#this is something a little different than my usual fare but I hope you guys enjoy it

[familyvideostevie]

it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed. 

You’ve only been open for two hours. 

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns. 

Your coffee shop. 

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it. 

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works. 

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure. 

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand. 

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him. 

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired. 

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter. 

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember. 

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint. 

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush. 

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks. 

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on. 

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize. 

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question. 

You laugh. Joel looks pleased. 

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders. 

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot. 

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee. 

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him? 

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

__

Joel stops by again. 

And again. 

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron. 

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting. 

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying. 

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning.  When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped. 

“I’m honored,” he says. 

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window. 

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash. 

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask. 

He smirks. “Miss me?” 

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy. 

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. 

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy. 

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise. 

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one. 

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw. 

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear. 

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him. 

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. 

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place. 

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says. 

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day. 

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags. 

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is. 

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.” 

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles. 

They both wave at you as they drive away. 

__

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted. 

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb. 

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing. 

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work. 

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk. 

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one. 

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus. 

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

__

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering. 

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you. 

And you still barely know him. But you want to. 

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime? 

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back. 

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back. 

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.” 

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says. 

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually. 

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?” 

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.” 

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting. 

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says. 

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables. 

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate. 

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe. 

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel. 

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light. 

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

and looking back at the scrapbooks i see the softness in your gaze; tell me how terrified you are of your longing, of me.

jd6 x reader: sometimes the nice guy doesn’t finish last.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f, f on m), hair pulling, road head (safety hazard.  don’t do this), not especially rough (consider my other work and what little significance this has), actually feelings (i would never l-bomb you guys.  we’re not there.  we will never be there), idk all my usual stuff.  (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: alright, thanks for waiting!  just in time for stagecoach to be over!  i love a good cowboy (i.e. not tz11), so jamie-lovers, this is for you.  you’re right, petal is a dumb name, but i’m working with what i’ve got.  i don’t know much about jd6, but i’m contemplating taking tz11 off of my blog entirely because of that absolutely traumatizing toddler temper tantrum he exhibited in the last game of the season, so if you like this, and jd6, let me know, as a spot is opening up on the masterlist (someone tell trev, he’ll be devastated, i’m sure).  usually i don’t write m on f oral, because i like to write dialogue (can you tell?), but i felt an exception was necessary.  you guys are the best, most generous and gentle people.  thank you for continuing to be that way.  what an insane playoff season we’ve had so far - hope you’re all faring well (or at least as well as you can be, bruins fans).  even though they aren’t playing, go canucks.  sending so, so, so much love to you and your snakes.  i think of you often and fondly.  see you soon, thank you for granting me no expectations.

to be honest, there wasn’t really much different about tonight.  the same country music festival you went to every year.  the same beer.  the same songs and the same friends and the same light and promise in the air.

nothing was different, and yet everything was different, because this year you were here, and your ex-boyfriend wasn’t here with you.  you had been together for the last three years.  how much love and commitment could fit into three years?  more than you thought possible.

but love can make a person complicit in their own demise, you had found.  for too long, it had been all too easy to hide his controlling behavior under the guise of three years.  but a month ago, you had finally walked away, for good this time.

so here you were, in that same touristy southern bar you and your friends always ended the night at, in your cowboy boots, tipsy on laughter more than alcohol, more free than you had been in a long time.  dancing, feeling like nothing had ever been more right.

“another, petal?” a soft, fond voice asked from your right.

you turned, felt your face break into a smile, actually let out a dreamy sigh at the sight of his face, nodding towards your empty cup.

“jamie!” you gushed, looping your arms around his waist and grinning up at him.  “missed you!”

he let out a laugh at your reaction, brought his own arms around you.  you felt his plastic cup rest on the curve of your lower back as he peered down at you, flushed.  “missed me?  been with you all weekend, cowgirl.”  his gaze turned soft.  “been with you always.”

he was right.  ever since you had first met, maybe two years ago, you and jamie had been inseparable.  he was one of your best friends, and you were one of his.

he must have seen something in your eyes, because he lifted a hand to brush your hair from your face.  “you okay?”

and you knew what he was asking.  you knew he knew you inside-out, and that there very notably was someone who was not here, because for as long as he had known you, that person had been here.  as long as he had known you, that person had been at your side.

but, honestly, that person hadn’t been on your mind much at all, except to note how much happier you were.  how much lighter you felt, how you danced without worry, without keeping an eye on who he was talking to, who he would disappear to see.  how you had reconnected with friends that he had insisted you pushed away, how parts of you were awakening from a slumber you hadn’t realized they had slipped into.

like, for example, the stirring in your stomach when your eyes met jamie’s. had that always been there?  had you just subconsciously willed it into nonexistence?  had his eyes always been so bright, so soft?

so you weren’t lying when you said, leaning further into the plane of his chest, “i’m perfect.”

his eyes swam with something warm as a laugh rumbled under your palms.  “you have no idea, petal,” he said.

you tilted your head, confused.  the singing in your stomach grew louder.  had he always been so tall, so broad?  had his arms around you always felt like this?  like they belonged there?

before you could ask what he meant, though, he nodded down again.  “want a refill?”

you shook your head, let a sly smile play on your lips.  “i want to dance.”  

his embrace loosened, if only slightly.  “i won’t stop you.”

you let out a small laugh, shook your head again.  “i want to dance with you, jamie.”

something different flashed across his eyes, something you could feel deep within yourself.  something was about to be different, forever, and you wished so genuinely that he would let it be so.  let it be as you deeply felt it should be.  as it should have been, all this time.

your stomach jumped with pleasant anticipation as he set his cup down on the bar, then took yours out of your hands and did the same.  were his hands shaking, only just?  

he nodded towards the dance floor.  “lead the way, petal.”

you smiled, big and bright, then took his cowboy hat off of his head and placed it atop yours before turning and walking towards the floor.  you thought you heard him mumble fuck behind you as you walked, which only made you smile wider. 

jamie rarely swore.  in fact, in your years of listening to him, you had rarely heard anything out of his mouth that wasn’t completely sweet.  but tonight was different.  you had already established that.

a song with a swing in its beat was playing, a lazy, twangy drawl singing along.  the kind of song that demanded to be shared, to be enjoyed.  the kind of song for which the best harmony was laughter.

you turned and reached out your hands to him, swayed side to side and watched him as he took your hands.  warm, so warm, rough, and big enough to fit your whole hand in his.  had his hands always sparked a flame in your chest, one you were sure he could see in your eyes?  

you pulled his arms back and forth, easing him into a rhythm, as he wasn’t a natural dancer.  you swayed and moved your hips, let the music move you and him by translation.

his eyes caught on the top of your head and stayed there for a beat.  “do you want it back?” you asked.

his gaze flooded with alarm.  “what?”  he shook his head.  “no, petal, looks so much better on you.”

“good.”  you grinned, let go for a moment to run a hand through his hair, messing it up in the way you liked.  “i love your hair.  want to see it.”

“yeah?” he asked, practically melting into your touch, his voice taking on the slightest hint of a rasp before you watched him shake any haze out of his eyes and voice.  

pasting a friendly smile back on his face, he quickly picked you up at the waist and planted you back down, your boots resting on the tops of his.  you peered up at him, found his smile a comfort.  “let’s see what you’ve got, cowgirl,” he teased before leading you around the floor on top of his boots in a goofy, awkward, completely imperfect dance.

a goofy, awkward, completely imperfect dance made utterly perfect by laughter and smiles and him.  all him.  the music could have died away, and you swore you would have never known. 

eventually you hopped down off of his boots, swung his arms in time with your hips to a different song.  a song that had you yearning to bring that hazy, hot fog back into his eyes.  one that had you yearning for him, closer.

and of course you noticed how his eyes never left you for even a second.  how a heat seemed to build between you, an understanding.  how long had he looked at you like that?  how blind could you have been to miss it?

you bit your lip to hide a smile when he brought your arm up to give you a twirl, surprised you both when you stopped, leaned your back into his chest, brought his arms down to rest on your front.

this was different.  this was dangerous.  you could feel every breath he took, and you were sure he could hear your heart beat.  but you pushed it further, bit your lips, pressed back deeper until some mixture of a whimper and a groan escaped him.

but you didn’t pull away, only relaxed back into him more completely, feigned obliviousness.  “you okay?” you asked, looked up at him with concern in your eyes.

he saw right through you, as he always did.  he was not impressed, maybe even worried.  “don’t do this to me, petal,” he said, that perfect rasp curling from his mouth like rosy smoke.  “don’t know if i can take it.”

but it took no effort at all to will innocence into your eyes as you tilted your neck back to look up at him, to melt him entirely.  “please?” you asked, your voice like sugar.

the haze in his eyes was too thick to burn off, now.  his smile was sly as he shook his head in disbelief.  “mean, mean girl,” he said as he tightened his embrace around you.  you felt his deep breath run through you.  “i’ve been so good, petal.  gonna ruin my track record.”

you furrowed your brow, spun yourself to face him, let his arms hug you against his front.  “track record?”

he nodded, flushed pink across his nose.  before you could think about it, you traced the tint with the tips of your fingers, felt his breath on you palm.  he didn’t move under your touch.  “going on two years now.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck.  “two years of what, jamie?”

his gaze flickered around the room, almost embarrassed.  “don’t make me say it, petal.  you know.”

and you did, so you didn’t push him to clarify.  you did know, now, weren’t sure how you could have missed it for so long.  you had been so caught up in something wrong, someone wrong, that you hadn’t even considered the person who was so desperately right all along.  had his gaze always been so soft, so drenched in sweetness, or had it always been so when you were looking away?  how could you have been looking away?

you weren’t, now.  you pressed yourself as close as you could into him, let the truth flood into your eyes.  “you’ve been so good,” you whispered, watched him give a small nod in agreement.

your eyes traced the movement as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek.  “but i’m gonna ruin your track record,” you said, not feeling the slightest bit sorry.  you ran your nails along the back curve of his neck, felt a shiver start under your fingers.  “and you’re gonna let me.”

he kept one arm around your back, lifted the other hand to lift his hat off of your head and lowered it again to rest on the small of your back.  “and i’m gonna let you,” he conceded, but there was no regret, no sadness, no reluctance in his voice, only slow sweetness, complete consent in being an accomplice to what he believed might be his own destruction.

and so you pulled him down so your lips met his in a kiss that felt like piety after a lifetime of sin, like the smell of a perfume you used in high school, like a pinkie-promise, like everything you had been missing.  a kiss that felt like him, and how lovely was that?  to know what that felt like.  what he felt like, like this.

and when you both pulled away, only just, enough to catch your breath, you found that heat in his eyes that you knew was reflected in yours.   “more,” you murmured.

“anything you want, petal,” was his immediate reply, and you could have crumbled at how genuinely he meant it.  

“now,” you pleaded, biting your lip, “need you.”

he groaned, drew circles on your lower back with his fingers.  “anything but that.”

you pouted, to which he shook his head.  “fuck, i won’t budge on this one.  i’m not fucking you in a bar bathroom, petal.  not when i’ve wanted you for as long as i have.”

it still felt sort of surreal to truly understand that.  you didn’t let your gaze falter.  “please, please, can we go home, then?  it’s only five minutes to the hotel.”  you knew he wouldn’t dare refuse you.  “i need you, so bad, jamie.”

he was already leading you out of the bar, pulling his keys from his back pocket, opening your car door and helping you in before settling into the driver’s seat.  

but when he put his arm behind your headrest to back the car out of the parking lot, you knew the five minutes to the hotel was five minutes too long.  so, when he pulled out into the road, you turned to him, rested one hand on his thigh, the other right above the zipper of his jeans, felt your smile glow at his immediate whimper.

“fuck, petal, don’t,” he pleaded, tilting his hips up to meet your touch, breathing becoming ragged.  “i’ll crash the goddamn car.”

you didn’t relent, palming him and relishing in his little sounds.  “please let me suck you off, jamie?  i’ll make you feel so good, promise.”

he groaned, his grip tensing on the steering wheel.  you watched the discipline fade from his eyes, bit your lip as his voice took on the despair of a beggar.  “please, petal,” he finally bit out.  “please make me feel good.”

you smiled to yourself as you took him out of his jeans, spit into your hand, pumped him up and down, felt him hard and hot under your palm.

“oh, fuck,” he murmured, working to keep his eyes on the road.  “fuck, petal, love your hands on me.”

you hummed.  “love your dirty mouth, jamie,” you praised.  “let me hear you, yeah?”  before he could answer, you took him in your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks.

you felt one of his hands tangle into your hair, making you moan around him, forcing a matching moan from him as you began to bob your head up and down.   

every breath of his sounded like a monumental effort as he tried his hardest to keep his eyes up, not closed and not on you.  more than anything, he just wanted to look at you.  his words came out like a prayer.  “can’t do it,” he croaked.  “feels too good, petal, fuck.”

you glowed under his praise, pressed yourself down further, let him hit the back of your throat as the car came to a stop.  he pulled you up off of him, mumbled a thank fuck before capturing your lips again in a feverish kiss.

“finally,” you murmured against his lips, zipping him back up before rushing to get out of the car and into the hotel.  he took your hand as he led you down the hall to his room, everything around you both an irrelevant blur.

when he finally shut the door behind him and pulled you to his chest to kiss you again, there was only him, and you, and nothing else.  you clutched at his shirt with your fists, felt just how effective your mid-drive activity had been against your front as you both kicked off your boots and tugged at each others’ clothes.

“please let me taste you, petal,” he begged into your mouth, “been dreaming about it, about you.”  you merely nodded and whimpered your consent, pulling off your jeans.  how could you deny him this?

when the back of your legs hit the bed frame, you let yourself fall back onto it, pulled him down with you by his shirt.  now that you had felt his lips on yours, you were reluctant to pull away even a bit.

but he pulled away first, shifted down to kneel in front of you, pushed your thighs apart and looked up at your through his long lashes.  “you’re sure, petal?” he asked, suddenly hesitant.  you nodded, but he persisted.  “i can’t be a rebound for you.  don’t think i’d survive it.”  glossy vulnerability played across his gaze.  “tell me you’ll keep me.”

you spoke without wavering, tangled a hand in his hair and forced his eyes to meet yours entirely.  “i promise i’ll keep you, jamie.  as long as you’ll let me.”

he shone under your words like a teacher’s pet given a golden star.  “then let me take care of you, petal,” he whispered.  “like you deserve.”

his grip on your thighs tightened as he lowered his head to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe through your folds, forcing a choked moan from your throat as you clutched harder at the soft waves of his hair, making his own grunt vibrate through you.

your moans spurred him on as he teased your clit with his tongue, at the same time bringing a finger up to slowly push in and out of you.  you hummed in pleasure, your thighs tensing.  “look so pretty on your knees for me, jamie,” you breathed out.  “fuck, so good to me, hm?”

you saw the muscles in his back and shoulders clench as he whimpered, only stimulating your clit more as he added a finger and increased his pace.  you bit out a breath, feeling yourself quickly getting close as you tugged at his hair in warning.  

“shit, j, gonna make me cum,” you whined.  “fuck, right there.”

he didn’t slow down, only increasing his speed in and out while sucking on your clit, sending you spiraling over the edge as fuzz crept into your vision like an exploding star, your thighs shaking underneath his strong grip.  

slowly, you came down from your high, your heart swelling as you met his patient eyes, looking at you with nothing short of wonder.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked, suddenly subconscious.

he shook his head with a slight laugh as he shifted up from his knees.  “can’t believe that this isn’t a dream,” he admitted, now only a breath apart, “fuck, can’t believe how lucky i am.”

you grinned, captured his swollen lips in another kiss that you hoped told him that you felt the same.  he pushed his hips against you, and you smiled into his mouth at the stiff length against you.  “need you inside me, jamie,” you whispered.

“petal wants even more?” he said.  you nodded, unzipped him again.  “then that’s what petal will get,” he conceded, tugging you towards him by the outside of your thighs, laying you flat on your back, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds.

you pouted, wrapped your hand around his forearm.  “please, need you now, j.  don’t tease me.”

he immediately pushed into you, slowly and fully, the sound that escaped him a mix between a groan and a whine.  you squinted at the stretch, the fullness, this feeling of him that made the two of you one.

“you feel like a dream, petal,” he grunted, keeping still for a second longer as if to remember this moment forever.  “like a fucking dream.”

“please move, j,” you pleaded, tracing your nails along the underside of his forearm.  “so big, please, fuck me.”

“like you’re made for me,” he bit out like a revelation, slowly beginning a pace in and out of you. “fuck, so wet for me.  feels so perfect.”

you whimpered as the stretch expanded, as the feeling of him overwhelmed all of your senses.  

“open your eyes, petal,” he begged, running his thumb back and forth across your clit, making you cry out from overstimulation.  “look at me, yeah?  want to see you.”

and you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to, not like this, not when he was here, when he was everything, everywhere.

he moaned when your eyes caught on his, filled with longing, finally recognized, but never satiated.  he fucked into you harder, but not faster, wanting you to feel him as deep as possible, so deep that you’d think of him tomorrow. 

as if you’d go a day without thinking of him.

he continued to tease your clit, making your thighs spasm in short spurts as you clenched impossibly hard around him, impossibly warm, entirely you.

“oh fuck, petal, you gonna cum again for me?” he asked, bringing his other hand to place pleasant pressure on your lower stomach.  you whined in response, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.  

“please cum with me,” he said, “want to feel you cum on my cock.  fuck, wanted to feel you for so long, petal.  cum for me, hm?”

and at his words, you did as told, clenching tight and gushing around him, triggering his own orgasm.  he whimpered as he collapsed on top of you, both of your bodies shiny with effort and pleasure.

you let your breaths gather in his collarbone as his landed in your hair, messy and beautiful, as he lifted off of you and pulled you into his side, where you belonged.  you let your breathing do the talking as you felt yourself sparkle with satisfaction, taking in how beautiful he looked.

“you’re so beautiful,” you finally murmured into his chest.

he shook in a low laugh.  “thank you, petal.”

“i’m serious,” you said.  “no one tells you enough.”

he pulled back slightly, searched your eyes, pushed a lock of hair from your damp face.  “i don’t need anyone else to tell me,” he said.  “only you.”

you pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss before sobering again.  “what does this mean?”

he continued to play with your hair, twisting it around his fingers as you analyzed his rosy face.  he let out a breath.  “you know i want as much of you as you’ll let me have.”

“all of it.  everything,” you said without hesitation, but he shook his head.  

“no,” he said, “not everything.”  at your look of confusion, the corner of his mouth turned up and he pulled you impossibly close.  “need you to save some just for you, petal.  you need some of you for yourself.”

no one had ever said that to you before.  no one had ever treated you so gently.

and you didn’t have any words, and he didn’t need any words, so you just took his hand in yours, brought it to your lips, and kissed the top of it. 

a secret message that both of you understood, perfectly.

fin.

#nhl #nhl smut #hockey #hockey smut #smut #anaheim ducks #jd6 #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale smut #jamie drysdale imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine

[heliads]

Hi!

I love your writing so much!

I would love to request an angsty Strollonso fic where Lance gets into a crash and the team doesn’t tell Nando how bad it was and he finds out later from another driver and freaks out and goes to the hospital to see him. Maybe Lance has to calm him down and keep him from going after his dad or something.

This is my first time requesting so I hope it’s okay lol.

If you don’t get to it, no worries! Thanks!

'didn't get the call' - fernando x lance

masterlist

It’s race week. Things always get real during race week.

One would think that a couple decades of seasons of Formula One racing would prepare Fernando Alonso for the frenzy of a long weekend spent overseas, but he’s had ample time to determine the contrary. Sure, he’s gotten better at shaking off the nerves a little, sloughing off like an old scar the urge to run or lash out, but part of it still remains inside his lungs, rattling the tissue more than he feels is necessary. It’s race week. What’s the worst that could happen?

That same sentiment, however, doesn’t seem to apply to the rest of the paddock. Everywhere Fernando goes, he seems the same sort of tension bubbling to fury underneath everyone’s skin. The few gazes that dare to lift to his are strained, the undereye bags larger than usual. Even his race engineer seems skittish, and after a year of dealing with Fernando watching live race broadcasts while making overtakes and other various misdemeanors, Fernando has assumed that nothing could shake the guy.

Fernando tries to think about what could have possibly gone wrong to demand this level of response, but nothing comes to mind. In the end, it was, truly, just another weekend. Fernando had done reasonably well– a fourth place result, while frustratingly shy of a podium, is still a good result. Aston Martin as a whole has been down as of late, and even though they would rather appreciate the points boost of a podium, fourth position is still better than the points of sixth, or eighth, or not even getting points at all.

All in all, it had been a relatively decent race from Fernando’s point of view. He’d had some good overtakes, and provided some good defense against the challenging Red Bulls until they passed him like they do against every other car on track. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t mediocre, either. That’s Aston for you. That’s life.

In fact, Fernando had even felt so satisfied after the race that he’d gone ahead and asked how Lance had fared while he was turning his car towards parc ferme. It’s been a little indulgence that Fernando has allowed himself out of late, caring about his teammate. Call him overly cavalier, but this is, actually, quite a sign of change in Fernando, especially after the past two years at Alpine. Fernando hasn’t always been in the business of viewing his teammates as more than obstacles.

Perhaps that’s just a sign that he’s getting old, Fernando thinks fondly as he meanders towards his driver’s room. The apparently advanced age of entering his forties is making him sentimental. How charming. Then again, it’s something altogether different when one’s teammate is, well, Lance.

Lance.

Fernando had been careful when he first arrived at Aston Martin. Lance was the boss’ son, for one thing, and Esteban’s close friend, for another. Of course he would have to be careful. It’s not as if Aston Martin would be dramatic enough to fire Fernando if he let slip a critical comment of his teammate in yet another drawn-out press conference, but they’d probably retaliate with something below the belt, like a pay cut.

So he’d watched his tongue, and watched his temper. The only thing Fernando hadn’t kept in check was his heart. Maybe that was because he assumed he wouldn’t have to, that years of experience would have made him as cold as his teammate’s home country, but as it turns out, even a two time world champion can be wrong on occasion, and Fernando was wrong about Lance.

Fernando isn’t quite sure that he could put into words what Lance means to him. He’s not sure that he wants to try. Some things are best kept secret, hidden under the protective cover of supposedly forced team bonding and aggressively proud post-race interviews. Overcommitting to an overtake before you know you’ve got it can ruin a race. Spelling out in precise, heart-stopping red syllables what Lance Stroll means to Fernando could ruin his whole enterprise.

Even still, small things slip through the self-imposed barrier. Fernando squeezes Lance’s shoulders when they run into each other in the media pen and pretends he doesn’t notice how Lance’s entire body wracks the second Fernando touches him. He certainly doesn’t store that information away for later use. And, his latest vice, Fernando keeps asking his race engineer how Lance has done in the race, making it public that Fernando is interested. People know now. How daring.

This time, though, his race engineer had been surprisingly tight-lipped, mentioning only that he would have to get back to Fernando on that front. Usually, the background chatter from the pit wall is quiet so as to not distract the driver, but this time an uproar of static had cut through the engineer’s words, making it more difficult to make him out. There had been rumors of a red flag coming out on the last lap, but as it happened most cars would be able to clear without trouble, so nothing had been mentioned. His race engineer had also been silent on that front.

Who is Fernando to worry, though? If something bad had happened, he would have been informed. Fernando makes it a habit to stay aware. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be his teammate, and thus Fernando’s capacity for caring is significantly limited. He’ll put out a somber Instagram story later if his PR agent reminds him. All will be well.

The further he travels through the Aston Martin motorhome, though, the more uneasy Fernando feels. Everyone is rushing around, all speaking to each other in terse whispers that he can’t quite pick up. Fernando feels as if he’s the eye of a hurricane, surrounded by restless whirlwinds of deep green water.

This doesn’t make sense. Eventually, Fernando’s impatience gets the better of him and he stops one of the trainers, who’s been parked in a corner of the room and frantically texting so he doesn’t get in the way. The man practically jumps out of his skin when Fernando nudges his arm, he’s so keyed up. Strange. Also unsettling.

“What’s going on?” Fernando asks. The confusion makes his voice terse, it sounds like he’s a soldier out on a battlefield. He doesn’t even feel that worried, not yet, but from the way everyone else is acting, he feels as if he should be.

The trainer avoids his eyes. “Nothing,” he says evasively.

“Oh, and that’s why you look as if someone just shot you in the leg?” Fernando deadpans.

The trainer grimaces. “Alright, but I’m not supposed to tell you. Lance, uh, got in a crash. Last lap of the race. The engineers wanted you to focus on reviewing your data so you aren’t supposed to know about it.”

This is the part where Fernando should assure the trainer that they’re both on the same page and of course he won’t say a word about it, but a complete blankness has settled over his brain, erasing the ability to think anything at all other than the same question over and over again:  Lance crashed?

“What happened?” Fernando asks. He hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice. “Was it bad?”

“Not bad,” the trainer says, but he’s still not looking directly at Fernando. “We’re still checking him out, obviously, but he should be good to go for the next race.”

He coughs pointedly, and this is when Fernando knows it’s time to move on. He’s been assured that his teammate will be fit to race next weekend, and as a hardened driver, that’s all he should care about. Still, as he walks back down the hall again, Fernando can’t convince himself to let it go. Would everyone really be this worried if it was just a small collision? They would tell him, surely, if it was worse. They would have to tell him.

Maybe they just don’t know yet, Fernando reasons with himself. Maybe they legitimately have no clue until Lance returns from medical testing. Even the most insignificant fender-benders can have lingering damage if your hands aren’t in the right place or something else goes wrong. Everyone could just be stressing until they hear back for sure that everything is fine.

Fernando returns to his driver’s room and shuts the door. He sits down absentmindedly in a chair. After about five minutes, it registers that he forgot to turn the light on. He’s not in total darkness, a window is half open, but Fernando can’t quite convince himself to try and flip the switch. Lance was in a crash. Lance is hurt, maybe.

It unravels Fernando down to the last stitch. Lance had been in the bike accident in January, Fernando is not unused to being in a situation in which Lance is hurt, but for some reason this feels far, far worse. He doesn’t like knowing that Lance isn’t alright. It unnerves him, like a car running with a mismatched tire. All of Fernando’s systems are off-kilter.

His phone pings by his side, and now Fernando’s the one who feels like he’s leaping several centimeters out of his chair. Running an absentminded hand through his hair to calm himself down, Fernando reaches for his phone to check the notification, but the message he reads does little to steady his spirit.

Mick Schumacher.

Why aren’t you at the hospital?

Fernando responds immediately.

What are you talking about?

Mick’s answer is swift and to the point.

Lance.

Instantly, Fernando’s blood chills.

They told me he was fine. Why is he in the hospital?

This time, Mick takes a while. Unable to take the pressure, Fernando gets up and starts pacing back and forth in the confines of his driver’s room. At last, Mick responds.

Bad crash. He’s been unconscious but just woke up.

Fernando is out the door before he even finishes reading the text. He’s still in his disgusting race suit, but the sweat will just have to keep cooling, because there’s no way Fernando is sparing so much as a second for anything but getting to Lance. He manages to ask Mick what hospital Lance is occupying while fishing around for his keys, and then he’s off, breaking what he’s sure are several speed limits and a myriad of traffic violations while he’s at it.

Fernando bursts through the door, feeling eerily like a guy out of a rom-com his older sister, Lorena, used to watch. He’s buff enough for the role, certainly, but nothing about this is movie material. Real life is ugly. People get into crashes and don’t miraculously walk out. Beautiful boys with dark eyes lie unresponsive in hospital beds and no one talks about it until it’s too late.

Mick is already in the waiting room and stands up when Fernando arrives. He takes in Fernando’s bedraggled appearance with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I did ask you to get here fast, but I appreciate your dedication to it.”

“Of course,” Fernando says distractedly. “How is Lance?”

Mick nods, again, the raised eyebrow. “He’s been asking for you. There are a couple of Aston Martin guys here, but they just kept ducking the question whenever he brought up where you were.”

Fernando makes a low, ugly sound in the back of his throat. “They did the same thing to me.”

Some of the tension leaves Mick’s face. “They really didn’t tell you, did they?”

“Not at all,” Fernando makes out. “Where is he?”

Mick tells him the number and points him in the right direction. “Be careful,” is all he says before Fernando is too far gone to hear him.

Fernando hurries down the hall. Some of the nurses make an attempt to stop him, but he just ducks around their questioning gazes until he’s knocking on Lance’s door. He can see a vague silhouette through the half-closed blinds, but it’s not until a faint, groggy voice tells him to come inside that Fernando can decide for sure that yes, this is Lance, and yes, Fernando should have been informed of this immediately.

Fernando shuts the door quietly behind him. He walks quietly to the chair, and he sits quietly, breathing quietly, looking quietly, until Lance rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not going to die if you act normally, you know.”

Fernando relaxes a little bit. “Who said anything about dying?”

“Not me,” Lance says, that smug smile starting to surface even despite the IV in his arm, the bandages across his chest, the–

“Stop looking at those,” Lance says unexpectedly, cutting off Fernando’s train of thought. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Fernando looks at him askance. “You sound like half your car is lodged inside your ribcage. Is that fine?”

Lance pulls a face. “Okay, I’m a little less than fine. It’s alright, though.”

“Tell me what happened,” Fernando says. He didn’t think it came out as an order, but instantly Lance straightens up even despite the constraints of the hospital bed and starts speaking, a faint blush on his cheeks. Interesting. Another thing to remember for later.

“There was a crash,” Lance begins somewhat uncertainly.

“So I’ve heard,” Fernando says, somewhat bemused. Humor is easier. It distracts him from the fact that Lance is lying here, practically lifeless, looking no more likely to move a muscle than get up and start running laps. It kills him, the inability to do anything other than sit here and crack jokes. This is not who he was supposed to be. Nothing about this is right.

Lance looks at him, playfully annoyed, and then continues again. “There was a crash. I don’t remember most of it. I was coming out of a series of turns, I think. Someone hit me. I don’t know who, steered right into me. Not their choice, I’m sure, but it took both of us straight into the barriers.”

His face contorts with confusion as he attempts to remember what happened. The lapses in memory startle Fernando more than he would like. “You must have gotten a serious hit to your head,” he says, unable to keep a grim tinge out of his words.

“That’s what the doctors said,” Lance confirms, grimacing. “I don’t really remember a lot between the crash and waking up here. They said I was out for more than half an hour.”

Fernando presses a hand to his face, dragging it roughly across the skin to try and wake himself up out of this terrible nightmare that has somehow become his reality. “All of this, and no one saw fit to tell me?”

Lance’s brow furrows. “Dad was going to make sure you knew. He told me that himself.”

All of Fernando’s grief leaves him a swift rush, replaced with blind fury. “Lawrence said that?”

At last, he has a culprit for why so much time passed before Fernando heard about this accident, and it was Lance’s own father. Disgraceful. As if Fernando hasn’t spent all of his time at Aston Martin trying to get in Lawrence’s good graces to promote the wellbeing of the team. As if he hasn’t held back on what he really wants with Lance in the name of good faith in the face of the team owner, and now this? Well. Maybe Fernando should have pulled his favorite card and simply done what he wanted in the first place.

He stands up before he realizes it. “Where are you going?” Lance asks, confused.

“I’m going to have some words with your father,” Fernando announces.

Lance’s face falls, and he starts trying to pull himself more into a seated position on his elbows. “Wait, no. He didn’t– he wasn’t trying to hurt you, Fernando, he just didn’t want you to worry.”

“The only thing I want to do right now,” Fernando informs him, “is worry.”

“Charming,” Lance says, then, in a voice verging on panic as Fernando nears the door, “Seriously, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“What wouldn’t be?” Fernando asks, deceptively calm despite the inferno boiling between the bars of his ribcage.

He’s already at the door. Fernando can see Lawrence talking on the phone in the waiting room, where Mick is eyeing him icily– he’s on the phone while his son is in the hospital, what an asshole– and he’s about to go out there and tell Lawrence exactly what he thinks of this, bystanders be damned, but then Lance’s voice comes again, soft and quiet, and Fernando stops, fingers resting on the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Stay with me. Please.”

That’s all it takes to slow Fernando’s insatiable temper, as it turns out. Who knows how many managers and PR officers would have killed to get that information, and they’re only four words. Four words spoken by Lance Stroll, which makes the difference.

Fernando returns to his seat by Lance’s side. Lance looks distinctly pleased with himself. “I didn’t know you were so open to receiving instructions. I think I’m going to remember that.”

“You’ll forget this by tomorrow. Strong painkillers do that sometimes,” Fernando insists.

Lance’s lips curl into a catlike smile. “Sure thing, Fernando.”

Maybe he’s right after all. Fernando thinks that he might not ever forget the peace of a room when it’s just the two of them, how the heart monitor sharply upticks when Fernando reaches over to take Lance’s hand and both of them pretend they don’t notice it. Lance will be alright eventually. Wounds will heal, scars will fade, and a ferocious driver named Fernando Alonso will accept that the biggest chink in his forged-by-fire armor is a young man named Lance Stroll, and there is nothing wrong about that at all.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#strollonso #strollonso imagines #strollonso oneshot #strollonso fanfic #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula one imagines #formula one oneshot #formula one fanfic #lance stroll #lance stroll imagines #lance stroll oneshot #lance stroll fanfic #fernando alonso #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso oneshot #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando x lance #fernando alonso x lance stroll #alonstroll #alonstroll imagines #f1 lance #f1 fernando

[ishipallthings]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Death (Marvel) Additional Tags: Angst, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Deal with a Devil, Grief/Mourning, Pining, Memories, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied Relationships Summary:

Steve Rogers is willing to make a deal with Death for Tony Stark’s life.

Death gives him a choice of what price to pay.

Written for Round 21 of Lights Park Ave inspired by this prompt and In My Hands and Gone Again by @nostalgicatsea 💜

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve x tony #marvel #avengers endgame #post endgame #angst #pining #my fic #my writing #this is something a little different than my usual fare but I hope you guys enjoy it

[luimagines]

RQ: He’s upset and needs comforting

Masterlist

Ya'll want angst? Because I have some angst.

Very hurt/comfort

Set platonically and within the group since there was no specification. Hope that’s ok! Sorry it took awhile, it got away from me again. I think this may be a trend.

Scenario under the cut! It’s super long so take caution!

Sky

It took a while for you to notice but eventually you do.

Sky has been acting weird all day.

It was only clipped responses at first, then it was was the lack of attention where Sky would have been the first to comment or act otherwise. What really tipped you off finally was how he seemed to be evading the whole group. Not necessarily stepping away and out of sight but he didn’t interact with anyone and when they approached him, he didn’t make eye contact, seemingly trying to cut the conversation short.

No one has said anything. 

You mention it to Twilight about his out of character behavior but he says that it maybe a bad day, or he slept wrong, or some other reason that you stopped listening to because it didn’t make any sense.

Sky was always trying to be friendly no matter his mood and it took a lot to shake him up.

What was eating at the Chosen Hero?

Soon, the uncertainty begins to eat at you too and you wait for night fall, once everyone is asleep to strike.

Strike up a conversation that is.

Sky usually takes the last watch because he’s usually the first one out regardless of what activities for the day so you strive to wake up early.

It works for the most part, your internal clock doing what you want it to do when you blink your eyes open. Part of you begins to drift off again so you sit up and nearly fall asleep that way.

A hand comes up on your back and rubs a small circle. “Nightmare?”

It’s Sky and he’s looking at you with mild concern.

You smile and shake your head. “No. I’m alright but I think I’ll stay up with you if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He moves out of your space and back to where he sat.

You follow, still groggy from just waking from your slumber but succeed in not stepping on any of your friends or waking them up as well with the added noise. you sit next to the Hero of the Skies with little fan fare and let the moment settle on the both of you before looking skyward.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look at Sky and continue star gazing even if they’re a little harder to spot as the sun travels closer for it’s shift.

Sky hums in agreement and follows your gaze upwards.

“Are you ok? You seemed a little off lately.”

Sky doesn’t say anything for the first few seconds and you suspect that maybe he didn’t hear you. With him spacing out so much and the fact that you whispered for the sake of your still sleeping friends, you’re inclined to repeat yourself but Sky answers in time.

“Just thinking a lot, I suppose. Nothing serious.”

“Yeah?” You don’t look his way. This is casual. This is friendly. This is not a big deal. “Rupee for your thoughts?”

“It’s not that interesting.”

You shrug. “Hit me with it anyway. It’s got to be something if it’s throwing you off your rocker. Maybe a new perspective will help clear some of it up?”

Sky frowns at your attempts, once again retreating into his mind. You let the offer hang in the air and let it sink in.

You’re disinclined to bring it up anymore. Your brain is still tired and you’re wondering your effectiveness when half of your thoughts are still muddled with sleep and fatigue. You could have totally slept in some more. What on earth made you think this was a good idea?

“Time mentioned something earlier that I can’t seem to let go of.” Sky begins.

You hum back and let him keep talking.

“I never fought this Ganon guy they all so talk so much about. I fought the God Demise. Before I could land the final blow, he cast a curse on me, on us, that some cycle would continue. His hatred would last forever and my blood line and Zelda’s will be cursed to deal with constant darkness caused by him.” Sky admits, looking now at his intertwined hands. “I finished him soon after that but... I wonder... Am I the cause-... Is this all my fault? Am I the reason that we’re all here right now? That everyone has gone through so much? So many thing happened that should have never occurred. Time and Legend and Wild have all suffered so much.... more than I can possibly ever imagine and it seems like it’s never ending. Everyone starts they’re adventures so young... If I had killed him sooner... If I had just got it over with... If I had just shut him up-”

“Hey.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, cutting off his tirade.  “None of this is anyone’s fault. The only people to blame are Ganon and now, this Demise guy. You did what you could. You still got the job done and no one here will ever blame you for what has happened to them or to Hyrule. You were young too... you’re still young. Give yourself a little kindness and understanding, just as you do with everyone here. You didn’t deserve it either. It’s not like you asked to fight a God.”

“Well...”

“Sky you know what I mean.”

“I should have been faster. If-”

“There’s no use in worrying about what if’s.” You shove him slightly. “This is our life. Even if you ask, no one is capable of giving you the answers. I get it. It’s hard to know if the path you took is the right one if it’s all you’ve ever known and you can’t see where the other would have lead... But... Even if horrible things happen, I’m still glad to have met you. I’m glad I met the others. I’m happy to be here with you and with them, and I’m glad that it’s not just me anymore.”

You let the words sink in before leaning down wards and trying to get him to look you in the eye. “I can’t answer your questions. But what happened, happened and the best thing we can do is learn how to play with the cards we’re dealt.”

He take a deep breath and  finally looks in your direction. “I know you’re right.” 

“Naturally.”

“But I can’t help but feel responsible for being-”

“But you’re not responsible for their pain or any of this Sky. If Ganon has anything to do with Demise then it’s all Demise’ fault. His and his only. Understand?” You stress. “I wish... I wish I could do something more to help.”

Sky places his hand over yours where you still have it on his shoulder and sends you a small smile. “I know. Me too.”

Wild

“Zelda, would you please drop it!” You hear the Champion yell, his voice carrying over the wind and somehow getting louder. “We’ve had this conversation before and it’s not the time to have it again. I have things to do excuse me.”

Wild storms into his house and shuts the door behind, blocking it with all his weight and waits for the indignant shrieking on the other side to go away. The voice ends with a frustrated huff and after a moment of silence, Wild relaxes and steps away from the door and further into the house.

You’re almost scared for the moment. You’ve not known Wild to yell, even less so for a Link to be on bad terms with Zelda no matter the universe. To make matters worse, you were the only that was actually within the house at the moment and you weren’t entirely sure how to proceed from here.

“Trouble in paradise?”

That probably wasn’t the way to go, if you were being honest with yourself.

Wild groans, loud and exaggerated and sits at the table in front of you with as much fan fair.

“Do not...call it that.” He sounds tired.

“Sorry.” You amend with an apologetic shrug. “That-” You reference to the scene outside. “-Didn’t sound ideal.”

“No. It’s not.” Wild sighs and places his face in his hands with his elbows on the table. Bad table manners, a small voice in your head pipes up. But it’s his house, so you bite your tongue.

“Can I ask what it was about?” You hesitatingly venture.

Wild takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “I wanted to live a simple life.” He starts. “Everything was over now, right? That was the idea I had. Defeat the evil and get to finally live as a normal man. Maybe explore more of my home and show Zelda all the cool things I’ve seen and done. Everything I knew, everything I remembered is gone and has been gone for a while. No one alive misses it. No one alive even knows about it. This is the world they were born into and they wouldn’t have it any other way. I was prepared to accept that and join them.”

Your face twists in sympathy as you nod along. “I take it that’s the issue here.”

“When I defeated Calamity Ganon and reunited with Zelda, she seemed so full of hope and purpose.” Wild continues. “I saw it in her eyes. She wanted a different thing to what I wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

Wild gives you a pained look. “Zelda wants to try and rebuild the kingdom. Make it into what she remembers it to be. She wants to strengthen relationships with the other nations and reestablish the royal family and a whole lot of other things that I cannot begin to think of how long it would both take and last considering all the damage that already been done. She wants to be Queen. And over what? Hyrule Kingdom is no more. Can’t be a Queen without a kingdom to rule and there’s not a lot of Hylians left that would agree to being ruled over or even enough of them to count as a kingdom to begin with.”

“I suppose it’s not a bad goal to have but you do make a point.” You try and add to the conversation, feeling wildly out of your depth. “Does she know that you-”

“Yes. And she thinks I’m crazy for it. She thinks that I’ve given up on my friends and the past and the future and- uugghhh.” Wild leaned forward and slams his head on the table with enough force to make you jump.

“That look like it hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I believe you.” A small smile covers your face.

A beat passes before Wild continues to talk with his head still on top of the table. “I don’t think she realizes that I’ve changed after everything. Maybe if I had my memories to begin with, or maybe if I had managed to defeat Calamity Ganon sooner, I’d be more inclined to agree with her, but I’ve experienced so much and done so much that I don’t want to go back to how things were. I’m a different man now.” Wild looks up at you. “She’s different too but I don’t think she’s ready for that conversation.” 

“So you’re stuck with this one?”

“Yes.”

“That sucks man.” You shift in your seat. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not if you can change the past.” He pouts.

“Shame. I’m fresh out of past changing wishing powder.”

“That’s not a thing.” He pouts even more.

You chuckle at the display before sobering up ever so slightly. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“What good will that do?”

“Maybe a third person party has to step in. It could be that it’s because you’re the one who saying that she isn’t listening.” You shrug. “I think you’re right but I’m willing to give her chance to tell her side of the story while you cool down in here. I can be a distraction so you can sneak out quietly and she won’t know you’re here anymore! It’s a win win! And maybe you guys can come to an agreement when you both see each other again with new perspectives.”

Wild gives you another tired look and leans into his hand. “I doubt it would work. Zelda is incredibly stubborn, one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. But if you think it would help, I won’t stop you. I’ve run out of arguments and I’m done hearing hers.”

“Ok.” You say getting up and moving around the table. “I think it’s worth a shot. There’s a saying where I’m from that goes, ‘it’ll all be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, then it’s not the end.’”

You give Wild a hug around his shoulder and squeeze him tight. “I have faith that you’ll pull through and get to live peacefully, but until then, you’ve got us on your side ok?”

He leans in your direction and wraps his arms around your own. “I know. I figured as much.”

“Good man.”

“I’m definitely sneaking out of here though.”

“That’s fair. Go hide.”

“I will... And thanks for listening to me. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Four

"I'm sorry, what?" Four snaps his head up to stare at the Champion.

"What?" Wild tilts his head. "What? There's no stuff in the grass in my Hyrule. Just crickets and lizards...you know normal stuff. I don't know why there's tools and rupees in all of yours."

"You don't-" Four cut himself off with a click of his teeth, a piece in his mind clicking into place. He stands suddenly, clearly upset and tense as he processes the information.

"Four?" You call out to him but he doesn't respond to you, nor does he look back.

"Four!" Hyrule calls as well. "Where are you going?"

No reply.

"I'll go with him. Just in case." You stand up in a rush and nearly knock over the equipment at your feet in the process. "Don't wait up for us."

You follow him.

Four is fast and quiet and it takes very little time to lose him- or rather, for him to lose you.

Before you knew it, there's no trace of him and there's nothing within the forest that would give you a hint to his whereabouts.

"Great." You hiss and look around.

Nothing.

"Four!" If he won't show himself, you'll just have to make some noise. "Four! Four! Show me a sign so I know you're not dead!"

You wait.

"Don't make me get Wolfie!"

Nothing.

"Four!" You scream a little louder and begin to run. Now that you've said it out loud, despite being a joke in the beginning, the thought of Four being dead somewhere spikes your panic and anxiety and it fuels your quest.

It's only been a few minutes and Four can handle himself just fine but you don't think about that.

"FOUR!"

"Why are you screaming?" A voice come just beyond you.

You sprint toward it and find Four in a small clearing, crouched down and appearing to hold something in the palm of his hand.

"I was calling you." You don't know how you find it in you scold him. "A response would have been nice."

"Sorry." He shrugs. "I was having a conversation, it would be rude to drop it."

You get on your tip toes to look around him and find nothing. "With... With what?"

Four looks down into his hand and places it, ever so gently, on the ground, pausing and standing up to see you. "You can't see them?"

"See who?" You step over to him. "Four? Are you ok?"

His face twists in annoyance before sighing. "I'm fine."

"No offence, but I doubt that."

"It... a group of creatures that can only be seen by good children. They were important on my quests and have helped me greatly. Children usually stop seeing them around the time when they turn sixteen."

"Would it be easy for me to chalk it all up to magic?" You bit your lip.

"Probably. If it'll help you sleep at night." Four sighs and looks down to the ground, a small smile on his lips before it twists into a painfully and... he looks seconds from crying.

"I did so much to help them... and they helped me.... They leave gifts in the grass to help travelers and us heroes alike and yet... Wild says it doesn't happen anymore..." Four gulps and looks away from you and what ever is by his foot. "They wouldn't stop.... They're incredibly kind and hospitable and... There's no reason for them... Why are they gone?"

"Four." You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

"What happens to them?" His Adam's apple bobs a bit as he sucks in a breath. "It just means there was no one to help them."

"Oh Four." You pull him into a hug and nearly crush him with it.

"There's nothing I can do to help them, is there?" He sniffles into your chest.

"No, I... I don't think so Four. Not that far out into the future." You shake your head and begin to rub circles on his back.

You don't think he's crying but he might be fighting it because he does begin shaking.

He doesn't say anything else and you're loath to let him go when he's so emotionally charged. So you hold him. You hold him for as long as he needs and you wait for him to pull away first.

When he does, you keep your hands on his shoulders and he stays within your reach. Four begins to take deep calming breaths with his eyes closed and you instinctually run your hands through his bangs and push some of the loose hairs from his face.

Minutes continue to pass and the sounds of nature around you fill the void.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I wish I could help you but I don't know how."

Four nods and rubs his eyes. "I don't doubt that. Thank you. I'll be ok."

You don't think he's ready to go back to the group just yet, not after all that. "Tell me more about these friends of yours. How did they help you? How did you help them? What are they exactly?"

It earns you a small laugh and he grins up at you with a watery smile. "Sit down. And let me tell you about the Picori."

Twilight

“You almost died and for what?!” Twilight screams at Wild for the umpteenth time.

It startles you to hear his voice reach such volumes but you’re inclined to agree with him this time around. After Wild’s stunt with taking a hit to the head for Wind, you’d been on the look out for his more... self sacrificing behavior. You knew he wouldn’t think twice to do it and you tried to make it so there wouldn’t even be a chance for him to make such a decision.

This time though, in this last fight, you took your eyes off of him for only a moment and that’s when he broke his streak of uneventful fights. 

Twilight, of course, is livid and has no regard for the poor creatures of the forest that have to endure his tirade as he unleashes his concern and worry in the form of rage and over exaggerated gestures.

When Hyrule finishes healing your more minor wounds, you slink away from the soon to be screaming match since Wild is very much still conscious, if a little roughed up. You don’t intended to stray as far as you go but you don’t find it in yourself to care for the time being.

Being around so many people for so long is taxing. You make the executive decision to remove yourself for the time being while tensions are high, to both cool off and to avoid getting hit in the crossfire.

There’s a small creek nearby, you find, and decide to make a small space for yourself there until dinner comes rolling around. The birds and the babbling waters calm your soul and snuffle out the last of the adrenaline. You don’t know how long you sit there, but you can faintly hear the screaming match in the distance that you dipped out of.

You don’t regret it.

More time passes and you find that you may or may not have taken a small nap in the meantime. If the position of the sun is anything to go by.

Despite the pain in your back from sleeping against a tree, the slight ache in your neck from the angle you slept in, you feel better. Clearer, even.

You hope your absence wasn’t entirely noticed but you can’t seem to regret leaving either.

Footsteps creep closer to you and you huddle into a small ball out of habit to avoid detection.

It’s Twilight.

He walks near the creek and takes a heavy seat next to it. He looks both pale or red faced at the same time but exhaustion is laced in his entire body from what you can tell.

He doesn’t notice you.

You uncurl and set your legs out in front of you. Leaning forward a little, as quietly as you can, you see that he’s upset. It doesn’t surprise you. But seeing as you don’t how to deal with an upset Twilight and you can’t really sneak away without crossing his line of sight or making any miniscule noise, you still yourself and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Twilight calls your name. Quietly and hollow- like he’s not all there. Or in the way one would talk to a memory.

It’s immediately unsettling. Both in how he sounds and how he knew you were there without you doing anything. But you suppose Twilight can just sense things like that from times to time. It’s certainly not the first time he’s done it.

“I’m here.” You reply.

“How long?”

“A few hours I think. Longer than you were here that’s for sure.” You shrug and slowly crawl out of your hidey hole. “I think I fell asleep....The sun wasn’t over there when I first got here.”

Twilights hums in what you think is agreement but it’s really only a sound. “It’s a nice spot.”

You smile. It’s tense and little fake, but he’s not looking at you so you don’t care for authenticity. “Good thing it’s big enough for the both of us huh?”

“Yeah.” He looked into the distance again, noting that the sun is beginning to set and takes a deep breath. “Do you ever feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?”

“Can’t say that I have.” You move closer to him, aiming to sit by his side. “I’ve always enjoyed sun sets and I find them calming to watch but hearing someone finding them sad is a new one. Do you feel sad as dusk falls?”

He hums again. “They say it’s the only time their world interacts with ours.”

“Whos?”

“Lingering spirits I suppose...” Twilight tilts his head upwards before twisting it to look at you. “It’s nothing. I’m just reminiscing about my life before my adventure is all. My... father told me those words and I haven’t forgotten them since.”

You hum this time and lean back to mirror him. “Wanna tell me why?”

“That Champion reminds me so much of myself and yet... he’s ten times worse.” Twilight falls backwards with a soft thump. “I know why he does it but I...”

“You care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” You shrug. “It’s not exactly a new concept.”

“Tell that to him.”

“Maybe I will. He gets just as upset as you do when this happens, you know.” You shift your weight to make it easier to stand up later.

“Does he? You’d think that he’d get the point to stop doing then.” He growls.

“Maybe he’s scared of losing more friends.” You blurt before you can stop yourself. That was something Wild told you in confidence and while he didn’t say you couldn’t tell anyone- that was kinda implied.

Twilight stills for a moment, the fight leaving him again in a single breath as he considers your words. They don’t seem to be new news to him.

Wild is pretty close to Twilight...Maybe he already knew.

“I still think I’m entitled to not like it.” He settles.

“It’s not he’s asking you to be ok with it. I know I’m not.” 

“I guess that’s fair then.” Twilight sits up again and stands up in one fluid motion that you envy. With a turn on his heel, he holds his hand out to you to take.

You take it and feel him effortlessly lift you off of the ground with that one hand.

You don’t comment on it.

“Come on.” He says. “I’m going to need you for moral support.”

“Why?”

“If I yelled in front of him of the whole group, I should apologize to him in front of the whole group.” He admits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “But I might need an excuse to get close to him again after all the things I’ve said.”

“I get your desert and you’ve got yourself a deal. I left to not get involved and here you are... involving me.” You tease. “I demand payment.”

“One desert? I can do that.”

Hyrule

“I can’t do this.” You snap your head to the sound of the voice and see Hyrule with his arms cross and shaking.

“What? What’s happening? Hyrule?” You step closer to him as you’re the only one within arms reach. “What do I need to do? How can I help?”

“There’s nothing. Nothing you can do, that can make this better.” Hyrule takes one ground step before throwing his arms down. “Don’t you see them? With all their tools and experience and then there’s- me. Just me. Some magic later and a old man with a sword and I found myself trying to save my princess and defeat some evil, but these guys...”

You look around, trying to see if Legend or Sky are close enough to give you back up, or better yet, take over. You suppose it’s better than a panic attack but it’s so left field that you’re stunned and floundering to catch this hot potato of a conversation.

He keep talking.

“For all that is good and holy, they are heroes. Do you see them? Some of them have training, and families and skills and I....was just a boy in a grave yard. How can I even compete with them? I don’t, that’s how. But how can they consider me an equal? When I was in town and listened to the elders and their stories, they would tell me of a legendary hero from the past who courageously defended our home until the very end and who was virtually undefeated in all his adventures. And then I meet Legend....and he’s so much cooler than all those stories combined.”

“Link.” You call out to him and back to the real world. “You need to slow down for me honey because you’re too fast for me to keep up. What do you mean how can they see you as an equal? You defeated Ganon just as they did. You stood up for your home just as they did. You did it all on your own just as they did. Why wouldn’t they consider you an equal? No one cares about where you’re from, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“But they can do so many things even without the sword!” He exclaims. “They all have a place to go to, a person who cares about them, a title or a skill and a world that’s not on the brink of collapse-”

“Ok, whoa, hey.” You step into his space and take his face into your hands, bringing it up for him to look you in the eyes.

“I have no idea what brought this up but I won’t stand for anyone talking bad about you. And that includes you. We... can talk about your home with clearer heads later, ok? Maybe the others can help with that when we get there, yeah? And well....” You’re sinking. You don’t know what to do with all this information and you have even less of an idea about how to address it.

“Good golly, when it rains, it pours with you lot, doesn’t it?” You hiss under your breath and bite the bullet. With a strong grip, you wrap your arms around the Traveler and pull him close. You try to keep your grip strong without fear of hurting him, but it hits you then how thin he is. How light he actually is. You can feel the hint of armor under his tunic and it does little to quell your fears.

“Clearly there’s a lot on your mind. And... I’m probably not the person to help you through this. If you want to talk about not belonging though, I’m free to listen. I’m the only one here who’s not a Link, if you haven’t noticed.” You try to joke but it falls a little flat. “You though... You belong here with all of us... all of them... And if you need more convincing then I’m bringing this up with Legend who’s is over the moon proud of you and what you can do and he told me himself that he couldn’t be happier to have you as his successor-”

“Really?”

“Not in those exact words admittedly,-” You gulp as the word vomit continues to bubble out of you in waves of panic. “-but I know that’s what he meant because he doesn’t stop talking about how cool you are.”

“Hm.”

“And everyone has a different background, ok? Everyone has skills and people that the others don’t have. That’s ok. It’s not a competition. I get worried that one day you guys are going to create some game out of all your trauma. Like... who had it worse and just go around in a circle listing off all the things that happened to each of you... Whoever runs out of things to say or can’t think of something as bad or worse than the others is out. Last man standing wins.”

“Don’t give them ideas.” You feel him chuckle. It’s breathless and small and it doesn’t reach your ears despite your closeness but you feel it.

“Good thing it’s just you and me right now.” You sigh a little in relief and loosen the hug. “Look, just.....whatever you think you can’t do, just know that there is someone who is confidently doing it wrong right now. In the group or not, just keep your eyes and watch. They don’t plan on doing it better either and people are celebrating them for it. Please believe in your own excellence as much as they believe in their mediocrity.”

“Big words.”

“You’re awesome for trying. Others are not and don’t plan to. You’re already better than them.” You amend, stepping away to look him in the eye again. “The group can’t do magic like you can. That’s all you. They all have items sure but no one can do what you do... and you’re self taught, right? That’s incredible! You have just as much as a reason to be here as the others. I swear it.”

Hyrule sighs and gulps. He doesn’t believe you. It’s not enough.

You knew it wouldn’t be and it’s definitely doesn’t scratch the tip of the iceberg of the bomb he just dropped on you but... step by step. Little by little. you have a plan.

“Screw it. Let’s catch up with Wind and Warrior and get them to tell you how awesome you are, since you won’t listen to me. And if you’re still a nonbeliever then we move on to the next pair. We’ll go down the line if we have to.” You nod and grab his hand, beginning to drag him along.

He laughs after you, a little hysterical and in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

“That is not new information.” You reply, hiding your grin. “I say it’s Hyrule loving hours and I’m gonna get everyone to join.”

“You’re not joking are you.” It’s a statement. He already knows the answer.

“Nope!”

Legend

It was your turn on watch for the night. In an hour or two you were supposed to wake the Veteran for his shift and finally catch some sleep.

The others snored and slept away without a care in the world. It was just you and cackling fire that was active but you’d kill for something to help your mind get passed the boredom.

Anything but monsters or an attack that is. You’d hate to jinx your good luck so far.

In the corner of your eye, while fighting to keep your head up, you see Legend shift. Not necessarily unusual. You’re inclined to ignore it.

But then he shifts again, whimpering like he’s been hurt and a white knuckled grip on the blanket.

You still and begin to wonder what’s your level of care here.

Part of you, in kindness, wants to go wake him. The lack of sleep seems more merciful than letting him suffer a prison of his own making.

But you also don’t know how he’ll react.

You know he’d hate to be seen as weak for whatever normal reason and he’s been inclined to wake up swinging in the right circumstance.

Twilight suffered a broken nose for the whole night because he was disinclined to wake up Hyrule or take a potion.

Not you’d make the same decision and suffer the whole night in the same manner but it certainly fails to sound appealing.

Just as your about to appeal to your better nature and force yourself to go wake him before it gets worse, he shoots up into a sitting position with a strangled scream. The job seems to have been done for you- but in the worse way.

He’s breathing hard with his hand gripping his chest. Legend begins to frantically look around and slowly begins to piece together where he is and what’s happened. He never looks behind him, where you are, before running a hand through his hair a little harder than you think reasonable and getting to his feet.

You cough slightly, leaning away from the fire and back into previous position. You hadn’t realized you leaned into his direction as you watched him, inches from putting your face into the flame.

He startles at the sound and whips around, one hand poised to reach the sword he’s not equipped with.

“It’s just me.” You wave. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He calms somewhat and you can see his jaw flex. “Well, goodnight to you.”

His voice is croaked- from disuse or an overwhelming emotion, you’re not sure.

“For me maybe. But you? That was quite a scare you gave me as well.” You play it off. You can at least pretend that you weren’t watching him. That you would have saved him a little earlier and took your sweet time doing it. You offer a peace offering to your morals. “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” He snaps, furiously rubbing his face. “It’s nothing new. We all deal with it one way or another.”

“True. But it’ll be easier to let it go, and let the experience float up into the air and never return. Otherwise it’ll fester and grow.” You shrug. “But I won’t force you. I know you’re not exactly fond of me.”

Legend glares into the fire as you talk and refuses to look at you. Once you finish though, he moves his head away, still not in your direction but visually drops more tension from his shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything.

“There’s a spot next to me with your name on it if you want it.” You offer. “A little company wouldn’t hurt.”

He takes more time to respond and you resolve to go back to staring at the fire.

A moment or two passes and you hear the faint sound of crunched foliage. It takes of your will power to not look up as he approaches and even more so when he decidedly sits next to you.

The fabric of his tunic brushes your leg for a minute and it strikes you odd that he sat that close despite the rest of the log at his disposal.

It must have been bad if he wants to be close to someone right after. The thought enters your mind. Once it’s there you don’t chase it away and instead casually lean back with your hand behind you.

If the angle causes you to lean closer to him in the process, you don’t say anything. 

And if Legend notices, he doesn’t say anything either.

A moment of time passes in silence, the only sounds through the whole forest are crickets and a passing owl with the occasional whisper through the trees.

“How do you do it?” He asks.

“Do what?” You tilt your head in his direction.

He’s still not looking at you.

“Keep going.”

The answer shocks momentarily but you’re not surprised that it’s coming from him out of the whole group. “Legend-”

“I’m tired.” He says instead. “I hate this. I hate that sword. I hate that pig demon. I hate that I can’t be done.”

You hand comes up to his shoulder and you force him to look at you. 

He lets you and he looks up to you with tears building up in his eyes and for a moment you’re struck by the odd balance of how old he sounds but how young he looks- is.

You stuck floundering for a response to answer him with but he asks one more thing. “Why can’t I be done?”

You pull him into a hug before you can stop yourself. “I don’t know. I don’t know Link.”

You find yourself wanting to cry as well once Legend collapses into the hug. He’s not hugging you back but he’s being held for the first time in... you don’t know how long. Your grip tightens.

“But I do know is that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And maybe....maybe this is the final fight. That’s why we’re all together right? A darkness so evil ahead that every hero is required and then....rest. For each and every one of you.”

You sniffle, carding your fingers through his hair without a moments hesitation. “If it’s not then I’ll fight everything for you from then on. I’ll take your place you hear me. I’ll take your job and title and you won’t have to do this anymore.”

“I’m the Hero of Legend. That’s not exactly an easy thing-”

“No. I am the hero now. I’ve decided it.” You hide the tears in his hair to the best of your ability.

Legend snorted, loud and wet but you elected to ignore it just as you were ignoring the ever growing wet spot on your shoulder. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It does now. I said so.”

A beat.

“...Ok.” He sniffled and rubbed his head on your shirt. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting the night take over the atmosphere again. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He nods once, definitive and final. Your expecting him to let go now and return to his roll, already electing to take over his shift as well and just push through the next day.

Except he doesn’t.

Legend calls your name, testing the waters and lifts his head up ever so slightly. “...It’s not that I’m... not... fond of you-”

“Save it for a rainy day.” You grin. “I think you’ve had your fill of emotions for the night.”

He nods and eventually slips into sleep with his head on your chest, no doubt lulled by your heartbeat.

With tearful eyes, you stare back into the fire.

Time

Time marched from the stunned group the same way a parent does after making a scathing remark instead of a lecture.

You know the one. 

“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.”

The poor boys suddenly didn’t know what to so with themselves or how to get back into Time’s good graces.

You felt for them and their awkward meandering through the camp. So, with your pride swallowed, you follow in the vague direction where Time went off to and decided to at least talk him down.

He is... decidedly harder to find than you previous imagined.

Just as your starting to think the Old Man doesn’t want to be found, you hear subtle swing. It’s to your left and it sounds heavy.

So naturally you follow it

Which leads you to a small clearing just beyond a bunch of bushes.

Time is there, full armor still on and swinging his giant sword forcefully, each swing stronger than the last. It’s as if it weighs only as much as Four. You’ve wondered in the past what it would like if he decided to actually throw the smallest ones of the group but out of fear, do not voice your ideas.

Just because Time won’t doesn’t mean that the others won’t try.

It’s hard being the responsible one when there are nine Links to take care of, each as much as a gremlin as the last. It must be hell on Time’s back to carry the group.

You see where he’s coming from and yet...

“You can stand to be a little more patient with them.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can actually stop them.

Time stops abruptly, in both the figurative and literal sense, before the man turns to you with that same face of neutral disappointment.

“They are heroes.”

“They are also children, Time. I think that it’s because they are heroes that they deserve to act their age every now and then.”

“Slacking won’t divert the evil away from our home.”

“Running face first into the problem won’t solve it either.” You sigh and walk up the man. He tenses as you approach and slowly lets his weapon down. The Hero of Time is an intimidating creature but you refuse to let that dissuade you.

“Look, I know why you’re upset. I get it. It’s hard to get a job done when you feel like you’re the only one it’s important to... But have a little faith in our group. Please.” You plead and stop right in front of him. You have to look up at him slightly due to the angle but he was forced to acknowledge you here.

His arms cross and he opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off.

“You’re right, they are heroes and there is a job to be done and an evil to be done away with. But they were even younger when they earned the title. They still vanquished the darkness even for their age. You have to trust that they will do the same here.” You reach up and put your hands on his shoulders, getting onto your tip toes to look him in the eye better. “And they will. Because they are heroes. Because they have the spirit of courage. Because they are Link... Just like you.”

He softens his stance ever so slightly but he still doesn’t look pleased.

“It’s not easy I know.” You get down again. “But they look up to you. I think all of them do. And I can’t stand to see how hurt they look when you get upset when they act their age. It’s not like they can help it.”

He takes a deep breath and uncrossed his arms. He takes a minute to respond. Time stared at you intensely before he drops all the tension in his body and finally lets his weapon go. A single hand comes up to pat your head. 

“Let’s head back to camp.”

He says nothing else and continues to walk past you and back the way you came.

You don’t ignore the sense of accomplishment and refuse to dampen it when you catch the tiniest slivers of a smile before he turns away from you completely.

Wind

You’re lying peacefully on the dirt when you hear someone sit beside you with more power than would ever be needed.

You don’t open your eyes for the sake of the other person, not really thinking much of it and even forgetting that they were there until you heard the smallest of sniffles.

Now, you’re sitting straight up with wide and concerned eyes locking directly onto the crying form of your beloved pirate. 

It’s hard not to feel for him and while you’re not sure what sprung this up, you don’t have it in you to turn him away, or to ignore that he was upset.

Neither of you say anything and you’re almost afraid it make the picture in front of you a little too real.

Instead, you move yourself closer to him and open up your arms.

Wind doesn’t hesitate to throw himself onto you and let his body sag with unwanted emotion.

As sobs silently rack his body, you begin to feel yourself rock back and forth for both his comfort and yours. Soon you start running your hands through his hair and rub small circles on his back. 

He cries for a long time and never once gives you a clue why.

You don’t ask either.

Still, once the moment has passed, you continue to hold onto him. He doesn’t make any moves to let go of you any time soon and you’re happy to be there for as long as he’ll let you.

That doesn’t stifle your concern over the cause but you’re loath to bring it up.

Minutes pass with the boy in your arms and it’s only when you shift positions, does he look up at your face. His eyes aren’t as red anymore with the amount of time that’s passes since he’s stopped crying but his face is still a little puffy and his cheeks are both stained in tears and incredibly red.

A small smile creeps onto your face when you look back at him. “Feel better?”

“A little.” He admits and sniffles the last of the tears away, wiping his face with his sleeve. “Thanks.”

“For you? Anytime.”

Warrior

It struck you as odd that it was dinner time the group seemed to be missing someone.

Earlier that day the group had split up to take down some troublesome monsters on the border of some tiny town defenseless town and that was that.

It didn’t seem like big deal nor was it a particularly hard thing to do. The monsters weren’t infected and they didn’t have numbers on their side so your group took care of the pests in a matter of moments.

And yet, when everyone regrouped there was a visible tension.

Some thing had happened on the other side of the fight and no one wanted to fess up, even less so when Time mentioned it.

It worried you.

Now, as it stood the tension was still there but Warrior didn’t want to come out of the wood work.  He had left earlier claiming to need to check up on his appearance and no one had questioned him. No one offered to go with him.

It was always dangerous to go alone.

“Hey, has anyone seen Warrior?” You glance around again, hoping it was just a miscount on your part. “It’s been awhile since he left.”

“He takes his sweet time.” Legend snapped. “And you know how narcissistic he is. He’s probably trying to get every single little hair in the right place and working out every little blemish in his stupid uniform-”

“I’m going to look to him.” You stand, placing your cooling food down by your foot. You don’t know what happened or what caused it but at least an idea begins to form. “It’s been too long regardless. Keep my food warm for me, yeah?”

You don’t wait for a response and walk away into the tree line where you think Warrior might be.

“It’s getting dark. Be careful.” Someone calls from behind you, mouth clearly full of food.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

You march on.

When you’re sure you’re far enough away, you begin to call out to Warrior.

It takes a minute to get any results but you’re starting to worry about your friend. The sun is lowering in the horizon as time goes by and you’re beginning to feel silly and frustrated and-

“I’m here.” A tired voice replies.

“Oh thank goodness.” You cross the distance between you two. “I was really starting to worry.”

Warrior puts on a brave face and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes greets you when you stop in front of him. His look a little puffy and you think his eyes might be a little red but it easily be the lighting- or lack there of.

“Are you ok?”

“Obviously.”

You doubt him and it must have shown on your face because he immediately begins walking away. “Well look at the time. Crazy how fast the sun goes. Let’s get back to the group and eat. I’m starving-”

You grab his wrist as he pasts you and get a good look at him. “Are you ready to go back to the group? They can wait a little longer if you want them too.”

It irritated you that it’s come to this. How no one went to check on him. How no one offered to go with you. How no one seemed bothered by this. How long that he was alone dealing with something that’s been bothering him. How it took you so long to do something.  

“No. It’s fine.” He says. Lying. It must have really bothered him, usually he’s better than this. “It’s about time to head back anyway.”

“They can wait.” Your grip tightens. “The sun can wait. We’re not obligated to be there. What’s wrong? ...If you want to talk about it that is...” You trail off uselessly. It only occurred to you that near the end that he may not even speak about with you. You weren’t the closest in terms of grouping but you can’t stand the thought of someone hurting alone.

“I’m fin-”

“You look like you were crying.” You cut him off. “If you don’t want to talk about it with me, that’s fine, just say it. But you might need more time before you head back anyway if you actually want them to believe you when you say you’re fine.”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Warrior?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“If it bothers you then it’s not nothing.”  You push. “But....fine. I won’t force you to talk to me. I just wanted to see if you were ok... You’re not but it’s better than seeing you bleeding I suppose.” You grit your teeth, annoyed by the lack of results. You did tell him that he didn’t have to talk to you and you don’t hurt him further but part of you wants to fix this. Even if you don’t know what it is, your heart calls for justice at his pain.

But he is unwilling.

“Camp is this way by the way.” You mention, looking at the ground. “You were actually farther away than I thought, so it’s a bit of a walk.”

“I just think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.”

You still and slowly turn to face him. 

He’s looking at the ground as well, unable to say it and look you in the eye. It’s not what you were expecting and you’re not sure how to follow after that.

It’s a rare moment of vulnerability for him- even rarer that he’s showing it to you and you don’t want to squander the show of trust.

“Back home...there was a lot of... attention on me. A lot of blame... for starting the war. Or at least being the cause of it.” He admits, scuffing his shoe against the dirt. A little bit kicks up and sticks to the toe. He does nothing about it. “People listened to what I had to say because I was some destined hero. At first I didn’t think anything of it because I had thought it was one big mistake and sooner or later people were going to see that I was just some soldier not worth the time of day. It happened to be pure luck that Impa got it right when she gave me this uniform. Zelda made me a captain because of it and suddenly I had all of these men I had to give orders to. And if anything failed or if we lost, it would all have fallen on me. The blame, the guilt, the responsibility of the war...and then we found out why Cia was even opening these portals to begin with-”

You hug him.

“Please don’t cry.” You say into his chest. Your throat is tight and it a little hard to breath but you power through. “I’m not good at this. I never have been.”

“I’m not going to cry. It’s not worth crying.”

“I’ll cry for you then.” You admit and hug him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was no ones fault.” Warrior hugs you back and rests his head on top of yours. His voice seems a little tight too and you’re sorry for all the things that he must have gone through. 

You hug him for as long as you deem appropriate before letting your arms go lack and stepping away.

Or... at least you try to.

Warrior suddenly has a grip on you and refuses to let you leave.

“Please... Just stay a little longer.”

You do.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #I had no idea where exactly to go with this one #believe it or not I wrote Legends first. #I didn't know it would get as long as it did #are these a bit generic? #yes. #warrior's is also very long #sorry not sorry #should I have split this one? #probably. #did I? #no. #it took days ya'll #next time I'll split it again

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

What You're Looking For (myg)

Summary: Yoongi's definitely falling in love with you, but he's hesitant to tell you because as an idol, he can't give you what you're looking for.

Warnings: public sex, some possessive behavior, vaginal fingering, little bit of degradation

Word Count: 3633

A/n: A Yoongi commission, hope you enjoy!

Being an idol isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the money is nice, he doesn’t have to worry about bus fare or how he’s going to eat each week. He can write songs anytime he wants to, has use of all this impressive equipment that his pre-debut self would have lost his mind over. The fame, on the other hand, is something that Yoongi struggles with.

He can’t exactly leave his apartment and go to the store for ramen and beer anymore. He can’t exactly walk to the bus station and go down to the park, feed the birds like he used to. He also can’t take anyone out on a date, which pre-debut Yoongi would have never dreamed of doing, anyway.

But now he’s on the wrong side of his 20’s and actually dating is something he wants to do and can’t, not just because of his fame but also because of contracts. It isn’t as if their manager had sat them down and said absolutely no dating, but it’s certainly implied. Their schedules are tight enough that there’s only a few hours of free time per week, and that’s not on accident, Yoongi knows.

Pre-debut Yoongi had been so focused on music, so focused on making it that now, once he’s made it, he longs for something more simple. Writing lyrics on bar napkins while chatting up a girl, for one. Taking someone out on a dinner date to that diner he likes by his apartment. He imagines that he might take her hand while they walk there, swing it back and forth, make her smile.

He does, in fact, meet you while he’s scribbling song lyrics on a bar napkin, but instead of taking you out on a date, he has to sneak you back to his apartment in a black car, pulling his cap over his face. You know who he is, he knows that much by the blush on your cheeks, but you keep insisting you don’t know much about kpop and he believes you.

Yoongi blames the soju for how he kisses you in the elevator, aggressively, backing you up against the door, but you lean into him, make this little sound into his mouth and the next thing he knows he’s waking up with your bare arm across his waist and he’s panicking because he’s got practice in less than an hour.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he extricates himself, because you look so pretty and peaceful and he’s got to wake you up and usher you out like some kind of dirty little secret and it makes his heart clench in his chest.

He calls your name, softly, and when you stretch he can see that tattoo on your stomach, the one he'd traced with his fingers last night, and then his tongue.

Yoongi knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his face, so he turns his face away.

"Um," he starts, and then he hears the sheets shuffle.

"Oh! Sorry, I should go." Your voice sounds husky from sleep and Yoongi almost reaches out to grab your wrist as you pick up your dress from the floor.

He doesn't, and you go with an awkward peck on his cheekbone that he swears he can feel on his skin for days.

Things go on like that, for the weeks he's on break and after, through texts and Facetime calls, for months. It's always rushed and sexy and he always has to go before he wants to, and he hates it.

He finds that the girl he'd thought about taking on dates and holding hands with seems to now have your face, after a while. All his fantasies, sexual and otherwise, start to involve your smile.

Pre-debut Yoongi only fantasized about music, about standing on a stage belting out his truths, cutting pieces of himself to bleed onto paper so that someone would see him, finally, so that someone would know him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have scoffed at him for wanting only one person to know him, one person to see him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have called him an idiot, for falling in love.

You never imagined yourself in a situationship with an internationally famous rapper, despite the fact that you weren't overly familiar with his work when you'd met.

You certainly can't call it dating, since it culminates in having a few drinks and hooking up at his apartment or, during one particularly hazy night, in the backseat of a hired Escalade.

He's often out of the country, and on occasion he'll call you in the middle of the day, which is the middle of the night for him, ask you how you are, and eventually, what you're wearing.

You're trying not to look too far into it, not read into how soft his voice sounds when you Facetime and he tells you how beautiful you look, not think there might be something more in the way he wraps you in his arms after sex, plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.

It's fun, it's casual, and there's no reason to need more.

There are other guys that you've had similar situations with, and this is no different.

Maybe it's Yoongi's face that floats in front of your eyes when you're just about to fall asleep, but he doesn't have to know that.

You find yourself stopping yourself from texting him first, and you tell yourself it’s because he’s so busy but you know it’s because you feel too much.

You know his schedule, he emails it to you once a month, and while that seems like a good sign it isn’t as if after months of hooking up, you’ve ever had a conversation about where your relationship stands.

So, one Friday night, you know he’s in town and you know he’s free and when he doesn’t text or call, it feels like bees are buzzing under your skin.

Instead of staring at your phone in an effort to will it to ring, you call a friend and plan a girl’s night out. That’s what you need, anyway, a night where you can drink with your friends and flirt with men you’ll never see again.

You don’t need Yoongi’s low mumble in your ear, making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.

Yoongi tells himself he doesn’t spend every moment of his free time with you, but he definitely does spend the majority of it at least thinking about you. The way your skin feels under his hands, the slow tilt of your crooked smile. The way sometimes you snort when you laugh too hard and you’re not even ashamed about it.

He babbles all of this out to Jimin and the younger just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hyung, you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi feels his face flushing. “N-no. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hm. Okay, hyung.” Jimin says dryly, and Yoongi shoves him playfully with the heel of his hand.

“You going out tonight?” Yoongi asks, suddenly, and immediately regrets it when Jimin’s eyes light up.

“Are you gonna come with me this time?” Jimin bounces on the couch excitedly and Yoongi groans.

So that’s how, between the need to stop sitting at home and daydreaming about you and Yoongi’s inability to say no to Park Jimin’s pout, Yoongi ends up at a club.

A loud club. A crowded club.

He orders a whiskey at the bar, people shouldering up against him to order as well and God why did he do this, anyway?

Jimin disappears somewhere within half an hour and he’s stuck looking around the bar for him awkwardly.

Yoongi recognizes you by the line of your jaw, and it’s a rush, the pleasure that shoots through him, the butterflies in his stomach, better than the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping.

You don’t see him, and he wonders if he should go up behind you, plant a kiss on your shoulder, but in the end he doesn’t wade through the sea of people, just watches you sway to the beat, talking and laughing with your friends. It’s interesting, seeing you out and about like this, somewhere he doesn’t have to hide you, and longing spears through him because as much as he hates clubs, he’d like to take you to one, see the way your body moves to the music, how your eyes light up when you laugh.

As he’s watching, entranced, a man puts his hand on your hip, stands from the bar, and Yoongi’s hands grasp the bar hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He’d never considered himself a jealous person, had never been so in past relationships, but there’s this little ball of something vile in his stomach and it isn’t just the whiskey.

He knocks the rest of his drink back, orders another, tries to focus on the bartender but he can see you in his peripheral vision and when you move he turns his head to follow you as the man leads you out onto the dance floor.

It occurs to him that he’d never had a conversation with you about exclusivity. He hasn’t seen anyone else since he’d met you, but he’d been gone more than he’d been with you and maybe you were seeing someone else. Maybe it was this guy, with his hand on your hip so familiar.

Yoongi doesn’t feel angry, exactly, but there’s a rock in his gut and his throat seems to have closed to a pinhole when he takes a gulp of his new drink, watching you dance.

You sway your hips slow, as if moving to a beat in your head instead of the music, and Yoongi would smile if he felt physically able to do so, watching the man behind you with both hands on your hips now, fingers splayed out.

Yoongi has this awful image, wonders if you’d let him put his hands on your hips like that somewhere more private, and he finishes his second drink too quickly, slams it down on the bar. The bartender blinks at him and Yoongi mutters out an apology, orders another.

Three drinks were his usual limit in crowded places like this, throughout the night, and now that he’s downed them within a couple of hours, things are a bit fuzzy around the edges. He tells himself he should stay seated, wait for the alcohol to hit his system, but he’s up and walking toward you on the dance floor before he can talk himself into staying on the bar stool. He’s only unsteady for a moment, a lifetime of enjoying alcohol has given him a good tolerance that he’s grateful for tonight.

Your eyes widen when you see him, a ghost of a smile playing along your lips.

“Can I cut in?” Yoongi asks, and it seems like a stupid, formal thing to say at a club that was blasting hip hop, but it makes you smile wider.

Yoongi doesn’t even look at the man, doesn’t hear his mumbled response, just replaces his hands on your hip with his own.

“That your boyfriend?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child but you laugh and it lessens the tightness in his throat.

“Mm, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You answer, coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

“That so?” Yoongi leans down, presses his mouth to your collarbone. He wants to suck a mark there but he resists. “Do you want one?” He mumbles it against your skin and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

He can’t hear your response, can’t touch you like he wants so he takes your hand and you follow him without a word.

When he pushes the door to the men’s room you tug on his arm, though.

He looks back at you and you scrunch your nose and pull him into the women's bathroom instead.

"There's an etiquette to hooking up at a club, Yoongi."

He laughs and finally that knot in his stomach loosens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The women's room is cleaner."

You beckon him into a stall, locking the door before backing him against it, kissing him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

He moans into your mouth, it's been weeks since he'd been able to kiss you, touch you, and he's enjoying it until a flash of memory of that other guy's hands on your hips, fingers splayed, pops into his mind.

He calls your name, softly, and you pull away to look at him, this little pout on your mouth that he has to resist kissing.

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

You'd been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt but you freeze at his question.

"Not really," you reply, and the air feels thin suddenly and Yoongi trails the fingers of his right hand along your spine.

“That’s not really an answer,” Yoongi retorts, and his ears feel hot.

You only smirk, unbutton part of his shirt so that you can slide your hand inside to feel his skin.

“You jealous, Yoongi?”

He scoffs, and then his breath hitches when you place your palm on his bare chest. He pulls you closer by your waist and you lean into him.

“You’re jealous,” you say confidently, moving your hands to unbutton his slacks, and Yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“I am,” he admits, feeling flushed all over.

“Why’s that? Territorial?”

Yoongi thinks it’s unfair of you to be asking things like this when he’s tipsy and horny, half hard from your kisses and your hands on his skin, but he puffs out his cheeks and lets out a breath through his nostrils and answers anyway.

“No,” he manages, it’s a croak because you’ve slipped your hand into his slacks and underwear, pressing your palm against his cock.

“Hmm. Well in that case, I got asked out tonight, think I should give him a call?”

“No,” he says again, empathically, taking your wrists and moving his body to pin you against the side of the stall instead of allowing you to pin him.

Your breath catches, your eyes dark with lust when you look at him.

“Why not?”

You want him to say it, Yoongi knows you well enough for that, has spent months learning all about who you are, he knows that much, but it’s hard to spit it out, especially like this, in a club bathroom stall with music booming overhead, muffled slightly by the bathroom walls.

Instead, he kisses you, hard, moves his hips against yours, shows you how hard you’ve made him and you whine into his mouth, clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Want you,” he murmurs, and it isn’t an answer but it’s closer than silence and it’s as close as he can get right now.

“I know you want me,” you breathe, something exasperated in your tone.

Yoongi doesn’t have a condom, had no plans on coming out to meet anyone, and bemoans as much to you.

When you rummage around in your purse and pull one out, smirking, then he is mad, even though he’s not sure he has any right to be upset.

“So you came out to get laid tonight?” His voice is calmer than he’d expected with how his heart is pounding.

You shrug. “So what if I did?”

“You’re lucky I was here,” Yoongi says darkly, and your smirk only widens.

You don’t move a muscle, just tilt your chin up at him. “Why is that?”

Yoongi bunches your dress around your hips, roughly pushes your thong aside so that he can cup your pussy. He slides two fingers inside when you spread your thighs, moaning loudly.

He doesn’t respond to your question, kissing along the side of your throat and nipping at your earlobe instead.

“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, “because no one can fuck you like I do.”

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin, and he kisses your throat again, sucking and biting there to make a mark. You’re loud, rocking your hips against his hand.

“I bet everyone can hear you moaning like a whore for me,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yoongi,” you rasp, trembling.

“Hmm?”

He can’t deny it’s a rush, the way you’re shaking, desperate for him, all but begging him to fuck you. He always feels so out of control with you, the way you make him feel, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the way he’d follow you to hell if you’d asked him. He knows how easily you could break him, and he’s afraid of it but he keeps chasing you anyway. It’s nice to see that he can have some manner of control over you, too.

“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from your throat, wonders about the logistics of fucking in a bathroom stall. It certainly wasn’t his normal scene, but he figures it out, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your ass to press you against the wall. Applying the condom is the awkward part but you’re panting, clutching at his shirt, kissing along his neck and he manages.

Your hands move between you, guiding his cock into you and he groans so low in his throat that it almost hurts.

“Always so wet for me,” he says into your ear, and you buck your hips, almost unseating yourself until he rights you with his hands on your hips.

“Fuck,” you curse almost mournfully and he can’t help but chuckle as he starts to roll his hips up into you, the angle making him spear into you deeper than he ever had before. All of your hookups had been quick but none against the wall. Yoongi thinks he likes it, loves the way you look with your dress bunched up, your tits heaving against his chest, makeup sweating off.

“Look at you,” he groans. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree in a short breath. “Yes, yes, please make me come, Yoongi.”

Your dirty talk makes his balls draw up and he thinks it might be over before you do but that’s okay, he’s good with his hands and his fingers.

Then you tug on his hair, your teeth gritted. “Harder,” you demand, and Yoongi’s eyes widen.

It’s quick after that, he’s fucking you hard and fast against the door, your ass sliding up and down with a squeaking sound.

He’s close and he lets his mouth run away with him, your cunt clenching around him.

“I want you to be mine,” he gasps. “Not just your body.”

“Yoongi, I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop,” you whine, and he isn’t sure you’re listening. Part of him hopes you aren’t, because if you don’t feel the same way he doesn’t want to know, at least not yet.

And then, just as he spills inside you, it comes bursting out of him like a dam has crumbled.

“Y/n, I’m falling in love with you.”

You kiss him, then, taking his face in your hands, your tongue sliding against his and he keeps rolling his hips into yours as you pulse around him.

It’s thirty seconds before he starts to come down, and a full minute before the horror of what he’s said starts to descend upon him.

Lowering you to the ground is more awkward than it should be since he has to pull out of you first, but you giggle when he puts you down on the floor, stumbling a little on shaky legs.

After you each adjust your clothes, you open your mouth to speak. “Yoongi-”

“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t say anything.”

You frown, little wrinkles appearing between your eyes. He wants to kiss them.

“But-”

“Jagiya, please,” he all but begs, and he’s never called you a pet name but it slips out and he wants to disappear through the floor.

“Yoongi.” You say, fiercely. “Stop it.”

Yoongi groans, covering his face with his hands.

“I want to be yours, too.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, his face flushed.

“You do?”

“I do.” You’re smiling, widely, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that. It makes his heart soar.

“What about that guy?” He knows he’s pouting so he doesn’t fully uncover his face.

You laugh. “What guy? He just asked me to dance.”

Yoongi drops his hands from his face. “You...you made me think…”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted from me. I had no idea you had feelings for me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi says incredulously. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you forever.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” You insist.

Yoongi laughs, loud and open, his heart feeling lighter, but it’s a short reprieve. His face falls.

“I’m just...I’m gone so often. I can’t give you what you want, what you’re looking for-”

You silence him by kissing him, just a peck on the lips. “Yoongi, you’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

That rush is back, the fluttering in his chest and his stomach that he’s come to associate with you.

“Yeah?” It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say, looking down into your eyes and he’s sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.

But you grin back and it makes him feel better.

“Yeah.”

He still doesn’t get as much time with you as he likes and sometimes he still worries that you might meet someone else while he’s away, but you call him every night that you can, facetime him, and he keeps the butterflies, keeps the rush that reminds him of you, even when he’s busy making music or onstage.

You're always happy to reassure him that you've found what you're looking for, and you don't need anything more.

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi imagine #bts imagine #noonasinnetwork #btswritersclub #btscreatorscorner

[theamberwriter]

Bouncing Baby [4]: Sick Day

Read the Series! [1] [2] [3]

Pairing: Shota Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,613

A/N: Wow, hi guys! It's been a minute! I hope that you all like this next part! I'm so excited it's finally done after all this time. Hopefully you all still want to read it! This was a lot of fun to write. I hope you all enjoy!! Also, I hate editing on Tumblr Mobile, lol

~

You knew as soon as you woke up that morning, there was no way you were going to work. Your head was packed, your ears were stuffy and ringing, and your throat felt like sandpaper. You could barely open your eyes to shut off your alarm. You coughed, nearly puking as phlegm came up with it. You spit in the trash can next to your bed.

"Shota," you whined rolling over, and accidentally smacking him in the face with your hand. He grunted.

"You're not going to work today, are you?" he muttered, eyes still close. 

"Are you crazy?" You coughed and spit in the can again. "You know my quirk copies my physical state on other people. If I try to heal anyone, they'll all leave the office feeling like this."

"I figured as much, that's why I asked." 

Shota grabbed you, pulling your back to his front. You were worried about him getting sick. But you didn't protest the cuddles. They made you feel a lot better. You wished the two of you could lay there all day.

"I'll take Kohaku to work with me," Shota said as the third alarm rang. Reluctantly he sat up, placing his feet on the floor.

You rolled to face him, mostly asleep. Your head swam. "You don't have to. She's a handful."

"She'll be fine, nothing I can't handle."

"But your class - after everything that's happened...They still have so much left to learn. That's why I've been keeping her with me."

"Exactly, if they can't handle a child after this - there's no hope for them," your husband chuckled. You wanted to protest more. But your mind was getting dragged down into slumber.

You didn't hear them leave. Only waking to an empty house. For the first time in years, you were alone. No husband, no baby - it was unbearably quiet. But it was nice and serene. If only you didn't have a cold.

You glanced at the clock on the stove. Shota was three hours into work. You wondered how he and his class were faring. Little did you know, Kohaku would soon give them a run for their money.

Nobody had really questioned when Shota Aizawa walked through the halls with a baby that morning. A bag in his wife's favorite color was hung from his shoulder, and a black haired baby who was the spitting image of him on his hip. She was fast asleep against his shoulder. 

By that time in the school year, everybody knew he was married to one of the school's nurses and that the baby was theirs. The secret he'd been trying to keep, leaking out after only two weeks. All due to an incident where she phased through the walls, giving everyone a fright. 

It had been a regular occurrence after that that he'd watch the child in the classroom. Giving his wife a break to focus on her duties. So his class didn't much question the child either. Even though it'd been four months since they saw her last. The baby had grown much in that time.

Shota put his sleeping daughter in her playpen, then stood in front of his class. On his way to work, he'd thought of something fun. Something to give him a story to tell his sick wife to cheer her up when he got home. Maybe he'd even send her a video while the chaos ensued.

"Your morning classes will proceed as usual," he said. "However, your training later today will be different than normal."

Shota didn't answer any of his students questions. They would all just have to wait and see.

Their classes went by, lunch came and went. So far, Kohaku had been tame. He only had to erase her quirk a few times. Which she grew irritated at quickly. But she calmed down after All Might sat with her for an hour.

Kahaku napped after his visit. Shota right alongside her. He was glad she decided to sleep during the lunch period. He knew she was at her worst after nap time. But he wasn't concerned about it today. Today, her unruliness wasn't his problem. In fact, it worked great with his plan. It wouldn't have been as fun if she fell asleep in the middle of it.

Shota escorted his class to their training facilities once they all had changed. Kohaku was just beginning to wake up due to all the noise. She was still slumped against her father's shoulder. 

"Mr. Aizawa, what are we doing today?" Iida asked. "Is it some sort of special training?"

Shota smirked to himself. "Something like that. Today - you'll be taking care of my daughter."

There was a loud, collective WHAT?!

"We're not damn babysitters!" Bakugo growled.

"Don't curse around the girl, Bakugo!" Iida scolded.

Uraraka stepped forward. "She's only a baby, it shouldn't be too hard. Right?"

"Kohaku is very special. And not just to me and her mom. Kohaku is a year and seven months. However, as you may know, she already has her quirk," Aizawa explained. There were murmurs of oh yeah and shit, that's right. "My daughter can change the material her entire body structure is made of. Most likely to an atomic level. But, since she's only a baby, what she becomes and what she decides to do are totally unpredictable. 

"Your task is to watch her until the end of the day. I won't be erasing her quirk. Time out will only be called if Kohaku falls asleep or needs her diaper changed. If she's still in the facility at the end of the day, you've successfully completed the exercise. But if she gets out, even once, then I'm going to make you sit through sex education classes with Midnight for a week."

There was a collective shutter, aside from Mineta. He was way too into it. Nose bleed and all. Everyone else one could see them sifting through worst case scenarios. Shota knew Nemuri would be only too excited to show his class the ropes if BDSM. Quite literally.

Shota moved Kohaku's hair from her eyes. Checking if she'd gone back to sleep. But Kohaku leaned up, yawning as she rubbed her face. She grinned up at her father, then turned to look at everyone else. She leaned shyly back against his shoulder. There were a few aawwwws.

"You're playing shy now?" Shota chuckled. "You know them. They're going to play with you today. Would you like that? - I've brought a bag of her toys with us. Everybody take one. The first person she goes to gets to sit out a day of lessons if the class manages to fail. If the class succeeds, that person gets extra credit towards any class they're currently lacking in."

His whole class clambered for the bag. Pulling out cute little bunnies, and plastic rings, and soft books that crinkled when they moved. Bakugo was unlucky enough to get a teether that looked like a bowl of ramen that she'd recently chewed on. He turned white when her spit coated his hand. He seemed about ready to destroy it.

"I would like to note," Shota added. "That if any of the toys are ruined by a student, it's an automatic failure for the entire group."

Everybody turned to Bakugo. He glared them down, snapping an insult. Shota sat on the floor, and a few people followed. He put Kohaku on his knee, turning her towards the class. She seemed mesmerized by her selection of toys. 

"Do we have any questions before we start?" 

Iida's hand shot into the air. "Mr. Aizawa, could you please tell us what materials your daughter can turn herself into?"

Aizawa nodded. "I was wondering if any of you were going to ask. Lucky Iida did, so that you all can be warned. - So far, Kohaku has done four things. One, she can become a rubber-like substance. If she falls or jumps off something, she'll bounce. After each subsequent one, she will become faster indefinitely until she hits something she can't bounce off of.

"Two, she can become heavy metal. When this happens, Kohaku can't be picked up or knocked over. This is often how she pushes over her playpen. However, the metal is soft and scratches easily. Which means that, when she deactivates, she'll have cuts in her skin. Third, she can turn her skin into a diamond material. Unlike with the metal, she can't be hurt in this state. But she is light and can be moved. Finally, Kohaku has figured out how to make her matter permeable. You all have met Mirio, of the Big Three. It seems to be similar to his quirk.

"She may be a child. But children are unpredictable, and Kohaku is particularly rambunctious once she warms up to you. If you all can handle villains, I see no reason why you should have any trouble with my daughter. Does anyone else have anything to ask?"

When the class remained silent, Shota nodded. He bounced Kohaku on his knee for a moment while he spoke to her.

“Okay, Kohaku,” Shota started. “Which toy would you like to play with?”

He stood her on her feet, making sure she was balanced. She sucked on her thumb as she slowly started to wobble towards the class. Some began to shake rattles at her or crinkle books. A few started making the noise to call cats. Shota rolled his eyes, you couldn’t pspspspspsss at a baby.

Finally, she wandered over to Todoroki. He’d been sitting quietly, watching her. His eyes grew wide as she crawled in his lap, reaching for the rabbit in his hand. Todoroki froze as she pulled herself up to stand on his thigh. She held the rabbit closely, while gripping on to his shoulder for balance. Shota made sure to get a photo on his phone of Todoroki’s terrified face.

“Are you okay, Todoroki?” Asui asked. 

The corners of his mouth pulled down as he lifted up Kohaku and held her in front of him. She gurgled happily, jingling the chime in the rabbit.

“You scared of a stupid baby, Half and Half?” Bakugo snapped. He came over and took Kohaku from Todoroki’s hands, causing her to lose her grip on the rabbit. For once, Shota was glad when Kohaku started to cry. This was the beginning of the end.

Kohaku quickly turned herself into heavy metal. Bakugo cursed, trying to keep a grip on her. But she ultimately slammed to the ground. Kohaku gurgled happily, though Bakugo glared. She’d narrowly missed crushing his foot.

Shota watched on, laughing to himself, as Kohaku began to phrase through the large training terrain in the middle of the room. Students followed, leaping up into them. Trying to figure out where she might be in the structure. 

“There!” Kirishima called from the other side. 

Everyone followed, disappearing quickly, and Shota went to get a higher vantage point. Kirishima dove for Kohaku, but she went right through his fingers. He looked at his hands in disbelief, then watched as she teetered away. A few people tried to grab her, but she went through all of them.

“Oh, c’mon!” Kaminari whined. “She’s going to get out!”

“She’s not a dog, sweetie,” Ashido said, rolling her eyes.

“She’s still heading for the wall! Which means -” Kaminari paled, so did Ashido when she remembered what Kohaku’s escape meant.

“Todoroki,” Asui asked. “Where’s that rabbit you had?!”

Todoroki glanced over his shoulder. “I put it back in the bag.”

“That’s okay, I think I can replicate it.” Yaoyorozu flicked quickly through her book, then focused. Not long after a semi-perfect replication of Kohaku’s rabbit sat in her hands. She shook it, and the chime inside jingled. Kohaku stopped in her tracks, one hand held up to the wall. 

Kohaku searched for the sound, sputtering happily as she found the rabbit. She waddled over to Yaoyarozu , hands extending as far as her little arms could reach. Yaoyarozu picked her up, jingling the rabbit again. Kohaku seemed happy as long as made noise.

"That was way too close!" groaned Uraraka, slumping to the ground.

"I guess we gotta keep her entertained," Kirishima noted. "But how? Yaoyarozu can't keep making toys."

Aoyama butted in then, radiating sparkles. He grinned at Kohaku. "Allow moi to try. Prepare to be amazed, mon petit!"

However, Kohaku wasn't the least bit impressed by his belly laser. Even when he tried to make it flashy, like fireworks. Shota knew that'd never work on her. He chuckled at the display, taking a picture.

"She's just as mean as Mr. Aizawa," Aoyama whined. He curled into a ball, tears slipping out. The whole class groaned. 

Uraraka was next to try. She held out her arms, which Kohaku reluctantly went into. It took Yaoyarozu giving Kohaku the rabbit to hold.

"You wanna go for a ride?!" Uraraka grinned then activated her quirk. It was a moment before Kohaku could process what was happening. But when she realized she was floating high above the others she began to cry.

"Uraraka! Put her down!!" Ojiro yelled.

Uraraka panicked, flailing for a moment. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!"

When Uraraka released her, Kohaku fell right into Shoji's arms. Which she did not like very much. Kohaku wailed loudly, clearly not a fan of the multi-limbed hero. Mineta panicked and began trying to juggle some of his balls.

Ashido marched over, swiftly taking Kohaku. "Gimme her, you guys don't know anything about babies! It's okay, sweetie, Auntie Mina is here to save you from these idiots."

She sat down, Kohaku in her lap. Then started making faces at her. Kohaku's crying eased, and there was a moment of relief as she began to giggle. Though even that was short lived. Ashido decided to take Kohaku on a surf around the room. Only to have her goop splash and melt down Kohaku's newly made rabbit. That led to another bout of crying.

"And who were you just calling idiots?" Kaminari asked snidely.

Ashido whined. "Shut up, Denki! It was an accident! Here! - Tsu, you take her!"

"Me?" she asked, pointing to herself. But Kohaku was already in her arms. The two stared at each other. "You can definitely tell she's Mr. Aizawa's daughter."

Kohaku laughed as Asui's tongue hung out of her mouth. She reached for it, tugging, and catching poor Asui off guard. Kohaku stretched and pulled her tongue, gurgling in glee.

"Do you want me to take her, Tsu?" Midoriya offered. Kohaku has been playing with her tongue for five minutes at that point. Anyone could tell how uncomfortable she was.

Asui nodded. "Thanks."

"C'mere, little Kohaku," he cooed, trying to pull Kohaku off. She didn't want to let go. No matter how much he tugged and pulled. Asui even tried to retract her tongue.

Aizawa snapped a picture of the tongue of war.

Finally, Kohaku let go. But so did Midoriya. Everyone watched in horror as the baby went flying.

"What the hell, Deku, you dunce?!" Bakugo growled. 

Kohaku smooshed against the wall, then sprang back, careening towards the floor. She began to laugh and sprang off the floor as Sero and Kaminari hit heads trying to catch her.

"That's right!" Iida announced. "Mr. Aizawa said she can turn into rubber and bounce. - But she'll get exponentially faster. We have to catch her before she becomes too fast to see." 

"We better do it soon, look!" The sleeve of Hagakure's uniform pointed up at the training terrain. Kohaku was bouncing off one level then the other. Shota dodged expertly as she passed him, she was nothing but a blur.

A few went to catch her, but she even escaped Iida's swiftness. Soon there was nothing but ominous bouncing and maniacal giggles echoing. No baby in sight.

"We're too late," Tokoyami shouted. "It's going to be impossible to catch her now."

Jiro kneeled. "Not impossible. Hanta, when I signal -" 

Sero nodded, readying to shoot. Jiro plugged into the floor hearing every place she hit. The floor, the wall, the terrain, the ceiling…

"There!" she shouted, pointing to a space in the air.

Sero shot tape. To everyone's surprise, it wrapped around something. Kohaku appeared, pulling him with her velocity before she sprang back and hit him. Knocking them both to the floor. Kohaku cooed happily from her spot on Sero's chest. He gave a weak smile and a thumbs-up, trying to get the wind back in him. 

Kirishima went and picked her up. He grinned at her. But she seemed unsure of his pointed teeth. "That's an awesome power you got, little dude! Mine's not half as cool." 

He hardened himself up and Kohaku was instantly mesmerised. She turned herself into diamond. Clinking her hands against his hard skin, sputtering out happy gurgles. 

"Really? That's all it took?" Hagakure wondered.

Something strange began to happen the longer Kirishima played with Kohaku. She began to deform her skin. Eventually, it writhed and wriggled. Her whole body trembled. She took partial form once, twice - three times. Kirishima stared in awe as she settled on her final form.

"Oh wow!" He held Kohaku up to face his teacher. "Hey! Mr. Aizawa, look! She has a new ability!"

For the first time in over an hour, Shota joined his students. They all crowded around to what happened. In Kirishima's arms sat a baby that looked to be made of rock. Her skin was hard and rough, even crunchy! It had ridges, similar to Kirishima's when he hardened all the way up. Shota snapped a picture of the pair. 

Kohaku laughed, reaching for her father. Shota was surprised to find she was very dense. Not impossible to hold like the metal baby. But she felt like a small boulder. Very weighty and sturdy.

"Look at you," Shota chuckled, kissing the top of her head. "I'm very proud of you, Kohaku."

Kohaku went back to normal. Shota wrinkled his nose as soon as she did. He held her slightly away from him. Apparently all that effort to change made her soil her diaper. He wasn't the only one that smelled it. A few others were covering their noses. Some even gagging.

"I'm going to change her. I'll be back in a few minutes." Shota took her to a side room with the diaper bag. He decided it was time to give his wife a call.

"Hey," she croaked as the line crackled to life.

"You sound worse than this morning," he noted grimly. "Are you taking care of yourself?"

[Name] coughed. "Of course. I've had three glasses of water today. Plus I've been downing cough drops like candy."

"Drink more. I'll pick you cold medicine on my way home from work."

"I can go get it, you have Kohaku -"

Shota rolled his eyes. "I can handle her all on my own."

"Has she been good today?"

He grinned to himself. "Exceptional. I'm changing her now, so I thought I would call and check in on my lovely wife."

"I can't wait for you guys to get home," [Name] admitted. "It's unnerving how quiet it is. And I haven't been away from Kohaku this long before. I keep thinking I hear her crying."

"You need some rest." Shota frowned. "I'll call you again before we leave. We love you."

[Name] sighed in defeat, much too tired to argue. "I love you both, too. I'll talk to you later."

Shota hung up and finished changing Kohaku. He washed his hands, then took her back to the gym. "Are you ready to continue play time?"

All of his students had a new heir of determination. They'd seen what she could do now. Shota didn't know if they'd come up with a plan, or we're just being over confident.

"You have just over an hour until the end of the day," he announced. "So let's make this interesting."

"Wait - didn't Mina destroy one of her toys?" Midoriya asked. The class paled in realization. "Shouldn't we be out?"

Shota shook his head. "The toy Ashido melted down was made by Yaoyarozu. It wasn't one I brought with us. So you all haven't failed - for now. At the moment, only Todoroki and Kirishima are safe -"

"Why is shitty hair safe?!" Bakugo blazed.

"He helped her realize a new ability. I think that's a feat that deserves to be rewarded."

Kirishima grinned. "Awesome! Thanks, Mr. Aizawa!"

"Which leads me to the next part." This whole, honestly, couldn't have gone any better. This was better than he'd originally planned. "I want to see if anyone else can help Kohaku develop her quirk. As long as she isn't hurt, you can try to encourage her any way you see fit. The offer from earlier still stands. Anyone who succeeds is given extra credit, if you win. And gets to skip Midnight's, most likely elicit, sex education class, should you fail. - Your time begins now."

Shota put Kohaku down. She immediately went to Kirishima and rocked up. He hardened up himself as he picked her up.

"Maybe it isn't manly, but you're just so adorable," he said and gave her a little squeeze. 

"Oi, shitty hair!" Bakugo raged, marching over. "How is anyone else supposed to get a chance if you don't put the brat down?!"

"Insult my daughter again, Bakugo," Shota warned, eyes glowing. "And you'll wish Nemuri's class was the worst thing in your future."

Bakugo huffed. "Yeah, whatever."

"So…." Kirishima chuckled awkwardly. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'll give it a go!" Sato stepped forward, downing a thing of sugar. Kohaku was unimpressed as he powered up and flexed some. He gave up pretty quickly.

"It's okay, you tried your best," Ashido encouraged as he passed her. 

Kaminari stepped up next, flashing electricity in the palm of his hand. Kohaku seemed to enjoy the show, but there was no sense that she was trying to change. 

"Oh, c'mon," Kaminari groaned. "Don't you want to be an electric baby?"

"So she can fry herself and be as dumb as you?" Jiro teased. "I think not."

"Alright then, you give it a go!" Kaminari slunk away dejectedly.

Jiro and Kohaku exchanged a long glance. Then she extended her earphone jacks towards her. However Jiro retracted them immediately as Kohaku reached for them.

"Sorry, Kohaku," she said and jerked thumb behind her. "But you're not doing to me what you did to Tsu."

"You all aren't doing it properly," Iida scolded, stepping forward. "Allow me to demonstrate. Kirishima, put her down."

Kirishima did as he was asked. Kohaku was not very pleased. She went back to normal as she eyed Iida.

"Look here, little one," Iida instructed. He showed off his leg engines, revving them for show. Kohaku tilted her head. 

Iida took a sprint around the room. Then came to a stop in front of her again. Kohaku laughed at that, reaching her arms out. 

Iida shook his head. "Now you try."

Kohaku pouted. Kirishima laughed. "She wants you to pick her. Maybe if you took her on a run with you?"

Iida glanced between his classmate and the baby. Finally, he sighed and picked her up. He tucked her to his chest with one arm, then took off into a sprint. Shota had a feeling her hair was going to be a big knotted mess afterwards.

Kohaku looked slightly green as they came to a stop. Iida put her down, then gave her a small lecture on how his engines work. How she could incorporate them. But, honestly, she was a baby. So of course the whole thing was lost to her.

"You do know that's not how children work, right?" Uraraka asked.

Ashido crouched in front of her, conjuring a whole hand of grey mush. "How about you become a slime baby for Auntie Mina?"

"You sound stupid," Bakugo snapped. "Stop calling yourself that."

Ashido threw the slime at him. "Why don't you shut up?! Nobody asked you!"

It took a few people to cool him down. The sound as his hands began to pop got Kohaku's attention. She crawled right past Ashdio, who was still trying to coax out a slime baby. Kohaku sat staring up at Bakugo, watching as his hands crackled.

"What're you looking at?" he snapped, glaring at her. 

Kohaku stood as the popping stopped, and pulled one of his hands into her own. She looked closely at his palm and then flipped his hand over. She seemed dissatisfied. Kohaku made a soft pa, pa, papa, pa.

Bakugo frowned. "What are you doing?" 

"I think she wants you to use your quirk again," Sero pointed out. Kohaku continued to make the soft pa, papa, pa, pa, paap.

Bakugo sighed. But he did crouch to her height. "I need my hand back to make them pop."

Kohaku seemed to understand and immediately let go. Bakugo took a step away and lit his hands up for her. Kohaku squeezed in glee. She threw her hands up, making louder pa, papa, pa, pa!! She began running around again. Kohaku ran back through the terrain.

"Oh, way to go, Bakugo!" Mineta groaned. "You scared her. Now she's going to get out!"

"Shut it, extra," Bakugo snapped. "I didn't scare her."

"Not with his quirk, anyway," Kaminari snickered quietly. Bakugo turned to him, blazing.

Everyone went back up and over. Kohaku was nowhere in sight.

"Oh no, we lost her!" Ashido exclaimed. "I am not sitting through Miss. Midnight's class with you people!"

"She's not lost!" Midoriya exclaimed. "Look, over there!"

He pointed down by the far wall. Sure enough, Kohaku looked ready to go through it. 

"We won't reach her in time," Todoroki said.

Midoriya launched off. "I got her."

Unfortunately he went right through. Smacking face first into the wall.

"Idiot, Deku!" Bakugo took off after. "I'm not going to fail babysitting because of you!"

He landed, popping his hands again. Kohaku turned to him. She crawled over Midoriya, going to sit and watch the show.

"Wow, Bakugo is surprisingly good with kids," Ashido said, faintly.

Everyone dropped down to sit by Kohaku. There wasn't much time left. They just had to keep her entertained for a little while longer.

"Hey, Todoroki! Why don't you make some snow?!" Hagakure cheered.

Kaminari looked incredibly confused. "What?"

"Do you really think that will work?" Kirishima asked.

Hagakure nodded, even though no one could see it. "Sure, nobody can resist playing in the snow!"

Todoroki touched his hand to the floor. It iced up. Then a large flow started, not quite freezing all the way. Bakugo was not pleased as it crashed over him, dousing his flames. Kohaku's head popped out of the snow. She giggled happily as she looked around.

"What the hell, Half and Half?!" Bakugo yelled, melting the slush around him.

Kohaku crawled through the snow. She started taking chunks in her hand and compressing them. Everyone was a little confused when it congealed into ice. Until Kohaku started to tremble again. She stretched and jellied and shook. Then, finally, took form. This time, she looked to be made of ice. 

Shota snapped another picture. "Maybe we should let her see quirks in use more often."

"Aw, man, that's not fair!" Mineta whined.

"I mean, of course Todoroki would be good at this. He's good at everything." Hagakure shrugged. 

For the first time, Kohaku seemed to notice her. Just a uniform with no body seeming to be attached. Kohaku wandered over to her. She put her hands on where Hagakure's face should be. She was definitely surprised there was something there.

The disturbed look on Kohaku's face faded quickly. She patted Hagakure's face a few more times. Then began to shake again. She flickered a few times.

"This is amazing," Uraraka said in awe. "How do you think she's catching on to quirks so fast?"

"Observation, I suppose," Iida noted. "Look!"

Finally, Kohaku managed to flicker all the way out. Just a t-shirt and pants. She giggled to herself. Hagakure picked her up and hugged her tightly.

"I feel so flattered," she cried.

Bakugo grumbled. "She probably would've picked up my quirk, if you extras hadn't distracted her! Then she'd a real power!"

"No offense, Bakugo. But the last thing Mr. Aizawa and nurse [Name] need is another one of you," Kaminari said.

Bakugo was ready to argue again. A few people scrambled to cool him down. Shota admired the scene as they fought. Kohaku was coming along quite well. Better than he'd expected. He and [Name] had been afraid to let Kohaku around people while using their quirks. But he was starting to see how it's be beneficial to her.

Sure, there were things she'd figured out on her own. But she was very smart for her age. And her abilities with her quirk, the control, the range - it would make her something of a prodigy. He would have just to make sure to lead her down a good path. But not feel like she was being forced to do anything she didn't want to.

Shota wondered if any of the other hero courses would mind the exercise. That way Kohaku could be exposed to more, so she could learn. He'd have to have his wife take her to sit with the class beforehand. So she knew them. Then he'd take on the day of exercise. Just in case her quirk needed erasing.

"Enough of this," Iida yelled, finally. "We've nearly completed the exercise. Just a few more minutes, then you can argue about this outside."

Bakugo huffed. Kohaku became visible again and wriggled out of Hagakure's grasp. She went back to Bakugo. Pa, pa, pa!

"Yeah, pa," he groaned. He lit his hands up. But everyone nearly ran as Kohaku became an inferno. The flames were wild. Blazing and licking at people. She tottered from side to side. Melting the snow Todoroki had created.

As she tried to run off, fire still uncontrollable, Shota thought it was time to step in. He leapt down and joined his students.

"That's enough, Kohaku," he scolded. His eyes glowed and his hair flowed around him. Her flames were immediately doused. She tried to flick them back on a few times. But nothing worked. She wailed as she realized she couldn't do it anymore. "If you can't use your quirk responsibly, then you aren't going to use it at all."

Shota picked Kohaku up. She must've been getting tired from using her quirk, and playing so much the last few hours. She was getting cranky. But Shota knew she'd zonk in the car seat on the way home.

"We're calling it early, Kohaku is tired," Shota said. He wanted to add and so am I, to the end of it but refrained. "I'm proud of how each and every one of you did today. Surprisingly, you all passed. Congratulations. You're better with children than I thought."

"So - no Midnight?!" Ashdio asked excitedly.

Shota shook his head. "No, you saved yourselves. Barely."

"Uh, should someone take Deku to Recovery Girl?" Asui asked, leaning over his slumped form by the wall. "I think he knocked himself out earlier."

"Asui, you and Uraraka take Midoriya to the nurse's office while I finish up here."

Uraraka went and lightened up Midoriya, then her and Asui made their way out the door. 

"Todoroki, Kirishima, Hagakure, Bakugo - you all get extra credit. If you don't need, or want it, you're more than welcome to give it to someone else. Just let me know who."

"I know exactly what I'm using mine for!" Hagakure cheered.

"C'mon, man," Kaminari groaned, tugging at Bakugo's sleeve. "I know you have perfect grades! Give me your credit!"

Bakugo glared. "Get off me!" 

Kirishima awkwardly went up to his teacher. He grinned shyly. "Hey, Mr. Aizawa, if you ever want a babysitter, I'd be more than happy to watch Kohaku. Whenever you need."

"I'm sure she'd like that. I'll keep that in mind," Shota noted. And he would. Kohaku really seemed to like him, and he and his wife hadn't gone on a date in ages.

"Mr. Aizawa, is that all for today's exercise?" Iida asked. "Are we free to go?"

"Yes. But first - I just wanted to say thanks to all of you," Shota started. "You all did well handling her. There doesn't seem to be a scratch on her. She's learned a lot, but still has a long way to go. I know she'll keep today with her, even when she's older." Shota checked the time. They really had made it to the end of the day without an incident. "You're all free to go."

"Hey, Mr. Aizawa," Ashido started as the group left the facility. "Why did you bring Kohaku today?"

"Because even nurses have sick days." 

Kohaku slept on the way home, and while in the store. Shota couldn't wait to get home and tell his wife about his day. The one he'd planned all for her. He was sure she'd cry laughing so hard. It was all worth it if he could cheer her up, even a little bit.

The house was dark and quiet when they got in. He didn't bother flicking on any lights. Just in case it woke up Kohaku. Instead just setting down his things and going to look for his wife. She was curled up in their bed asleep in a mountain of tissues, some DVD rolling credits on her laptop. Shota laughed to himself. 

He moved everything and laid Kohaku down next to her mother. His stories would have to wait. For the time being, it was family nap time. That was truly the perfect ending to the day.

~

Taglist

@spiderwinchester @sinclairsamess  @dudesorriso @burningdragonfarmpainter @just-a-generic-username

 @lucinda-barnes-black @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy @heathers-inner-thoughts @cherraybomb @give-a-rookie-a-cookie @babayaga67 @asaucecoveredsomething @izzythefanfreak @blazelover132 @jacobsmemesibling @theravencawsatmidnight  

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha headcanons #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #aizawa shouta #shota aizawa #aizawa sensei #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa x you #bouncing baby #shota aizawa bouncing baby #mha shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta/reader #shouta aizawa imagine #theamberwriter

[datawyrms]

Responsibility

For Phic Fight 2021, The Lord of Chaos’s prompt c:

Spectra fed off of misery; nocturne fed off of dreams.  The elusive town cryptid that only shows up when people need saving gains a following and Danny finds that he gets a boost from the people who have faith in him, he starts to become aware of them, especially when they needed him.

The rest of the town seeing him as benevolent was a positive thing. The uncomfortable stabs that his ‘parents were right’ about ghosts lessened as fewer and fewer treated him as a monster just as troublesome as Technus. He didn’t need to tense when the news was on, to hear his attempts to help called a ‘savage attack’, or that stupid nickname. He’d slept a bit easier, knowing that people did understand he only meant to help lately. Sure, Mom and Dad might still insist he was an evil ghost, but it was so much easier to ignore that when he didn’t feel he was only one step away from proving them right to everyone else. Clumsy and reckless he could take. Just as long as he wasn’t some ‘evil soul sucking abomination.’

Having Jazz a bit more in the loop had actually started to pay off. She wasn’t as good at catching a ghost as Sam or Tucker, sure, but she wasn’t hindering him anymore either. Honestly, if all three of them worked together, his powers weren’t really needed unless something huge found its way to town. Which his friends had insisted he take advantage of at least once a week, to let them handle the usual patrols and alerts while he tried to catch up on work and sleep. Mostly sleep, to be honest. Focusing on work was almost impossible when his ghost sense went off, even if he knew they didn’t need help. He wanted to go, he had to go; but they were very good at yelling at him for not ‘trusting them’ to handle things. He really did need the break. That’s why he was feeling a little less haggard, a bit more alert. At least, that’s what made the most sense.

Then the ‘lurching’ started. He couldn’t think of a better name then that. It wasn’t like his ghost sense, that sort of just crawled out of him and didn’t give him much to go on beyond ‘there’s definitely a ghost around’. That could go off and leave him rolling his eyes at the box ghost, or fighting for his life against Plasmius with the exact same feeling. The lurching was...different. Like his ghost sense forgot where his windpipe was and decided to escape in a random direction. Inssenantly. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying, worse than the pang that would pass when he ignored whatever got his ghost sense acting up. It just kept pulling in a direction, but refusing to get out from under his skin. Sometimes it would keep going for an entire class, which just made whatever the lurch’s chosen direction noticeably cold. He was pretty sure he was immune to frostbite nowadays, but that didn’t make explaining things easier if someone spotted his hand looking almost blue from lack of blood flow.

Maybe his core was on the fritz again. Who knew what sort of weird things could happen to a human who spent half his time dead?

Tucker suggested that he was just getting ghost puberty to go with the ‘joys’ of human puberty. Which sure, was funny and they could shove each other around and forget about it for a time. It didn’t feel like the right answer. None of his other powers acted up, honestly he was feeling better after fights then he usually did lately. Less drained, anyway. It wasn’t stopping either.

It just got worse. More intense. More frequent. Instead of vanishing the area the lurch decided to pull in seemed to grow the longer he tried to dismiss it. Noticeably. To the point even Dash asked if he should avoid punching him because ‘that shit looks contagious’. (He privately hoped it was. Dash totally deserved weird pulling that made you frost over.)

He had to ignore it, he couldn’t just drop everything every single time the lurch decided to show up. He’d look completely off his rocker, running in some random direction because ‘my shoulder feels cold to the north-west’. If it was close enough to be a real danger, his ghost sense would just go off!

So Saturday was going to be a ‘lurch hunt’. No more ignoring it, no school or mandatory activities that should keep him from following the strange cold that felt desperate to go after something. Yet even deciding that made his insides squirm. He had to follow it, he should be- but that was dumb. He missed enough class as it was.

So why was it so hard to focus on anything else when it started going? Like nothing else mattered? It wasn’t like he was drifting off or sleepy either.

Jazz said he was ‘fixated’ on something.

But how do you fixate on some weird feeling under your skin? He didn’t even know what it was! Just that Sam and Tucker kept needing to flick things at him to get him to pay attention to reality. One of his best rested weeks in ages, and he was worse off then he’d been focus wise in years. Stupid ghost powers. Saturday took far too long to come. Even when one of the lurches stopped pulling he couldn’t relax. Instead of relief he just felt. Hollow. He’d woken up in a panic, half expecting to be chained down in one of Vlad’s sick laboratories, but he wasn’t cut open. He wasn’t even injured. Safe, in bed- and feeling like the cold ran off with his ribcage.

Something was wrong with him. That had to be it. Once they found the cause, he’d solve it and it would stop. It had to.

Following it shouldn’t make him feel as relieved as it did. Taking his ghost form and flying after some...feeling that wanted to drag him somewhere was more like when Freakshow’s Staff dominated his mind than anything positive. A compulsion he couldn’t help giving in to.

At least his ghost sense went off once he’d followed it long enough, finding one of Vlad’s mutant ghost animals chasing someone through the streets.

Normal. A bit of one sided banter to get it’s attention, a few punches and ectoblasts and it was shoved away in the thermos. No more pulling, and one less ghost terrorizing town. That didn’t make sense. Unless it really was just his ghost sense increasing in range while becoming infinitely more irritating?

That’s what it felt like, at first. He’d follow, ghost sense, find the problem. Except there was something odd. Every ghost he found like this wasn’t just wandering about, or making a mess. They were all actively chasing, stalking or attempting to scare someone. Okay, so it homed in on more ‘violent’ ghosts then? That seemed possible.

Until one of the lurches kept pulling, but there was no ghost sense. The one that kept pulling him towards a man with his back against the wall, fumbling with a wallet. The man who wasn’t being threatened by Skulker, or a vulture, or any of this typical fare. Just another human with a gun, and the will to use it.

This so wasn’t his thing. He fought ghosts, they were half his fault to begin with. So why was his ghost sense leading him to this? Well. It hadn’t. Lurching confirmed for not ghost sense?

Jazz would totally chew him out for tackling someone with a gun. He just had to forget to go intangible at a bad time, and he’d be all ghost. Or worse, go intangible and someone else got a body full of lead. He couldn’t just...ignore it now that he’d seen it though. The chill that hummed below his skin wouldn’t let him.

So the guy was a bit startled about getting pulled through a wall and dropped off the other side. Probably lost some change. He’d expected a bit of fear, at least. Like come on, some ghost just grabs you while a gun’s in your face? That’s still scary.

Yet he didn’t seem bothered. Just thankful. Called him a ‘hero’. For being in the right place at the right time. By just happening to be there because...because he knew? Something in him knew. That was wrong, he shouldn’t just know when people were in danger like that. He vanished without a word, not wanting to stick around and hear more. It was coincidence. Hopefully the guy wasn’t too offended that he just bolted, but he couldn’t stay there. He didn’t like how the complement felt good in a way he couldn’t describe. That the cold in his chest thrummed with a pleasure that made the rest of him feel ill. He wasn’t a hero, he was just some kid. A kid who still wanted to have a life that wasn’t all this, eventually.

He can’t ignore at dinner that he picks at his meal, not from exhaustion but because he’s not hungry. He’s still energized, he’s still full- and no amount of gagging over the sink makes his stomach empty. ‘Ghosts helping humans only do so for their own ends’. He’d ignored and denied that, he hadn’t been getting anything out of being the local ghost punching bag- so why was he now? Did he steal something? Feed on that person he saved?

He hated that his face didn’t even have the sense to look pale at the idea. He looked healthy. Probably better than he usually did. Even the circles under his eyes weren’t as noticeable. Were Mom and Dad right? Was he just...more of a ghost now?

Sam and Tucker don’t buy his ‘couldn’t figure it out’ explanation. Mostly because he refuses to try it again with them along to help figure it out. Even as he grows cold and more lurching keeps gnawing at his attention. He’s human too, he doesn’t need...whatever this is.

Sam kindly tells him he’s being a gigantic idiot.

He’s too distracted by the chill to notice. Tucker explains that after he’s blinking confused at the corn chips bouncing off his forehead. They laugh it off. He’s pretty sure they’re just being nice. They know something’s wrong, but he can’t bring himself to tell them yet. They wait. For now.

He ignores the feeling. He tries to ignore the guilt, that he knows someone out there is in danger. That someone out there needs his help. That all he needs to do is walk out of class and he can go do some actual good. He can’t go chasing after everyone in town. Things happen! He’s just one person! The sooner the lurching in him figures that out, the better. It still ruins his focus, makes him grit his teeth and fidget in place. He wants to go, he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t even know what he wants. For it to stop. That would work. The tugging stops halfway into his next class, the frost in his blood lifts. It leaves him empty. Starving.

Everything tastes bland. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Even his favourites barely seem worth the effort of snagging off a table. He’ll eat, he can’t have Mom and Dad looking at him like Sam and Tucker are now, but it just feels heavy in his stomach. A brick he’s decided to try digesting for fun. He’s hungry, ravenously so, but doesn’t want anything.

He knows exactly what he wants and hates himself for it. Stupid ghost half. He doesn’t need that, he doesn’t want to be some...leech. Seeking out trouble just to benefit from it. It’s wrong, he hates it, and if he could grab his core and slam it on the table for a few hours he would. Just until it remembered that they helped when they could. When it was close by, when it was a ghost problem. Not every bit of danger in town!

Misplaced aggression goes to the nearby ghosts. Which it often had,  really. It’s normal. He’s just making sure people don’t get hurt, ignoring the humming of MINE coiled in his ectoplasm. The other ghosts feel it. They hear it when he hunts them down and wants to keep swinging even when they put claws or hands up in surrender. He doesn’t trust himself to banter with them right now. He doesn’t want to hear the words his ghost side wants to say. He shoves them back into the Ghost Zone, and the smarter ones stay away. A stronger ghost is already feeding here. There’s nothing for them to take.

He’s running on autopilot. Days are meaningless. He can’t focus in class, his notes are nonexistent and his patience is beyond frayed. He can’t sleep, the cold is too much, the emptiness hurts and fewer ghosts show up. He can’t even blow off steam by kicking the Box Ghost through a wall. He won’t follow it, and he’s fairly sure it’s going to kill him. That or his parents will. Even they have to notice how he barely eats and won’t focus on anything short of a horn section in his face.

Sam and Tucker sit him down. Force the issue. They know he’s a mess. They don’t have answers. How could they? His choices are to starve this ghost instinct out, or to just give into it and completely ruin his human life. He’ll be fine. It’ll stop eventually if he keeps ignoring it. Then he’ll be able to focus again. It’s all he can cling to.

He’s stubbornly ignoring the prickling awareness of other thoughts. Ones not from his brain. Ones that get louder when the lurch grips him, that practically overwhelm his own as fear and panic grows. Maybe he’s just gone a little off the deep end. He doesn’t hear voices. He refuses.

Jazz has her concerns. That he can’t ignore it. She knows more about Mom and Dad’s research, more about classifications of ghosts. She tries to be gentle, nudging him to be aware that stronger ghosts were more...like a concept then an individual.

He doesn’t want to be some sort of ghost concept of problem solving. She’s worried he won’t have that choice. Some part of him already knows she’s right.

He seeks out Valerie. For help. She’s confused, baffled and suspicious. After all this time he spent convincing her he’s not evil, he’s begging her to call him that. To convince other people he is. To make them fear him and his help. He doesn’t want to be a hero like she is. He just wants to be himself, doesn’t want to hear the people begging for help when he’s trying to sleep.

She doesn’t understand, but understands one thing. He’ll feed on those who rely on them. She has to stop that, doesn’t she?

They fight, and often. He does poorly, lets her save people while his misfires cause damage and chaos. It makes him want to scream each time. Some of the thoughts and voices dim. Not enough. Too many are understanding, too many can see the regret and pain that wrack him with each failure. He’s always hungry. He wants to try again, but everything in him rebels against it. The ghost hunter avoids him. It’s ‘not a fair fight’. He’s ‘not himself’. His green eyes are more dead then they ever have been. He can’t maintain his legs.

As a human, all he wants to do is sleep.

Mom and Dad notice. He collapses and his eyes flare green when they try to help him. Just automatically sensing them as danger, against him, not someone that calls for him. They think he’s possessed, and he wishes they were right.

He half considers not telling them the truth. Let them think of a way to let his ghost half quiet down, to stop hungering for validation he doesn’t want.

Jazz tells them before they can do much of anything. Pinches his ear for being stupid- that getting experimented on won’t help him.

Their hugs make him feel bad. This should be a good moment, a time where he feels safe and accepted. But his mind is not his own, not with the others whispering in his skull. Their warmth and love feels like a drop in the empty barrel of his hunger.

They want him to be healthy. They want him to be happy. He can’t be happy if he needs to abandon his life to be healthy. He tries to explain it, the emptiness, the voices (Jazz cuffs him again for hiding this, which seems fair.) and they promise to try and figure out why, maybe find a way to limit it or separate himself from whatever connection his ghost half seems to have made with the town. Until then- they encourage him. To go ‘help’ people. To feed the clawing cold taking over his existence. He’s not sure if they really mean it. It doesn’t stop him from listening.

It’s hard to feel guilty when it feels so good. To have the fear quiet and be replaced with thanks. Someone’s out of danger and happy, and he feels less hollow for a time. Mom and Dad switch him to home school. They say it’s a better fit, to be able to stop and start based on when he’s not being dragged away by his own instinctive need to protect people.

It feels like giving up. Admitting he’s too much of a freak to live like everyone else. Dad tries to compare it to his special classes when he was young. Different to fit his learning style, not failing. The pulls and voices aren’t nearly as distracting when he’s full. Food actually tastes like more than sand again. Sam and Tucker don’t need to try as hard to smile now that he isn’t looking like death warmed over. He doesn’t like not getting to see them as often. He can’t deny he feels better this way, and can actually pay attention now. Even if most of the time he just wants to nap when the hunger stops. Go ‘back into hiding’ as the town thinks he does.

It’s getting better. Slowly. Not in a way he wanted it to. Better nonetheless.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Team Ghost #how to mangle a prompt in 3k words #it's a really neat idea tho! #angst train choo choo

[rayofsunas]

valentines | diluc [3]

A/n: good evening everyone!! I know this story is kinda a slow start to things, but dw reader is actually in this chapter lol. my plan is too write one more part, which would be the finale :) let me know how you guys are liking the series so far <33 I feel like Diluc is sooooo ooc, sawwy... AND I also can’t remember if the Dawn Winery is Diluc’s home, but pretend it is for this if it isn’t- anyways, enjoy and stay safe!!

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff, Diluc and Kaeya have a mother (the only reason this is a warning, is cause she’s a mood and I love her), swearing

Word count: 4.5k (I’m so proud and happy with this chapter :))

The letters were vague at first and you usually received them early in the morning, at first there was one. But now there was more than one letter, sometimes Cecilia flowers and even little gifts in a delicately wrapped box along with them. You assumed the writer was a serious night owl to have prepared this all and had sent them when you were asleep, leaving them as a sort of gift for you to wake up to in the morning. 

Though, originally, when you received the first handful of letters, you were creeped out, nervous for obvious reasons.

Who was this stranger sending letters of unworthy praise and admiration? Was their identity that much in danger, to have to be anonymous? And without an address as well... 

The more you read his or her letters, you learned that over four days, they were no threat. They couldn’t have been. Whoever they were, most likely was a young teen, caught in the webs of affection for the very first time, nervous to dip their toes into confrontation out of fear of being rejected. 

But the more you scanned the letters at night, reading them over like a series of detective novels, searching for any kind of clue, you realized this person was far too intelligent, smooth, and straight to the point, to be any kind of lovesick teen. That scenario, that possibility wasn’t possible in your mind. 

The only thing that made them seem like a confused teen was the fact that they sounded lost within their feelings, although straight to the point it was hard to decipher exactly what they were saying. Their words were often hidden behind a thick wall of glass; you could see them, but it was hard to grasp exactly what they were, the true meaning of it all. 

Was his or her adoration for you, really, truly love?

Was praising your skill too small of a thing to feel completely doused in love over?

You were never too sure. 

-

letter one.

I know this may seem odd, coming from a stranger. But I can assure you I am not a creep of any kind. I can’t help but say, I admire your skills in battle; you’re a force to be reckoned with. Please accept these Cecilia’s, I hope they aren’t too much nor are you allergic.

Best wishes.

This was the very first letter you received. Something you solely took for another Knight who you unknowingly, until now, of course, caught the attention of. You assumed that they were just praising you because they wished to be like you, of course, you accepted it with open arms. Praise for such a low profiled Knight felt nice.

letter two.

Hello. I realized I never specified an address for you to possibly reply to my letters with. It completely slipped my mind, my apologies. If it isn’t too much of a hassle, you could leave your letters at Barbatos’ Statue and I could do so as well. I also realized that sending letters to your home may seem... very weird and unsettling. I am sincerely sorry, my intentions weren’t to scare you. I am no creep, I can assure you we are acquaintances. Though, I would prefer to keep my identity hidden for right now. I look forward to hearing from you.

Best wishes. 

This letter was completely apologetic, its entire body and being were sincere you could tell. Yes, you would agree, the letters sent directly to your home were unsettling. But if they were an acquaintance and they had no ill intentions, you had no reason to panic. 

letter three.

I received your letter and I’m very glad to hear you’re no longer panicked or creeped out. Those were never my intentions... I appreciate your willingness to communicate with me. It’s very kind and understanding of you. Also, to answer your question, I am a man. I hope that does not disappoint you... Looking forward to your next letter. 

Best wishes.

You were happy to finally figure out more of who this anonymous person was, and knowing they were a man helped you learn more about who they could be. The list of suspects you were acquainted and or friends with, decreased significantly. You didn’t have many guy friends or acquaintances. You could only name a handful. Was he even amongst that handful? People had different meanings of friends and acquaintances after all...

letter four.

I know this may seem too early, we’ve only been properly conversing for a day or two. But, I would like to say you’re one of a kind and I found myself lost for words when writing to you. I hope you’re faring well. Please stay safe. I heard there was a pretty nasty bar fight last night that transitioned into a bloodbath in the streets. Lots of people are upset right now, politics I assume... Nonetheless, stay safe. 

Best wishes.

He was right. You weren’t cleared for such information, but you had heard talk from some of your fellow Knights that there was a pretty bad bar fight that carried out into the streets late last night. Multiple people had ended up in the dungeons, some still walked the streets whispering their opinions on an ancient conspiracy, though, you were unsure of what that exactly meant. 

Poison, sicknesses, and night terrors were a few of the most talked-about stressors for the fight. Who was to tell which ones were true though, if any. You assumed the truth was riddled in there somewhere though, it had to of been. Rumors often stemmed from an over extreme truth. 

What an unfortunate thing to hear, especially the week of Valentine's day. A week of love, already filled with a bitter hatred, not a good start. Thankfully, you had the letters, they kept you hopeful. The other person on the receiving end could also feel hopeful, so you hoped. You just hoped the situation wasn’t the start of something worse brewing.

Sadly, you weren’t cleared to investigate like you had heard Captain Kaeya was; despite how curious and nosy you were. Unfortunately, you were stuck with paperwork and training the younger Knights; you enjoyed the latter. But those were your duties this week, you couldn’t afford to stray from them. 

Hopefully, your anonymous admirer was alright and well. 

-

You hated to admit it. But over the last five days, you had become smitten. Some say, love at first sight, was impossible, a silly tale told to hopeless romantics who would believe anything. For someone who was not one of those people easy to fall in love with, truthfully, you were starting to believe the tales.

This anonymous man was so kind, well versed with words, so well versed that they moved mountains. You know for sure they had moved your heart. He wasn't willing to share a simple thing; his name. But he’d practically told you his life story, thrown it into your palms easily. Though vague, it was enough to help you understand him better and feel ultimately closer.

You’d learned he was a well-known guy, and as much as he accepted and loved the attention sometimes, it was tiring and draining the majority of the time. He’d said he was a protector of Mondstadt, someone who deeply cared for the townspeople and they're well beings. He’d make any deal, cross any sea, walk through hell with his head held high, just to protect them. He was also a brother, though never specified if he was older or younger, you assumed he was older when he said that he had a very annoying brother; only an older sibling could understand another's annoyance caused by a younger sibling. You could blame personal experience from your time around the younger Knights. You felt like an older sister to a lot of them without that older mentor figure. They weren’t all annoying, but they could share similar qualities at times when they didn't pay attention or learn paperwork completion formats.  

A name came to mind as he shared his vague life story. 

Kaeya Alberich. 

He was all of those things, except maybe for the last one. You knew Kaeya and Master Diluc were brothers, very close in age, but they weren’t blood-related, so twins were off the table; one was older than the other. Something was telling you it was the more flirtatious brother. He was the more outgoing of the two, spontaneous, he would surely be one behind the letters, right? But then wouldn’t he just approach you like normal? Hmmm. Maybe not. He did like to act mysterious, but maybe he was scared of rejection, who knows with Captain Kaeya. He was very hard to read. You couldn’t even tell half the time if he truly meant what he’d say when flirting with you or if he was just saying those things to tease you, maybe even make someone else jealous. 

You were curious, so you decided to approach him. Corner the Captain and demand an answer. He’d have to give you one, you wouldn’t leave his side. So that’s what you did, after your duties had finished around five in the afternoon, you waited outside the Knights headquarters. Hopefully, you’d catch him going in and out sometime soon, it was growing late. 

It was nearing six-thirty when you were getting ready to leave headquarters. Thinking, maybe this could wait tomorrow until you could catch the Captain at a reasonable time. But then he came strutting out of headquarters, his uncovered eye glistening with mischief, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. 

“Captain Kaeya, a word?” You interjected stepping in front of the man, stopping him from bounding down the steps deeper into the city. 

His face broke out in a grin, “Ah, Y/n! Nice to see you again, miss me did you?” 

“Not hardly, Captain.” You said, hoping you wouldn’t get in trouble for practically back-talking your superior. Your own Captain would never let you hear the end of it, the blonde man was a strict one. 

“You wound me,” The cryo user feigned pain. You could only chuckle nervously. “So, what is it you wanted to see me for?”

Your face heated up, burning like fire. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.” He said, hand going to rest sassily on his hip. 

“Are you the one writing me letters?” 

He laughed, sending waves of embarrassment through you. It shouldn’t have but now you felt stupid. Even if you held no romantic feelings for the Captain, he was way out of your league. He probably knew that. 

“Me? You flatter me!”

“No... I mean it,” You stated. “Is it you?”

His face turned serious. “Sadly, not.”

You huffed, heart, dropping to the floor. “Damn it,” You muttered, moving to sit on the stone steps of the Knights headquarters. Kaeya stayed standing, shadow blanketing over you, oddly silent. No flirtatious rebuttal, nothing, just silence. Odd. 

“You know something I don’t, I know you do.” You said, head hanging low. He laughed again. So, you were right.

“Of course, beautiful, I know a lot of things you don’t.” He taunted, eye dripping in mischief. 

“Very funny, Captain.” This wasn’t very funny, not at all. You weren’t laughing.

Suddenly, the Captain spoke up, “Speak to Diluc, I’m sure he knows, he has a very keen eye.”

Master Diluc? Wine tycoon Diluc? What did he have to do with this? He was always off doing his own thing, was it possible he knew anything at all?

“Master Diluc?”

“That’s what I said, yes.”

“You think he’d know who this person is?” You wondered. 

“Like I, he knows about lots of things, one being people.”

“Captain, I don’t like games, please just tell me.” You pleaded, eyes meeting his singular visible one. 

“When you beg, it’s cute,” He said catching you off guard. “See Diluc, he’ll know.” With that, he turned around and began walking off. 

“Wait!” You abruptly stood. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

“Dawn Winery.” You nearly froze on the spot. 

Dawn Winery? Wasn’t that Master Diluc’s residence? You possibly couldn’t, not at this hour either. Archons no...

“I’m sorry,” You hurriedly followed after the retreating figure. “I can’t possibly go there at this hour.”

“And why not?”

“Umm, Captain obvious, it seems inappropriate! People would think I’m going for other intentions!” Oh, if news got out that you went to Master Diluc’s residence late in the afternoon, and people assumed you had other intentions, this would surely be the end of you.

“But you’re not and you know that,” He said. “Are you always such a rule follower and strung up? Archons, you’re Diluc, but a girl version...” He commented.

He did have a point, but if someone saw a young woman entering the Dawn Winery of a bachelor late in the afternoon, suspicion would rise. It’s very conspicuous.

“Yes but-”

“Toodles, beautiful!” You stood still like a statue of ice, heart racing. 

“Bastard...”

-

Against better judgment, you ended up making the short walk to the Dawn Winery. You were hesitant to knock on the large doors though. Scared shitless, beyond nervous, only thinking what would others think? What would Master Diluc think? He’d probably shut the door on your face, leaving you like a frazzled idiot.

You probably stood pacing outside for fifteen minutes, before mustering up the courage to knock on the door. But you never got the chance, because you saw a woman with brown hair and a few gray strands peeking out of one of the first-floor windows. She had a small smile on her delicate face as she watched you. How long had she been there for...?

Your heart dropped the minute you’d been caught pacing, leaving you standing frozen. Eventually, the woman disappeared from the window, leaving you confused. But then the door whipped open with a gentle force and there she stood. 

She was a taller, slender woman with broad shoulders, wearing a simple dark green blouse black pants, black heeled boots with golden vine details were on her feet, making her even taller. If it weren’t for the gentle smile she gave you, she would’ve looked terrifying. 

“I saw you pacing outside for a while, I figured you’d muster up the courage to knock eventually.” She said without introduction.

Oh my... was this Master Diluc and Kaeya’s mother... She didn’t look like either of them, but who knows. You wanted to die, that’s for sure.

“I’m so sorry Miss,” You apologized. “I was just-”

“No worries!” She cheered, hands clasping tightly together. “Which one of my boys are you here for?”

So, she was their mother? Oh my... You shouldn’t have come like this, no not now. 

“Master Diluc...” You whispered nervously. Her smile only brightened, she was happy to hear that. 

“Ah I see, are his girlfriend?” Your chest wanted to explode.

“What?! No! I just, have a question for him...” You practically shrunk under her grey steel gaze and for that, began backing away from the intimidating, yet a kind woman. You were hoping to put some distance in between you two, but she moved along with you. “It’s not of importance to be here so late, I just- Kaeya sent me here and-”

“Ah I see, that one is trouble, I’m sorry you had to deal with him...” She seemed visibly distressed by the mention of the Cavalry Captain. You could relate. 

“It’s no problem, ma’am.” You reassured.

“Are you a Knight?” She suddenly asked, still no proper introduction. 

You nodded your head, her smile widened and brightened. 

“A respectable woman you are,” She praised. “And you’re beautiful? If one of my boys don’t marry you right now-” She carried on, you nearly choked on your saliva. “I’m sorry, I get carried away sometimes, I forgot to introduce myself!”

“My name is Victoria.” Finally, you thought. A name to fit her face. 

“Are you the boys' mother?” You suddenly asked. Manners, you reminded yourself. Remember to have manners and keep your curiosity to yourself. 

“Archons no!” She announced loudly, you jumped. “I’m a family friend of Diluc’s mother. You see, the boys were quite young when she passed, and they needed someone to help look after them, Master Crepus was quite a busy man. I stepped up and became a mother figure.”

“Ahh, I see,” You nodded. “I salute you for being able to help raise such gentlemen, must’ve been hard...” 

She laughed, “Not entirely, at first yes, but then it came naturally,”

“Where are my manners!” She suddenly exclaimed, grabbing your hand. “Come in! Diluc will be arriving soon, he’s out taking care of business.” With that, she dragged you into the mansion. 

The door slammed with a loud bang, and Victoria began walking through the downstairs level, almost excitedly. 

“Oh, um, thank you, ma’am.” You bowed your head in respect, watching confusedly as she disappeared into a hallway, before returning with a bottle of wine. 

“A drink?” She offered, showing off a bottle of wine, that just so happened to be the Ragnvindr’s specialty. 

“No, thank you, ma’am. I’m afraid I have an early morning tomorrow, a hangover would be a troubling start to my day.”

“Very good decision.” She praised, scrambling out of the room to look for what you assumed was a glass for her wine, leaving you once again alone. 

Glancing around the main entrance, you were left staring at very few portraits on the wall, framed maps, and personal memorabilia. One thing that stood out to you the most, a black insignia with a star and white skull, a Pirate insignia...

“A pirate insignia?” You whispered to yourself, confused. Captain Kaeya always told stories of pirates, his grandfather being one specifically. You always assumed he was lying... He wasn't. Maybe you should take back your disbelief in him. 

“That’s mine,” Victoria announced proudly, making herself known again. You jumped, startled, before turning to face the beautiful woman. She returned with a glass-like you thought she would and nearly emptied the entire wine bottle into it, cherry red contents filling to the brim.

You retract your statement about Captain Kaeya, he was still a fibber. 

“You were a pirate?” You asked, astonishment bubbling in your chest. You had so many questions for her, you secretly hoped Diluc would take even longer, just so you could listen to her stories. 

Victoria hummed, plopping onto a cherry red armchair, you still stood. 

”Badass...” You whispered to yourself, taking a seat on the nearby loveseat. 

”Thank you.” She beamed. 

“In my younger years of course. I haven’t been on a Pirate ship in a while. I haven’t seen my crew in years, either...” She reminisced. 

“You can’t be a day over thirty-five,” She smiled at your praise. “Why did you give it up? Being a Pirate, though uncertain at times, seems like loads of fun, filled with adventure.” She shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. 

“The boys lost their mother around the ages of eleven or twelve and I had just returned from months at sea,” She began. “They had run away from home to get into mischief when they met me at the gates; I think they’d been cooped at home for a while, they were grieving still....”

“Kaeya was excited to see my crew return home, infatuated with our stories. He clung to me for hours, with so many questions. Diluc on the other hand was just happy to finally not be bothered by his little brother,” 

Little brother? Kaeya? Wait did that mean-

“Master Crepus found them after he’d come searching, they’d been missing for hours and he was worried for obvious reasons. He attempted to take them home, Diluc was willing, Kaeya though clung to me. So, Master Crepus offered me a slower-paced life, looking after the boys and help keep them in check,” She continued, a smile on her face. “I agreed. They looked like they had gone through a lot and needed a mother figure. I was more than happy to look after them, I’d never had kids.” She ended her story there, swishing the red contents in her cup. 

“I guess that's the answer to your question,” 

“I was busy being a mother.” You smiled. Her story was inspiring, she was filled with pride despite leaving something she enjoyed behind, you could tell.

Leaning forward in your seat, you admitted, “You’re very admirable, I admire your drive to raise the boys. You’re an amazing woman and mother.”

“Thank you,” She blushed. “There is no perfect woman, no perfect mother, but your admiration for me is very telling, you share my qualities. If I’m as amazing as you say, you’d be an equally amazing mother to your own children.” Your face warmed at her compliment. 

“I’ve never thought about having children before... But, thank you.” She nodded, raising her glass in salute, before throwing the contents into the back of her throat. 

“A young girl such as yourself, curious, strong, loyal- You should accompany me one day if I ever find myself returning to swashbuckling adventures,”

“You’d be a great second mate.” The brunette admitted, sharp eyebrows wiggling with excitement. Was she hinting, no, offering for you to join her?

“I’m flattered. But I’m not so sure it would be right of a Knight to suddenly turn into a Pirate,” You giggled, she joined in. “No offense.”

“None was taken, sweetheart! I can understand. A Pirate would never think to become a Knight,” She explained. “Two different worlds, different rules, loyalties, and such.” 

The silence was deafening, but you had so many questions for the woman. Would she ever return to swashbuckling? Had she ever had any cool encounters? Did she feel like a badass? Archons, so many questions, very little time. 

“I believe I never caught your name, how rude and selfish of me.’ What’s your name beautiful?”

“Y/n Y/l/n, ma’am.” You said proudly. 

She smiled, “A pretty name for a pretty girl.” She praised, steel-gray eyes glistening like the stars. 

The door closing loudly caught your attention immediately, you stiffened on the spot. 

Master Diluc...

“Oh!” Victoria exclaimed, standing to her feet. “Diluc has arrived, my my, we talked for a long time,” Retreating towards the door, all you could hear were her heeled boots thumping against the wooden floorboards, matching the thumps of your beating heart surely. You watched uncomfortably as she helped the wine tycoon shrug his jacket off, poking fun at him every now and then. You could see by the way he tried to brush her off that he was flustered, he still hadn't seen you though, Victoria was persistent in her pestering; a mother's love, am I right?

“Diluc,” she started, voice echoing and bouncing off into the walls, traveling into the living room. “A beautiful, intelligent woman is here to see you. She says it’s not of importance, but with a woman of her beauty and admiration, you’ll make this the most important day in your life!” With that, her boots moving could be heard again and she was suddenly in the living room, a huge smile on her face, standing behind the loveseat you were sitting uncomfortably in. 

Another pair of boots could be heard, a heavier set this time, a jingling was heard as well, maybe keys? You weren’t sure... 

“Mother-” The tall man shut his mouth immediately as soon as he’d set his eyes on your figure. “Oh,” He approached, continuously looking between Victoria and you, probably wondering what the hell was going on.

“Miss Y/n,” He bowed his head respectively, though you were confused. You should be doing that instead, he was your superior in more ways than one. Standing to your feet, nearly tripping as well, you decided to greet him the same way, remembering your manners in your starstruck state. You couldn’t tell if it was from Victoria's story or the fact that Master Diluc was standing in front of you. Probably both. “W-what’re you doing here?” Master Diluc a stuttering mess? What an uncharacteristically shocking sight...

A slap sounded throughout the room, Victoria’s hand making contact with Diluc’s shoulder, ushering him forward, that’s what it was. “Diluc stop stuttering! Why are you suddenly flustered, huh?!” She exclaimed loudly, her son just stared at her embarrassed. Face turning shades of red. You giggled to yourself quietly.

“Mother!” 

“Sorry!” Her hands waved out in front of you, various gold dangling bracelets and chains on her wrists making a jingling sound. “I should be going now,” Te brunette then turned to you, taking your hands in her slender ones. “After talking to this eye-opening Knight, I think I should write to a few of my old comrades.” You smiled happily, hands squeezing hers gently. She was staring at you with pride as a mother would to their daughter. 

“Goodnight Y/n. I hope to see you again soon,” She waved you off, moving towards the stairs. “Come find me when you’re ready to leave behind those Knightly duties and join me for a voyage at sea, I’d love to show you my ship one day.” She beamed.

You nodded, seriously considering her offer. You hoped you as well would see her again, rather sooner than later. She was great company. You loved her deafening presence, an admirable woman she was. “Good night, ma’am.”  

As soon as she was gone up the stairs, Diluc awkwardly turned to face you. 

”She asked you to join her on her voyages I see.” He stated, trying to spark conversation. You nodded, fingers fiddling.

“Ya know, I’m considering that offer. It sounds fun.” You teased with a shrug, voice filled with sincerity. 

Master Diluc sent you a soft smile, “Yes. Life at sea does sound quite tiring, but I’m sure the adventures are worth it.”

“Agreed.”

Another deafening silence, Diluc looked like he wanted to say something.

“Can I get you anything? Wine, tea, juice...”

Not that though... You couldn’t help but giggle at the last part, he blushed. 

“Maybe next time, I’d love to be graced with your mother's presence again, maybe hear a few stories.”

“I’m sure she’d love that. Mother has many to tell.” He admitted with a proud smile,

You couldn’t wait to hear those stories truthfully, so entranced. You had never faced adventures quite like Victoria, never had even considered it, now you were though. Curse Victoria and her entrancement, though not literally, you held too much admiration for the woman to ever wish ill on her. 

”So, what can I do for you?” Diluc suddenly asked.

”Oh right!” You were left flustered. So wrapped up in your conversation, you had completely forgotten what you had come here for. Archons, what the hell.

“I had a question, but-”

You paused. 

Diluc’s eyebrows raised. “Yes?” He seemed to be hanging onto your every word. He was waiting for an answer for a long time. It seems he’d have to wait even longer...

“...I seemed to have forgotten.”

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus​ , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix , @nonniechan ,

3.7.21, rayofsunas

#rayofsunas #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #this one is so long holy-

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 10

A/N: Thank you guys for all the continued support on this series. It’s seriously such a joy to write that I cannot even express it! I’m so glad you all like it too. It means the world! 💕 As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: some almost s*x 😌, egregious use of italics, the sweetest prince 💕

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-«

The rest of your stay in Hellholt had shifted from awkward and stiff to comfortable and pleasant. It was amazing how quickly things had changed, and much to your delight it was in the right direction. It wasn’t something you could have predicted at first, but you were glad, thankful even, for the change. More importantly, you were happy with the change in your relationship with Oberyn. He was slowly turning out to be, and this definitely not an exaggeration in your mind - everything.

Gone was the awkward tension, and the constant questioning of does he feel the same? No, now you had your answer, as he had his, and you knew. You knew he felt the same. Was it love? Of that you weren’t positive, but you were sure it was something. Maybe it was. You weren’t ruling out any possibilities just yet, and were more than happy to let them play out naturally.

The atmosphere was pleasant now, a happy environment, and everything felt...golden, like the sweetest daylight. You weren’t just an outsider anymore, you had quickly become a part of the family. Family, you came to realize, wasn’t just about sharing blood or a name, it was so much more than it. It was about love, caring, respect, so many more things than just the shallow ties attached to the term. That was something you always understood, but many others, like your mother and most of the Seven Kingdoms didn’t. It didn’t matter whether you were born into a family, family could be found, it could be chosen. Family was what you made it, and this was your family now.

»»————-　♡　————-«

On your last morning of your stay, you found yourself having a late breakfast in the gardens with your two youngest fans, Dorea and Loreza. They had taken to clinging to you like glue, and for a short moment you had been worried that you had taken them away from Oberyn too much, but he had insisted he was getting plenty of time in with them and he was glad that you were bonding with them too. Besides, this time it wouldn’t be months before he (or now you) saw them all again. The older girls had completely opened up to you as well, but their interests were different from that of their little sisters, so they found themselves naturally gravitating towards Oberyn. They were going to be fierce and cunning, just like their father; he was already so proud of them. His eyes practically lit up whenever so much as a word of them was mentioned.

“And you promise we’ll get to plant the flowers before you and Papa leave?” Loreza asked as she popped a handful of berries into her mouth, a few spilling out as she grew eager with excitement. She reminded you of Oberyn in so many little ways, their small mannerisms almost identical. 

“Of course, my little viper,” you promised her, and her dark eyes widened with excitement. You’d gone into the marketplace a few days prior, Oberyn and all the girls in tow, and had found a small stall that sold plants, bushes, and flowers from all over Dorne. Many were little seedlings, but you couldn’t contain your excitement, and ending up purchasing probably many more than you should have. When your husband had seen your face light up with joy, he was loath to stop you. Instead, all six of you had returned home with arms full of new delights, “but you need to be careful and not eat too many berries at once. Otherwise you’ll choke on them, and can’t even enjoy them properly.”

“Sorry,” she grinned sheepishly as you just shook your head, shoulders rising and laughing with light laughter, “Dorea does it too!”

“But Dorea doesn’t try to speak through a mouthful,” Ellaria had come to join you, just in time, looking as effortlessly beautiful as ever. She always looked so regal and elegant, even when she was wearing nothing but a simple gown; maybe one day you’d gain that same poise and elegance. Leaning down to kiss the girls on the crowns of their heads, she offered you a warm smile before sitting down across from you, “how is everyone faring this beautiful morning?”

“Good,” you told her, reaching over and wiping a smudge of yogurt off Dorea’s cheek. She gave you a big grin before going back in for another large bite, and the same thing happened again. You laughed lightly before pointing at her cheek and watching as she hurriedly cleaned it off, “I was just telling the girls that we’ll plant all the new flowers and bushes this afternoon.”

“They’re going to be so pretty Mama,” Dorea said excitedly, “they’re going to grow before the winter and make the garden pretty all winter long.”

“I’m sure they will, sweetlings,” she promised them, affectionately ruffling their dark hair, “you all did an excellent job picking them out.”

“It was definitely all due to them,” you shot them a little wink, “they all picked their favorites, and happen to have a keen eye for the right ones.”

“Did they?” she asked gently, “well I expect you both to do an excellent job planting them and taking good care of them. Now, go and find your sisters and change into different clothes and we’ll all head to the garden. I don’t want you to ruin your nice dresses.”

“Yes Mama,” they echoed, their chubby little hands each reaching for a few more berries before they ran off, giggling among themselves. You couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them, already knowing that you were going to miss your new little friends terribly. Maybe you could convince them all to come to Sunspear soon...you were positive that Oberyn would have no objections.

Ellaria watched them go with a small smile on her face as she grabbed a plate and loaded it up with some of the delicious treats, “they’re excited about working on the garden. Elia and Obella too. They’ve been...in a little bit of a funk lately...they’d definitely missed Oberyn. But I’m glad you’re both here…”

“I am as well,” you promised her, unable to probably express just how much you meant it. Your initially tense relationship with her had quickly dissolved into a budding friendship. Once she realized that you were no threat, meant no harm to her, her children, or Oberyn, she came around and allowed herself to enjoy your company. She had been great, offering you all sorts of insights about Oberyn, and his family, and you felt like you were seeing a whole other side to him. After all, there was plenty of insight that could only come from a former lover. You sat back and relaxed, letting the sun warm you up, “flowers and gardening are a big part of life in the Reach. My father, along with his famous bees,  used to have massive gardens, and he always let me help tend to them. It became such a sacred, special thing that we shared. I always looked forward to it, to sending time with him, and watching everything come to life and grow.”

“Have you seen him much? Since your marriage to Oberyn?” she asked and you stilled for a moment, swallowing the lump that had welled up in your throat. You took a moment to compose yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before turning to give her a tight lipped smile. She didn’t know...but how was she supposed to?

“No...he’s ugh...he died a few years ago,” you said and she made a small sound of surprise before reaching over the table and took your hand in hers, giving it a warm squeeze, “i-it’s okay. There was no way for you to know. I’ve come to the terms with the fact that he’s gone, but I still miss him. I’m afraid that I will always miss him…”

“I think that’s only natural,” she said gently, “I lost my own mother when I was young too. It’s been so long, but it always weighs a little heavy on our hearts. But as long as we don’t let that stop us from moving on. Oberyn knows the same pain - both of his parents and his younger sister.”

“Yes…” you said softly. He’d mentioned his parents but Elia only in passing. You were curious to know about the Dornish Princess turned Targaryen Queen, but weren’t going to push him to ever talk about it. He would do it on his own when he was ready, if he ever would be.

“I didn’t mean to put a damper on the mood,” she said softly before the two of you exchanged a look that quickly turned into a laugh, “oh a much brighter note, I see you and Oberyn must be getting along very well.”

You felt a flush of warmth wash over you, as you realized that despite your best efforts, you bore a few unmistakable marks on your necks and collarbones. You’d worn a light linen tunic, hoping it would be good enough to cover everything up, but apparently it was no use, at least not to Ellaria’s watchful eyes. You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing on it as you suddenly found your plate extremely interesting as she gently reached over you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze with a very knowing little smile.

The greater part of the last week and a half had been filled with rushed words of sweetness and brief, stolen kisses in passing between the two of you. There always seemed to be someone around or clambering for either yourself or Oberyn, allotting you very little alone time. In the evenings, you found yourself retiring shortly before Oberyn, hoping to stay up and talk to him, but despite your best efforts, you were usually fast asleep by the time he returned to your room. He often took it upon himself to make sure you were properly tucked under the covers, always placing a delicate kiss to your forehead before sliding into his own bed. 

You hadn’t done much beside exchanging kisses, which only grew increasingly more heated as time went on. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure just how much longer you’d be able to stand it, knowing that your desire for him was only going to keep building before it completely exploded. But you were going to broach that subject when it came to it, when the time was right. You knew Oberyn was likely feeling the same way, but he would never take advantage of you, or make you do anything you weren’t ready to. 

But last night, when you’d retired for the evening together, he quickly had you pinned against the door, as soon as it was shut, his lips finding yours effortlessly. One thing had led to another, and before you knew it, you were practically a puddle melting in his arms. His name had rolled off your lips in reverence, like it was the only religion you ended, gods old and new be damned. His mouth was like magic on your skin, each little kiss leaving a burning fire in his wake as he kissed your lips, your jaw, down your neck, where he nipped at the hollow of your throat.

Before anything else could happen, a little knock had come at the door, another bout of the impeccable timing that everyone seemed to possess. Oberyn had sharply exhaled from his nose, releasing his grip on you, but not before giving you one last, sweet, lingering kiss. You straightened your dress before stepping to the side and nodding towards the door. He took a moment to collect himself before opening the door slowly, only to find Loreza standing on the other side, big crocodile tears rolling down her chubby little cheeks.

“Papa,” she said softly, a little stuffed bunny in her hands as she held her arms out to him. He quickly leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, holding the little girl tightly to his chest. He rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her before pressing little kisses to the side of her side head, murmuring soft reassurances in her ear, “I had a bad dream.”

“It’s okay, my love,” he promised her, his voice softening immediately as he did his best to calm her down. You couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight, a soft little stirring feeling erupting in your stomach. Doing your best to quell it, you reached over and gently mused her dark curls, “you’re safe now. Nothing can hurt you.”

“Will you come with me and make sure its safe?” she asked him in between her little hiccups, her tears having come to a quick halt. Oberyn looked at you momentarily, almost as if asking for permission, which he never needed, of course. Nonetheless you nodded, giving him a quick kiss, pausing to give her one too.

“Come on,” he said softly, “let’s get you all tucked back in and chase those monsters away.”

“Good night, sweet Loreza,” you whispered to her as she gave you a small wave, “take your time, Oberyn.”

He hadn’t returned to your room that night; at first you had waited for him, but you quickly knew that he had undoubtedly fallen asleep in her bed with her, mostly likely telling her a story which had caused the two of them to crash for the evening. You’d fallen into an easy sleep yourself that night, drifting in and out of sweet dreams of Oberyn. It had been some of the best sleep you’d had in ages.

“I...ugh,” you found yourself studying your plate intently, playing with a few berries on it. It reminded you of some of your last kisses with Oberyn - they had been just as sweet, “things have been...going very well.”

“That seems to be the case,” she agreed, with a knowing little smile, “I think everyone can see that. You’re practically glowing lately, both of you. It’s written all over your faces.”

“Yes,” you couldn’t suppress the grin that was stretching across your face, “I suppose I have you to thank for everything, Ellaria. I...I don’t know if I would have been able to speak to him if we hadn’t talked. It was a very helpful push in the right direction.”

“Don’t think of it as a push,” she said softly, “a friendly nudge. I want what is best for Oberyn, always, and you...I can see now that means the two of you together.”

“Whatever you want to consider it, thank you,” you insisted, finding that she was still watching you with a curious expression on her face, “what? Did I make a mess of myself?”

“No,” she promised, “I’m just...and consider this merely a curiosity that you do not have to answer...but have you considered the possibility of children?”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open into a small o as you tried to control your racing thoughts. Had you thought about it? Absolutely. Lately, especially after seeing Oberyn with the twins back in Sunspear and his own girls, it had been at the forefront of your mind. Not that it had changed anything in your mind of course. You didn’t want children...right? But it had definitely stirred something within you, and you couldn’t deny that you had stopped and wondered a few times what a child of yours and Oberyn’s would look like...“no, not really. I’ve never really wanted children of my own. I guess I’ve never had much of a maternal instinct-”

“I’ve seen you with the girls,” Ellaria interrupted with a small laugh, “you definitely have a nurturing spirit. Oberyn told me about the twins as well, the orphanage…”

“Well,” you couldn’t believe he had made it a point to tell her all of this. It warned your heart slightly as you realized just how much care and attention he paid to you, “it’s just...I like children, and care for them. It’s not really...a big deal. Besides, Oberyn already has all of his girls, and I think that’s more than plenty for him…”

“He is a good father, an excellent father,” she agreed, “but there’s always room for more love, for more family...if you should ever feel so inclined. Of course, it is not a suggestion or pressure, a mere observation. Whatever the case ends up being, the girls are lucky to have you in their lives as well. They have many strong women and men in their lives that they have the privilege of learning from - you are no exception.”

“It’s just that I...I-I don’t know if I can have children,” you blurted out suddenly, surprising yourself and her at the same time. You’d never spoken those words out loud before, not even to yourself. But it had been something that had been on your mind for ages ,”I...I was with another man, Waylar, the one I told you about earlier,  before Oberyn, the one I thought was going to marry, and naturally we...had sex.”

“As is only natural…”

“We were young and foolish, never careful, never really paid much mind to the possibility of me falling pregnant. I don’t think we ever once tried to prevent anything from happening. But then...nothing ever happened. I never drank moon tea, and we were never careful. I'm sure I would have, probably should have fallen pregnant at some point. If it was something that could have been a possibility. So I just…don’t think it’s in my cards.”

"Have you ever talked to a Maester or healer about any of this?" Ellaria was leaning and hanging onto your every word. You just shook your head, sitting back in your seat and letting out a long sigh.

"I never could have gone without arousing my mother's suspicion," you admitted, "she didn't know about Waylar for a long time, and once she did, she quickly sent him to the Night's Watch. I don't know if she ever realized we'd had sex. And I just never really thought about children and once I realized it was likely an impossibility, I pushed it to the back of my mind."

"So it is not so much  a lack of desire as it is the idea that you can't," she questioned and you shrugged. You were sure it would have just been the former...but maybe...she had a point. You’d spent so long thinking you could have children...maybe you had claimed to not want any to numb the possibility of never having them. If you didn’t want them it wouldn’t be a disappointment....

"I don't know," you admitted in earnest, "a combination of the two probably. Oberyn and I briefly discussed children, and we kind of just left it at what it is. He's got the girls and I'm okay without any born to me, I’m pretty sure. Getting to know and spend time with his girls is an absolute pleasure, and more than I could ever need."

"They're yours now too, you know," she said as she stood, quickly coming over to you. She gave you a fond look before leaning over and kissing the crown of your head, "they're very fond of you, and it will be impossible to get rid of them. They're like a bad habit you can't quit.”

"I should be lucky to have them as a part of my life," you promised her, "they are already near and dear to my heart."

"And then we shan't keep them waiting any longer," she smiled, holding out her hand to you and helping you out of your chair. You nodded as she looped her arm through yours, "but, and please don't take this as me telling you what to do, but perhaps you should consider going to the Maester, healer someone, now. You have nothing to hide anymore, and it would be good just to get a check up. Sweet girl, even if you have made it up that you do not want any of your own, it is important to take care of yourself as well.”

"Yes," you agreed with a small nod. She had a fair point after all...even if it wasn't to confirm if you could or couldn't have children, it would be a good idea just to have everything looked at. It couldn't hurt anything and if nothing else, it would put your mind at ease, "now, let's go and get dirty and plant some flowers!"

»»————-　♡　————-«

"What's on your mind?" Oberyn's arm found its way around your shoulders as you subconsciously leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. It was getting late, the sun had set and was replaced by the light glow of the moon and lanterns as everyone gathered in the gardens for dinner. The girls were long finished with dinner, running around and playing among themselves as everyone else engaged in jovial conversation.

"Nothing," you said softly, feeling your eyes growing heavier with each passing each second. It had been a long day and a belly full of wine and food wasn't helping either. You tried not to focus too much on the feeling of his fingers tracing soft patterns into your skin, sure that you would combust otherwise, "I was just thinking about how I don't want to leave."

"I feel the same way," he agreed quietly, "I'll miss these little hellions, but they'll be quite all right. It won't be months in between seeing them again."

"I should hope not," you agreed, looking up at him and grinning, wanting to say something else but were quickly stopped by a large yawn. He just chuckled lightly at you, those deep brown eyes watching you with what could only be described as adoration, "oops..."

"It's been a long day and we are departing in the early morrow," he reminded you, "perhaps we should get some sleep."

"Ever the voice of reason," you teased as he kissed your cheek. You reluctantly crawled out from under his arm, standing and stretching as he followed suit, "I suppose we should say our goodbyes now then? I wouldn’t want to wake them up so early, especially if we’re leaving before day break.”

“I think that’s the best idea as well,” he took your hand in his as he led you over to where all the girls were gathered. You could tell they were already getting tuckered out as well, especially Dorea and Loreza. The youngest ones were finding it harder and harder to keep their own eyes open as well.

"Papa!" Loreza exclaimed as soon as she spied Oberyn, stopping what she was doing and running over to him, throwing her little arms around him as tightly as she could. Before either of you could say anything, the small girl turned to you and hugged you just tightly, burrowing her little face into your skirts.

"What's wrong, sweetling?" you asked as you leaned down, gently tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ear. She always had a few tears welling up in her eyes as she frowned at you. Putting your own arms around her, you quickly hoisted her up and balanced her on your hip, "there's no reason to be upset, my love."

"I don't want you to leave," she pouted, her arms snaking around your neck as she held you close, "I'm going to miss you."

"I will miss you too, and so will your Papa," you promised her, "but you will only miss us for a day or so. You've got your Mama, and your sisters and everyone else here."

"Are we not fun enough for you anymore?" Obella teased her sister, laughing as she came over and gently perched a small flower crown on her head, "look I made a pretty crown! I should be your favorite sister...person ever!"

"What about me?" Dorea asked, jokingly glaring at her sister.

"I've got you covered," Elia sang as she joined you, placing a matching crown on her head. The older girls looked so pleased with themselves you couldn't help but smile. They'd become such a welcome part of your life, you really didn't want to say goodbye to them either; although Oberyn had already reminded you that it wasn't a goodbye, it was simply a see you soon.

"We'll miss you too," Elia promised looking between yourself and Oberyn, "who is going to spend their time helping me train? No one knows anything as much as Papa!"

"I think you know what you're doing," Oberyn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him and pressing a kiss to the side of her head, "the next time I see you're going to be even better than me."

"Never," Dorea giggled at her sister, shrieking slightly as Elia started to chase after her, eventually managing to catch up and gently tackle her in the soft grass, "no one is as good as Papa!"

"I will be even better," Elia tickled her, causing the younger girl to giggle wildly. You couldn't help but giggle yourself, watching the chaotic scene unfold in front of you. You were going to miss this - them. All of them, including Ellaria.

"Do you really have to leave?" Obella asked softly, looking at you with an expression that so much reminded you of her father, "you can't stay?"

"I'm sorry, my love," he pulled her in right and hugged her tightly, "but do not worry, our separation will only be brief this time."

"Promise?" Loreza mumbled half asleep against your shoulder. You kissed the side of your head and held her close. What you didn't notice was how intently your husband was watching you, his heart melting at the sight of you being so gentle with the small girl. Even if he wouldn't have admitted it, having you get along with his daughters was incredibly important to him. And seeing how well you had bonded with them had stirred something within him...something he couldn't quite explain. But the look of pure love and adoration on his face said it all to anyone who saw it.

"I promise, we both do," you insisted, looking at Oberyn who just only nodded in response, "once we return to Sunspear, you'll have to come and see us. We'll do lots of fun things and you can stay as long as you desire."

"Really?!" Obella's face lit up as you exchanged a quick look with Oberyn as the two of you nodded.

"I think all the excitement got to this one," you said softly, resting your head on top of Loreza's head. The youngest had fallen asleep in your arms, still hanging onto you for dear life. You turned to Oberyn and he rested his hand on your cheek, his thumb delicately swiping over the high point. You leaned into his touch, flourishing under the warm touch of his hand as you wished this moment would never end.

"She has been ready for bed for some time," Ellaria beamed at the two of you as she came over. She glanced at the small girl in your arms, unsure how you didn't see what a natural you were when it came to children. There was something in her that was positive you possessed a strong maternal instinct, no matter how much you had denied it, "Obella, get your sisters and head inside. It's time to get ready for bed."

"Mama..." she said softly before turning to look back at the two of you. Ellaria remained silent but raised her eyebrows and the young girl understood. She sighed lightly before tightly hugging her father, not letting go for a long time. You were sure you saw the gentle glisten of tears in his eyes as whispered soft reassurances into her ear. Once he let her go, she turned to you and hugged just as tightly. She turned to you with light sniffles and whispered, "bye...bye Papa."

She went and fetched her sisters, both of which were also reluctant to say their goodbyes, even if it was only for a short time. You almost wished you could have just told them it was all a joke and you were staying.

Once the older girls were inside, Ellaria gently took Loreza from you, holding the young girl in her arms. She took your hand in her free one and gave it a gentle squeeze, before doing the same to Oberyn.

“Thank you for coming,” she offered her former lover a fond smile as he nodded, his heart feeling both heavier than he would have liked and lighter than it had in some time. He was happy to have come, having been able to spend time with his daughters, his family, but sad to leave. It was never easy to part with them, any of them. Oberyn snaked an arm around your waist and held you close as you tried to blink back your tears, that familiar burning feeling already welling up, “and you as well, sweet one. Despite our initial bit of rocky start, I am glad we have become friends. You are always welcome in our home.”

“Thank you for everything,” you smiled at her, your eyes meeting her dark ones, a bit of unspoken understanding flitting between the two of you. Ellaria had helped you in more ways than you could count, and you were relieved that things had ended so differently than they started, “I’m sure we’ll be taking you up on the offer whenever possible.”

“Of course,” she was glad to hear it, “and I’ll be taking you up on your offer and shipping these little monsters out to you as soon as you’ll have them. Goodness knows I could use a break from them. Peace and quiet, can you imagine? It has been ages since I’ve experienced either.”

“The girls are always welcome,” Oberyn promised, “as are you, Ellaria. You know that.”

“I do,” she promised. You couldn’t help but yawn lightly as the evening had thoroughly worn you down. Oberyn nudged you lightly towards the house, slightly telling you to get inside and head to bed. Jokingly sticking out your tongue at him, you decided that his idea wasn’t half bad as a deep tiredness started to affect your whole body. You gave Ellaria a tight hug, making sure not to disturb Loreza before heading inside for bed, already missing her and all the girls. It was strange, but they had quickly become such a steadfast staple in your life, and you never wanted to know life without them again. 

Ellaria watched you go, a small smile on her face as she turned back to Oberyn. His eyes had been on you the entire time, which was most decidedly not lost on her. She leaned and kissed his cheek, reaching up and letting her linger on the side of his face, “you love her, you know.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered lamely, barely trying to hide the lie in his voice. She had him hook, line, and sinker, and he knew that she knew. Ellaria probably knew him better than even himself at times. She just raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled nervously, shrugging his shoulders, “maybe...I don’t know…”

“Perhaps you don’t,” she agreed with a self satisfied little smile, “but I do. Trust me, dear Oberyn. I can see it in you, and I can see it in her too. Give things time and trust me.”

“I’ve learned to trust you over the years, my dear,” he let out a small sigh, a mixture of content and almost fear. He hadn’t experienced any feelings like what he was currently going through for a long time, and if he was being honest, it was scary. Almost like an unknown abyss that he was plunging head first, and he had no clue what to expect at the bottom, “I suppose you are correct, and only time will tell.”

“She’s good for you,” Ellaria promised him, able to admit to herself that he seemed so lively, so happy with you in his life, “I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Don’t let her go. She has much to teach and you much to teach her. You will grow over the years together, just don’t...don’t think too much about it.”

“When is the last time I overthought anything?” he joked before they both burst into laughter.

“When isn’t?” she teased, “sometimes you don’t have to question everything so much, to analyze it so deeply. Sometimes you have to just let things be. And they will be okay; everything happens for a reason, after all. You were meant to find her and she was meant to find you as well. I know you don’t have much faith in anything, but just trust this.”

He found himself at a loss for words, swallowing the lump in his throat as he only nodded at her. Oberyn was a man of reason and logic; if he couldn’t explain it in tangible terms, he often didn’t believe it. But this? This strange attraction, perhaps even love as Ellaria had claimed, had come out of nowhere and so unexpectedly. He had fallen for you the way you fall asleep - slowly and then all at once.  Although, he supposed, if he was really as smart and keen as he thought he was, he would have realized that  something was bound to happen from the moment he laid eyes on you and almost felt his heart stop. He wondered if you felt the same, back then, or even now. He hoped you did; he hoped you were falling as hard for him as he was for you. 

“Come on,” Ellaria put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, pulling him back into reality and out of his little daydream, “let’s get inside. You need to rest, quiet your mind and body, before your early departure, and I need to get the girls to bed.”

“You always were the one to bring me back to reality,” he said softly as he took her hand, trailing a step just behind her. He was glad that they had reached this point in their relationship - no longer lovers, but friends, the best of friends. Oberyn knew he could never live a life without Ellaria, and now he knew he didn’t have to. It was like everything was slowly, and perfectly falling into place.

“I’ll always be here to catch you,” she promised him, “always.”

»»————-　♡　————-«

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, legs tucked under you as you skimmed a few pages of the book you were reading. It was one from Oberyn’s personal collection that you had thought to grab just before leaving to come to Hellholt. You weren’t completely invested in your reading on this particular evening, simply running over the words as you listened intently for Oberyn’s light tread. 

Eventually you ended up so preoccupied with trying to read, and the hundreds of thoughts in your mind that you completely missed the door opening and your husband stepping into the room.

“Hi,” he said softly as to not startle you, but it didn’t work. You almost dropped the book in surprise, but when you realized it was only him, you closed the book with a snap before turning to him. He was smiling at you, but you could tell there was something on his mind. A slight preoccupied look had crept into his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Oberyn?” you asked, standing up and walking over to him. He just shook his head lightly, watching you with the utmost softness before cradling your face in his hands. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he said nothing as he pressed his lips against yours, letting them linger there for a few moments. When he finally pulled away you just beamed at him, reminding him of just why you were his sunshine, “what was that for?”

“No reason,” he whispered, as you just lightly nudged him towards his bed. You sat back on the edge of yours, which happened to be across from his and watched him intently. He started to strip off his overcoat, followed by his tunic, leaving him in only his trousers. You tried not to stare, but it was hard not to let your eyes wander his body. His skin was sunkissed and golden, lightly freckled throughout, only a few scars marring what you considered perfection. Even with the scars, he was still beautiful, far more than any man you had ever seen before. He must have felt you staring because he turned around with a small, cheeky little smirk as he caught your eye, “what? Cat got your tongue?”

“N-no,” you lied as you felt a wave of warmth wash over you, almost embarrassed to have been caught staring. But this was your husband, you reminded yourself, you were allowed to look. He must have been something because just before he turned around to pull down his blankets, he shot you a wink. You burst into a fit of giggles at the gesture, the butterflies practically bursting in your stomach. 

Standing back up, you closed the door to the balcony, and blew out all the lanterns, save for the one near his bedside. Slowly shuffling towards it, you paused in front of it, trying to take one last good look at him before crawling back into your own bed. Putting your hand on the small table, you leaned down to blow out the flicker, but his large hand worked its way onto your wrist, his grip firm, but tender.

“Leave it,” he insisted in a low voice, barely loud enough for you to hear, almost as if he was unsure of himself, “it can burn itself out.”

“A-are you sure?” with your luck, you could imagine something going wrong and catching fire, “I don’t want to accidentally start a fire…”

“Positive,” he insisted, “that way I can look at you.”

“Oberyn,” his name fell off your lips in a shaky whisper as he let go of your wrist and slowly moved to the other side of the bed. He pulled the blankets back and slowly looked between you and the space he had created. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what was happening. Naturally, sharing the bed was something that had often crossed your mind, even more so lately with how much closer and closer you were slowly growing. It was bound to happen  at some point, but it still felt like a huge step, and your heart was racing so fast you were positive he could hear it.

Ever the good man that he was, Oberyn had left you with the choice. He would never, ever, force you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. But you wanted this, almost desperately so, and it often took up many of your thoughts as you fell asleep at night. To finally get to know what it felt like to lie in his arms? The thought alone was enough to make you burst with excitement. 

Nodding slowly, you brought your lightly trembling hands to the hollow of your throat, untying the bow that held together the light evening robe you had been sporting. You were wearing a very light nightgown underneath, a lovely shade of gold that was lacy in all the right places, and very sheer in others. It still left a little something to the imagination, but there were still nerves present as you let the robe softly drape into a pile on the floor. 

Pausing for a moment, you felt Oberyn’s eyes all over you, taking every little part of you. It didn’t make you feel shy though, and once you caught his eye, you could see that he was observing with nothing but reverence. 

“You are beautiful,” he said softly as you just shook your head, playing it off as you slowly climbed into the large plush bed. Once you were over your initial nerves, you laid down, relaxing and laying your head on one of the soft pillows. He reached down and pulled the blankets back up, helping to ward off the light chill of the cool evening breeze. Oberyn paused and gently touched your face, tracing over your features with a feather light touch, stopping when he reached your lips, “I mean it, sweet sunshine, you are beautiful, in every way.”

“Do you feel obligated to say that because I am your wife and we are sharing a bed?” you mused softly, “because if so, you are under no obligation to say anything. Or do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” he promised firmly, “I am many things, but I am not a liar. I have thought that since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Oh,” you felt warm all over, suddenly glad for only the light bit of illumination that the single lantern allowed, “I....I feel the same way.”

“You think you’re beautiful as well?” he joked lightly, dropping his hand from your face and slowly, gently, draping it over your waist, almost as if he was testing the waters to make sure you were okay with it. You didn’t stop him, melting under the feel of his touch, subconsciously scooting closer to him, “as you should.”

“You are a fool, Oberyn Martell,” you laughed, swatting lightly at his chest, letting your hand linger so you could touch as much of his skin as possible, “I do not think more highly of myself than I need to. But you? You are the most handsome Prince of all. The rumors did not do you justice, they never captured the full extent of your beauty and grace.”

“Now who is flattering who?” he asked as he pulled you closer, causing you to laugh, the sound already beloved by him, like sweet music reaching his ears. 

The two of you laid in silence for some time, watching each other with curious, inquisitive eyes, letting your hands roam, but keeping it sweet and pure. You would be lying to yourself if you said you said you hadn’t thought about this, about making love to him, many times before. But not tonight. No - this felt right. The rest would come later...there was no reason to rush anything. For now, this was perfect, this was everything.

You exchanged a few lazy, slow kisses as you felt your eyes and body getting heavier and heavier with sleep. Eventually, despite your best efforts, you fully succumbed to sleep, all the while Oberyn watched you with what could only be described as pure adoration. He pushed a few stray hairs off your face before pressing light butterfly kisses to your forehead, cheeks, nose, and stopping at your lips. You made a small sound, but your eyes remained closed as he pulled you against his chest, his arm wrapped tightly around you. 

Oberyn couldn’t even remember the last time he had been this happy, this content before. He closed his own eyes, letting out a small sigh as he realized how much his heart had been calling for this. How his soul had been searching for yours for so long. Now that he finally had it, he was never going to let go.

“Good night, sweet girl,” he whispered softly so only he could hear it, despite the fact that you were already fast asleep, “I love you.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only

[asset35-maya]

Reed900 meet-cute: disciplinary action (3/3)

“Be yourself.”

“What?”

“Just be yourself now.”

Gavin and Nines exchanged incredulous looks. They were approaching the end of the disciplinary workshop. Wasn’t the whole point to not be themselves?

Simon smiled in his usual mild manner. By now they had learnt it could only mean trouble.

“I’ve read your files. Neither of you know how to mince words. Neither of you are gentle.

Your Homicide colleagues consistently complain about your hostility and lack of respect, Detective Reed. And you, Agent Nines. You have a history of being rough with everyone you encounter on the field. Even civilians.

I can see you’ve both been on your best behaviour the past three days. Not sure who you’re trying to impress...”

Simon glanced between them, still smiling sweetly.

“But you can be yourself now.”

He took a step back and waved at the group to begin the last activity:

Jenga.

Giant Jenga.

Pairs vs pairs, with one person blindfolded and the other giving instructions.

Gavin groaned as they found themselves facing Allen and Sixty. The two grinned back, well aware of their competitive advantage. Who could be better coordinated than two SWAT teammates turned lovers?

Definitely not Gavin and Nines.

After a twisted ankle and three fallen jenga towers, Gavin ripped off his blindfold and rounded on Nines. 

“Your directions suck.”

“My directions are fine. It’s not my fault you can’t comprehend them.”

“It’s literally your fault I’m picking the wrong blocks!”

“My communications modules are the most advanced-”

“Shut up and switch with me. I’ll give the instructions. I outrank you anyway.”

Nines took the blindfold coolly.

“I don’t need your instructions. My perception and cognition software is more than enough.”

He shoved past Gavin to get to the tower of blocks. Sixty was waiting for him, smirking.

Nines proceeded to ignore all of Gavin’s barked commands… and fared just as badly as the human had. When their opponents decided to indulge in a makeout session after a particularly spectacular collapse, Nines faced him angrily.

“Stop distracting me!”

“Not that advanced, huh? This is why you should listen to your superiors.”

“Superior? How insecure do you have to be to pull rank in the middle of a bar game?”

Easily inflamed as ever, Gavin barged up to the android.

“The fuck you say to me, plastic? INSECURE? I’ll show you insecure!”

Nines’ LED went bright red. He put his hands on Gavin’s chest and shoved the human out of his personal space.

A scuffle began.

A much needed adrenaline surge after three days of inane indoor activities.

An outlet.

An irrational sense of relief.

A heavy blow to a steel midsection. An uppercut that only narrowly missed a jaw that was broken twice before. A mechanical hand catching a calloused fist.

It ended with Gavin pinned to a wall. There was silence as the other cops stopped tinkering with their block towers. Allen sat down with a sigh and Sixty climbed into his lap to watch the fun.

“Whatcha gonna do, big guy? Snap my neck? They’ll have you shut down in no time.”

There was only a deep growl in response. Gavin struggled against the iron grip.

“That all you got? Try showing off with something you weren’t built with!”

Nines released him immediately and slackened against the wall beside him. He stared at his own hands in shock.

With the return of blood flow to his wrists, Gavin released that he had just put himself in very grave danger. For the second time in his stupid life, he had tried to fight a military grade android. His head suddenly felt sore where Connor had given him a concussion a year ago. It started to sink in that his volatility was a serious problem. He was a danger to himself. Feeling faint, Gavin leaned against the wall.

LED spinning a calm blue, Simon strolled over from where he had been mentoring another group.

“Oh good. That’s what I was waiting for.”

The two merely looked at the blond android, eyes unfocused, chests heaving.

“I honestly thought the SWAT lovebirds would be the pair to implode first, but no matter, this is still a teachable moment. Gather round, everyone.”

The others approached cautiously. The pair looked like they would relapse into violence any second.

“You must have all realised that my activities have little material value themselves. You must be wondering what any part of my workshop has to do with police discipline… Allow me to explain.

Day One served to profile each officer beyond the complaints made against them. I then matched pairs based on the closest personality dysfunctions. Day Two was used to build a working relationship within each pair, and Day Three, today, was the stress test. The intent… was definitely to give everyone a taste of their own medicine… but also to let you all see how exactly your toxic behaviours could have developed… using your partner as a mirror.

Detective Reed and Agent Nines. Let’s unpack what happened here. You’ve gotten to know each other fairly well by now. You recognise each other’s competence and drive. You’ve shared laughs at other people’s expense. You even empathise with each other’s seeming lack of emotional intelligence. I think you might even have taken a liking to each other, no?”

Gavin and Nines chanced a glance at each other. There was a mutual feeling of foolishness. Simon went on.

“You both were on your best behaviour… until you succumbed to your superiority complexes and quick tempers. The only thing different from what usually happens at work was the person on the receiving end. This time, it was someone who could take it… and maybe even someone who deserved it. Detective, it’s been long since someone gave back insults as good your own, no? And Agent Nines, isn’t this is the first time a human has even tried to resist your use of force?”

Sixty had stopped listening and was trying to move Allen’s attention back to himself. The older man had the audacity to shush the android in his lap… and then the second squabble of the day begun. Simon smiled indulgently and held up a finger.

“I’ll be with you two in a moment, gentlemen. Let me wrap things up for this pair.

My point to the both of you is… you might go around thinking you’re the big bad wolf, but there’s always another wolf just around the corner. He might even be bigger. So there’s no pride to be taken in putting down the sheep around you. It’s embarrassing, really. So stop it. My sincere hope is that you will both remember what happened here the next time an impulse to terrorise an innocent colleague arises.

But if you simply must be a wolf… I suggest that you find your pack, for a lone wolf is a danger to himself and everyone around.”

Simon turned away and reached for Sixty’s hand to interface. He then began to break down the reasons for the mutual over-dependence between the SWAT android and his captain.

Gavin and Nines remained slumped against the wall. Even the RK900 seemed exhausted after the emotional rollercoaster they’d been on… from irritation and anger, to shock and bewilderment. Several moments passed and then Gavin suddenly reached within his jacket pocket and produced his phone. He held it out sideways to Nines.

“What?”

“He said to form a pack.”

Nines hesitated, but then quickly touched a finger to the device. Gavin glanced down at the new contact. It was saved as “Alpha 9Z”.

He looked up with a half-smirk, half-snarl on his face and found the same expression mirrored on the android’s face.

#reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #fic post #dbh #dbh simon #Reed900 disciplinary action AU

[percywinchester27]

La Petite Mort

Word count: 2.1K

Pairing: Dean X Reader AU

Warnings: None, just fluff, humour and implied sex ;)

Series Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?  

A/N: It’s a neighbours!AU. I’m finally writing one. So excited to share it with you guys. Hope y’all like it! <3

Beta: The best babe, @deanssweetheart23​​​​​

Everything was fine till the banging started. Pun very much intended.

The shift had been smooth, the job was going great and life was finally on track. You had slid under the covers with the most satisfied smile in years only to be woken up to a lady very, very, very happy with her life.

Oh yeah… oh yeah… ahhh right there… oh fuck yeah…

You sat up right in your bed, eyes wide, face hot.

Third night in a row. Third fucking night. Literally.

What in the good heavens? The landlady might have mentioned this while renting out the flat!

Shoving the pillow over your ears, you fell back onto the mattress, closing your eyes shut very tightly. Eventually sleep overtook you and you lapsed into lousy dreams of trying to catch the taxi which kept evading you. Not a metaphor for your sex life at all. Nope.

The disturbed sleep didn’t help your mood the following day. Everyone at the office thought of you as a happy-go lucky person. Lately, they were seeing this whole new dark side of you. Sleep was essential to your functioning. 

In the evening, on your way back, you stopped by the coffee shop downstairs to pick up a brownie. It was a little place; busy yet quaint. The barista, Charlie, made two hearts in your coffee instead of one. That put the biggest smile on your face. 

At least, the day was ending on a high note.

Your newly rented flat was on the third floor of a very complicated building. One staircase did not directly lead into another. An entire hallway had to be crossed to get to it. The design probably broke a hundred different by laws and someone was definitely paid off in the city civil office to get a construction permit. You did not want to imagine how the people would fare in case of a fire emergency. Learning the escape plan was like memorising the map of a treasure hunt. You escape, you win. You lose… whoops! Better luck in next life. But the rent was cheap and you were already living all the clichés of a struggling writer- one incomplete book, a job at a publishing house and addiction to coffee. So, yes, you would brave fire when it came to being able to afford a living.

Struggling with the brownie package and the coffee in your hand you jammed the key into the door. It didn’t go in. 

What the hell?

You tried again, and once more the key got jammed. On a closer look, you realised that the lock didn’t resemble yours at all. Stepping back, you peered at the door. 307. Not 306- which was yours.

The floor design was insane and instead of the flats being lined up next to each other, they were all fronting one another in a haphazard fashion. Shaking your head, you took a step back and jammed the key into the lock of your own flat.

Jesus! You’re losing it, Y/N.

Shirking off the mild irritation, you cooked yourself a hot cup of instant noodles, put on your favourite TV show and slinked into your couch. Tonight’s episode was going to reveal who the murderer was and you had been dying for the suspense to finally end. 

Just when the protagonist was about to point a gun at the killer in the shadows…

Oh my God... you’re incredible… aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh…

You completely abandoned the TV and jumped up from the sofa. The fire hazard might still be worth it, but the thin walls so weren’t.

On tiptoes, you made your way to the east side wall, putting your ear against it. The noise wasn’t coming from upstairs. That was the only sure thing. But it was impossible to pinpoint the direction. The moans were reverberating through the walls. So loudly that there was no escaping it. Not in the bedroom, the kitchen or the living room sofa. 

Of all of them, the east wall seemed like the culprit. 

Right there… yeah…

307. Whoever it was in that room needed to calm the FUCK down. You grabbed your blanket and dragged it to the end of the living room, fuming. What ticked you off was how much this was ticking you off.

It’s sleep you told yourself. The lack of sleep was the only thing making you mad. The sex noises couldn’t be it. Because there were other noises- a dog barked somewhere occasionally, one of the rooms had a very loud stereo and someone was too much into baking- the beater was ceaseless. No, it had to be the timing and your wrecked sleep schedule.

Just like the nights before, you covered your ears and started reciting the story of the manuscript you had been reading at work. Eventually, sleep overtook you again.

The next morning you woke up in a crappier mood. If that was even possible.

Breathing down on anything and everything, you locked the door on your way out for work. Turning into the corridor, you ran into a wall of solid flesh. 

In your groggy, sleep deprived state, the first thing you noticed was the way he smelled- leather and whiskey and something headier than that. It was divine. Next, you looked up into those eyes- stunning green, like sparkling water running over jade.

“Easy there, sweetheart!” The guy smirked. 

You straightened yourself and took a step back. In front of you stood the most handsome guy you had ever seen. He was tall, with dirty blond hair, almost brown, and those stunning eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You had one of those dumb faces that gave away every damn thought crossing through your brain, so obviously you tried your best not to meet his gaze. Which was a shame really. That face demanded to be ogled at. Let alone the body that followed.

“No, no… I didn’t mind at all.” 

You saw him reach out to the door of 307.

“You’re the one who lives there?” You asked through gritted teeth. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You want a tour?”

Uhgg the best looking guy and he has to be such a douche!

Slipping past him, you stomped off towards the stairs. This too-good-looking-for-the-world asshat had been ruining your nights and in turn your life. 

You knew it was wrong to be mad at him without, at least, talking about the issue first. A polite conversation explaining your situation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world now, would it? But how does one start a conversation pertaining to that? After all, he wasn’t exactly the one making the noise. What would you say?

So, hey would you mind pleasuring your girlfriend a little less? 

Or better. Ever heard of a ball gag?

Mere thought of it made you shudder.

The work day was spent trying to shove your neighbour's stupidly handsome face out of your mind. It didn’t help that your mother kept calling, repeatedly. You knew what she had to say. How you should have taken that bigger job at Royal’s publishing. How the writing career might never take off. How you really should get a boyfriend now, or you’ll be the only unmarried cousin in the family.

Usually you could entertain your mother with well-timed hmms and ahhs. Today wasn’t that day.

Bone-tired and absentminded, you jammed the key in the keyhole in the evening, only for it to get stuck again. You looked up at the door. 307.

Well, shit!

Putting both your hands into it, you yanked the key with all your might, just as the door opened. There he stood, with his crooked smirk, dimples digging in, wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and sweatpants that hung all too low on those hips.

“You don’t need to break into my house. I already offered a tour.” Of course, god gave him an irresistible voice. Cause at this point, why not?

“Sorry,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I keep getting the wrong door. This one’s mine.”

“Oh, so you’re the one in 306!” You could feel his smirk more than see it. “Looks like you’re having a good ol’ time in there.”

“Excuse me?”

The guy raised scratched the back of his neck, face apologetic. “You might… ya know… just keep the voice down in there?”

The audacity of this guy!

“Rich of you to ask anyone to keep it down!” You hissed. “Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to keep it low?” 

With that, you shut your door in his surprised face. The worst part was, after bumping into him in the morning, your mind was producing distinct images of him in the bed, doing things to a woman. You had tried your best not to let them make a home in your head. But like a stickly tenant, they refused to evacuate. No wonder it was hard to look him in those brilliant, brilliant green eyes. The guy was hot! There was no denying that. You weren’t even willing to accept to yourself just how much time you had put into imagining him naked.

If anything, the denial mixed with your pre-existing irritation and sleep deprivation had you ready tonight. 

So the moment the enamoured voice started begging, you hopped out of your chair. You had every intention of yelling yourself hoarse at the delectable resident next door, but the moment you stepped into the corridor, you came face to face with the very man. 

He was- thankfully, completely clothed- looking a bit harassed, himself.

aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh… right there...

Your head whipped up to the suspected direction of the voice, and back at him. “Wait, you aren’t… it’s not...?”

His face mirrored your expression of surprise and then he burst out laughing. “Looks like we’ve both been played.”

“Not intentionally,” you said, peering at the adjacent doors, mostly to not look at him. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”

He shot a glance at the door opposite to his. “If it’s not you, my best guess is that guy over there. I mean, if you ask me, Nick over there doesn’t look the type to make a woman that happy… but what do I know?”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” you said, taking a tentative step towards the said door.

Mr. hot guy smartpants laughed. “Oh, trust me. He’s the douchiest douche you’ll ever meet. Guy like that? Definitely selfish in bed.”

You frowned at him.

“He asks women in the street to smile more,” hot guy explained.

“Uhhgg… yeah you’re right. It’s definitely not him.”

Hot guy pointed his fingers at the rest of the doors. “That one’s rented by three guys. I don’t think it’s them. Mrs. Hendrickson over there works night shifts. I have no clue who lives in there,” he pointed to the last door, directly in front of you.

Goodness you’re amazing...

“Yes, lady, we already know!” He called out.

You couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

His eyes softened. “Dean Winchester,” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, taking his. He had a firm grip. A very funny sensation gripped your stomach. Like a flutter. Nervousness? 

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” He smirked. “I sure wish the circumstances were better.”

You bit your lip. “Listen, I’m sorry for the comment about your girlfriend. I was just mad about, you know... “

“Don’t worry about it. My non-existent girlfriend is very cool. She took no offense.”

You snorted.

“I was dead serious about the house tour,” He winked. “I can promise great coffee.”

“Sure, sometime soon.”

He shot a look at the door with the unknown occupants again. “I hate to leave this here, but I think we should get whatever kind of shuteye we can while they’re quiet over there, huh?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hurried back to your flat. “Night, Dean.”

He gave you his crooked grin again, just a hint of mischief. “Night, Y/N.”

You knew it wasn’t him now, and he was right about making the most of the quiet and fucking off to sleep, and yet, each time you closed your eyes, your mind decided to replay your imaginations for you. With a start, you sat up in your bed, a thought occurring to you like a hit on the head- If you had been thinking about him that way? Had he been imagining you as well?

Blood rushed to your face at the very idea. Though a tiny part of you begged for the answer- would it be such a bad thing if he had?

*********************

A/N 2: So? So? SO??? What do you think?

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[moonbeambucky]

Friday Night Fights

Pairing: Wrestler!Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU] Word Count: 5948 Warnings: action, fluff

Summary: A night at a wrestling show proves more than you may be able to handle.

A/N: I’m so excited because I haven’t seen this before and I’m really, really happy with how it turned out! Thank you to my pizza love @all1e23​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated! gif source (x)

It was early in the evening but the sky showed otherwise. Its pitch black blanket draped the world in darkness; a consequence of winter where night rolls over earlier as the days go on. Y/N is huddled together with her friend Wanda, teeth chattering as they brace for a gust of wind, the kind that’s so cold the icy breeze burns your face. They’re standing in a line that wraps around the block, hearing the excited chants from people all around them. Some are a little louder than others and Y/N suspects a few have been keeping warm thanks to those beers wrapped in paper bags. While she was too cold to physically show how excited she was, inside she was thrilled. It was the first Friday of the month and Y/N was spending it the way she’s spent all of them over the past year, front row at a local wrestling show.

MWF had been running monthly shows for a few years now but it wasn’t until Wanda’s brother Pietro begged them to come with him that she was hooked. It was so much fun to watch the athletic matches and even though there were some storylines that bordered on ridiculous they were a lot of fun. Y/N can honestly say she’s never laughed harder than watching a man named Doctor Doom wrestle The Invisible Woman. He was so convincing in kicking his own ass she was almost positive he really was in a match against a woman that no one could see.

Tonight was different though; Y/N and Wanda were alone, waiting to get inside the venue without Pietro because he was making his debut! He caught the wrestling bug from the moment they all went to a show and after speaking with some of the wrestlers he found a local school and started training. Things were rough, as Y/N remembered the day after his first lesson, Pietro was so sore he couldn’t even get off the couch of the apartment they all shared. As his training continued so did his injuries; his body was covered in bruises from all moves he was learning but he didn’t care. Pietro loved it so much and eventually his body got used to the new brand of workouts he was putting it through.

While he was training Pietro still went to shows with Y/N and Wanda but now things were different. He was on hand to help set up the ring during the day, staying after the show to help break it down and pack it in the truck. He no longer viewed each match through the eyes of a fan but as a student, carefully studying each move and the story the wrestlers were telling. Watching them interact with the crowd made him hopeful, imagining himself in that ring one day with a crowd of people cheering for him. That day had finally come.

The show wouldn’t start for another half hour at least so Y/N and Wanda went to the line for refreshments, saying hello to a few people along the way. They had grown familiar with some of the crowd, seeing familiar faces that were also dedicated fans. Besides the regulars there were always new people, fathers with their young children either using this as a replacement for expensive WWE shows or just bonding over more wrestling in their lives. It was always a treat to watch the kids yell at the bad guys as they walked around the ring, pointing fingers in their face before recoiling back with fear if they were snarled at.

There were a lot of women there too, some older ones where it was clear they had grown up watching classic wrestling. Sometimes it was obvious that they were there to meet their favorite stars from the past. Usually the shows had one match that featured someone that used to be really popular. They were older now, a little slower but still put on an entertaining match. During intermission they would sell signed 8x10 pictures from a table off to the side. It isn’t anything compared to the money they used to make but it’s something of a living, and taking a selfie with their fans makes everyone happy.

Other women filled the crowds, young ones that hoped to get in the ring themselves one day or those who were only there to support their boyfriends or other friends who were in the show. You could always tell who was there to support who, watching their disinterested face lift up from the phone it’s been glued to all night to cheer for someone, and once the match was over you could see how quickly they got back to their phone, furiously texting away probably asking when they could finally leave.

After the shows some kids would wait around hoping to meet their favorite wrestler, full of nervous joy as they took a picture with them. It wasn’t always the kids who were anxious to meet someone, a lot of times there would be some women blatantly flirting with some of them. Y/N’s seen a few wrestlers take someone by the hand, pulling them behind the curtain to get lost for a few minutes. As long as everything was consensual there was no issue with it though she couldn’t help but grimace as she watched it happen unbeknownst to that wrestler's girlfriend hanging around and waiting for him to leave the locker room.

Pietro always told her not to say anything. “Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.” It’s a lesson he learned the hard way after confronting someone about cheating on their girlfriend. They took it out on him during training, leaving a red handprint shaped welt on his chest for days for not minding his business. This was not a side of wrestling that any of them liked.

Making their way to their seats they were taken aback by the presence of the large ring assembled in the center of the room. It was always a beautiful sight and being there felt like home. The cold metal chairs brought comfort, the bright fluorescents that shined down on them from the vaulted ceiling brought warmth like a cozy fireplace. This was more than something to do on a Friday night; it was tradition, creating new memories with every show.

Y/N took off her jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. “Do you like it?” she said, turning to Wanda, proudly showing off her sweatshirt.

The bright blue fabric was eye catching but the design on the front really stood out. It was the symbol for a wrestler that everyone knew was her favorite; red and white circles surrounding a bright white star in the center meant for “Captain America” Steve Rogers, the current MWF heavyweight champion. He was a blue eyed, blond haired, six foot wall of pure muscle with the sweetest baby face she’d ever seen.

Steve was enthralling. Women would scream extra loud as they ogled him (those tights don’t leave much to the imagination) and kids would jump up and down cheering as he gave each and every one a high five. Steve was an all American wrestler, a good-hearted person who believed in clean matches and rushed out from the back to help others if their own opponents were cheating to win. And lately he’s been coming out a lot.

There was a faction known as Hydra that Steve has been feuding with for some time now. A man named Red Skull, whose face was painted to look like one, served as their leader, standing ringside as his assets would fight their way to the top for a shot at the championship. For a while he pushed Crossbones, a real sleazy villain that took cheap shots at the audience, sneering at them as he told them how lucky they were to be in the presence of his greatness. Steve had many fights against Crossbones but he wasn’t alone.

Steve used to be a tag team, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, the Howling Commandos, brothers in arms that were the reigning tag team champions. Fans adored them, cheering as they took on Crossbones and his partner Baron Zemo. One night Steve held up his belt over his head, rejoicing in another win for himself and Bucky, proudly showing it off to the crowd and never expecting what happened next.

A vicious blow knocked him to the mat, the belt dropped from his hands. Confused, Steve tried to get up but a heavy boot kicked him back down. He wondered who was attacking him and if Bucky was faring better than he was, that is until he was able to turn around. Bucky was standing over him, his foot kicking Steve in the ribs. He groaned in pain, his body feeling the agony of the attack but his mind suffered more. “Buck, why?” But Steve never got an answer.

Bucky grabbed his head, forcing him to his feet but Steve fought back to defend himself. He blocked one punch but not the next two blows that came out of nowhere; a swift kick to the stomach from Zemo that sent him right into another strike from Crossbones across his back.

Steve wobbled to his knees disoriented and Bucky took advantage of his former friend’s weakened state. Bucky pulled Steve by the top of his tights setting him bent over between his legs. He smirked feeling his attempt to find the strength to fight back, clawing at Bucky’s thighs to break free. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and with all his might he hoisted him up, flipping Steve’s body up quickly so his legs were straddling Bucky’s head and just as fast he used all his force to slam Steve’s back down onto the mat.

Bucky got up, laughing as he stared at Steve laid out in the ring, joining Crossbones and Baron Zemo as the newest member of Hydra as the crowd roared with anger. Ever since that day Steve has been facing Bucky Barnes now known as The Winter Soldier– an enemy with the face of a friend.

The main event tonight was Steve against the Winter Soldier who was fighting for a shot at the title. Everyone was excited. Y/N wasn’t the only one in a Captain America shirt although some people in the audience smudged black paint around their eyes, emulating their new favorite villain to show their support.

The Winter Soldier had become an intimidating figure, wearing a black mask that covered the bottom half of his face, piercing blue eyes stood out against the smear of black war paint. His left arm was wrapped in silver electrical tape from his wrist and up his forearm, the sections making it look like his arm was replaced by metal plates. A final piece was taped just above his bicep as if to show off the prominent muscle.

He traded bright blue tights for a dark black fabric with a jarring red star on his thigh. It was like he had it just to taunt Steve, showing him he remembered his roots and all the years they spent together as a team but now he no longer cared, twisting the image of a patriotic star for one that was blood red, dripping with the hate that fueled him.

Like everyone else, Y/N couldn’t wait for that match but first the show had to begin. A man walked out from the curtain to a roar of cheers. He was an older man with grey hair that bordered on silver and bright teeth that flashed against tanned skin. He entered the ring with all eyes on him, partially because of his striking gold jacket, beneath it an even bolder red tie that stood out against a bright cobalt blue shirt.

Bringing a microphone to his mouth he spoke, “Welcome to the Marvel Wrestling Federation. I am your host, the Grandmaster!” The Grandmaster smirked, taking in their enthusiasm. The crowd was pumped and he knew it was going to be a great night. “Please welcome your referee for the night Phillip Coulson!”

“COUL-SON! COUL-SON! COUL-SON!” The crowd cheered as a man in a striped shirt entered the ring, a modest smile spreading across his thin lips.

With that the first match of the night began but Wanda could hardly pay attention. Pietro had texted her saying he was going to be in the second match and her leg bounced nervously. She vacillated between feeling excited and nervous, wanting to cheer on her brother for his debut but in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but fear for his safety.

Sure, Pietro had been training for a while but that didn’t mean that things couldn’t go wrong. Y/N looked over at Wanda, taking her hand and squeezing it, hoping to provide some comfort to her, realizing how hard Wanda was squeezing her own hand back as the first match ended.

“Making his debut, all the way from Sokovia, here is Quicksilver!” the Grandmaster’s voice boomed as music hit, and suddenly a figure raced out from the curtains to the sound of fast paced music.

Y/N and Wanda shot up to cheer for him, proudly screaming as he ran around the outside of the ring, slapping hands with everyone before he jumped up on the apron. Stepping inside the ring he went to the corner, standing on the middle ropes as he raised his arms up, smiling at the crowd.

He looked incredible. Neither of them had seen his outfit, ombre blue pants with a white lightning bolt going down the side of his leg. His white boots shined brightly, their luster not yet marred by the history of a long career. His chest was bare and though he was not as tanned as some other wrestlers he still very much looked the part with bright blue elbow pads on his arms. He winked towards Y/N and Wanda, who was filled with nervous energy she could barely hold her phone steady to record his match.

“And his opponent, from Queens, New York he is the amazing Spider-Man!”

Everyone jumped up from their seats to cheer for a masked wrestler who was always a crowd favorite. He was a few inches shorter than Pietro but much slimmer, wearing a full body spandex suit in red and blue with a webbed designed all over it and a small black spider in the center of his chest. His eyes were blocked by a white mesh surrounded by black trim but somehow you could see the expression in them.

Pietro began clapping his hands, a rhythmic beat for the crowd to join in as he and Spider-Man circled each other in the ring. Once they began both men showed off their skill of high flying moves and near pinfalls for each of them with nonstop action throughout and the crowd loved it. Wanda’s smile was stretched proudly across her face as she watched her brother. The match was over before anyone wanted it to be, with Spider-Man climbing to the top turnbuckle and doing a backflip splash onto Pietro for the three count.

Ref Coulson raised Spider-Man’s hand in victory but he quickly went to his opponent and helped him to his feet. Pietro was half-keeled over with one arm across his stomach, feeling the pain from where all of Spider-Man’s weight had landed. Spider-Man took Pietro’s hand, celebrating Quicksilver as a mutually respected opponent.

Wanda and Y/N stood up and cheered loudly, sitting down again once Pietro had gone back through the curtain.

“He was incredible! Did you see that? My. Brother. Did. That!” Wanda exclaimed.

Y/N was just as proud of him, knowing how hard Pietro trained. His first match was a great success and she hoped it would be the start to an incredible career.

The next match saw Quake take on Black Widow, another member of Hydra. She was a short redhead but her opponents should know not to be intimidated by her size. Though she was a strong fighter Black Widow was also conniving, cheating to win whenever it seemed victory was just out of reach.

She walked around the ring with a slow stride, ignoring the boos and comments from the crowd. As she was approaching Y/N she noticed the Captain America shirt she was wearing and her red lips pulled into a disgusted scoff. Black Widow snarled at Y/N, unable to bear the mere sight of her enemy’s symbol.

As soon as the match began the crowd was behind Quake all the way which only seemed to upset Black Widow more, anger that she held firmly inside. She launched a vicious attack, raking Quake in the eyes to impair her vision as she tried to pin her right away. Quake kicked out, and after a lot of back and forth it seemed like Quake was finally getting the upper hand.

Not wanting to lose Black Widow found the strength to stop herself from being thrown into the corner, reversing the move and whipping Quake right into Ref Coulson who dropped to the mat in pain. With Quake and the referee both down Black Widow smirked, using this opportunity to slip out of the ring and grab a metal chair.

Black Widow raised the chair above her hands, about to slam it down onto Quake before she noticed from the corner of her eye that Ref Coulson was using the ropes to ease himself up. Not wanting to be caught, she slammed the chair down onto the mat. The sound alerted Quake who turned around and just as quickly Black Widow threw the chair to Quake and fell down onto the mat. Ref Coulson turned around and was stunned to see Quake holding the chair above her opponent. He refused to listen to her protests as she was caught red handed, signaling to the announcers to end the match and the bell rang.

The Grandmaster’s voice echoed through the room, “The winner of this match as a result of a disqualification, Black Widow!”

The crowd booed as Quake continued to argue with the referee. He helped Black Widow up from the mat, unable to see the wicked grin that spread across her face. Her expression was one Y/N saw again that night as Crossbones and Zemo fought against Falcon and Hawkeye but unlike Black Widow, their opponents would not fall for Hydra’s tricks.

Hawkeye spotted Zemo hiding by the apron of the ring, trying to hold Falcon’s foot down so he couldn’t kick out as Crossbones attempted to pin him. Racing towards him, Hawkeye speared Zemo into the guardrails, knocking him out. Crossbones and Falcon were trading punches and Falcon was stumbling in the center of the ring. Crossbones began to climb to the top rope, setting himself up to jump off and hit his signature move, the Strike Force.

Seeing this Hawkeye jumped to the apron, knocking into Crossbones who landed crotch first into the turnbuckle, letting out a painful groan. Hawkeye called out for Falcon who turned around, and both men climbed to the top rope, lifting Crossbones to a standing position as they threw his arms over theirs.

This was their finishing move, the Birds of a Feather, as Falcon and Hawkeye did a simultaneous backflip off the top rope, while holding Crossbones who flipped along with them, slamming furiously onto the mat. Thunderous applause carried through the room as the referee counted to three and Falcon and Hawkeye remained the MWF tag team champions.

There were so many other matches that kept Y/N and Wanda entertained, like Thor against his brother Loki, the two having their own long standing feud but now it was time for the final match and Y/N was full of anticipation.

The Grandmaster stood in the center of the ring again, commanding the microphone as he spoke to the crowd. “Wow, what a show, what a night! And now, without further ado… it’s main event time! Making his way to the ring at 240 pounds he is the fist of Hydra, The Winter Soldier!”

The faint sound of music is heard over the crowd, like a scream heard underwater. The tension builds with a growing hum, the cry is louder yet different, mechanized, like someone is trapped inside a machine. A motorcycle hums, revving its engine, racing louder and louder until a crash of metal clangs.

At the height of tension the Winter Soldier takes a solid step through the curtain as the haunting scream blares out. It’s as if the person he used to be was still inside, Bucky Barnes, Howling Commando, friend to Steve Rogers, trapped inside the shell of a brainwashed assassin, scratching at the walls and screaming to free himself. But the Winter Soldier is nothing like Bucky Barnes.

His movements are deliberate and slow as he stalks the ring. Blue eyes visible through the darkness of black around them. They speak volumes with every glare as he makes his way around the ring. Kids who are brave enough scream at him but the Winter Soldier doesn’t react. He’s cold, devoid of emotion, as mechanic as the sounds of his entrance music. Y/N does see something in his eyes, the subtle squint as he sees her Captain America shirt. She, like many others, boo him as he passes by.

Not everyone hates the Winter Soldier though; he has his own fan base that doesn’t care about what side of good he’s on. Y/N can hear the difference in the tone of their screams, lascivious howls as he steps in the ring. They cry out as he undoes the buckles of his leather jacket to reveal a broad chest and she wouldn’t be surprised if they had dollars ready in between their fingers to stuff down his pants. His hair is dark and stringy, falling just on top of his muscular shoulders. He removes his muzzle, rolling his neck from side to side as he awaits his foe.

“From Brooklyn, New York, weighing in at 225 pounds, he is your Heavyweight Champion, Captain America, Steve Rogers!”

Patriotic horns blare along with rhythmic percussion, building triumphantly until Captain America pops through the curtain to a clamor of cheers. The belt shines brightly around his waist as he takes a second to pose, hooking his thumbs into the top, proud to be the champion.

Y/N stands up, cupping her hands around her mouth to amplify the sound of her cheers making them rise above the rest. Steve was slapping hands with a group of children but he heard her, his boyish smile growing as he turned to see her in the front row wearing his symbol.

As Steve approached Y/N he took her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it that set her cheeks on fire. She sat down giggling in her seat with Wanda, hardly able to look at Steve anymore even though she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Her breath got caught in her chest for a moment as the Winter Soldier glared in her direction. She swallowed the hard lump in her chest uncomfortably, feeling on edge by the intensity of his stare.

The Grandmaster leaves the ring as Ref Coulson pats down the legs of both men to make sure none of them have any weapons. Steve would never but you can’t put anything past Hydra. The bell rings and the match begins, both men circling each other. Steve puts his hand out to shake, an honorable sign of respect he shows towards all of his opponents but his former friend roughly slaps it away. The Winter Soldier lunges towards Steve to spear him to the ground, unleashing an assault of vicious punches to the champion.

Steve blocked what he could but it seems like the Winter Soldier is on a mission to take him out. Steve is able to push him off, rolling over to try and stand but his opponent is on his feet first The Winter Soldier grabbed Steve and squeezed him into a headlock, tightening his grip as Steve hissed. Steve tried to get out of the hold, clawing and punching his way to get the man who used to be Bucky to release it. Instead he bends his knees and gets his arms under the Winter Soldier’s thighs, with all of his strength Steve flipped him over his shoulder but the reprieve did not last long.

Just as quickly he was attacked again but Steve grabbed the Soldier’s hand, whipping him into the ropes. As the Winter Soldier ran back towards Steve he was caught with the strong force of Steve’s drop kick that sent him to the mat. Steve went to cover him for the pin but the Soldier kicked out. The match had everyone on edge, back and forth as they traded powerful moves until both men were laid out in the ring.

“Come on Steve!” Y/N shouted.

He was dazed, trying to get up as the ref began a countdown from ten. He slapped the mat with his palm slowly and the crowd joined him; slow claps that built with speed, encouraging Steve to get to his feet. The Winter Soldier stood before Steve did so he grabbed him by the back of the head, slamming his face into the turnbuckles. The Winter Soldier set Steve up in the corner, slapping his chest with a violent thwack. Steve screamed in pain, the sting burning his skin.

The Soldier slapped him two more times before he grabbed him by the hand and violently threw him into the other corner. Steve’s back hit the turnbuckle and he groaned in pain. The Winter Soldier ran towards him but at the last second Steve lifted his foot to kick him in the face. The Soldier stumbled and Steve hoisted himself up to the middle rope, jumping off and locking his arms around the Winter Soldier's head; the momentum allowed him to swing his body around and as Steve landed on his back the Winter Soldier was stunned from the impact of the top of his head being driven into the mat.

Steve goes for the cover but the Soldier just barely kicks out. The crowd groans in frustration with Steve who gets up. With the Winter Soldier still down Steve gets up, he leaps to the center of the ropes, springboards off the top rope and does a back flip. It’s the Star Spangled Splash and the crowd goes wild as Steve crashes down on the Winter Soldier. He goes for the cover again, the referee counts, one, two, thr– The Winter Soldier kicks out at the last second.

Frustration washes over an exhausted Steve. He grabs the Winter Soldier by the hair to get him to his feet. Steve gets the Soldier in a front facing headlock and tosses his left arm over his own neck. He hooks his own arm behind the Soldier’s left leg, cradling the Winter Soldier against him. His hold is locked tight and then Steve throws himself backwards, tossing the Winter Soldier over his head. He’s pinned to the mat, his head and leg still locked in Steve’s clutches, and Steve does a bridge to add more pressure to the hold.

Steve is waiting, holding the Winter Soldier down expecting the referee to be counting. He’s been holding him down for longer than the count of three so where is the ref? The crowd is screaming, telling Ref Coulson to turn around but he doesn’t hear them. He’s too busy dealing with Red Skull and Black Widow who had rushed out from the entrance. He knew it was almost over for the Winter Soldier and he wasn’t going to let Captain America have another victory over them.

Red Skull made Black Widow jump up on the curtain to distract the referee as Crossbones and Baron Zemo snuck inside the ring, stomping on Steve’s stomach. He released the hold, groaning as the men continued to stomp him.

“Turn around! Ref, turn around!” Y/N, Wanda and so many others pleaded.

Crossbones grabbed Steve, lifting him into a fireman’s carry as Zemo climbed to the top rope. He swung Steve around to disorient him, inadvertently knocking into Ref Coulson who dropped to the mat. Zemo flew off the top rope to add to Steve’s pain as Crossbones spun him out, spiking his head into the mat.

The Winter Soldier rolled out of the ring, going over to the table where the Grandmaster was sitting. He grabbed the championship belt in a vicious tug of war that the Grandmaster had no shot of winning. Steve was using the ropes to get to his feet and the Winter Soldier ran full steam, hitting him in the head with his own belt.

Chaos broke out as the bell was ringing for the match to end but no one inside the ring seemed to care. They used every opportunity they could to continue their assault on Steve.

Y/N got to her feet, leaning over the guardrails as she screamed at all of Hydra. The Winter Soldier whipped his head in her direction, his eyes flaring with rage. He signaled to Crossbones and Zemo who dragged a half-conscious Steve to his knees. He was in the corner, his head dropping forward as both men held his arms back.

The Winter Soldier jumped down from the ring with determination, stomping towards Y/N who was still giving him shit, screaming “You knew you could never beat Steve in a fair fight!”

Wanda was trying to pull Y/N down to her seat as the intimidating frame of the Winter Soldier hovered in front of them but it didn’t stop her. Y/N’s arms were in his face as she continued to defend her favorite wrestler. “You’ll never win! Steve will always kick your ugly, frostbitten ass!”

A round of “oohs” spread out from around her, the sound that quickly turned into “ahhs” as Y/N screamed. Her words were enough to break the Winter Soldier who grabbed her with two hands by the throat, lifting her over the guardrails. Her legs kicked furiously to get out of the chokehold as she struggled to breathe.

Wanda was screaming as the Winter Soldier placed Y/N down, only to quickly toss her into the ring. Confused, she crawled to the corner in an attempt to get out, feeling the unfamiliar padding under her palms but she didn’t get far. The Winter Soldier pulled her by the foot, dragging her back.

Y/N screamed for help and the Grandmaster shot up but Red Skull saw him coming and kicked him in the face, laying him out before he could make it into the ring. Cowering on all fours, Y/N began screaming as she felt the bottom of her sweatshirt being pulled off. She held onto the hem of the shirt she had on underneath; far too thin to be worn alone, her arms prickled with goosebumps but Y/N couldn’t think about that. Fear ran through her veins and she stumbled backwards, leaning against the turnbuckles. The Winter Soldier held up her sweatshirt that bore Steve’s symbol to the crowd and facing her again he ripped it in half, tossing the shredded fabric at Steve.

This jolted him alert and Steve looked around, getting his bearings. His eyes shot open wide as he realized one of his fans was in the ring. Steve struggled to break free and Red Skull saw the determination in his eyes. Steve was straining his muscles to loosen the hold but Red Skull came up behind him, locking Steve’s head in a chokehold as Crossbones and Zemo strengthened their hold on Steve’s arms.

Black Widow sauntered towards the fearful Y/N, who begged mercilessly to be left alone but she should have known Hydra only cares about themselves and they needed to make a point. There was nothing Steve could do but watch as Black Widow lifted Y/N above her shoulders in a fireman’s carry, the girl helpless in her arms.

Wanda screamed in fear as Black Widow popped Y/N’s legs up, throwing them behind her as she locked her arms around Y/N’s head, magnifying the impact on Y/N’s neck as she hit the mat.

The crowd lost their minds, screaming as one of their own was unmoving in the center of the ring. Steve fought harder to be free of his hold and his enemies let him go. He walked straight into a fierce kick to the stomach from the Winter Soldier who quickly hooked Steve’s arms behind his back, locking his grip around them.

This was it, his finisher– the Dead of Winter.

He lifted Steve into a vertical position with his back against the Soldier’s chest, holding him there as if to prove to the fans that he was obviously the stronger of the two former Howling Commandos. The Winter Soldier then dropped to the mat, driving Steve’s head straight into the unforgiving ring.

“HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!” The crowd went wild as the Winter Soldier bared his teeth, a growling scream as he defeated his former friend.

Steve was on his back unmoving as Black Widow dragged Y/N’s lifeless body and draped it over him. The Winter Soldier laid Steve’s belt on top of her, as he and Hydra taunted the crowd, showing them what they thought about Captain America, his fans and his stupid title.

Security was finally called in but it was too late, Hydra had left the ring. Ref Coulson was dazed but awake, horrified to see a fan in the ring. Weakened, he called out for medical attention the girl in the ring and Steve, telling them not to touch them.

Most of the crowd filed out of the building but some of them stayed, like Wanda who cried as she watched Y/N being loaded onto a stretcher, carefully taken out of the ring with a collar around her neck.

Y/N opened her eyes to find a massive shadowy figure standing over her. Through a curtain of dark hair she recognized the blue eyes of the Winter Soldier. A smile spread across his face as his hands came for her throat… removing the collar that was stabilizing her neck.

“How’d I do Buck?” she asked with excitement bursting in every word.

“So good doll,” Bucky said, taking her hand so she could sit up.

He stood between her legs, his arms finding their spot on her waist as he pressed a kiss to her lips. She tasted salt from his sweat but it was something she was used to after so many nights of training together.

“I can’t wait for you to make your debut. You and Steve versus me and Tash.”

She nodded, smiling just as widely as he was. “I think Wanda’s more excited to seek revenge on what ‘the Black Widow’ did to her friend,” Y/N joked. “Did she tell you she picked a gimmick name? Scarlet Witch.”

“It suits her,” Bucky said, taking his hand to gently rub away some dirt from the mat that was on Y/N’s cheek. “How ‘bout we get cleaned up and maybe tonight you can try and pin me?” A smirk pulled at his lips, the glint of mischief twinkled in Bucky’s eyes.

“Try?” Y/N scoffed, looking into the eyes of her boyfriend with a smirk of her own. “Oh I don’t need to try Bucky, I can get you on your back with ease.”

Bucky grinned, pressing another kiss to her soft lips as he helped her off the stretcher. Y/N already won his heart, a match that Bucky happily lost.

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[sadachmesarthim]

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au  -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc. 

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw.  Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge. 

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls... 

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around. 

And running into Tony face first. 

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster. 

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk. 

It was picturesque, the mess they made. 

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!” 

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. 

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier. 

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face. 

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense. 

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone. 

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away. 

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job. 

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out. 

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern. 

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him! 

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it. 

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast. 

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...” 

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries. 

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own. 

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?” 

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word. 

What a douchebag. 

#sorry i just flat out didn't like this #sfsummerbingo21 #starkerfestivalsevents #starker #peter parker/tony stark #peter parker x tony stark #coffee shop au #.mine #i'm so sorry mads #i know i'm a pain in the ass