheek rubbing or something <3

I might want to do an AU where Laios gets into werebeast ring fighting, before canon and the split happens after he deserts the military. So he’s alone, has nothing going for him and stumbles into that sphere and gets werebeast tattoos done. It doesn’t make him happier at all and fighting sucks actually, but it brings money and he likes being a beast and being cheered by a crowd aka illusion of being liked, and money brings food and eating is the privilege of the living etc etc. So then when he goes to check on Falin at the academy it’s a big AU where he has a whole other reputation and look to him, and when he meets izutsumi their relationship is different and aaaaaa… He’s freeer in this au, lets himself be animalistic and weird, even though ofc the arc is him letting himself be more human as well and connecting with humans, through talking and infodumping n shit. Oh I went off but the laimar is because it’s inspired by cool laimar art here (warning tho it’s an art dump with toudencest also 😔) but werewolf Laios laimar AUs… A lotta fun stuff there idk idk

#Laimar #ask #Ppl can send me laimar asks tbh idk when i’d get to them but i do still love them #Not all that much left i wanna explore analysis or post wise with them though #Laios touden #marcille donato #Fanfic wips #Dungeon meshi #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers

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heysweetheart-writes · 3 months

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Happy Wip Wednesday!

Thank you to all the lovelies that tagged me today! @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @getmehighonmagic @kiwiana-writes @orchidscript @eusuntgratie @suseagull04 @firenati0n @anincompletelist & @inexplicablymine for your tags! I enjoyed your words and I'm very excited about your projects!

I debated about sharing today because I've been working on finishing Watermelon Sugar's chapter and I'm SO close!! I don't want to spoil anything more from it. The problem is that I haven't been writing much of anything else but I'm going to share the last bit of the neighbours au that I wrote a couple of weeks ago. I think this bit is still unbetad, Morgan will know! Anyway, I decided to post this because I need a bit of encouragment to get back to it and who better than you guys? <3

“I would never want you to be anything but yourself. In general and especially around me.” Henry sees how Alex’s throat constricts around nothing when he hears him say that and avoids looking back at him. It’s certainly not the first time Alex is vulnerable around him. He’s always been an open book which is what Henry lo— likes the most about him. But this seems to be especially difficult for Alex to hear. “I was miserable when I first moved out here. I did nothing but work and study. Yes, I have Nora and I love her but we can be very similar sometimes and it does us no good. And I miss my sister. She’s the one that grounds us.” Alex trails off for a moment and Henry thinks it’s the first time he sees him blushing since they’ve met. “And then you came along. Well—” he pets David’s head. “You two. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I moved here.”

Tags under the cut!

I’m tagging both people I want to see what they’re up to and people I’m hoping will see this snip: @read-and-write- @theprinceandagcd @daisymae-12 @cricketnationrise @pridepages @clottedcreamfudge @anincompletelist @myheartalivewrites @three-drink-amy @lizzie-bennetdarcy @zwiazdziarka @callumsmitchells @raysletters @cultofsappho @priincebutt @notspecialbabe @tailsbeth-writes @bigassbowlingballhead @onward--upward @ninzied @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @magicandarchery

Sorry if you already posted today and I missed it, I know I'm rather late! And as always, if you wish to be added or removed, let me know!

#rwrb #rwrb fic #wip wednesday #my fic #neighbors au #red white & royal blue #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfiction #neighbours!au

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wendingways · 11 months

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Wendingways' Star Wars fic recs

The vast majority of these are fix-its. Some are time travel/time loop. Most revolve around PT, TCW, and OT characters. A lot are also gen, as it turns out.

The order of the list has nothing to do with how much I enjoyed each fic, because I've enjoyed them all in different ways, for different reasons! Fics that seem to be really popular have been placed toward the bottom of each section, because I'm guessing they already appear on a lot of other rec lists. Aside from that, the order is pretty much random.

*Chapter and word counts may not be up to date. I try to go through once in a while to update the details for WIPS, but it's a lot to keep track of!

Complete multichapter fics

Finding Obi-Wan; T, 86.9k. Obi-Wan, having disappeared from the Jedi Temple, wakes up with no idea who he is or what the Force is and gets pulled into all manner of messes (yes, Hondo gets involved, of course he does), while Anakin refuses to believe he's dead and struggles to find him.

Blood and Copper Oxide; T, 36.3k. "Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader crash land on a planet that shouldn't have existed. Luke can't escape Vader and survive the planet at the same time. Darth Vader can't capture Luke and fight off the innumerable threats the planet sends his way. They might have to work together instead." Very cool story!

The Skywalker Secret; T, 39.8k. Anakin time travels back to the Clone Wars following Endor. The story is told mostly through the eyes of perplexed observers, and has an excellent ending; it's very satisfying and lovely!

Lunches at Anakin's; T, 93.1k. After Endor, thanks to the Force's meddling, Anakin finds himself alive but stuck on Tatooine, where he ends up reluctantly mentoring a Force-sensitive girl. (Technically complete, but part of a series which is not complete.)

(Tooka)Cat Scratch Fever; not rated, 17.7k. Luke adopts a tooka which turns out to be his father, under a curse by Sidious. (I would probably rate this one as T.)

In the Tall Grass; T, 18.5k. "After a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along." This one is so cool, it has such a fairytale feel to it! And there's a sequel!

Shadows of the Future; K+, 129.3k. Obi-Wan dies on Mustafar and is sent back to TPM, where he bonds with Anakin and begins to change the future for the better.

Gut Feeling; T, 7.5k. Amusing little multichapter wherein Piett is assigned a new aide who goes by the name of Lucas Starkiller (who is clearly not Luke Skywalker, definitely not), and from there becomes embroiled in treason.

May Death Find You Alive; T, 11.0k. Anakin gets stuck in a time loop where Obi-Wan keeps dying.

Empire Reimagined; series, T, 341.7k. A saga of Luke, Vader/Anakin, Piett, Veers, and Leia covering from ESB-era to post-ROTJ. Epic friendships abound! (Series not marked complete, but the last completed fic doesn't leave you hanging.)

Mirjahaal; T, 132.8k. Another lovely Wishful fic in the spirit of Empire Reimagined, involving favorite characters and somebody else who's a surprise!

The Exiled; T, 20.1k. "Leia has tried everything to help her baby son. She has turned to every expert on the Force she knows-- all but one. (Ben and Grandpa go camping)" (Visible to registered AO3 users only.)

Cloudy Symbols of High Romance; G, 22.1k. This one's a bit of a relict! Posted pre-AOTC, way back in 2001, it's a cool take on how Anakin and Padmé's AOTC-era reunion happened, and omg, it's so much better than AOTC. It's actually cute, and you can see why they like each other, and man does it make the knowledge of what's coming so much the worse.

Kintsugi; T, 16.7k. Quietly tragic, even though nobody dies and it's broadly a fix-it. Not a comfy fic, but one which is well done.

What Lurks in the Dark; T, 155.4k. "A simple mission to check out an abandoned weapons factory turns into a dangerous fight for survival. Trust is broken, loyalties will be tested, and dark secrets are brought to light. Because sooner or later, the truth always comes out."

The Beauty in the Beast; T, 46.1k. "When the Force decides it's had enough of Darth Vader and wants Anakin Skywalker back, it dumps his long-lost teenage son on his doorstep with an ultimatum: unless Vader renounces the Sith and turns back to the Light within three months, Luke will die."

Sibling Revelry; T, 24.9k. "After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. Especially since Imperial Intelligence just told him that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected..." A hilarious comedy of misunderstandings!

The Sith Who Brought Life Day; G, 13.3k. A rather entertaining take on how Vader found out who blew up the Death Star.

This Life of Ours; T, 53.9k. "On the run from the empire and the remaining Jedi alike, Vader must come to terms with his past and his future, all the while learning to care for the boy that is his only connection to his life as Anakin Skywalker." (Visible to registered AO3 users only.)

Teach the Padawan. Save the Galaxy.; series, T, 387.4k. 4 books complete, but the series itself is not complete. Ben Kenobi goes back in time and becomes Obi-Wan's master instead of Qui-Gon.

Legacy; G, 175.5k. Post-ROTJ Luke and Leia time travel to the Clone Wars.

there but for the grace of god; T, 49.2k. Young Luke winds up time traveling to the Clone Wars, where he causes both confusion and conversations that will lead to a brighter future for the TCW crew and the galaxy in general.

Precipice; M, 231.7k. "An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall." Padmé and Anakin each raise a twin and work to bring Palpatine down.

Don't Look Back; M, series, 533.7k. 2 books complete, 1 in progress. Leia gets sent back to AOTC-era, and omg is she a force to be reckoned with! Very detailed, very political series.

Oneshots

Negative Static Stability; G, 8.1k. Vader and Leia meet when Leia is 5; lessons on the workings of ships ensue, along with some good old Artoo scheming. Adorable!

Palpatine's Greatest Hits II: Imperial Boogaloo; T, 1.3k. Just Palpatine being salty. It's very fun! "Fortress Dramaticus" has got to be one of my favorite bits, coupled with Palpatine's ongoing disgust at its lack of shields and certain people's inability to learn certain lessons. And his disgust at Vader's Kenobi obsession. Okay, the whole thing is great. Go read it!

Dust to Dust; T, 4.7k. "Darth Vader goes back in time. The Galaxy is saved; he is not."

Puppet Kings; series, T-M, 18.8k. Really nicely done, dark oneshot trilogy (complete) about Luke, Vader, & Co. I'm not usually one for horror and tragedy, but I read the first fic in the series and didn't want to stop!

Amelioration; T, 8.2k. "A recently liberated Vader attempts to ameliorate the future by changing the past." A different sort of angle, and an interesting fic!

The Horrendous Space Kablooie; T, 6.2k. "9 year old Anakin wakes up on the Executor. Chaos ensues." Well worth reading! Can't say more because I don't want to spoil anything.

The Agony of Tarkin; G, 4.8k. "An extra in the Imperial Opera Company discovers he has been assigned the role of Darth Vader in its upcoming production of The Agony of Tarkin." Another hilarious fic in the vein of The Sith Who Brought Life Day and Accountant Non-Heroes of the Republic.

Accountant Non-Heroes of the Republic; G, 7.0k. "Palpatine makes a choice to hide his fiscal manoeuvres in the Financial Department. The Financial Department takes advantage of this lack of transparency to do whatever they want. This saved the Republic." It's always fun to watch Palpatine shoot himself in the foot, and all the better when it comes completely out of left field.

Out of Step; T, 4.9k. Nice little oneshot with post OT-era Obi-Wan and Anakin stuck into their TPM-era selves.

FIVE HUNDRED AND ONE THING THE MEMBERS OF THE 501ST LEGION OF THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DO; T, 4.9k. A hilarious list composed by General Kenobi. I laugh myself silly every time I read this. (Visible to registered AO3 users only.)

501 MORE THINGS THE 501ST ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DO; T, 3.4k. A sequel to the 501st list fic, also very funny, although it only has about 250 entries, not 501. (Visible to registered AO3 users only.) Listed with oneshots because the extant 250 entries can be read as a complete list.

Where Have We Come?; T, 2.0k. "The first time was one of the hardest and the easiest. Obi-Wan loses at Mustafar, but instead of dying he wakes up at the dawn of the last day of the republic, doomed to repeat the worst day of his life, over and over again." Time loop!

you drew stars around my scars (but now i'm bleeding); not rated, 1.1k. Post-Twilight of the Apprentice, Ahsoka and Anakin. I'd rate G or T. (Visible to registered AO3 users only.)

still dancing with your ghosts (sleeping with your memories); M, 1.1k. "Everyone knows about the Massacre, and how no Jedi made it out alive. The Jedi refuse to let anyone forget." I do not cry easily at fics. This one made me cry.

The Trick is to Keep Breathing; T, 3.5k. "She's older now, and so is he. Far older now. She wonders: will he have lost any power with his age? Will he be shorter, weaker? An old man on a ventilator? It's hard to imagine that he won't still be dangerous. But then, that's exactly what she's counting on."

Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit; G, 7.1K. "As a rule, Vader didn't really do anything with his social media account, but then the rant of some kid from Tatooine about the inefficiency of TIE Fighters began trending, the pilots and engineers on the Devastator started fixing their ships and Vader got invested."

Multichapter fics that are incomplete but still appear to be alive as of now

Turning Point; T, 9.8k. After Vader dies on the second Death Star, he's sent back in time to the year 69 BBY, on Naboo, where he picks up an unfortunate barnacle in the person of the teenage Sheev Palpatine. Quite entertaining, and I can't wait to see where it goes!

The Good He Seeks; T, 70.1k. "After killing the Emperor, Darth Vader agreed to serve the fledgling New Republic and destroy the last true-believers of the Empire he had once helped create. But he's living on borrowed time." Though I do enjoy pure fix-its, there's just something that really gets me about fics that are fix-it-ish, but life is messy, the characters are messy, there are no easy answers or perfect solutions, and every positive development really feels earned. So far, this is one of those fics, and I'm loving it!

The Galaxy Revolves at a Million Miles a Day (Around Me); T, 40.7k. After dying on Executor during the battle of Endor, Piett finds himself trapped in a time loop which he must break. I'm a sucker for time loops, and this is such a good one!

The Sleepover to Restore the Republic; T, 56.1k. This many Skywalkers, clones, and associated friends, relatives, and coworkers were never intended to be thrown together, and when they are, boy oh boy. Gloriously chaotic and funny. (Visible to registered AO3 users only.)

Nameless, on the Edge of Nowhere; M, 100.7k. Vader survives ROTJ, but both he and Luke made it out of the second Death Star via random hyperspace jumps in separate ships. After getting by for a time, the not-fully-Sith-but-not-fully-redeemed Vader ends up with the Rebellion, where Leia becomes his handler. Slow build, and a really rewarding read thus far! (Also, I love the OCs in this one; they all feel very natural and vivid, and like people in their own right.)

Multichapter fics/series for those okay with living on the edge (inconsistent updates, long hiatus, or abandoned)

Headaches; T, 31.2K. "When Luke overhears his aunt and uncle arguing, he follows old Ben to Daiyu. Skywalker shenanigans ensues." Oh my goodness, the pure child chaos that is in this fic, it's an excellent time. Hasn't updated in almost a year, but what's there is so good!

Balance on the knife edge; T, 136.6k. After dying on Malachor, Ahsoka time travels back to Mortis, during the Clone Wars.

The Thunder Answered Back; M, 13.1k. "Count Dooku survives his duel with Anakin Skywalker only to wake up as a captive in the Jedi Temple on the evening of Order 66 and the siege. Betrayed, maimed, and surrounded by slaughter on every side, he must choose his path forward - and choose it quickly. RotS AU." Featuring Jocasta Nu.

Synchronous; G, 67.9k. "It's the usual time-entangling fiasco: 'Find the disturbance. Rectify the wrong. Fix the anomaly. Bring balance to the past so the Force may be balanced in the future.' There is a slight miscalculation, however, and Luke Skywalker finds himself in the Clone Wars while having to masquerade in the body of his late father Anakin Skywalker. Leia and Han aren't so helpful either."

In the Midst of Darkness Lays a Sleeping Light; T, 26.0k. Series, wherein Palpatine turns Vader into a dragon. (It goes great for both of them. Totally.) Angsty and enjoyable, and an interesting exploration of dehumanization/rehumanization.

To Set Up a Sith; T, 35.2k. "Teenage Luke tries to help his unwitting Sith father make a friend, with a little help from his ghost mom and the Force." Interesting story with fun and sweet bits, and I'm super curious about how it will turn out if it's ever finished!

like a lazy ocean hugs the shore; T, 10.7k. After Vader kills him, Fox gets stuck in a time loop around the time when Fives is killed.

Living Every Day; T, 82.9k. "When Satine Kryze survives her encounter with Darth Maul, it changes the galaxy. But even more than that, it changes the lives of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the Skywalker family."

Dancing with Ghosts in Your Garden; T, 979.3k. Star Wars PT and TCW characters, but in a Hogwarts setting. It works surprisingly well! There's a little more teenage romance than is my personal preference, but it's a cool AU and quite long if you're looking for a fun, imaginative fic to absolutely bury yourself in for a while. (And it looks like Ahsoka might finally be entering during the next year of the fic!!)

What We've Become; T, 82.0K. "Darth Vader and Ahsoka’s fight on Malachor takes a different path, and Ahsoka actually is able to save her master. Or rather, she’s able to convince him to save himself. Diverges from canon in the last few minutes of Twilight of the Apprentice and goes increasingly AU from there."

better late than never; G, 41.4k. Ahsoka wins at Malachor, Vader redemption fic.

Madhouse Promenade; T, 13.0k. "In a bid to save his new apprentice's life, Darth Sidious siphoned the life force from Padmé Amidala, ultimately killing her. Ten years later, after finding out the truth, Darth Vader finds himself haunted by her ghost, and Padmé finds herself face-to-face with what her husband has become."

Hard Reset; T, 33.4k. "Anakin Skywalker wakes up to his worst nightmare, and he doesn't even know all of it yet." Aka Vader gets amnesia, and Anakin is confused about everything. (Visible to registered AO3 users only.)

The Ghosts on Coruscant; T, 143.6k. After surviving Mustafar and living as a rebel for eight years, Padmé is captured by the Empire, and Vader finds out.

Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns; T, 616.6k. ST-era Leia time travels back to ANH.

Old Man Luke; M, 109.4. ST-era Luke and Leia time travel to the Clone Wars.

Comics (all wips)

Dark Chasm; T, 21 chapters. "On Bespin, the truth is revealed, and Vader bids for Luke to join him. Luke looks down into the dark chasm and makes a choice."

Imperial Babysitters; T, 17 chapters. Cute comic/art series with Luke being raised by Vader, Piett, and Veers.

Our New Hope; T, 57 chapters. "After Ahsoka Tano discovers 12-year-old Luke Skywalker on Tatooine, she takes him under her wing and around the Galaxy. Meanwhile, Darth Vader has found Bail Organa's force-sensitive daughter and has started training her as a Junior Inquisitor. A chance encounter between the twins brings their worlds together."

The Tinies; G, 76 chapters. Cute comic with Vader and Padmé raising Luke and Leia.

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theelderhazelnut · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn <3

I’m one hour late lol. Okay so this is what I have written so far for the first chapter of “Rise of Villains: The Shadow”. Atoosa (Ombra) has lost everything, and she meets Raiden for the first time. (Güney is a minor character)

Also, this is not proofread!

I had never truly felt it until that night when I was sitting beside the road. I had never wished to be anyone else, even that middle-aged man making tea for his customers, but this lost little girl. What did people do when their parents are suddenly killed in an airpalne shot by two rockets, and when they were suddenly left with nothing but an old luggage?

I stared at my fingers, trying so hard not to bury my face in them because then my life would magically go deeper into this abyss. What was I supposed to do really? A psychiatry student in a foreign country who had lost her financial support last week and her rented apartment this morning.

I went into my pocket to check the time, but remembered that my phone had just died. I took a deep breath to protect my sanity for just a few more seconds until I arrive at the restaurant, the temporary workplace I opt because I wanted to be this independent woman. The money it provided me for working there part-time would never heal any scars, but it was better that nothing. But now it was everything I had left.

I pushed glass door open after walking for fifteen minutes, and dragged my luggage behind me. There were only two couples left out of all the customers. Güney, the cashier, looked at me up and down.

“Where are you going?” He continued chewing his gum while his dark eyes were begging to be shut.

“Can I stay the night?” It was weird to hear my own voice after hours of silence in the pavement. Also when I was trying to hide the pleading tone shaking my voice.

“Uuum-yeah you can sleep in the kitchen, but why? Are you okay?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

Güney was never the friendliest collaege to me, and I definitely did not need his sympathy right then.

“I-my landlord kicked me out I’ll just stay one night I promise I’ll fix everything and-“

“What do you mean he kicked you out?!”

“Because I didn’t pay the rent.” Even talking about what happened this morning made me feel ill and dizzy. I shook my head and walked up to the kitchen.

“You could stay at my place.” He offered in a low, cautious tone, standing awkwardly in the doorframe. Trusting a stranger I see almost everyday? Nope. Never.

I stared at him dead in the eyes. “I’m good. Thank you.”

He creeped out of the dark room with measured steps. And I was, once again, left alone. I sat on the counter for the next couple of minutes, staring at the distance while the fridge continuously beezed in my ears. I would lie if I claimed that I wasn’t scared to be all alone in a restaurant at midnight. Surely, the doors were locked, but my mind was a bastard who enjoyed visualizing diverse scenarios of a psychopath suddenly breaking in. Fortunately, the knives and axes were at reach, hanging gravely from the rank.

I tightened my grip around the edge of the counter. I could hear the already ruined house of my life collapsing into the deep abyss of misery. I would turn into a poor girl drowning in povert while she carries her dead dreams on her hunched shoulders. I would be useless. I would fail.

A vague, booming sound from afar rang in my ears. I found myself totally frozen when I only moved my eyeballs towards the door. I greeted my teeth as though it would magically create a shield for me. The sound was heard again; now three times in a row like knocking. I held my breath to hear every single noise resembling footsteps.

Knocking again. In utter silence, I picked one of the huge knives, and [walking silently] out of the kitchen. White knuckling the handle, my nails were penetrating my sweaty palm.

Before I knew it, a thunder striked just a few meters away. My eyes went blind and my ears went deaf for a brief moment, my heart skipping a beat. I stumbled, but maintained my balance by holding onto one of the tables. Gathering my mind, I aimed the tip of the knife to where it just exploded. But to my shock, evrything was in its place. Not even a single crack could be seen on the windows.

Instead, there stood a tall, masculine figure. Due to darkness I could only see the blackness of his robe and a triangle on his head. Two balls of blue light were shining intensely where his eyes supposed to be. Even though he seemed to be totally alright, tiny fractions of electricity lit up his fists, and occasionally connected the edge of that triangle to his neck.

My lungs begged to empty themselves, but even a small noise was deadly threatening. Was he an alien?

“Atoosa Aryan?” He called.

My heart dropped down to my belly. My thoughts stuck in a tight knot, and so did my tongue.

“I am Raiden, the god of thunder.” He lifted his gloved hand. “There is no need to be afraid. My mere intention is to save you.”

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting before him on one the tables.

“Do we know each other?” I mumbled weakly, afraid that if I blinked for a second, he would rip my throat out.

“I am certain that you have never heard of me untill this moment.” There was a soothing hint of patience in his nonchalant tone. “However, I have heard about you many times in the past two decades. I am well aware of your iron-bending power, Miss. Aryan.”

My heart skipped a beat. He knew too much about me, even the tiniest bit of control I have over iron which I had concealed even from myself. Was he really a god? No, it would be too stupid of me to believe him. He was probably a very professional thief who had taken his job a bit too seriously. What did he want to steal from me though? I had nothing.

He continued. “I am here to offer you a place among the defenders of the realm.”

If he wasn’t a well-trained thief, the he was definitely a psychopath. But that didn’t make sense considering how everything about him seemed too real.

In the next half an hour he took his time to explain about how those defenders defend our realm which he called Earthrealm. He was a god whose main responsibility was to protect this realm. And seemingly, one of his minor duties was to find miserable people like me - with supernatural powers - and train them to be fighters.

That was ridiculous. But a part of my heart begged my brain to believe it.

Writing Taglist(to be added/removed): @vivilovespink @scentedcandleibex @darialovesstuff @confidentandgood @spacestephh @takiisieju-moved @inafieldofdaisies @carlosoliveiraa @shegetsburned @bloody-arty-myths @zoetheneko @hi-thisiszira @admin-pipes @mitsuko-saito @malewifefirestar @krysta-cross @elderglocks @breakfwest @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement @ninibear3000 @sinclxirx @gavincruikshanksexhusband @voidika @orbitinytheworld @strangefable @bihanspookies @valyrra @simonxriley

#ombra the ironhead #lord raiden #mk raiden #mk oc #mortal kombat oc #rise of the villains: the shadow #wip

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multifan2022 · 11 months

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Golden Lies

Heres another new one that has been in my wips for who knows how long.. Let me know!!

“I volunteer!”

The first thought through your head after hearing that is ‘who said that?’ Who would volunteer for the 69th Hunger Games.. Well the games at all, but why now?

It isn't until people start turning around and looking at you, the 17 year old who almost escaped being reaped, that you realize whose voice you heard. You heard your own, because as soon as you saw little Cissa being pulled onto stage your heart broke.

Cissa was your neighbor, she had just turned 12 the day before the reaping. You would be turning 18 in a week and a half. The poor girl cried for twenty minutes when she got a papercut opening seeds, she wouldn't last in the games.

Not that you had a much better chance when it came down to it. The biggest difference was the only family you had was two grandparents, both very old and one sick. Cissa was the middle child of 5, her older twin brothers and her younger twin sisters. It would devastate them all if something happened to her, your grandparents wouldn't live long to mourn you.

The peacekeepers hands on you barely caught your attention as they forced you to switch places. The only good part you could see out of this, was that Cissa wouldn't be rereaped. You had saved at least one of their kids, a small payment for all the times they watched your grandparents during the harvest for the last 8 years.

Cress Amberpath, the light pink skinned Escort of your district, is practically vibrating with happiness when you reach the stage. There had never been a volunteer from your district while he worked here. He pulled you into a weird hug congratulating you before pulling you towards the mic. “Is there anything you would like to say to little Cissa, Dearie?”

You nodded, pulled yourself together and looked at her family. Her mother was already in tears, you being like a niece to her, while she clung to her daughter. The older twin boys who were your age nodded, letting you know they would take care of her. While their father nodded, letting you know he would take care of your grandparents. It all happened within seconds, and suddenly you were ok.

Everything was going to be ok. So you laughed and nodded again “Hey Cissy, take care of Finnick for me ya?” Cissa turned back to you, tears streaming down her face as she nodded and cracked a smile at the inside joke. When her family started laughing along with you, Cress spoke again “Whos Finnick my dear! Do you have a beau we should all know about!”

You knew this next part would maybe piss some people off, but you were off to die so who cares. You shook your head “It's my dog.. Because there was a magazine we found the same day I found this puppy, and on the cover it said ‘Is golden boy Finnick Odair, a dog?’ Cissy thought it was a sign that we should name him Finnick.”

To your utter surprise, Cress laughed.. Hard, like bent over laughing a genuine laugh before speaking “I wish we could see that man's face when he hears this, it would be priceless! But onto the boys!” When he left you in your spot and walked towards the other bowl, you scanned the crowd for the one friend you had.

Hardin Bellbrand.

A boy you went to school with, who worked the same field as you. He was your only confidant, the only person you trusted fully in this world. He was there when your parents died, you were there when he was diagnosed with an untold disease a few years ago. Hardin had been pulled from the fields, and was treated. Perk of being the Mayor's son, you guess. Now he could be out and about as long as he took his pill everyday.

If he missed his pills within a few days he would start to have severe pain. Next would come the sweats and puking alongside hallucinations. He wasn't fit to be in the games ethier, and thankfully he is a year older than you so this is his last year.

You finally made eye contact with him, and could see the heartbreak and sadness in them. Your ears start to buzz when he nods and looks away. You're frantically shaking your head as you hear Cress call some name you don't know. Your feet are moving before you realize it, mouth open screaming “NO” as you realize what Hardin is thinking.

Over your painfully screams to your sick friend, his voice rings clear “I volunteer as tribute!” The Mayor and his wife start screaming now as well, neither wanting to lose their only child. Both knowing even if he was fit and healthy, he's not a killer. While they are getting drug off stage by peacekeepers, Hardin is making his way to the stage.

He completely bypasses Cress who is practically dying in excitement and walks straight to you. While you're shaking your head, he smiles sadly and wraps you in a hug whispering over and over that it's ok. Even though it's anything but. Cress pulls him off you and towards the microphone. “Well!! What a turn of events!! Not ONE but TWO volunteers!! Why did you volunteer young man??”

Hardin turns his head and looks at you, that same sad smile present. “Couldn't let my best friend go off to fight without me.. She was gonna leave me in the fields to do all her work, can you believe that Cress?” He jokes and you know that he's going to make it through the process just fine. The struggle will be when the two of you are trying to survive in the arena.

But you're dedicated to keeping him alive.. Even if it means killing yourself in the end.

Hardin Bellbrand will be coming home.

~~~~~~~

The train ride was excruciating, listening to Cress gush about how your ratings were already up due to there being volunteers in an outlying district. But since there were two of you, and you were best friends, he swore that it would be an easy win. There hadn't been a victor from District 9 in 25 years and he was dead.

You and Hardin would be alone going into training, Cress would be your only guide during the next few weeks. You're both thankful for the fact the train rolls at 250 miles an hour, making your trip only a handful of hours. But your head was still pounding when you arrived.

Cameras flashed and people screamed questions at you both as you were practically shoved from the train and into a car. Just to have it all happen again between the car and the tribute center. The only difference was this time you saw people holding out flowers. Cress stopped and gasped, turning back to you both, “We have never had gifts given to us before the games! This is such an honor, graciously accept them and show your love for the capitol!”

You turned and nudge your head to one side, Hardin nodded and without speaking each of you took a side of the walkway. Men, women and children all screaming your name and touching your face or hair. Some had flowers that you would take and offer a smile and kind words back. You shake every hand you can reach, and even stop taking a few pictures.

Somehow you even look happy, excited even to be here, which only drives the crowd crazier. When you and Hardin meet back up by the doors, you each have a handful of flowers and messy hair. Your hands find each other, fingers intertwining as you bow and smile to the crowd who just screams louder.

Another car pulls up so the peacekeepers finish escorting you inside the huge building. Hardin looks around in amazement at the architecture and the size but all you can see is the bodies in the corner. A group of people who you assume are here to size up the competition and try to intimidate them.

Cashmere, Gloss, Brutus, Enobaria, Finnick and Augustus along with their tributes are all sitting there glaring at you. Well all of them besides Finnick, who is the same age as Augustus who is the same age as you and Hardin. Just a bunch of 17 and 18 year olds that deserve to be anyone but here. Finnick was smiling at you, looking you up and down before leaning over and making a comment to Augustus who then smirks.

The look on their faces makes your skin crawl, but you dont show it. Your upper lip pulling into a sneer as you fake gag in their direction causing Hardin to laugh as you keep walking towards the elevator. Thankfully disappearing from the Careers sight.

~~~~

Finnick was tired..

Tired of being in the Capitol. Tired of kissing asses, tired of sleeping around, and tired of pretending like he hated every other tribute who walked through the door. But mostly he was just tired, he really needed a nap and a good shower. He was practically sleeping with his eyes open not listening to the others when he heard the crowd outside start screaming.

He looked around quickly, thinking maybe one of the other careers had made their way outside. But no, the whole group was still there. As they all turned towards the door and waited, Finnick was stuck between relief and jealousy. Relief that maybe the people of the Capitol had found a new favorite and would leave him alone, and jealousy that the crowd was honestly being louder for whoever was outside than they were for him.

The jealousy washed away though when the doors opened and a beautiful girl walked in with her escort and who Finnick assumed was her district partner. Arms full of flowers, hair ruffled from fingers running through it and cheeks pink from embarrassment.

He knew right away by the lack of a Victor and the pink man escorting them that they were the tributes from District 9. While the guy looked around clearly amazed with the building, which to be honest happened to most of the tributes, the girl looked unimpressed. She rolled her eyes at her district mate, shouldered him a little before turning and noticing the group.

Which also seemed to be unimpressive to her.

While she looked them over, Finnick looked her over. She was tall for a girl, probably 5’7 or 5’8. Her hair was clean and down to the middle of her back, she was thin but not thin like most who came from her district. Definitely not thin like those from 12. More like the type of thin people get when they work the fields, which is probably what she did coming from 9.

They both looked in shape while the girl looked a little healthier and a little stronger, Finnick knew that appearances were deceiving. While he was sizing her up she turned and locked eyes with him. By the look on her face, she yet again was not impressed. Finnick leaned over to Augustus and whispered “I think we should probably watch out for that one. But smile, make her think we are making fun of her.”

Augustus, who was new to all of this, smiled condescendingly at her before she sneered at them. Laughed with her district mate and left, the two teens turning back to the other careers. “We need to watch them, that's the first time 9 hasnt been scared shitless when they walked in. Plus for whatever reason the crowd loved them, and that's always a problem.” Cashmere said, looking down at her nails before looking over at her brother who nodded.

That was all that passed between the group before they all went up to watch the reapings.

~~~~~~~~~

After hair was ripped out that you didn't even know existed, you were bathed and rubbed with an oil that made your skin seem tanned and shimmery. Makeup was smeared across your face as someone else was pulling at your hair. You sat quietly knowing that fussing was just going to make the process longer. Soon enough, but not soon enough you were left in just a robe in an empty room with nothing but a cot, a chair and a wardrobe.

When the door opened, a dark skinned woman with her hair back in box braids stepped in. She had just a little gold makeup on, and a small gold rose tattooed behind her ear. She smiled genuinely at you before pulling you into a hug, when she pulled back she squeezed your shoulders. “I'm sorry you have to be here.” She said so quietly you almost missed it.

All you did was nod and look down, but she put a hand under your chin and lifted your face. You could tell as she turned it and then looked at your hair that she was examining the team's work. Your eye make up was dramatic, a medium dark green on the lid, with orange brushed into brown that reminded you of leaves changing color. Your bottom lid had the same orange and brown along with dramatic winged eyeliner and false lashes.

Your hair had a thick but slightly messy fishtail crown braid with the rest waterfalling down your back in waves. Small clips that had butterflies, bees and dragonflies on them had been placed seemingly at random around your head. A crown woven with flowers such as Cardinal flower, wood lilies, dotted gayflower, and multiple colors of milkweed rested on your head. The smell was amazing, they looked and smelled like they had just bloomed in the fields behind your home. The mulberries and huckleberries looked like they had been picked at their peak and preserved perfectly.

“My name is Lavanna, I'm your and Hardin's main stylist. I will be designing all your outfits, I'm fresh out of school, this is my first game. But I plan to put you out there in a big way. Not to sound full of myself but I think the only person who could out do what I have planned for you is my younger brother Cinna.. And thankfully he's still in school.” Lavanna smiled at you before turning to the wardrobe and pulling out what you think are pieces of a dress.

She helps you into a dress that is skin tight from the shoulders, down your arms and chest. Tight all the way to your hips where it had just enough room and stretch to walk before it reached along with a slit that went very very high up your right leg. The top, including your arms, was green like the forest then it started to mix and fade into a dark amberish color. Then it ombred down into a beautiful bright orange that reminded you of the sunsets back home. Again it felt like you were looking at the leaves changing.

She helped you into orange heels that wrapped up your legs but thankfully had a thick heel. Last but not least she told you to raise your arms as she wrapped a belt around your waist. It perfectly blended in with the color of your dress, and attached was something out of a book. It looked like it belonged to royalty or a goddess, not you.

Behind you was a long tulle train, the tulle barely colored to match the dress where it needed too. But at the bottom was leaves, they started green but turned into rich reds and bright vivid oranges and yellows. Leaf shapes stood out to you, yet again from back home.

Birch, black walnut, black and red maple, northern pine oak and cottonwood leaves. Entwined into the leaves were other plants like fluffy cattails, golden wheat, and pampas grass. The only thing you could recognize that wasn't from your district in the entire outfit was pampas grass. All the flowers, all the leaves, even the berries in the crown were all something that grew in your district.

When she turned you around and you caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror you had to step closer and touch the glass. You couldn't believe this was you, sure you had always been told you were pretty, but this was something else. With just some make up, a good proper shower and some fancy clothes you looked like a goddess. You wanted to cry, but couldn't bear to ruin the hours of work you had just gone through.

Lavanna could tell you were at a loss for words, so she stepped forward, careful of the huge train she had created. She smiled at you in the mirror and spoke softly trying not to spook you. “I decided to go a different direction.. The whole farmers thing is a little played out, plus you volunteered for a young girl. And your friend volunteered to stay with you, so I thought you guys deserved something really special.”

When you spoke, it was a whisper “I look like some type of goddess or something.. Like something out of the books in the district library.” You turned to her when she started chuckling, unsure if she was laughing at you or not but she shook her head. “That's what I was going for. Ceres and Saturn, the Goddess of Grain crop and Agriculture. She was also a fertility goddess but we don't need to get into that. And then Saturn God of abundance, wealth, agriculture and a few other unimportant things. Would you like to go see his outfit?”

You nodded silently, still stunned as you looked at yourself one last time. Then you followed Lavanna out into a hall, then down into an area outside that was full of people in costumes and chariots. You turned away refusing to look at the other tributes as you looked for Hardin. And when he appeared you were just as awestruck by his outfit as you had been by your own. But also by him, because he looked so much healthier than he had before.

Hardin had gladiator sandals on with a toga that was tight to his chest and showing part of it. It was the same colors as yours but without all the filigree. He had a crown of leaves that matched the bottom of your train, it had the same berries and some branches on it. His dark curly hair was shiny and tamed for the first time, probably ever. He was also holding a very sharp looking scythe. He looked like the god that would stand next to you, and in this moment he would.

He stared at you in a daze, watching as the train and the bottom of the dress swished around you. He had always told you that you were beautiful, really one of the best looking girls in your age group back home. But now you really looked beautiful, not sweat covered and exhausted from a day in the fields. Even more tired because you knew you would need to come home and care for your grandparents before getting a few hours of sleep and doing it again. You looked like someone who could actually win.

Finnick watched from the district four chariot. He had to force his jaw not to drop as he turned to the sound of heels clicking. His tributes were already waiting on the chariot, one dressed like a fisher the other like a mermaid. They looked great but nowhere near as breathtaking as you looked.

It literally felt like someone slapped Finnick in the face when you walked in. The color of the dress perfectly sets off your skin tone. Your hair fell in just the right way to frame your face. The makeup was dramatic and made the color of your eyes pop. Whoever was styling you had done a fantastic job, but Finnick knew they had a gorgeous model to work with.

He figured you would have looked beautiful in the normal farmer garb your district normally wore. He watched with slight jealousy as you laughed with the male tribute whose name he learned was, Hardin. Watching with a curious mind as the two of you pointed out leaves on your dress with bright eyes and laughed.

He wished that he could be as carefree as you were in that moment. His thoughts were interpreted by a whack on the head. When he turned rubbing the sore spot Mags was smiling up at him with a knowing look. “You like her don't you.” She said as a statement and not a question.

Finnick shook his head and looked around frantically, “First off, you know not to say things like that. Second, I dont even know her.. I just think..” his voice trailed off as he turned back to look at you. A woman who he assumed was your stylist was flitting around you tapping on things placed in your hair. He watched as small insects began to flutter their wings.

His mouth moved without his brain telling it too, he felt so comfortable around Maggie that the facade he put up every single day outside of his home slipped. “I just think she's the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” As soon as it was out he coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had never said something like that, or felt so inclined to talk to someone.

He watched as you and Hardin stepped up onto your chariot, you were now holding a small basket woven into a cornucopia. Your stylist team shoved small flowers and foods into the basket as the main stylist moved the train of your dress to flow behind you. Lavanna held it up with the help of one of the others as your chariot moved. Mags gasped when the wind from the ride caught the ends of your train holding it up. The tulle had folded out giving the effect of leaves and grass flying out behind your chariot. All he wanted was to catch your scent on the air, to feel your warmth radiate around him like the sun.

Taking a step back he forced his brain to remind his hormonal heart that he no longer had the luxury of thinking like that.

He belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. And to the people who threw money away to spend time with him. No matter how disgusting he felt when he crawled into bed at night, it didn't matter. He had people to protect, parents and a friend or two. He couldn't allow himself to feel things towards those he couldn't have.

And he couldn't have you.

PART 2

#finnick x oc #finnick imagine #finnick odair #hunger games finnick

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onceuponastory · 2 years

Text

part of a family - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: After Y/N is abandoned by her boyfriend, the father of her 8 month old son, her best friend Bucky comes to the rescue. The same Bucky who’s been in love with Y/N ever since he met her. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Being abandoned by a parent/a parental figure leaving, breakups, a few mentions of Bucky’s past as the winter soldier (but nothing too graphic), a tiny mention of blood, and a tiny mention of how babies are poop and vomit machines if that gives you the ick. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: Look, as soon as I had this idea, I knew I had to finish it even though it’s been sitting on my WIP list for months. It’s Bucky and a baby, hOW COULD I NOT? Thank you to my bestie @staticscreenwriting for my dividers and header, and for listening to me ramble about how cute Bucky + a baby would be.

The sound of a phone ringing soon disturbs the mid morning silence in Bucky Barnes’ apartment, waking up the super soldier almost immediately as it begins. Not that he was getting much sleep, anyway. Especially not with a past like his. Groaning, Bucky grabs his phone, accepting the call without even looking at the caller ID. As an Avenger, he knows that the call could be important. Or it could just be Steve or Sam needing something. Still, despite his heroic obligations, Bucky still wishes that whoever or whatever it is would just go away and let him sleep. Although he doesn’t get much sleep nowadays, he’d at least like to try to get some.

“Yeah? What is it?” He answers, his words mostly mumbled.

“Bucky?” He hears a voice sniffling on the other end. Almost immediately, Bucky comes awake, and he sits up, recognising the voice on the other end right away. Y/N. His best friend for almost a decade. From the pain in her voice and the sniffling, he can tell something is wrong immediately.

“Y/N, what happened? Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.” Y/N mumbles, and Bucky feels a pang in his heart.

“Y/N, I told you, you can call me anytime you need help. I’ll always answer.” He tells her. “Now, what happened?” A sob sounds from the other end of the phone, and Bucky swears that sound almost breaks his heart. He just wants to keep Y/N safe and happy, so when she isn’t, he feels like he’s failed in his position as a best friend.

“...He’s gone, Bucky. Brandon. He just left us.” Another sniffle. “...He said he wasn’t happy being with Oscar and I, and that he didn’t want to stay anymore. He told me he didn’t want to be a dad in the first place, and that I trapped him in a relationship by getting pregnant. And he tells me this now? When Oscar is eight months old?!” Bucky is already out of bed and getting dressed before Y/N continues to explain the situation. Bucky hears another sob from the other end of the line, and he clenches his fist angrily. Brandon is...or well, was Y/N’s boyfriend, and the father of their son Oscar. And he’s fucking abandoned them both, left them like they’re worth nothing to him. “....Oh god Bucky, what am I supposed to do now? I don’t know if I can do this on my own and my mom is so far away, a-and-” Y/N sobs, each tear feeling like a gut punch. “Buck? Are you still there?” Y/N asks, sniffling again.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Bucky makes the trip to Y/N’s house in exactly eight minutes. He storms up to the door. If Brandon is back, he better have a good excuse for leaving. Not that there is one, mind you, but still. Or at least, have a good apology. Because who does that? Who leaves their girlfriend and child alone with no help? Yet, before he can even knock on the front door, it swings open to reveal Y/N standing there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bucky’s heart breaks, and all his thoughts of anger towards Brandon leaving are forgotten. For now, anyway. “Oh Y/N.” He soothes, pulling her close for a hug, which she gratefully accepts, squeezing him as tightly as she can. Like he’s a rock stopping her from being swept out to sea. Y/N sniffles into his shirt, and Bucky strokes her back, knowing it helps calm her down. Y/N savours the moment for a while, enjoying Bucky’s comfort and support. And for the first time that day, Y/N feels better. Not fully better, but it’s a start, anyway. She even feels a small smile grow on her lips. As far as she’s concerned, Y/N could stay here forever, wrapped in Bucky’s embrace.

“You, um, you should come inside.” She mumbles once they pull apart, stepping aside. “Oscar’s in his playpen in the living room. I’ve been trying to stay strong for him, but clearly it’s not working.” She sighs, gesturing to her face. “I know. I look like a mess. Thankfully, Oscar’s still barely talking, so he can’t ask me what’s wrong.” Bucky shakes his head. He thinks she looks gorgeous. She always has. After all, he’s been in love with her ever since he met her. He’d know that. But she was with Brandon back then, and then she had Oscar, and Bucky knew he couldn’t ruin their relationship. He’s already ruined so many lives and families, he can’t ruin hers. She’s too special to him for that. And besides, finding out your best friend is in love with you is probably not what you want to hear after your boyfriend just walked out on you and your child.

The pair enter the living room, and Oscar notices Bucky almost immediately, kicking his legs and babbling away excitedly. Y/N starts smiling as soon as she sees her son, and Bucky grins. People say there’s nothing like the love of a mother, and Y/N is clearly full of it. And the way she lights up when she sees her son shows she’s one of the best out there. Besides, she definitely has more love in her little finger than Brandon ever did, for a start.

“Oscar, this is Bucky. Remember him? Can you say hello? Can you say Bucky?” Y/N asks, holding him up to see Bucky. Oscar’s wide eyes look up at Bucky. Bucky chuckles. Oscar is definitely the spitting image of his mother. He has the same eyes as her, for a start. The same pair of eyes that Bucky fell in love with the first time he met Y/N.

“Blubbla!” Oscar babbles, showing him a toothy grin and reaching out for Bucky with his little hands. Bucky laughs.

“Hey buddy. Good job at saying my name!” Bucky gives a small wave. Oscar tries his best to give him one back, making Bucky’s heart swell. He never knew such a tiny human could generate so much love and happiness.

“I’m gonna go put him down for a nap, then we can talk. Is that okay?” Y/N asks, her happiness suddenly fading again. Bucky’s face falls. He wishes he could just take all that pain and sadness away from her. He swears that when he sees Brandon again, he’s going to punch him in the face. Well...Sam would tell him to just give him a stern talking to. And Bucky will do that. After he punches Brandon in the face.

“Of course it is, Y/N.” He gives her arm a reassuring rub as she leaves the room.

“I just, I can’t believe he didn’t say anything up till now!” Y/N sighs, clutching one of Oscar’s teddies close to her chest. Even though she’s never told him this, Bucky knows that holding his toys close is a comfort for her. It means she can be extra close to him, even when he’s just upstairs napping. Despite how cute that is, it only makes Bucky even angrier about the situation. Y/N cares so much about her son’s well being, and yet life and her ex have treated her so poorly. “Like, he said-” She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and Bucky gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. Once again, it helps her feel better. “-he said he’d been thinking about this for a while, probably even a few months. And he tells me this today? God, Bucky, what am I going to do if he doesn’t come back? What if I have to raise Oscar on my own?” She asks as tears roll down her cheeks again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky replies, pulling her closer for a hug and letting her cry into his chest. “You do not have to do this on your own, and you will never be alone.” Y/N smiles.

“Would it…would it be okay if you stayed over for a while? Feel free to say no, it’s just that I trust you, and Oscar adores you. I mean, I do too, it’s just- ah, fuck. Sorry.” Y/N mumbles into his shirt. “And it would be nice to have some help around here while I try to sort this whole mess out.” Bucky sighs softly. If he could, he’d take all this pain away from her and deal with it himself. After all, he’s been through so much of it already. In fact, most would argue that Bucky Barnes has been through far more pain and trauma than one person deserves. But despite that, he’d go through it all again if it meant Y/N never had to go through any pain of her own. “Just for a little bit. If you need to leave because of your whole Avengers thing, that’s totally okay. I don’t want to stop you from saving the world.” She pulls away, looking at him nervously, and Bucky can tell that she’s worried he’ll leave her too. Bucky leans in even closer, so close that she can feel his breath on her face.

“Y/N. I could never, and would never, leave you or Oscar. I’ll always come back for you both. Promise.” He whispers. With a small smile, Y/N nods.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

“There’s that smile.” He grins. Bucky hasn’t had much happiness in his life ever since he became the Winter Soldier, but he swears that Y/N’s smile is the most beautiful thing in the world. More often than not, it’s the only thing that makes him happy, and makes him feel all warm and gooey inside. And because she’s so heartbroken right now, Bucky’s going to make sure that both she and Oscar have reason to smile for as long as he can.

“I really appreciate you doing this when you’re so busy, Bucky. I appreciate you a lot, you know?” That makes Bucky feel even better. Sometimes, he swears that Y/N’s the only one who appreciates him.

“Don’t be silly. It’s no problem at all.” He smiles. The pair stay close for a little while longer, so close that they could reach out and touch one another. They’re both silent, yet it’s a comfortable silence. Because Y/N and Bucky don’t need to talk. They can just be happy in each other’s company. For a moment, Y/N’s gaze lowers, almost as if she’s looking at his lips. Bucky’s cheeks go a little pink, and his heart rate rises as he pictures kissing Y/N.

“Bucky, I-” Y/N whispers, and Bucky raises his brows, waiting for what she’s about to say. Yet, Y/N stops herself before she can finish her sentence. Bucky’s mind wanders, and he thinks about kissing her even more. Despite how much he wants to kiss her, though, he knows he can’t. Y/N’s just had her heart broken and been left to raise her son alone. Him admitting his feelings for her will probably mess things up even more, which is the last thing she needs. And with a past like his, the last thing Bucky wants to do is put either her or Oscar in danger. Before either of them can say or do anything more, Oscar’s crying sounds from upstairs. “He’ll probably need his nappy changed. I’ll go do it.” She murmurs, leaving before Bucky can offer to do it.

Once he’s alone, he starts to think. Even though he’s been in love with Y/N ever since they first met, he can’t act on his feelings, or tell her the truth. He loves her so much, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt her. And besides, she definitely doesn’t need him acting like his life is hard because he can’t be with her. Soon, Y/N comes back, cradling Oscar to her chest. “You alright?” she asks, seeing Bucky deep in thought. And even though he knows he’s still upset about not being able to admit his true feelings for Y/N, the sight still makes Bucky smile. She really is beautiful.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “I’m great.”

A few nights later, as Y/N sleeps (or at least tries to, despite everything that’s happened), the sound of Oscar’s crying sounds from the baby monitor. Immediately, she’s awake. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m coming.” She murmurs, feeling around for her slippers and robe in the darkness. Of course, she’s accustomed to Oscar’s late night routine…mostly since she’s the only one who actually woke up to feed him and check on him.

Yet, as she opens her bedroom door and heads towards the nursery, the sound of crying seemingly stops. Y/N’s brow furrows, and she slowly tiptoes towards the door. Oscar rarely, if ever, stops crying out of the blue, and especially not when she isn’t there. So what’s changed? When she peeks through the gap in the door, Y/N gets her answer.

“Hey buddy.” Bucky whispers, clutching Oscar to his chest. “I know you’re hungry, but you’ve gotta try to get some sleep, alright? You’ll wake your momma.” Oscar babbles something, and Bucky laughs. “I know, I know, I gave you some food...but your momma’s going through a rough time right now, so you have to be nice and let her get some sleep, alright?” Y/N watches the scene unfold, smiling to herself as she wonders what on earth she did to deserve someone as supportive and caring as Bucky Barnes in her life.

As she watches Bucky cuddling her son close, his metal arm protectively cradling and rocking Oscar as he grabs fistfuls of Bucky's shirt in his tiny hands, Y/N's heart swells, and she sighs happily. “It’s not nice to not have a lot of sleep, is it? I should know.” Bucky says, laughing awkwardly. Y/N sighs. Even though Bucky doesn’t admit his feelings very often, she knows that he’s still having trouble coming to terms with his past and the things he did as the Winter Soldier. Of course, Y/N knows she has no idea of the true scale of pain that Bucky's actually going through. She can see it on his face, though, when he thinks she isn't looking. Sometimes, Bucky just stops, staring into space in silence for a while as the horrors and nightmares of his past flood back to him, and he remembers what he used to be. Y/N just wishes Bucky could see himself how others see him. Not as the Winter Soldier, but as Bucky Barnes. And she especially wants him to see how loving he is. After all, despite the anxieties and blood stained history connected to his arm, Bucky’s still using it to protect and support her son.

Because Bucky Barnes is not a monster. He never was. In fact, he's the complete opposite. He’s warm, and he’s loving, despite everything the world did to him. Or well, at least he is to her and Oscar.

And maybe that’s all that matters.

Since Bucky started living with Y/N and Oscar, he’s helped her so much more than he could ever know. He’s done everything: night feeds, changes (although it took him a little while to get used to how much poop and vomit babies generate), building cribs and other furniture, and more. He also reached out to his superpowered friends and coworkers for help, and true to form, all of Earth’s mightiest heroes rallied around them both. Sam and Sarah gave her spare, old clothes from Cass and AJ, Tony and Pepper offered all of Morgan’s old toys and playdates, Natasha and Wanda promised to take her out on girls' nights for a night out, and all the others offered babysitting and other ways to help. Y/N is incredibly grateful to them for all their help, but she’s especially grateful to Bucky, more so than he’ll ever know. She tells him that every day, but doesn’t know if he truly believes it. Without him, she knows she would have fallen apart. Bucky might not see himself as a hero, but to Y/N, he truly is her saviour. Their arrangement was only meant to last a few weeks, but now it’s been months, and Oscar’s first birthday is fast approaching.

“So, how’s your son Barnes?” Natasha grins one day after a debrief meeting.

“He’s not my son.”

“Buck probably wishes he was, though.” Steve murmurs, and a few laughs sound from the group. Bucky rolls his eyes, but still can’t stop a smile from growing on his lips. It’s small, yet the others still notice, and an ‘Ooooh!’ ripples throughout the room.

“Shut up.” He hisses, his cheeks flushing pink. Of course, he’s still head over heels in love with Y/N, and would love nothing more than to be with her, and to be a father figure to Oscar (officially this time). But he’s still too scared to admit his feelings for her. And besides, they’ve both been through so much pain already. Even though he’s a reformed assassin, Bucky knows his past could still catch up to them both, and he’s terrified of putting either of them in danger. “Anyway, speaking of, Y/N says you’re all invited to Oscar’s first birthday party as a thank you for all your support. It’s in two weeks.” The room fills with the sound of agreement, and once again, Bucky is smiling.

Later that evening, Bucky comes home from an endless day of meetings, exhausted and ready to see his two favourite people. However, as soon as he steps into the house, Y/N’s voice shouts:

“Bucky? Is that you? Come upstairs, quickly!” Bucky runs upstairs the quickest he’s ever moved in his life, terrified that his past as the Winter Soldier has caught up to him, and that Y/N and Oscar are in danger, or hurt. But when he gets there, the scene that greets him is thankfully not what he was expecting. Y/N kneels on the floor, with Oscar sitting a few feet away. “Come on, sweetheart. Show Bucky what you can do!” Y/N urges gently. Without another word, Oscar pushes himself up on his little legs, and toddles over towards Bucky. Once he reaches Bucky, he stumbles forward slightly, wrapping his little arms around Bucky’s leg and holding on tightly.

“Good job Oscar! Who’s my special little guy?” Y/N praises. “He’s been close to walking all day, and just as you got home he looked like he was about to do it, so I had to call you up.” Bucky looks down, and Oscar stares back up at him with a toothy grin. Immediately, Bucky feels tears stinging at his eyes as Oscar holds onto him even tighter. After being responsible for so much death and destruction in his lifetime, Bucky’s never felt so loved before. He’s also never been involved in such an important part of life before.

Because being a part of something like this, something so tender, so loving…is showing Bucky that maybe he’s capable of good things after all he’s done. “Bucky? Are you- Oh my god, are you crying?” Y/N gasps.

“No!” Bucky lies, trying furiously to wipe his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Buck….” Y/N soothes, picking up her son and pulling both him and Bucky into a hug. “Thank you. For everything.” She smiles. “I’m so grateful to you. More than you’ll ever know.”

“You’re welcome.” For a moment, as they both look into each other’s eyes, Bucky swears that this is it. This is when he could kiss her, with no care or any fear. But before he can, Y/N leans in first. As her lips get even closer to his face, Bucky’s heart rate picks up, rising so quickly he fears his heart is about to break free from his chest. Part of him, the scared part, wants to run, but he finds himself rooted to his position. Y/N presses her lips against his cheek. As her lips brush against his skin, heat immediately rises into Bucky’s cheeks, and he blushes deeply. He turns his head quickly, almost catching her lips with his. A gasp leaves Y/N’s lips, and her eyes widen ever so slightly. The familiar worries enter Bucky’s mind then, that despite how right this feels, and how much he wants to kiss her, it’s wrong. That a monster like him doesn’t deserve love after what he’s done, and especially not from someone like Y/N. Maybe she doesn’t even like him back.

But then, Y/N turns her head towards him, leaning in close. This time, it really does feel like his heart is going to break out of his chest. As their lips almost meet, for a moment, it feels like everything is right in the world. But before their lips touch, the phone starts to ring, stopping them both.

“I um…I better go get that.” Y/N mumbles. Bucky reaches out, about to stop her. And it almost seems as if Y/N waits for him to do it. When he doesn’t, her face falls slightly. “I’ll be a sec.” As she walks away, Bucky sighs. Now he’s really messed up. Fuck.

Two weeks later, Oscar’s birthday party arrives, and Y/N’s house is full of Avengers. Away from the madness, Bucky helps Y/N as she brings more bowls of snacks through to the kitchen. Despite their continued ease and comfortableness around each other, there’s still a sense of awkwardness around them. Since they almost kissed, neither of them has spoken about it. Even though it’s been replaying in Bucky’s mind constantly, and all he wants is to admit his feelings and kiss her properly this time. If he could, he’d kiss her forever.

“Where’s Oscar?” She asks, and Bucky chuckles.

“He’s in there, being fawned over by all his honorary aunts and uncles.” Y/N follows him into the dining room, where the Avengers are all playing with Oscar.

“He’s so cute! Like a little angel.” Wanda coos, cuddling him close.

“Yeah, just wait till he’s older, though.”

“Don’t worry about that, Natasha. We’ll teach him what’s right and wrong, Y/N.” Steve promises.

“Oooh, yeah, videos in gym class. How exciting.” Sam teases, taking Oscar from Wanda. “What I wanna know is when he can go for a flying lesson with me.”

“That’s not happening.” Bucky shakes his head.

“Not for a while yet, Sam.” Y/N laughs.

“Ah, they grow up so fast! Soon he might even be able to lift Mjölnir!” Thor chuckles. As Y/N watches Earth’s Mightiest Heroes cuddling and playing with her son, Bucky notices tears shimmering in her eyes. He takes her hand, interlinking his fingers with hers.

“You’re not alone.” He whispers, giving her hand a squeeze. He knows his friends are probably teasing him about this, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is making sure that his two favourite people in the world are happy. So when the doorbell rings and Y/N goes to answer it, he’s confused. As far as he knows, everyone else is already here. So who the hell could this be? His concern grows, and he readies his metal arm just in case. When Y/N comes back with a familiar face, Bucky is just as confused and concerned.

“Everyone…this is Brandon. Oscar’s father.” Y/N announces, her gaze falling to the floor. Immediately, the mood of the room changes. The others don’t know the full extent of the story, but they do know Brandon left them both.

“Hey everyone.” Brandon mutters, warily looking around the room full of superheroes. Then, he makes eye contact with Bucky’s glaring face and flexing metal arm, both warning him that there’ll be serious consequences if he ever hurts Y/N and Oscar again. “Hey Bucky.”

“Hi.” Bucky hisses. Brandon visibly gulps, before noticing his son in Sam’s arms. Right away, his face lights up.

“Oscar! Hey buddy! Come to daddy!” He grins. As Sam reluctantly hands Oscar over, Bucky leans in closer to Y/N.

“Are you okay? Did he show up out of nowhere? If you need me and the others to get rid of him, let me know.” Bucky whispers. To his surprise, Y/N shakes her head.

“No. I invited him.” And then Bucky’s heart sinks. She invited him? Sure, he’s Oscar’s father, but he gave up that role a long time ago. After everything that happened, she still invited him back? Bucky looks over at Y/N, who’s now chatting with Oscar and Brandon, like they’re a happy family. One that Bucky clearly doesn’t fit in. Maybe that’s why she invited him back. Maybe after her and Bucky’s failed kiss attempt, she wants to try again. Because maybe she didn’t feel anything for him at all. And that thought tears Bucky apart.

“You alright?” Steve murmurs, and Bucky nods. Even though it’s obvious he’s not okay. He casts one last look over at Y/N, smiling as she holds her son. But if he doesn’t fit into her life anymore, he just has to accept it.

Despite the awkwardness of Brandon being there, and Bucky worrying that he no longer fits into Y/N’s life, the party is fun. At least, it is when Bucky isn’t throwing glares at Brandon and sad glances at Y/N. Once it’s over and everyone has left, Bucky joins Y/N in the kitchen, helping her clean up. And hopefully he can find a way to talk about his feelings about this whole situation. He just can’t find the words right now. As they clean in silence, the air around them both is awkward.

“Hey, um.” Bucky finally begins. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll move my stuff out whenever you want.” Y/N frowns.

“Why would I want you to do that? You’ve been such a great help, I don’t want you to move out.” Suddenly, her face falls. “Oh god. I’m sorry if I’ve been taking advantage of your help, Bucky. I promise, I didn’t mean to-”

“God, no!” Bucky exclaims. “You haven’t at all. I was happy to help. I just don’t want to get in the way of you and Brandon.” Y/N continues to frown until the realisation dawns.

“Oh. Bucky, you don’t have to worry about him. There’s nothing more between us.”

“Then why did you invite him?” Bucky asks, and Y/N sighs. “He abandoned you both and told you he didn’t want to be a father!”

“I know! I don’t need the reminder.” Y/N huffs. “I honestly didn’t think he’d reply to me, because he barely replied to any of the messages I sent him before now. But when I asked what he was giving Oscar for his birthday, he replied and asked what I was doing for it, so I mentioned the party. Don’t look at me like that!” She orders, pointing out Bucky’s expression. “Yes, he left, but he’s Oscar’s dad, Buck. I know he’s an asshole, but I’d feel like an asshole if I didn’t invite his dad to his first birthday party. Like what if he grew up and found out I kept his dad away from him? I just want Oscar to be happy.” She sighs with a sniffle. Bucky’s face softens, and he steps forward, pulling her into a hug.

“And he is happy, Y/N. He’s the best kid I’ve seen, and it’s a testament to you. Nobody else.” He rubs her back as she sniffles softly into his shirt. “I’m sorry if I was being a dick about everything.”

“No, you weren’t. You were just looking out for us both, like you always do. I’m so grateful to you.” Y/N tells him. “The way Oscar turned out may be a testament to me, but I think it’s a testament to you too, Bucky. You’ve done so much for him, for us both. You know, Brandon had no idea what to get Oscar for a present, or what his favourite things to do are. You do, and I think the toys you bought him might be his favourite presents. To be honest, I don’t even know if he knew when Oscar’s birthday was until I told him. And you helped me teach Oscar how to walk and talk, not him. You were the one helping me with baths, night feeds and changes, not him. I told you Bucky, you’ve helped us both more than you can ever imagine, and I am so grateful to you. Brandon might be Oscar’s dad by blood, but to me, you are his father figure.” Bucky stands in shock. As Y/N’s words sink in, he feels tears building in his eyes. Nobody has ever said anything like that about him before. A huge smile grows on his face. Both Y/N and Bucky stay there for a while, wrapped in each other’s embrace. “Bucky?”

“Mhm?”

“I want to tell you something. Something that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but have never had the confidence to.” She takes a breath. “The reason it won’t work out with me and Brandon anymore is because I’m in love with someone else. I’m in love with you, Bucky.” Bucky’s eyes widen, and he gasps. “If you don’t feel the same about me, then I understand. I just felt like I’d be going crazy if I didn’t tell you the truth.” Lifting his hand, Bucky cups her cheeks.

“Y/N, I love you too. I have done for years, but I never said anything because you had Brandon and Oscar, and I didn’t want to ruin your happiness.”

“Bucky. You could never do that. After what happened, I never thought I’d have happiness again, but being with you and Oscar in our little family has brought me so much joy.” Bucky leans in close, running his thumb along her lips. Without another word, he leans in close, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss. As they pull each other closer, Bucky’s arms hold her tightly, so tightly that he’ll never let go ever again. That he’ll keep her safe forever.

“Thank you.” He whispers when they pull apart. “Thank you for making me part of a family.”

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#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x Female Reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel oneshot

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zialltops · 5 months

Text

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

ao3 link | spotify playlist

Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You’re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #rancher joel miller #slow burn joel miller

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bloodlegacies · 9 months

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LOOKING | HAYDEN ELKAR

So, I said I would bring it and I did, although a little late, but here it is! Hayden's point of view of that scene. However, I won't be accepting headcanons for a little while longer, then I'll see if I bring some more POVs, depending on what you guys want, of course, and maybe I'll do a poll about it. At the moment, I'll be focusing on writing my other wip because I'll also bring an update for it this month, and then another update for Blood Legacies. Anyway, thank you for your attention and enjoy!

____________________________________________

Looking.

Hayden wasn't anxious, no, not at all. That would be ridiculous, although they were always honest, even with themselves, they were not willing to admit to that. No, not at all, they still had a reputation to uphold.

However, they couldn't help but look around, their blue eyes trying to find someone who was definitely more interesting than the vultures around them. They ignored the meaningless conversations and flirtatious attempts of those around them, and as much as Hayden enjoyed flirting and hooking up with some people, these past few weeks they could only think about one person, and that person hadn't arrived yet. Hayden gave fake smiles to those who tried to talk to them, and it seemed to distract them, and they smiled back and puffed out their chest as if they were proud of it, as if any of them were worthy of their attention.

They were distractions, and nothing more than that, annoying distractions that on other days, Hayden wouldn't hesitate to please, just to have someone to distract their mind from the pressures and suffocating days, just to focus on something, even if only for a moment and only physically. Hayden wasn't a puritan, after all, and it annoyed their father that they weren't virgins anymore, so why not enjoy it? Irritating him has always been one of their favorite pastimes. It was petty, they knew. But their father knew exactly how suffocating he had been, how much pressure had been placed on their shoulders every day.

You hadn't arrived yet, and Hayden tried to think of something else, but with every person that left the castle or the bushes, their eyes always went in that direction, just to have their hope crushed every time. They wondered if you would come, but it doesn't seem like it's going to happen anytime soon. Maybe Hayden can go to you? Their lips curved into a smile at the thought. It would be fun, especially imagining the expression on your face when Hayden appeared in front of your room, or maybe already inside...

Hayden could think of things to do, to try, but they wouldn't dare to be too bold. As stupid as they may be, they didn't want to make you uncomfortable, and they know that some boundaries must be kept, although Hayden wished to break them as soon as possible. There was a wall between you, albeit a small one, Hayden hopes. They want so badly to destroy it, this little barrier, and maybe this fake relationship thing that you proposed (which brings an even bigger smile to their lips, thinking that you chose Hayden for it) is the key to that. They think, many times, about how it would be to hold your hand, how your lips would feel, how it would be to taste them, how it would be if...

Wait, those are...

You were here, you... were holding Cecilia's hand? Hayden furrowed their brow and stared at you. They can't help it. Feeling tense at the sight. You wouldn't... no, that would be silly. You wouldn't regret choosing them, right? You wouldn't change your mind and choose Cecilia instead, would you? Hayden clenched their jaw and couldn't stop a small spark of insecurity from arising within them, okay, maybe a little more than a spark, not that they would admit it out loud. Hayden couldn't help but think that maybe it's not possible anymore, that maybe you don't... They shake their head, no. But it wasn't just that, it was... You, holding Cecilia's hand amidst everyone there, showing everyone that factor, without fear, without hesitation. Hayden would be lying if they said they didn't want to be in Cecilia's place, they would be lying if they said they didn't want you to have that courage with them. They wanted to be the ones whose hand you held, and they weren't. But it was meant to be, you had proposed the idea of a... fake relationship, but still...

They realized moments later that it was jealousy, pure and simple. And this fact almost made them want to melt right there, and for a moment they felt ashamed. They shouldn't feel this way, not about you, not when you weren't officially together, you were free to do whatever you want, with whoever you want, and yet... Hayden knew exactly what they were feeling, and they weren't afraid of it, but maybe you are, and a part of them would love to tell you the truth right in your face and try to make you confront it instead of avoiding it, but it's too early. And they knew that you needed time.

They felt their lips, which were previously closed in a thin line, curve into an involuntary smile. Of course, of course they feel jealous. They wouldn't be afraid to show it, but they fear that maybe their methods of calming this feeling within them would be too much for you. Hayden thought of a few things, they thought of going to you, of placing a hand around your waist, of touching your face, your cheek, your lips... right in front of everyone, just to make it clear that you were with them, to make it clear that they...

Your eyes met theirs, and Hayden held their breath.

Too soon. Too early.

They stare at you from the other side, and you don't look away, remaining unchanged, staring at them as if it were a challenge, but there was a touch of confusion there, a small touch, and then you avert your gaze.

They could wait, Hayden thinks, the heart that raced within them was impatient, but their mind wasn't.

You would leave tomorrow, and Hayden wanted to go as well, with you, to at least ensure that you would be okay, no matter how silly it was to think that way, after all, you knew how to fight and take care of yourself, but a part of them still wanted to protect you from getting hurt and to make sure you would return safely, but they knew their father wouldn't allow it, and undoubtedly there would be guards following Hayden for the entire time you were away, even if their father didn't know about the little arrangement between the two of you, he knew that they might try to anger him and go on the mission without authorization.

He wasn't wrong.

Hayden tried to distract themselves with the trivial conversations the others around them were having, and they didn't dare to look at you for a while, until they felt the eyes on them. Normally, Hayden knew that there would always be eyes on them, after all, they were attractive in many ways, but this gaze was different, and they recognized you the moment you stepped towards them. Hayden feels themselves getting a bit tense, and dismisses the onlookers, waiting until you reach them, and they can't help but say... "You know, when we agreed to have this thing between us, it was supposed to be as a couple, and not you holding hands with someone else." Not them, that's what they really wanted to say. They changed their minds, they don't like feeling jealous, but since when do they hold back from speaking their mind?

Okay, maybe for you, they will. And a tiny bit for their own pride.

Oh, they were so confused.

#Pov Hayden #blood legacies #wip #short stories

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atalossofwords · 14 days

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YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (Part 10)

Here is the last POV of this chapter! Ends in a little bit of a cliffhanger, and I'm still unsure if I should add some more to it when I post on AO3... I had to rewrite this POV so many times, I ended up using some stuff people have sent asks about in the past! I hope everyone will like it.

I know I want to write an "extra" Mizi POV about what happens in the end, so if you guys here on tumblr want some more development so the chapter doesn't end in a cliffhanger, let me know and I'dd add to it when I post on AO3!

ON AO3 - part one - part two - part three - part four - part five&six - part seven - part eight - part nine

Ivan's life is going so well he's halfway worried about when the other shoe is about to drop.

He's wrapped up the recording for his latest movie, and already has something else lined up that only starts filming in about two months; the drama in question doesn't require any physical conditioning besides his usual routine, so all he's doing is reading the script, texting the director and studying for the role.

Outside the occasional interview and modeling gigs, he's practically on vacation.

Which means he has more than enough time to think, which he does try to avoid at the best of times. Ivan's brain likes to come up with a frankly absurd amount of shit for him to mull over and have nightmares about; he much prefers working until he can't anymore, thank you very much.

He gets a reprise from his brain telling him that he should definitely stick his hand on the blender while he makes a smoothie by Till's texts, which brightens his day. Till and him have been texting more, which delights him beyond words; at first Ivan though things would slow down after Till talked about the concert, but somehow they started texting more. Till seemed to enjoy telling Ivan things, they got along.

Till also now knew who he was, which was a thrill all on itself, but also filled Ivan with anxiety. He wanted to hear what Till though of his acting, in detail, but he didn't want to sound desperate. Also, last time Ivan asked for detailed critique, Till asked if Ivan had a crush on Ivan-the-actor, which was ironic on so many levels Ivan shut up about it for two days straight.

Ivan even went and asked Mizi to teach him how to do aegyo, which she was delighted to do. Sua laughed on his face and fake-vomited about seven times over the course of the evening, only slightly mollified because Ivan had bought a bottle of brandy as a bribe.

(They spent the evening like that; drinking hot chocolate with brandy, laughing and doing silly faces and poses at each other. No cameras, no managers, just the three of them laying on the couch, piled together as they played videos of other celebrities and ranked how cringe their aegyo was.

He watched as Sua and Mizi made doe-eyes at each other, holding hands and kissing cheeks, free to act as they'd like outside the spotlight. They loved each other, and it made Ivan so happy, and also filled him with so much longing his chest hurt.)

He goes back to his apartment, alone, and he knows, he knows it's not normal that his first instinct is to put one of Till's VODs on. He knows it's actually a little bit pathetic, but... who he's going to talk to? His sister? The only other person he's mildly close to is Luka, who works on the same agency as him.

He thinks he might need a therapist, but he knows the scandal that will come if it ever gets out that a famous actor needs therapy, nevermind what his father will say.

Ivan sighs, putting on some other documentary and thinks on what to do. He's still a little buzzed, so reading his script is a no-go. He checks his phone, and his last message is to Till, wishing him good luck since Till said he'd be cooking for his brother and his boyfriend today.

He opens his naver app and ends up on his shopping cart for one of his newest sprees; it's full of soft pillows, throw blankets and even a weighted one. Ivan's has been spending so much time on his house he's decided to go on a spree and buy a mountain of soft things for his living room.

(Because Till likes soft things.)

Ivan frowns. He's had too much time alone this past week, and with his brain free of work to focus on, he's had to actually... think about everything he's doing. About his last movies, about his habits, about what he's eating, about his relationship to Sua, about his dad, about his empty house, about his clothes, about his lack of hobbies...

And about what he's doing with Till.

He had... no problem just sending money to an artist he supported, and had 0 worries about sending him the gifts. The anonymity of the internet gave him some... distance, he supposes. He can put Till on this sort of pedestal, and watch his streams in peace and also jerk off without worrying, because Till doesn't know him.

But now he has all these pictures of Till doing everything from setting up his new keyboard (that Ivan bought) to sleepily giving the camera a thumbs up as he gets ready to buy breakfast (that Ivan paid for).

Now Till is a person, and they talk, and... Ivan doesn't know how to feel about it.

(He's lying, he knows how to feel about it; guilty.

He remembers his father, so so much bigger than Ivan, yelling about how he paid for Ivan's food, his housing, his school, his clothes. How Ivan owned everything he had to him, and so he should just shut up, go to the studio, and use his pretty face to make the man some money back.

He remembers Sua's mom barging into the house to scream some more with their Father, about how dare he put so little money on her card, does he want the media to know about his affair?. Ivan knew to run to the kitchen and squirrel away any packaged food he could, because for the foreseeable future he wouldn't be getting any decent meals, his allocated "food money" going to covering up his whole existence from the media.)

He's pulled away from his thoughs by a text from Sua.

WITCH [ 11:55pm ] Ivan-ah, can you talk

Ivan frowns. He left their house... – he has to check the watch, four hours ago, shit, he needs dinner – ... four hours ago, which means she almost certainly doesn't have anything important to tell him.

You [ 11:55pm ] what is it

WITCH [ 11:56pm ] Is that how you speak with your noona?? Be more respectful. Anyway, Mizi just thought about it after you left, so she asked me to ask you. Do you think it would be a good idea, if she contacted Till for a collab? She's really been humming that one song, and wanted to see if he'd want to be with her on a cover.

Ivan's breaths catches.

Mizi making an official cover of 'Till The World Ends would possibly drive Till insane. He already likes her so much, coming into the studio to actually work with her, outside the lights of the cameras? He'd be head-over-heels.

He feels a little sick, over the possibility that Mizi will spend time with Till, that they will get along and have fun together. Then he feels sick over that though, because what the hell?? Ivan is not Till's keeper. Till doesn't owe anything to Ivan, not his time or friendship or any kind of relationship.

Ivan will not be like his father. He likes spending money on Till, and making Till happy. Till doesn't need to pay Ivan back in any way. He just wants to make Till happy.

He keeps repeating that in his head as he answers.

You [ 01:02am ] I think its a great idea. Here, Till has an official email for sponsors and stuff, Mizi should get her manager to send the details over.

He sends the email, closes his phone, and goes to the gym. He feels bad over it all, and worse because he feels bad. He knows his brain won't shut up for the foreseeable future, so he might as well tire himself enough he can get some sleep.

Over the next few days, Mizi updates him on the ongoings of the cover under the impression that he'll want to know anything that has Till's name on it. He does not tell her to stop.

(He does, however, step back on his frequent messaging and donating. He feels bad about it, but he doesn't want to distract Till, or accidentally hint at something, so he's re-using some old pictures he took on a job last year to show Till that he's currently on Japan for a job.)

Till, surprisingly, doesn't comment on anything, even if he's clearly exited about something. Even normal chatters are picking up on it.

> fiieldofroses: till, you look so happy today! did anything happen? > TillStepOnMe: oooh please god let it be a photoshoot > woonie: @Till's Merch Overlord insider info?? > Till's Merch Overlord: no comment

Ivan just so happens to know there is new merch coming; it just isn't being made by Till's usual artist, but by Mizi's team. As far as he knows, theres a keychain and a t-shirt with the cover's art on it.

On-screen, Till shakes his head.

"There is something new coming out soon, but I'm still working on it, so I don't have any sneak-peeks for you guys, sorry."

> KIRBY ☑ : that's fine oppa, take your time! > LUKAmysavior: crossing my fingers for a new single > bulletcase: ok y'all what are the guesses > hyunhyun-ssi: maybe a new tattoo?? > TillStepOnMe: IF IT'S A NEW TATTOO I WILL SIMPLY KMS

Ivan shakes his head, amused. It'll definitely be a surprise, but probably nothing they can guess at. It really is such a step-up opportunity for Till.

> NAVI (TILL'S ATM) DONATED $50: I hope Hyung has a good time with whatever it is!

There, that's not suspicious or leading, and still shows Till and his usual chatters that Ivan is being his normal, simp self.

(Ivan ignores the heat that rises on his stomach at Till's smile when he reads the donation, a smile that's entirely too fond, and personal, and for Ivan. He has to bite his lip to contain himself, god he loves him so much.)

"I'm having a good time, definitely. I think you guys will really like it!"

The following weeks are... weird. Ivan keeps getting updates from Mizi, spends far too much time with his own thoughts since he's trying to dial back his Till-texting habits, and binges maybe all documentaries about deep-sea animals he's been able to find. Seriously. He broaden up to deep-sea ecosystems, which he's not so sure how he feels about yet.

Luckily, his agent notices how unsettled he is and books him a new commercial for a clothing brand – where he can train his aegyo! He can't wait for it to hit the TVs to see what Till has to say – so he's slowly getting back to a stable mental state.

(Meaning, he's working enough that his brain stopped calling him a disgusting stalker and an excuse of a person for being sad because Till will meet Mizi.)

That is, until Mizi messages him one morning saying she's heading to the studio for their first recording, and does he know what Till likes to drink?

Of course he does, Till likes a Caramel Frappucino, whole milk, added chai, white chocolate mocha sauce and chocolate malt powder. He also likes the choc chips cookies.

Mizi thanks him, sends a selfie with Till's order as well as her own (iced peach green tea with strawberry puree) and a kissy face.

He gets no message from Till.

He goes about his day, does a photoshoot, and doesn't get any new notifications until Till sends him a message.

MY UNIVERSE 💖 [ 07:44pm ] Can I call you? We need to talk.

#writing #wip #alien stage #ivantill #you taste the silver

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