#despite the reality of why it ended again
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Fated Hearts Start With Fire
PT5 - Holidays Hearts
masterslist
PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4
Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.
Summery - After you invite Ellie to travel back with you to your home town she immediately denies. But after a bit of convincing everything works well.
- - (It goes straight from part 4 so re-read if you gotta)
Warnings -> Miscommunication (Mia & Reader) / Readers in a relationship / Reader definitely self sabotages 🗣️ / JEALOUSLY / TENSION / Loser!Ellie if you squint? / Readers dad is weird idk? /Kissing / Cheating 😬 / Eventual smut / (Lmk if I missed anything)
WC: 5.6k
(Not proofread!)
“No!”
Ellie all but laughs in your face. Going to your hometown? Literally alone with nothing but your family and friends.
Yeah no fucking way.
She all much rather stay all alone in your shared apartment, beats introducing herself to a fuck ton of new people.
Yet her reply from your point of view has you confused? Because why not come? It 100% beats staying home alone in your shared apartment. She’s just being stubborn at this point??
“Ellie come on!” You say putting your hands in a praying position, trying to emphasize you really do want her to come.
“No dude!” Ellie again immediately denies shaking her head. She’s not going to fold under pressure. At least she’ll try not to!
“Why??” You say a whining tone leaking.
The foundation Ellie just put up. The one where she’s not going to fold? That’s definitely breaking as soon as that tone leaked.
But she regains and starts adding more support, she just shakes her head while not breaking eye contact with you? Trying to prove that stupid fucking tone didn’t affect her.
“Because!- just invite your girlfriend??” Ellie says.
That sentence does actually bring you back to reality. Fuck you haven’t even asked Mia yet, yet you’re practically begging for Ellie to join you. Hands cuffed in a prayer and all.
“I-I will! But Mia probably has plans with her family? So why don’t you come?” You say looking as her a pout now apparent on your bottom lip.
Ellie groans, her hand sliding down her face.
No, no, no.
“No..” Ellie sighs.
“Im not intruding on your family shit because mine aren’t available.” Ellie again shakes her head. Despite the fact your words are actually getting to her. She’s a adamant on denying, at least for as long as she can.
“Yeah but you’re not intruding? My parents hardly care? They’d probably be happy to see a friend i’ve made here! I think they think i’m lying” You laugh trying to ease Ellie’s discomfort about the whole situation. Trying to prove to her that you really want her to come.
You can tell the whole family situation is definitely rough. Because she’s told you a lot about herself but she’s pretty prominent about not mentioning that.
A clear example is when you guys you first started actually being friends, you almost instantly told her about your family, trying to make a perfect opening for her to share insight on hers. But instead she just shook it off.
She basically stopped talking and didn’t continue to press further into the conversation.
“Thank you- but no thank you.” Ellie again denies this time waving her hand. Making a valid point she doesn’t want to.
“I’m okay staying here and just chilling.” Ellie smiles at you.
You frown.
“Ellie.” You talk.
“Yeah?” Ellie says.
“Please.” You again beg. Now the desperate act is coming out.
You don’t even know why you want her to come so bad. Well sorta..
The main thing which is actively pushing you to invite Ellie, is no other than Mia.
It’s selfish. 100%.
But you literally don’t want to face her anymore. It’s to awkward and maybe if Ellie comes it’s going to push her away? Make her go enjoy Christmas with her family.
At least that’s what you’ll hope.
“Why do you want me to come so bad?” Ellie single handily rips the words from your train of thought.
And now you’re derailed.
You feel like the train just crashed into a dead end because you have almost nothing to defend with.
You’re not leading with the fact you’re avoiding your girlfriend. But it’s also weird why you’re so alluded with Ellie coming back to your hometown to spend Christmas with you and your family.
“Fine-don’t worry about it..“ You just groan, a clear annoyed tone as you begin to walk away. Which Ellie picked up immediately.
You know it was 100% pity and weird you relied on full guilt tripping, but you’re helping out Ellie at the end of the day..! Just giving her a light push.
You lightly close your eyes as you walk down the hall.. You didn’t know if it would work but then again you never know…
It was a solid two steps before there was a light grip on your wrist.
As you turn your eyes are met with green ones. Ellie’s looking at you, and just by the way her eyes are scanning through yours and no longer have a presence of unsureness. You know she 100% folded.
“O-okay i’ll come-“ Ellie sighs looking down, hand still on your wrist.
“Yeah??” You say with an excited tone. “You’re not just saying that.” You decide to clarify. I mean you hope she’s not just saying it.
“No..no- I just don’t wanna like intrude.” Ellie’s close to you.
Close enough to the point it’s falling into territory none of you are used to, but you both seem to be to distracted on a different fact right now. The one that has Ellie coming to your hometown.
“You’re not?” You smile at her to which she nods, slowing sighing.
“You did that on purpose.” Ellie tilts her head and smiles.
“I have zero clue what you’re talking about??” You say looking at Ellie. You know what she’s talking about? I mean you 100% guilt tripped her, having her feel a sense of guilt. But you’re avoiding that!
Ellie dramatically turns around and huffs. “Fine!”
You laugh and grab her wrist now mimicking Ellie’s actions. A perfect mirror of what just happened.
Ellie also laughs now that your mimicking her. “You’re so dramatic??”
You shake your head. “Am not!”
Ellie laughs “You fucking huffed then walked down the hall!”
Ellie points with her opposite hand to avoid the possibility of her forcefully making you let go of her wrist. Something she’s doing on purpose.
“You were being annoying-!” You say pushing you finger in the middle of her collar bone.
“Ellie please come with me!” Ellie says mocking you, which means her voice strained into a whining one that unfortunately appeared as a weird fucking whimper..
Her smile fades when her brain trails into a thought process allowing her to actually dwell on what she said.
So now her face is turning red and the laugh she was just previously ensuing on was dying into an uncomfortable awkward silence.
“Huh!?” You whisper yell straight in Ellie’s directions. A silent understanding that Mia’s still currently asleep in your bed, having you want to do anything you really can not to wake her up right now.
“I-I didn’t even mean it like that freak?” Ellie groans, a desperate attempt to hide how embarrassed she is.
“When did I ever even fucking say ‘Please come with me Ellie!’” Your tone again now leaking with a whine.
Ellie actually needs to go to bed.
Because maybe it’s the fact she’s tired, and honestly a little sleep deprived.
Or that your hand is still looped around her wrist.
But those 5 whiny words shouldn’t have caused an ache in the middle of her legs she couldn’t ignore.
Fuck.
“Whatever i’m going to bed..!” Ellie says now being the first to take your grip away from her wrist. Something she tried to avoid a mere minutes ago.
“Alright, alright.” You smile.
“Goodnight..!” You add on a few seconds later.
Ellie practically rushes to her room. Because it’s extremely fucking evident the little back and forth banter between you two had did not have the same affect on you which it had on her..!
Ellie needs to get fucking sleep. Get her mind to stop racing..
You two are just friends, she knows that.
The last thing she wants is to have yet another Cat situation.
✧☾༻✩༺☽✧
When you woke up and an arm was still presently draped over you, your mind raced.
It’s like you fully forgot the events of last night.
The ones with Mia..
And shamefully you wished it stayed that way.
The worst part is you don’t even know why?
Mia is fucking great, you’ve had almost zero reason to want to avidly push her away. She’s never done anything remotely mean and last night she was perfect.
Saying the right things, making sure you were comfortable and putting herself last. Making sure you enjoyed yourself first before she was even a fucking thought..?
So why do you wish you were waking up in a bed which is just full of you. Empty is something you prayed you’d never feel yet right now it’s all you’re praying for to happen.
And why?
Not even you know?
That’s something that keeps ending with dead ends.
Mia hums against your neck as her parted lips stay on them. She’s awake which isn’t a surprise, you’re little ruffles you made as you awakened probably had her eyes fall open not to long after.
“Hi..” She says, sighing, her eyes finally opening, and for the first time since last night her ocean blue eyes are rested on your face. Gaze refusing to break.
“Hey..” You smile. It’s fake, but it’s the best you can do as of now.
She leans in and gives you a light kiss on your cheek.
“Sleep okay?” Mia ask as she observes your face. Making sure you’re not lying or something.
“Mhm.? All good- what about you” You say trying to change the subject, trying to get her eyes off you even if it’s just for a second.
Because regardless of you lying or not her gaze is something you’re not enjoying right now?
“Yeah. It was good, last night was really nice. You were really nice.” Mia smiles kissing your cheek once again..!
“It was!” You say a fake excited tone accidentally making an appearance, luckily for you, Mia must have been to focused on kissing you, because now it’s going to your jaw, then neck.
Last night felt like boundary both of you overstepped. Because instead of literally just a week prior, Mia isn’t hesitating to kiss your neck. She’s assuming your okay with it.
And it’s not like it’s making you uncomfortable and you want her off of you, it’s just something that you wish maybe wasn’t happening right now. So you talk.
“M-mia can we talk..? Just quickly.” You say as you voice cracks..
It’s about time you give her insight on the fact you fucking invited Ellie instead of her to your parents, that being said though it’s not like she’s unwelcome to come.
She’s completely allowed. It’s just the probably odd you didn’t hesitate to invite your fucking roommate…
“Uh-oh?” Mia chuckles pulling back from your neck. She assumes you just being funny or something? That fades quick. Because when she sees you replied with a nervous smile, she takes your outlook, now becoming openly nervous..
“Fuck what’s wrong?” Mia says looking at you.
“Just Ellie and I-“ You try to think of how to word it properly. But currently nothings coming to your head. It feels like a broken electrical circuit no longer getting responses.
Mias smile fades when she hears the mention of Ellie. Because why the fuck did you say it like you and Ellie are some ‘thing’. Or even like you did something?
Mia would never suspect you of cheating- she doesn’t think you cheated. It’s just the sentence ‘Just Ellie and I” Could have a shit ton of add ons? That’s what she didn’t like.
“I-I invited Ellie to go back to my hometown for Christmas..and i’m sorry- because I know I should have asked you first. And-“ You shove your head in your hands embarrassed at the fact you feel like you could cry. You know if you continue you will cry.
Yet don’t get anything twisted, Mia felt a strong pang of jealously- but you and her have been dating for a solid month, she didn’t except you to ask her to come to your literal home town for Christmas, at the end of the day she knew you actually didn’t owe her anything. So even though she’s not to fond of the fact you’ll be going back to your hometown with Ellie, she knows you two are friends.
And that offers comfort.
“Hey-hey it’s fine..” Mia softly chuckles bringing your hands down from your face and kissing them lightly. “I have plans with my family- I assumed we weren’t gonna go head first into plans with family’s.”
“Oh..” Now you feel stupid because you were about to bawl over something that definitely wasn’t that deep. “I just-“ You start but Mia waves her hand dismissively.
“It’s fine. I swear.” Mia smiles kissing the corner of your lips..
“Plus, we have so many future Christmas’ and shit. This is just one out of many.” Mia says.
“Right?” You say in a breathless sigh now starting to calm down. “Now I feel stupid!” You chuckle and Mia shakes her head.
“No don’t!” Mia kisses you, you respond by slotting your lips right back on hers enveloping in a passionate kiss.
And that’s how you and Mia left it. Obviously you texted a lot but now it was time to go to your home town and you sorta just wanted to disconnect.
Because not only were you going with Ellie but you’re finally going to be able to see your family after a few months so you were beyond fucking excited. With a twinge of jealousy!
You and Ellie got on the plane no problem but now sitting down you can see Ellie’s hands fidget with plane seat buckle. A common sign she was nervous.
Learning Ellie’s nervous ticks was easy, because she has three she’ll always do.
Number one fidgeting with something close by.
If not that then number two. Playing with her index and middle.
And finally biting her bottom lip.
You see her top teeth slowly sit on her bottom lip.
She was nervous but you knew why.
One thing Ellie strongly emphasized that she fucking hated flights, she hated heights since she was a kid and that being said she was completely okay with the fact she’s never been on a plane.
“I don’t get how you can be scared of flights but you wanna go to space..?” You tease looking at her.
“Fuck you.” Ellie groans. Unlike her joking tone this does come out as more cold? Which you know why, she’s trying to hide that she’s extremely nervous.
“Wow! I feel like I just got flashbacks..!” You smile nudging her.
“Fuck off man.” Ellie smiles, now she’s looking at you trying to avoid the fact they’re taking off in a few minutes.
Her eyes just trail back and forth for a solid 20 seconds before looks down and clears her throat.
“And spaceships are different.” Ellie says.
“Mhm?” You say looking at her.
“Then imagine we’re on a spaceship?” You add and Ellie laughs.
“It’d be a pretty shitty spaceship.” Ellie sighs and then the intercom comes on announcing the plane is ready for take off.
“Fuck.” Ellie sits up.
You hold out your hand not thinking much about it before it happens. Because you’re just being a fucking good friend! Nothing deep, nor something to look into!
Ellie also doesn’t think much, because it didn’t take long before she sat her hand open on yours intertwining her fingers. She hates how fucking fast her nerves relaxed after you and her were holding fucking hands.
Because just like that her heart stopped racing and the feeling of taking off was the last thing on her mind.
It felt like a blacked out room with a spotlight shined on just you two.
Ellie knows she’s being weird, she thinks it’s the fact that since your roommates you’ll always be in a close proximity, so when building a bond the friendship lines get foggy.
Something that happened with Cat, and something which is happening with you.
The biggest factor on the plan which was weird was the fact you and Ellie held hands for a solid 30 minutes after the plane took off.
And you don’t really know why? It just happened. Everything with you two just seems to mistakenly happen.
It’s not like you were doing it purposefully, it was just after the 10 minutes it was a bit hard to let go of her hand smoothly so you two just watched movies holding hands a bit after the plane took off.
There was an underlining of comfort as well? When both of you are together there’s something you can’t really avoid?
You’re just good friends in that sense.
Nothing weird about that?..
Plus after you two got off the plane and through security it felt stupid to mention!
Talking about it would have just been more awkward and unnecessary!
So that’s what you two both purposefully did? Not mention it.
You and Ellie both just shuffled your things in the trunk of taxi before you guys get into the back seat..
When you tell the taxi driver the location and your gaze is completely focused on him, Ellie finally looks at you.
The moment on the plane was weird, and Ellie didn’t fully understand.
The last thing she wants to be is a home wrecker.
But maybe you two were being friendly, she’s seen a shit ton of friends hold hands, you guys might just be shifting into a physical friendship and nothing is wrong with that!
At least she rather come up with that solution instead of maybe expanding on the fact she might be falling for yet another roommate which at this point is getting fucking old.
The Cat situation should have ruined that possibility yet here she fucking is.
You finally turn your gaze to the back seat no longer focused on the man and quickly noticed how Ellie’s gaze was straight on you.
She tried to smoothly clear her throat and look away but you just chuckled, again not taking it as serious as she was.
“You good.” You ask.
“Just nervous I guess?” Ellie wasn’t lying but it was also a smooth excuse to hide the fact she was just hardcore staring at you.
“My parents are nice- promise” You look at her offering a smile to ease Ellie’s nerves.
Ellie feels like she should ask, like she needs to ask.
Because after what happened with her parents she just rather avoid it if she can.
“You’re out to them right? Or like no.” Ellie ask her voice cracking which she clears once again.
“Oh yeah! I literally came out at like 10 because I wouldn’t shut up about how hot the Elizabeth girl from Pirates of the Caribbean was?” You laugh which also makes Ellie laugh along.
Well at least Ellie doesn’t have to lie to your parents or some shit. “K-yeah cool.” Ellie nods.
“You good?” You ask looking at Ellie.
“Mhm- i’m good” Ellie says looking at you.
“Okay” You tilt your head before looking out the window.
Seeing your old town has put you into the realization that nothings really changed. The shops stayed the same, with the exception of a few new ones you hadn’t noticed before.
You can tell somethings prioritizing Ellie’s mind but you rather not push or question it? She seems to be an overall private person and practically forcing her out of her comfort zone seems rude.
You just decided to get comfortable in your seat for a few minutes before you arrive.
Which really didn’t take long, because soon you’re pulling into the house you called home for so many years, and instead of walking in alone, or with Alex and Jess. This time it’s you and Ellie.
You just grab your suitcase exiting the car.
“I can grab that?” Ellie points to your suitcase as her left hand grips hers.
“It’s fine- if anything I should be carrying yours.” You chuckle at her request.
“You’ll be hugging your family and shit? I’ll just grab it weirdo” Ellie fully takes it into her own hand reaching her right hand forward to grab your suitcase.
“All right, all right- thank you.” You say walking up to the front door.
And even though it’s your family your mind is racing about whatever the fuck is going to transfer. You just hope it’s positive.
But before you can open the door, your mom does.
Her eyes are excited and she immediately lunged forward to hug no other than you..!
“You’re home!!” You’re mom says while hugging and kissing all over your cheeks earning a stupid chuckle from Ellie which she “smoothly” covered with a cough.
“Yeah!” You say, you barley hid the fact you’re extremely embarrassed because it was super apparent in your tone and pink cheeks.
You mom then pulls back from you and smiles. “Who’s this!”
Your mom knows who the fuck it is, because you told her Ellie’s coming as soon as you got okay.
“H-hi!” Ellie spits out nervously, she puts down your suit case to hold out her hand. An invitation for your mom to shake it.
Ellie’s super fucking nervous. Because after her relationship with her parents came down with a big tumble, so opening up to other people’s seemed off.?
Like she couldn’t properly function, it almost felt like she was constantly on thin ice.
Plus Ellie doesn’t really know if you told your mom about the shitty roommate. Which would be horrible because she’s the fucking shitty roommate?! She wouldn’t even be shocked if you did? Fuck she was horrible.
“Ah we don’t need handshakes!” Your mom fully takes Ellie by the shoulder and hugs her tightly. Having Ellie drop the other suitcase to her feet.
Ellie doesn’t know what to do other then reciprocate it, so that’s all she does, just wraps her arms around your mom?
“It was Ellie right.?” Your mom says her gaze not leaving Ellie’s.
Ellie just nervously nods. She’s never had someone be extremely nice without even knowing her.
Which she’s now starting to understand where you got it.
Because even on the day when you first moved in, you weren’t automatically mean, even though Ellie was rude for the whole first day, you managed to put up with it before finally snapping back on the second day.
“Yeah..!” Ellie smiles awkwardly stepping back.
“It’s nice to meet you-” Ellie signals to you about to continue the conversation.
Then your dad walks out. He’s a stocky man, a bit scary looking, with permanent furrowed eyebrows.
You’d like to say it’s all some facade and he’s a real softie under the rough skin.
But no.
He’s always will silently judge, somethings he’s done your whole life, giving his thoughts despite not really asking for it, he’ll always supply it.
“Hey kid.” You’re dad nods a head to you. He’s not a hugger. A drastic change from someone like your mother. You don’t really know how they ended up together.
“Hey dad..!” You smile and look at him.
Your dad doesn’t reply after that, he turns his attention to Ellie.
“This the girlfriend?” He says his eyes trailing up and down her, you can tell he again is fucking judging.
Yet Ellie’s not even your girlfriend! So he’s judging her for no reason?..
“N-no that’s Mia- this is Ellie.” You say directed to your dad despite you looking at Ellie, her face is now red and she seems embarrassed.
Fuck this is awkward.
“I-It’s nice to meet you.” Ellie smiles awkwardly at your dad. She feels she should shake his hand yet his gaze has her fall nervous. So she doesn’t. She just occupies both hands with the suitcases
“Quite young for a tattoo hm?” You dad says clearing his throat, slowly turning his attention to Ellie’s tattoo.
You never understood why your dad says or does some things? But either way he does and you can’t really change it, this conversation between him and Ellie, it’s one of the ones where you don’t understand why the fuck he’s doing it.
“Oh uh-“ Ellie’s cut off by your words.
“We should really settle in. The flight was long..!” You chuckle a desperate attempt to clear the awkwardness which is looming.
Ellie nods and looks at your parents. “It was really nice to meet you both.” Ellie nods towards them before the everyone starts to head inside.
After you showed Ellie the spare bedroom it didn’t take long till there was a light knock on your bedroom who you can only assume is her.
She did tell you once she was done unpacking she’ll come to your room.
“Come in?” Your voice echos through the bedroom as you sit on your queen bed.
As you guess Ellie’s auburn hair and green eyes come poking through the door.
“Oh i’m the fucking nerd?” Ellie immediately says with a sarcastic chuckle.
She starts walking into your room before sitting on your bed a decent amount of distance between you and her. Her eyes trail throughout your room and she scouts the many different movie posters, books, journals scattered throughout your bedroom.
“Fuck off..!” You chuckle looking back at Ellie.
“No- you fucking bullied me for my space shit” Ellie says laughing. “I get to bully you!” Ellie says pointing right at you.
“Because that’s objectively nerdy! You like space! I just like reading and writing.” You try to defend yourself.
“Yeah, yeah nerd.” Ellie scoffs which earns a little smile from you despite you actually wanting to laugh. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.!”
You roll your eyes and look at Ellie. “Im gonna kick you out?”
Ellie chuckles and shakes her head. “Okay i’m sorry!”
It’s a bit of silence before you finally speak again.
“Get settled in okay?” You ask looking at her.
She bites her lip, looking down before shortly nodding. “Oh yeah, all good.” Ellie offers you a smile to try and distract you from any red flags that she might be uncomfortable.
Yet it didn’t really help or work, you noticed right away.
“You alright?” You ask looking at her.
“Yeah- no good. I’m happy you invited me.” Ellie wasn’t lying at the last part. She was super happy she decided to come with you, it’s just-
“My dad?” You question looking at Ellie. You basically finished her thoughts.
“I-Did I say something wrong- because people- he just seemed-“ As soon as you questioned it Ellie’s mouth wasn’t going to stop. She was ranting.
So you took it into your own hands and looked at her.
“Ellie I swear he’s just weird and like that with everyone. Like i’m his daughter and you saw how weird he is with me!” You say looking at her. Despite not being even the single bit religious you prayed her words offered comfort.
Ellie let’s out a show sigh of relief. “Fuck okay good! I thought I said something” Ellie laughs lightly.
“Like the tattoo comment was-“ Ellie starts.
“Fucking dumb!” You tilt your head.
“Your tattoo is cool.” You add on chuckling.
It took about ten seconds before your hand started making its way to travel over the different intricate details.
“Yeah?” Ellie ask going a tad bit closer. Both your shoulders now touching as her arm is hovered above both of your thighs.
“Mhm?” You say looking at her, she slowly mirrors your movements.
And in that moment you know if either of you decide to even lean in just a little further your noses would touch.
You start to think what’d you do, something you’ve purposefully deterred your mind from going. Blocking off those openings before they could even get through. But now they were flowing and you couldn’t stop it?
Like if she leaned in would you do the same...?Would you kiss Ellie bac-
What the fuck, you have a fucking girlfriend.
And you couldn’t sworn Ellie’s eyes were fluttering shut, a sign to back the fuck up. And that’s what you did.
“Uh- dinners probably like basically ready.” You stand up awkwardly rolling your hands down your clothes an attempt for them to appear more straight.
While also making an effort to avoid her gaze without making it look more forceful?
Ellie also stands up, the main bit of her head being filled with confusion- because why did it seem like you wanted to kiss her two seconds ago, and now you can barley look at her.
“Right..cool.” Ellie sounded just the slightest bit immature but in her defence you made her feel stupid? Like was she interpreting that whole situation wrong.
“What..?” You ask, almost like she’s crazy for feeling embarrassed.
“Didn’t say anything” Ellie gives a fake smile before opening your bedroom door.
When she opens the door you walk through first and you hear her trailing after you.
You and Ellie hardly talked through dinner, little chip ins from both of you, but when you did the conversation was usually to other people.
So if you were talking i’d be to your parents, avoiding Ellie, and vice versa.
The main reason is because it just so happens both of your minds are occupied from the fact you two almost kissed.
It was like that for at least a little. Till your dad decided to talk.
“So Ellie? What’s your family doing for Christmas.” His mouth is still in the middle of chewing food, his hand reaches for his glass and he tilts it back swallowing back a large swig of wine.
Ellie finishes what’s in her mouth before talking. “Not really sure?”
She says it casually. Like not knowing what your family’s up to is the normal, yet for her it is?
“Why’s that..?” He says rubbing the back of his hand on his outer lips, getting any excess droplets of wine or even food.
“Honey.?” Your eyes shift from Ellie’s uncomfortable gaze to your moms. She’s clearly trying to get him to back off from the conversation, yet he keeps going.
“What- were taking a kid in for Christmas so I’m just overall interested what her parents are doing? You know as in why she’s joining us?” He shrugs, It’s like the fact he’s opening up his home gives some moral right to know?
And for that reason you can tell your dad won’t back off.
Not till her gets an answer that is.
“Dad?..” You say looking at him shaking your head.
Now Ellie’s uncomfortable, because at least in her mind she feels everyone wants to know a little sob story as to why she isn’t with her parents right now.
In stead she’s with her roommates parents.
Ellie just clears her throat. Her eyes are noticeably getting glossy and that’s her cue to leave.
“Sorry excuse me..” Ellie wipes the napkin down her lips and silently pulls back from the pulled in chair. She makes her exit b-lining straight for the bathroom.
Once Ellie’s gone you groan at your dad. “Seriously?” You clearly annoyed and he picks it up. But instead he just shrugs?
“What did I say? I simply asked a question” He says.
“Which she didn’t want to answer!” You’re now always pulling back your chair making an open exit for you. “Fuck.”
He tsk silently. “Language.”
“I’m gonna go check on her.” You sigh starting to walk down the open hallway.
You quickly turn back to your mom. “Thanks for dinner.”
She nods in response while muttering something to your dad. You hope it’s putting him in his fucking place.
You don’t know if that man just doesn’t have social cues but fuck sometimes he needs to read a room..
It didn’t take long to find Ellie, she only knew where one of the 2 bathrooms were so once you heard distance sniffling in the one planted beside your bedroom you knock on the door.
“Mhm?” Ellie’s voice try’s to come out as full and clear but it’s sounded more desperate and sad.
“Can I come in?” You ask.
“I’m okay..? Trust me?” Ellie says clearing her throat.
You can tell she’s not okay. But mentioning that didn’t seem important, so you just nodded in understanding before talking.
“Okay well can we talk, even if your okay..?” You ask.
A little sigh comes out then a click of the lock comes through.
You open the door and you see Ellie’s eyes are red.
After seeing that sight you hugged her.
Ellie wraps her arms under your arms which are looping around her neck. She hesitantly put her chin on your shoulder as you did the same.
“I’m okay..” Ellie sighs in your shoulder.
“Mhm..” You just nod against her shoulder.
“Sorry my dads a dick.” You say.
“Mine probably worse?” Ellie let’s out a chuckle, it’s dry and forced.
You pull back and look at her eyes.
You can feel her arms trail down your back finding a resting spot on your waist.
“I swear I don’t cry a lot.” Ellie chuckles once more. This time sounding a bit more real.
“That’s becoming hard to believe.?” You say tilting your head, Your hands come from around her neck and sit on her cheeks wiping any left over tears.
Ellie’s grip on your waist tightens just a little, she doesn’t want you to pull back but she knows what she’s doing right now, what she wants to happen, She knows it isn’t right.
Either way she can’t control her eyes from glancing at your lips..
She looked at them for a few seconds before glancing back at your eyes.
She sees how your eyes are now glancing back and forth between her eyes and lips..
Without thinking she presses a soft kiss to your lips holding your cheek..
A/N -> BOOOOOO CHEATER 👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽
I actually don’t know what the fuck to write for the AN! But I really did enjoy writing this chapter, and i have so much planned for the next one 😋
i promise i won’t take as long 🙏🙏🙏 (maybe)
I’m just so fucking busy with school and work, so this happens to always be the last thing on my mind.
I’ll try to be consistent with summer but then again i’m insanely busy in that time period too?
Other then that I’m gonna start working on hearts over hierarchy
happy pride month btw!!
and that’s all, hope you enjoyed reading this 😈
(Like and reblogs are so appreciated!)
Taglist - @a-little-bit-of-everybody @bready101 @shiimer @boobdrug @amberputh @macaroni676 @soupycloud @seraphicsentences @eringranola @mikellie
#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x reader#lgbtq#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie x you#loser!ellie#the last of us#the last of us two#ellie x y/n#pride month#lesbian fic#lesbian#wlw#wlw ns/fw#thelastofus#loser ellie#elliewilliams#ellie williams smut#ellie#ellie tlou#ellie x fem reader#ellie smut#lgbtqia#pride#mean ellie#wlwpost#wlw smut#wlw post#wlw fiction
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I Got Dreams But I Can't Make Myself Believe Them
Word count: 7.5k
Parings: Rooster & Maverick, Rooster & Iceman, Iceman/Maverick
Summery:
'Hey it’s Mav, leave a message. And no Ice whatever they’re accusing me of, I didn’t do-'
He jabbed his finger on the screen again. Tears in his eyes. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn't...please...
It rang.
Once
Twice-
“Hello?”
His face hurt. Pulsing with a vigour that he knew he should take his pain med and yet…he hadn’t. Because he deserved this pain. He deserved this.
This aching, the dagger-like sensation deep in the muscle when he tried to move. Still, it was not even close to a fraction of what he made them feel. So, he deserved this.
The pain. The punishment. They always did tell him he was a masochist. Fretting over his father being gone, whether Mav missed him, why he didn’t miss him. Worried about his mother's health, if they would lose the house, why wasn’t she smiling anymore. Would Mav stay or would he leave him without his favorite Bradshaw's; after all Mav wasn’t his babysitter. Was he going to be stuck alone in this world struggling to finish high school with the crushing debt of his mother's hospital bills and house lines that he discovered showed under her bed two days after the funeral. Was he going to die hungry or cold? And his newest one, would anyone care if he burnt in?
At least he had an answer to the last one. No. It was so painfully clear now, he had pushed too far and they had given up on him. The phone calls and messages left unanswered, the lettered read tearfully and shoved in a box under his bed that stayed with him religiously through deployments. The Admirals who bumped into him occasionally in deployments which he knew was their way of checking on his health after all files can only offer so much.
Yet…no one had come when he called. When he had laid on that hospital bed terrified out of his mind, cold, bloodied and half the mind that either he was Nick Bradshaw or he was seeing him. And no one, had come.
His NOK. His dad. He called.
No one.
No one cared anymore.
He remembered the nurses holding him down as he screamed out in short panic bursts as what he now knew were cold induced hallucinations raged through him. He remembered managing to grab a nurse's arm and begged them to call his father. Begged. Over and over again, demanding she keep trying until they sedated him somewhere between the forth redial.
No one came.
His dad didn’t care anymore.
He had gone too far and they had given up on him.
He pressed his face into the tattered plushy pushing down the whine of pain as it agitated the stitches on his chin tugging at the cuts. He curled around the soft toy in the limp bunk at his base housing trying to breathe through the pain. Wheezing as the position put a strain on his already sore ribs, bruised but thankfully not broken, but there was only so much they could do about the bruising caused by the harness. They marked up his chest, around his shoulders and down his back, making him look like a mummy who went through a fight and became a kickboxing victim. They weren’t pretty overall. He certainly wasn’t going to be winning any medals any time soon.
It was strange what near death situations did to a person. Twelve hours ago he was filled with such hurt, such hatred towards Maverick's actions, not him as a person but hurt about how he went behind his back and stopped him from succeeding…he just couldn’t see why they couldn’t have talked about it. Now. After spending all those hours alone trapped in a hospital wing, half aware of reality, strapped down to his cot like some dangerous criminal. All he wanted was to hold his father's hand. All he wanted was to go home.
But the question stood, did he even have a home to go back to now?
He remembered the crokard post box from that time Mav had tried to teach him to drive and he accidentally mixed up his accelerator and brake. But despite the years, Ice never fixed it. Maybe he was also a sucker for memories.
He remembered Ice’s fond smile as he helped apply the coloured paint to his hands after he insisted on putting their handprints on the mailbox after watching the new Disney movie UP. Ice had simply shaken his head, dug out some paints from one of Maverick's abandoned side projects and let himself be dragged out to the front lawn laughing all the way.
He remembered the loose and wobbly handrail to the stairs in the hallway that always made Ice sigh and roll his eyes anytime he heard it creak, yet he never got it fixed even when Ron apologized for being too careless while roughhousing with Wolf and offered to fix it himself.
He remembered the way Maverick would be waiting for him in the kitchen every morning before school. Chiding him to get dressed as he snagged a piece of bacon from the pan while Ice wasn’t looking only to complain that it was hot, when he himself was bare chested new and faded marks across his chest with low sweatpants on his hips, bed hair wild around his head.
The way every Thursday without fail their house would be filled with his uncles, spread out around their living room in various stages of a food coma, gorging themselves on the sweets Mav would spend all morning making with a pleased smile. He always had been his happiest providing for other people, seeing they were happy.
He remembered the board game night, the nights they would spend curled up on the couch together with some nonsense show that no one was really watching, and the nights they sometimes spent out watching the stars.
He remembered them cheering at his little league games despite being tired from a long day at work or having just returned from a deployment, which he now knew they would have been dead on their feet just wishing for a bed. He remembered their concern muttering when he was sick and their fingers through his hair. He remembered Ice’s mother's lullaby that the man would hold him through the wee hours of the morning and hum under his breath when they thought he was asleep.
He wanted to go home, he wanted it all. But he had lost it all when he cut off contact. And he was half terrified that they were angry at him, every time he sat there and thought about calling, about turning up on their doorstep to ask for forgiveness he would just stare at the number of missed calls, he would think about the hundreds of voice messages. He’d feel the burning of the box of letters all unanswered under his bed as he laid down and hugged his goose plushier that they had given him all those years ago. No doubt abusing Ice's powers to discover his address when he heard that he was in hospital in his junior year of university. The seams were now ratty from how often he ran his fingers over them, the fur carefully taken care of but despite his efforts the old plushie was dying, and unlike everything else in his life it was leaving him too. He could no longer preserve the memories within it.
He bit his lip only for the sharp pain that shot through his head to remind him why he shouldn’t do that. He winced, not from the way the fur rubbed up against the fresh stitches, although it wasn’t comfortable, but over the fact that Maverick was right. His heart jumped in his throat. He wasn’t ready.
Because Maverick had almost just lost him like he had lost Goose.
He had been reckless, and arrogant; he had been a kid thrown into a jet and told he was good, his ego was inflated and he hadn’t been ready.
And he had fallen out of the sky. He had burned in. And he was damn lucky he didn't take anyone else out in the process.
He had paid his price, and it had almost been his own head.
A few more seconds… the doctor's words ran through his head like a gunshot echo, warning him of the tragedy that could have occurred.
What will you tell their parents when they don’t come back? When they come back in a casket. What excuse will be ready then Lieutenant… His commanding officer lecture piggybacking from his nightmares, what excuse will be acceptable then?
There wasn’t one. This was his fault, his own failure. What would they have told them if he died?
You have my condolences Mr Kazansky, Mr Mitchell. However, your son has died in a training accident - having not even made it out of Top Gun - by his own stupidity!
Yeah, he could see that going over well.
He ran his thumb over the screen of his phone nervously, should he call? He had called- the hospital had called. But maybe they don’t answer unknown numbers, old people were like that… right? His fingers felt clammy as he took a shaky breath, whining quietly as he thumbed through his contacts to find the right number and listened to the phone ring quietly.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each ring felt like a bullet in the chamber, he could hear tone ringing out around him as tears welled in his eyes, a sob building in his chest as the phone clicked, the call unanswered.
Too close, switching to guns.
'Hey it’s Mav, leave a message. And no Ice whatever they’re accusing me of, I didn’t do-'
He jabbed his finger on the screen again. Tears in his eyes. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t…please…
It rang.
Once
Twice-
“Hello?” A croaky voice answered, indubitably not Mav.
"Ice?" His voice shook, "Pops?"
“Shit ” . Something rustled loudly over the phone and he could almost see Ice scrambling to sit up on the bed. A bitten out swear carried lowly over the line and it almost made him smile as he heard something clatter to the ground with a thud, no doubt the older man knocking something off the bedside table in his haste to grab his glasses and slide them on his nose to look at the phone. “Bradley?”
He sounded so hesitant as if he was afraid he was hearing things. It pained him to wonder how often his Pops had woken in the middle of the night hearing his voice and wondering if it was real or a sleep deprived hallucination. How often it left his Pops laying in his bed curled up with his hands over his ears trying to ignore his imaginary self calling for him for help, and not being able to help the man come back to earth. How many times had his Pops suffered silently and alone and he hadn't even known about it.
“Pops” he sobbed, chest aching from the force of his whine and the pang of his heart at the thought of how many times he had been the reason for his parents to cry, the cause of his parent's pain over the years.
“Bradley baby. What's wrong? Come on baby bird, I need you to speak to me”. Ice’s familiar level tone sounded unusually anxious, “Come on daring, you can do it. Take some deep breaths for me”.
He hadn't even realized that his panic induced sobs had pushed him into the dangers of hyperventilation. His gaps of breath between his chest shaking sobs became shorter and more panicked as he acknowledged the lack of oxygen.
“Breath,” Ice pleaded. “Baby please”.
“He didn’t answer” he gasped out, whimpering “He wasn’t there ”
“Bradley, honey what-?”
He could hear Ice’s underlying confusion as he whined in pain hissing behind gritted teeth as he burrowed his face further into the soft teddy irritating his stitched cuts. “Mav” he whined, his voice muffled as he pressed it further into the soft fabric, ashamed of his clingy neediness for his parents despite being 25. The mortification of crying out to them over a little crash. He felt like a kid creeping into his parent's rooms during the night after a nightmare, sweat still clinging to his brow, stomach rebelling as he hovered by their bedside unsure whether to wake them or not. But despite the early hour they had always opened their arms to him, shifted and made room for him between them on the bed. Always. Maybe…after all this time, just maybe Ice could spare a little room to allow him a few moments to recuperate and shuffled away in shame.
Realistically he knew that Ice couldn’t see him. He knew that Ice wouldn't care, that the man would simply look at him with pursed lips, his brows furrowed in concern and coo quietly as he gathered him in his arms, careful to guide his face over his shoulder to prevent him from aggravating his wounds further. Despite what many people thought Ice had been more of the mother hen type than Maverick. Mav had been the cool uncle, then he became the serious dad he needed to be but Ice, Ice had been the cool dad. Ice had been the one to take on his missing mother role, the man had melted into it without blinking. Always making sure that someone was there to kiss his brow and tuck him in at night. Who made him breakfast in the morning and took time out of their day to help him with homework when Mav got sick of trying to help him and stomped off frustrated. He was the person who would stand on the guidelines of his games with a cooler of drinks and bulled him into letting him apply sunscreen while he ate the sandwich he had been prepared for lunch while Mav got into an argument with the couch. Ice was the one who would smile at him empathetically holding him when he cried over a crush. Who gave him his talk and he was always there a hand away to allow him to crawl into his lap no matter how old he got to comfort him.
Mav may have been his dad. But Ice had been his Mum, his Pops. He knew that Mav loved him in his own way, but he also knew that he was partly there for his guilty hand in his father's death. He also knew that Mav had promised Carole he would be there for him (Hospital walls are not as soundproof as you think Mav), that he would take his Godfather duties seriously. Whereas Ice, he never had to stay. He knew they were wingmen and they tackled problems together but Ice never made him feel like a problem. He always made sure he was included, he never pushed him. Ice never has to stay, and while the man harboured his own guilt over Nick, he never pushed it, never brought it up. They spent his memory day sitting on the patio in the backyard and drank Kool-Aid with him silently. Ice didn't have to step in but he did, he didn't have to stay but he chose to.
He didn't think he could have a mum again after Carole but he did. And that was partly the reason he couldn't bring himself to hang up. Because despite his shame, the agony of his embarrassment and fury at Mav. Cutting Ice out had been the hardest decision of his life and now hearing the man's voice he couldn't find the strength to hang up. Not when he was so close, his smooth voice in his ear begging him to stay.
“Baby” Ice cooed in concern, it was soft and familiar. It reminded him of the warm feeling of home, the same tone Ice would use as he sat on the edge of his bed letting him climb onto the man's lap clinging to him when his mother was in hospital, not caring that he was far too old to be doing so. He could almost see the soft frown and those gentle eyes staring down at him, and feel the carding of the man’s fingers through his curls. “Baby, are you looking for Mav? He’s out at the hangar tonight. The idiot forgot his phone. I promise he didn’t ignore it on purpose sweetheart-“
“The hospital called” he choked out “I know. I begged them too”.
“Hospital?” Ice sounded alarmed “Bradley-“
“I asked them to call and he didn’t come ”.
“Bradley Bradshaw”. The soft tone shifted to a firm disciplining one, one he didn't often hear coming from Ice’s lips. It was rare to see him step up into the role of the displeased parent, but that didn't mean it hadn’t happened. Like when the man crossed his arms across his chest with pursed lips and a disapproving look when he caught him sneaking into the house at the early hours of the morning when he had been specifically grounded, or when he went drinking for the first time while underage or when the older man had caught him clumsy stubbing out a weed join on his windowsill eyes wide in alarm. This doesn't sound like Ice was disciplining him, no it sounded panicked as if Ice was trying to hold himself together and keep himself from panicking him further when his breathing had just started to slow to a reasonable speed.
“Bradley baby, why were you in the hospital? Are you ok? God- please be ok” Ice sounded desperate. And for a moment it warmed his chest, the next it made his stomach clench uncomfortably.
He had always taken Ice’s compassion for granted and he had used it against Mav more times than he could count to get what he wanted. He had been a spoiled brat and at the time he hadn't cared about what it would do to the two wingmen. And the worst part about it was that while Ice picked up on it he never made him stop even when it led to the two wingmen arguing or sleeping at different houses. But he always came back. It made him feel sick because fuck Ice really did care about him and he still cared about him. Even after he threw him to the curb, after he chewed him out, cutting away their bond and years of love with a rusty knife in hopes it would rot away and get infected. Even after he ignored every call, deleted every message and refused to read the letters and cards the man sent. Even after that horrid ceremony; after he so blankly disregarded Ice’s rank and achievements in front of everyone . Ice had still stuck by his side. Because despite his 7 year long temper tantrum, Ice had stuck by him faithfully. He had respected his wishes and avoided getting the same posting as him, doing his maternal duty to send him away if he was anywhere close to them even if he couldn't prevent himself from sending someone to check up on him occasionally to settle his worry. Even if he couldn't prevent himself from sending cards, or from sending him letters each deployment knowing he wouldn't read them just to remind him that someone would care if he burnt in.
“Today was hop 31” he whispered out with a croak, the demons that accompanied the words settled on both of them, however, there was an unusual heaviness to his. As if more weight had been added on in an attempt to make his knees buckle and maybe there ha d. Every time he closed his eyes it was no longer the spinning of the Pacific ocean around him as he was strapped into the jet, he no longer heard his dad's voices calling out in a panic, he didn't hear the sound of his father's neck snapping against the canopy or the rough tug of air as it detached. Now he heard the panicked voice of his wingman. He heard Hangman scream out of him “Roosters heading out to sea! I repeat Roosters going out to sea! Permission to follow-” “Denied Lieutenant''. He now saw the stomach clenching sight of mountains dropping around him as his jet dipped dangerously out of the training zone towards the sea where their adjective had been. It had been simple: fly through the terrain, don't get hit, and get back to base. Where had it gone wrong? When had Hangman’s taunts turned into fearful screams, when was the annoyed fighting turned into the sound of his jet screaming at him to pull up?
He let the line fall silent, taking a shaky breath trying to pull away from the shaking of the jet, the sharp tug of the G-force and the claustrophobic feeling of the canopy closing in on him as the piercing scream echoed in his head, his death sentence.
“Low Altitude, pull up. Low Altitude, pull up- ”.
He could hardly hear anything but if that was the gun cocking then it was Hangman's fearful cry that was the bullet, “Rooster-!”
He squeezed his eyes shut and instead let Ice do what he did best and allowed the man to gather his evidence and piece it together himself.
“I’m not Goose” he rasped out, barely, when the response took too long. Reminding the man of his hand in one of the worst mistakes of his life. But it was necessary as much as he hated it because he knew Ice, unlike Mav who blamed himself publicly not afraid to attempt to redeem himself for his hand in it, Ice suffered silently letting his mind run over the scenario looking for a way they could have saved Goose, looking for a scenario that didn't exist. Ice loves to torture himself, and like him, Ice was a masochist. “It was fine. I was on my way in and an engine blew. I couldn’t- I went into a flat spin and collided with the ocean” he continued and let out a humorous snort “I burnt in Pops”.
“Christ kid”, Ice's voice sounded suspiciously wet.
“I’m ok” he mumbled, “I wanted you there.” He tugged the plushy tighter to his chest, closing his eyes as he listened to Ice shift the sheets and audibly stood up from the bed hearing the man mutter to himself quietly as he began to move around the house. There was the recognizable creak of his childhood stairs then a door shut and the phone clicked falling into a vain eerie silence. Had- Had he been wrong? He bit his lip shoving down a sob, his lips wobbled, his eyes squeezing shut.
Had Pops- he hadn’t hung up had he? He wouldn’t leave him, right?
Pops loved him…he wouldn't leave him. He wouldn’t, but he wouldn't blame the man if he had. It’s not like he had done anything to instil confidence into the older gentleman. He had brushed him off, thrown his offers back into his face, disgraced the man's title in front of the brass and thrown more venom at the man in the last 7 years than he had shown love.
He let out a wounded noise sob ripped from his lips, teeth chattering as his chest tightened. Ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth as he curled around the plush, squeezing it so tightly it made his shoulders ache and wrist click in protest. No longer making a conscious effort to keep the blood from smearing on the white fabric.
“Bradley?”
His breath hitched eyes, snapping open, tilting his head back to look at the phone that had fallen from his grip to rest on the mattress to his left as he curled onto his side, the line was still connected.
Ice's worried voice wobbled through the line. “Baby bird can you hear me?”
“Pops! You- you-“
“Deep breaths honey” Ice reminded him gently.
“You didn’t leave ” .
“Never” Pops promised firmly. “I’m sorry darling I should have warned you, I forgot there was a lag when the phone connected to the car”.
He blinked and swallowed thickly, reaching up to rub the thick tears from his face sniffing snotty with a grimace as he used his sleeve to rub the evidence from his skin,. His voice clouded with tears as his still scattered brain tried to process the information “Car?”. His head was still pounding and the impromptu crying was not helping in the slightest but the nurse had told him he would be sluggish for the next few days until he healed, then again she had also told him to avoid phones and screens for the next 72 hours. Of anything it was their own fault for allowing him to talk his way out of having a supervisor to watch his every move. Telling him not to use a screen was like telling a pilot he couldn't fly when the new F-25 was sitting right in front of him.
He was going to do it. He would do anything he had to at this point to hear his Pop’s voice, even if he had to fly to DC and burst into his office himself- that is if they are still posted there. But no, he remembered the creaking of the stairs, the sound was seared into his brain. They had to be down in Miramar, they had to be…right?
That was home. They wouldn’t change that.
“Yes sweetheart, we’re going to go find that idiot of a father of yours” Ice chuckled fondly.
“Why-“ he stuttered hesitating as he worried the words around in his brain for a moment before finally dragging the dreaded question he's been worrying about since he stomped out of their lives 7 years ago from his lips, “Why isn’t he with you? Did I-''. Had they separated because of him? Why weren’t they living in the same house, they had lived together for as long as he could remember, they all had.
“No Bradley. You didn’t do anything. He’s just at the hanger, said he needed to do some work on his baby” Ice soothed apparently knowing him too well, perhaps it was a leftover skill from having to learn how to predict his mood swings as a teenager but Ice had always had the knack of knowing what he needed in the moment. He had been so sure on more than one occasion that the man could secretly read minds, but maybe he just knew his thought patterns too well.
He frowned in confusion, “He has a hanger? Like…his own?”
“I was not impressed” Ice huffed in assurance with a heavy put on sigh “If anything he certainly topped the retriever incident, I think he was trying to win some obscure challenge. Then again I wouldn't mind so much if he was actually home more and cared for it”.
“Retriever?”. His stomach clenched as he blinked away tears as he listened to Ice smile fondly as he recounted his wingman's antics. He bit his lip subconsciously. How much had he thrown away?
Listening to the fact that their lives continued on without him hurt but deep down he knew he hadn't really expected the world to stop spinning. He hadn’t expected for them to stop living their lives just because he had left, but to hear confirmation that they moved on, just as he had…it hurt.
How much had he missed?
“I came home from a meeting a couple of months ago and Slider was supposed to be watching him but apparently he got distracted ”. He let out a wet laugh as Ice drawled in an unimpressed tone. A woman then, they had always been Uncle Si's weakness. One he had seen the others exploit many times to win bets or escape babysitting duties. It was almost a game within the group, or at least it used to be. He could almost hear an Ice smile behind his grouchy tone “Anyway I got back and there’s Mav, dozing away on our couch with a baby golden retriever on his chest. She’s the cutest little thing” Ice cooed only to fall into a brief moment of awkward silence when neither men knew what to say before Ice broke it gently, “We named her Rooster”.
He felt like he was going to be sick. Even after all this time, after all he put them through they still wanted him just as much as he did.
“Pops,” he cried wetly.
“I'm here baby bird” his Pops promised “Now. Tell me about what you’ve been up to in the last few years since we’ve seen you”.
“You're an Admiral, shouldn’t you already know that? I know you help keep Mav updated” The tone wasn’t accusingly just…tired.
“I do,” Ice said quietly, not bothering to do anything to hide his involvement, “But I want to hear it from you”.
So he told him. He started by explaining how he had driven to the edge of town and checked into a motel after he stormed out of the house, how despite having sent Mav away with his tail between his legs he couldn't stand staying in that house anymore knowing Ice would come home and convince him to stay. So he did what he did best, he fled. He told him about how he called up admissions to California University and reversed his refusal; one of the conditions of a bet he lost to Slider a few years ago that he would apply to the same university that his uncle had graduated from, at the time it hadn't meant anything to him a mere joke. He explained that the university had been surprisingly accommodating once he spun a tale about a Navy relocation that was changed last minute allowing him to attend the university, a lie that Ice lowly chastised him for over the line. How he packed up his limited belongings that night with only his broncho, a few hundred dollars in his account and a quickly put together duffle to his name and left that night to drive all the to California. Driving from dawn to dusk trying to sober up from his 7 hour drive huddled up against the window of a coffee at 5am in the morning curled around a cup of coffee trying to stay awake long enough to get his keys from the rental company and crash into the first empty bed he saw.
He laughed about how he met Jackson for the first time. How his roommate had been allegedly studying at his desk reading through the textbook for their economics and aerodynamic classes when the door of their dorm opened, but before he could greet him apparently he had chucked his bag, letting it fall to the ground and stumbled towards the only undressed bed in the room. Jackson had told him he looked like a zombie dragging himself around dead on his feet, bags under his eyes slurring as he muttered to himself, practically throwing himself halfway across the room at the chance of a wink of sleep, only to misjudge the distance and land half on the edge of the bed and roll off with a startled shout. Jackson had told him after laughing so hard he ended up tilting off his chair and joining him on the floor that he had just stared silently at the ceiling blinking slowly with a confused look as he registered falling off the bed.
He confessed how he spent that first night laying awake (of course that was after his frankly illegally long nap, if you could call it that) unable to sleep as he tapped his fingers against his phone that rested on his stomach, fully aware of the missed calls and messages from his uncles, his parents. But the burning need to respond just hadn't been enough to rival the flames of fury curling around his heart like barbed wire. He spent the whole of his first night conflicted, wondering if he should give up and change his mind and go home, that he should beg for Mav to tell him why he did this, why he wasn't good enough. Surely there was a reason, something he would fix to make Mav love him again. The memory of Mav recalling in on himself, jaw flexing as the words left his lips leaving a cold grip around his chest as Mav turned on his heels and walked out of the house.
Go away and never come back old man. I don’t want murderers in this house!
He told Ice about how he powered his phone off and got a burner phone for the first few months, unable to look at it with the burning anger that made him want to throw it at a wall hoping it would break. Knowing he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to reach out if he saw the calls waiting for him. Knowing that he needed to do this, that he couldn't give in yet, that he needed to fight for this. For him.
He told him about how he got a job waiting tables at a nearby mum-and-pop dinner run by an elderly couple, who reminded him of frighteningly grandpa Viper. About how the older couple had stepped in and who took care of him when he was struggling. How they bullied him into staying after his shifts for dinner or pushed hot chocolate onto him and waved away his money when he tried to pay, and how inventive he had to get to hide his tips around for them to find, knowing they would pull his ear like Uncle Wood used to with an exacerbated fond look.
He relaxed back into the mattress smiling as he recounted his subjects and the people he met. Even going as far as to admit that he found most people his age immature and recounted some of the drama and frat initiation he had witnessed. He had never really gotten along with them, instead he chose to hang out with Jackson most days. Unlike him Jackson wasn't heading for the Navy, the man was instead aiming to work as a consultant for the Pentagon. The man loved aerodynamics but the man had admitted that flying made him queasy, and he very much preferred to keep his feet on the ground.
He whispered out the painful admission of returning home for the break not having the will to go anywhere else for the holidays only to book out a hotel room and hide out there afraid of running into any of them. He recounted the nights he had sent in the cold bundles up in his truck outside their house watching the lights go off, unable to take the step of actually knocking on the door. Trying to ignore Ice’s sharp inhale pained with the knowledge that he had been so close.
He talks about how Jackson and he lost contact after graduation both being busy with their new jobs as the man moved out to Texas and as he himself , moved to Annapolis after finding someone who allowed him to enlist and how he got accepted into the academy. He talked about how he was the oldest kid there and the prejudice he faced from the other recruits due to it. How he was dismissed by the teachers and scrutinized by instructors who urged him to find a new career that suited him better. About how he graduated second in his class only beaten by one person, Jake Seresin.
He discussed his frustration and rivalry that bloomed and continued through their deployments only to pop back up, like the leach he was because Seresin was a damn cockroach, as his competitor when he was accepted into Top Gun. How it was only due to a surprising friend from the academy popping back up, Natasha Trace, who kept him sane (and likely from being discharged from punching the man's perfect teeth in) and later became his best friend (one who was very unhappily to find out that they were being separated after graduation, she was being stationed out at Hawaii, hours away from his station in Japan). He talked about how close the points were, about how their rivalry seemed to fizzle out in the moment his jet tipped to the side unresponsive and the man cried out for him. How in that moment, the trophy didn't feel like it mattered anymore.
“They always did put too much focus on that damn trophy” Ice muttered, “The point of Top Gun used to be about being the best, as a team. Now… we’ve lost too much with the encouraged competitiveness”.
He hummed limply as the conversation fell into a sort of lull as he realized how long he had been talking, it was almost 1:23am, almost 2 hours since the call started. And Pops was still here, listening. Who had recognised his distress, and had woken up at an ungodly hour to go and drive out to wherever Mav had boarded himself up for the night simply because he needed him.
“Hey Pops”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I'm wearing your hoodie”. Part of him knew he should be embarrassed at the admission, he ran the cuff of the old faded grey hoodie between his fingers finding comfort in it even though he could no longer smell Ice’s expensive Italian cologne clinging to it. But he couldn't bring himself to be. Sitting comfortably on the centre of his chest covering his sternum was a dark blue and red image, a familiar image, a dark blue circle surrounding a white F-15, marking his chest with his destiny. The words that had been engraved in his mind long before he had ever set foot on the ground before him; United States Navy: Fighter Weapons School.
“Your Top Gun one”. It had given him a connection to them all, being so far away from them, wearing it was the only time he was able to scratch at the nauseating homesickness that rocked his whole being. It had given him a homestead, the name printed across his shoulder blades connecting him to his lineage and the bond connecting his family together.
Kazansky. Graduate of Class 1986, Top Gun.
“I know,” Ice said quietly, “I noticed it was missing not long after you left. You know…there's a photo of you in it up on Penny's bar, at the Hard Deck” Ice corrected before chuckling lightly, “You've grown into it well, I remember when you were a scrawny kid and it just dwarfed you but you refused to wear anything else”.
“I used to take it when you were deployed,” he swallowed, “It was stupid but it made me think that you would come back for it”.
“Brad's,” Ice sounded wretched, “It was never the hoodie I came back for, it was you”.
“I know. I know that now. But…it reminds me that maybe one day…you'll come home again”.
“Bradley-”
“How is everyone” he interrupted sniffing and swallowed down his regret. There was a pause, clearly Ice contemplating chasing up the chain of thought before the man sighed reluctantly submitting to the change of subject.
“Well, you have two new nieces and nephews. Wolf and Wood adopted a little boy three years ago, and Sunny's wife had a surprise kid a few years ago while he was out on deployment, surprising them both” Ice commented dully.
He frowned in confusion, “But I thought Anna was infertile?”
“So did we” Ice hummed but slowly allowed them to fall into the comfortable lull of the conversation as Ice updated him slowly with everything he missed, careful to add in details he thought were pertinent; like Slider retiring from being an Admiral and becoming a commercial pilot, apparently the man was much happier now. Or Wood and Sunny who had co-opened a bakery and coffee store that they had named ‘the smiley shorts’ which honestly didn't surprise him as much as it should have. Or about how Cougar was working in a hospital under his wife who had been promoted to the chief of surgery. And slowly he started to mend a little more.
“Bradley baby, you still with me?”
He blinked tiredly not realizing that he had closed his eyes at some point, he tried to shake sleep from his limbs as it attempted to claim him. He yawned, jaw cracking in the effort as he rolled onto his back tilting his head back towards the phone where it sat on the mattress next to his head. “Pops, right here” he mutters in confirmation, “On your wing”.
“That's right baby bird” Ice let out a small chuckle “Right on my wing. Talking about wingmen. We’re about to find one”.
“Mav?”
“Yeah, darling”. The engine spluttered in the background, and he heard the keys jingle as Ice muttered lowly ‘It's too damn cold for this’ . He listened trying to picture where Ice was as he heard a door opened then the crunch of dirt under boots. He frowned, brows pulling tensely as he tried to picture a desert, or somewhere with a vast amount of land that would allow Mav his solitude but was dry enough to crunch this time of year. He jolted slightly in confusion at the sound of old metal banging against something with a clatter and the loud noise of something heavy rolling.
He almost wept hearing a tired confused voice, “Ice? Honey what are you doing here? It’s almost 3 am”. Mav sounded the same, that lovering concern that he had been on the receiving end of all those years ago and he could see the way Mavs eyes would be pinched in the corner, lips tilted down as he studied them for any injuries, trying to figure out what had happened before they could form a warped lie.
“I have someone who wants to talk to you”, this time he could see Ice's smile, the one that bloomed behind his closed eyelids, the small jump in his lips that bloomed into a gentle smile as the phone travelled hands.
“Uh-hello?” Mav asked, sleep still evident in his voice and he slivered at the flash of memories of seeing the man stumble into the kitchen wrapping his arms around Ice’s waist as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the man's check knowing he would swat him for it as he did every day with a grumble only to pair a cheeky grin to Ice’s unimpressed loom. How he would stay attached to Ice for the rest of breakfast swaying with him a step behind the blond seamlessly ducking out of the way without needing to be asked, passing along ingredients to distract Ice from the wondering fingers trying to snatch a piece of bacon front he pan before it was plated only to end up with a lecture and a wooden spoon to his hand. He remembered Mav’s pouting only for him to turn with a wink as he used to stick his tongue out to tease them.
“Dad?” His voice trembled faced the fact he was speaking to his father for the first time in just under a decade.
Mav hailed sharply, “Baby?” Mav sounded awake, startled by the concern that dragged into his voice. He sounded happy , shocked but happy.
“Dad” His heart slowed his chest aching but relieved as the sense of home finally settled over him.
Home.
“Bradley honey what’s wrong?” Mav asked worriedly.
“He said the hospital called you but you didn’t turn up” Ice rumbled in the background quietly allowing them to have their own moment, no doubt the man had led Mav to sit down holding him close, tugging him into his side.
He could go home.
“Shit, I didn’t have my phone- I didn’t realize until after I got here-”
“Dad,” he interrupted the man's panicked rambling with tears in his eyes as he looked down at the goose in his arms that had offered him so much comfort in the last few years but dispite the memories it carried, it was nothing to rival Mav’s hugs, or Ice’s kisses. It wasn't like curling up with Mav on the couch or being tucked in by Ice. It wasn't home.
“Yes, baby?”
He took a deep breath trying to push back the emotional overload that once again threatened to overtake him, that clung to him weighing him down in the ocean dragging him further underwater like a parachute filling with water with no tactical knife to free himself with forced to watch the rope tangle around his body trapping him as his body jolted at the lack of air. His voice trembled, breaking as the tears became evident in his voice, “Can I come home?”
“Of course, baby” Mav sounded choked up almost as if he was crying as well “God Bradley, of course, you can come home. You were always welcome home”.
And for the first time in years he took a deep breath and his heart felt weightless and he smiled and thought of home, only this time, it was closer than he thought.
#Title from 'Homesick' by Noah Kahan.#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun fandom#top gun maverick#top gun headcanons#pete maverick mitchell#icemav#bradley rooster bradshaw#reunion#Rooster comes home#the mavdad and icepops of it all#mavdad#icepops
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The Red Tieflings Bachelors (Rolan and Zevlor) Reacting to You (Tav) Thanking Them
Featuring: Rolan/Tav; Zevlor/Tav
A/N: Just a little something that popped into my mind while working to clear the writer's block. I was feeling very low the last week or two, so I apologize for my inactivity here. And then I was on vacation with my family. Thankfully, I’m feeling better now. (Currently working on Yandere! Alucard Part 4 and the next ask. Yan! Part 4 will probably take a while because it's long-form (not hc), so expect the ask after that to be posted first.)
Rolan
🔮 It was just another bustling day in Sorcerous Sundries when you decided to stop by, a newfound magical item in hand. To no one’s surprise, it appeared your favorite tiefling wizard was too busy sorting through the inventory of Ramazith's Tower to man his shop, seeing it was his programmed illusion who greeted you with a relatively uncharacteristic amiable tone.
“Welcome to the Sorcerous Sundries. Is there something in particular you’re looking for today?”
Knowing Rolan, in reality, his body was pacing around Razamith’s Tower, nearly tearing his hair out, as he obsessively mumbled, sorting through the piles and piles of books and scrolls Lorroakan had gathered in his time. The compelling image in your mind was such a stark contrast to the one before you, that you bit your lip to prevent your signature mischievous smile from dawning across your face.
“I believe Rolan left something upstairs for me.”
The illusion looked at you, eyes narrowed, presumably scanning its programming for an appropriate response. Yet, just as Rolan’s Projection opened his mouth to speak (in all probability to deny you entry) your conversation was interrupted by a boisterous halfling patron, hoisting an item that he declared comprised of defective magic.
Never one to waste a distraction, you took the opportunity to make your way up the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries to its second floor and into the correct portal leading to Razamith Towers.
Upon entering the portal, you were met with the familiar sound of Lia and Cal bickering with none other than the new proprietor of Sorcerous Sundries himself.
“If you simply spoke to them instead of pining inside this tower all day and night…” Lia went straight to the point as usual.
“I am not pining!” You could hear Rolan answer, in his usual defensive tone.
“I think what Lia means to say is, it would be easier for all involved if you were to simply ask them-” Always the mediator, Cal must have jumped in. It did not surprise you, seeing as how he was rather skilled when it came to talking his siblings down.
“Ask who what?” You interrupted, the concrete visage of Razamith’s Towers finally greeting you. Despite having known the tiefling family for months now, you were always amused by their antics. “Does Rolan have his heart set on an apprenticeship with yet another asinine wizarding master?” You had a feeling Cal and Lia were referring to something else entirely, but you’d prefer to speak to Rolan alone about that.
Rolan rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by both your sudden presence and your insistence on teasing him. “I no longer require a master, nor a teacher. Lorroakan gathered enough magical books and knowledge within these walls for me to teach myself all I could ever wish to know.” Behind him, his pointed tail lashed sideways, always ending with an upward flick of the point. To a fellow tiefling, his irritation would have been quite obvious. Then again, you were not a fellow tiefling.
You nodded, ignoring Rolan’s wilful tone. You had become accustomed to his many displays of false irritation and indignation. More often than not, your headstrong ally was more bark than bite. “That may be,” you continued. “But in case it isn’t, I’ve brought you one more tome for your collection.”
Rolan’s entire posture, tail included, stiffened upon hearing your words. The tiefling wizard was in disbelief. A gift? For him? But, why?
Lia smirked, before elbowing Cal, whose own knowing expression soon followed suit, spreading across his face. Nodding to each other, two brother-sister duo walked off, leaving you and Rolan alone, standing in a near deafening silence.
“It’s a tome on the origins of The Weave, or, at least I think it is. That’s what Gale told me anyway.”
Rolan's previously erect shoulders slumped at the mention of your former traveling companion’s name. “Ah yes, Gale, The Great Wizard of Waterdeep. How is he faring these days?”
“Better,” you answered honestly. “It seems not living with a ticking time bomb just inside your chest does a man some good.”
Rolan brushed off your attempt at lightening the mood, pushing past you to a stack of unsorted books piled on an end table to your left. “I assume the two of you have kept in touch then?”
“Rolan!” You mock gasped. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”
“Pfft, you’ve clearly let the title of Hero go to your head. Why would I be jealous of a mere professor at Blackstaff Academy when I possess an entire library of magical writings, a shop full of magical items, and several arcane cannons to defend all of the former?”
“He’s a very respected professor, and there’s something to be said for enjoying the simpler things in life.”
Rolan scoffed once again. “He had the power to be a God and turned it down. After enduring all your group did, taking on the shadow curse, fighting the goblins, destroying the Absolute, a job instructing ungrateful, know-it-all brats hardly seems like a reward.”
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Well, it’s what Gale wanted. But I do have to wonder,” you slowly stalked towards the red tiefling, “If a very coveted and respected position of authority isn’t something you'd consider a reward, what exactly qualifies as recompense to the mighty Wizard of Razamith’s Tower?”
Slowly, you trailed a finger up along Rolan’s robed arm, delighting in the little gasp that slipped from his lips.
He both hated and loved how you could make him feel like this. How just one word, one look from you could leave him a needy, wanton mess, how he longed for you to step even closer, for his body to press up entirely against yours. In the back of his mind, he imagined what it would feel like for your strong weathered hands to run down his red infernal skin, but that time, with no gloves or thick robes in the way.
Rolan was certain you knew the degree of power you held over him. He was sure you delighted in pushing and prodding at his buttons, drawing out each one of your visits with flirtation and playful verbal sparring.
“What… about…a…?” you enunciated each word with another swipe of your finger across his robe’s velvety material, your face moving ever so slowly closer to his.
Finding his composure, Rolan shrugged off your advances with a shaky sigh. “Spit it out already. I don’t have all day.” Defiantly, he turned to face you, calling your bluff. His lips were mere inches from yours: red, plump, and just begging to be kissed.
Never one to back down from a challenge, you continued to press forward, pressing your lips to his.
With a breathy sigh, Rolan’s tension melted away as he melded his mouth back onto yours.
Reaching up with one hand, you cupped the back of his head, ever so gently pulling him even closer to you.
Rolan moaned into the kiss and moved to grab your waist, but before his hands could secure you in his grasp, you stepped away just as smoothly and silently as you had stepped forward.
Embarrassed and flustered, Rolan flashed you his pointy teeth in a frustrated groan. “Why must you tease me so? Have you not grown tired, frequently coming here just to pester me?”
You beamed, proud to see your previous suspicions confirmed. “No,” you stated, matter-of-factly. “It’s too much fun! Besides,” you held the book out for him to take. “You didn’t seem all that excited about my earlier thanks, and that simply wouldn’t do.”
Rolan rolled his eyes, accepting the tome with a huff, his tail back to swishing violently behind him. “Was that what that was? And here I thought you were trying to come up with new ways to annoy me.”
“Annoy you?!” You mock gasped. “Surely my kiss was not that bad.”
“For a ‘thank you’, that kiss was highly inappropriate, it! Well…” he trailed off, his cheeks somehow blushing an even warmer shade of red.
You tilted your head, encouraging the tiefling to go on.
Rolan avoided your gaze, pretending to find interest in the book you had just gifted him. His voice was quiet, but also self-assured. “It was entirely too short of a kiss to count as a ‘thank you’. You might as well just have given me a peck on the cheek.”
Rolan continued flipping pages of the tome, doing his best to act uninterested in your kiss and your presence, even though the both of you knew all too well it was a lie.
“Don’t worry,” you started to take your leave, giving Rolan a playful pat on the shoulder. You paused for a moment, leaning into his ear to whisper, “I’ll make sure the next time I pester you goes more in your favor.”
Watching your form retreat into the portal, Rolan brought a finger to lips, just ghosting along the surface you had latched onto not seconds before.
Emerging from their eavesdropping positions, Cal and Lia could not help but give Rolan a pair of mischievous smiles.
Watching as the whirls of the portal spun around you, you overheard one last bit of conversation just before your body was transported back to the upper floor of Sorcerous Sundries.
“Not one word,” Rolan warned, his stern body language failing to conceal the pleased sound within his voice.
“Told you to just ask them out.”
“Lia!”
Zevlor
⚔️ It had been some time since you defeated The Absolute. Of course, despite the changing season, much of Baldur’s Gate was in need of repair and renovation. While Halsin had taken many refugees to his new settlement in Reithwin, a part of the former Shadow-Cursed Lands, many chose to remain in the city and restart their lives there. Being a frequent flyer of the city yourself, you found it easy to visit those who chose to stay behind. One such individual, a former Hellrider called Zevlor, was someone you found yourself visiting more than the others.
You shifted the rather large rectangle basket within your grasp, moving it so it rested within the crook of your left arm as you freed your right hand, before raising it to knock upon the unmarked door before you. Faintly, you could make out whispered gossip floating up from the stairs behind you, but you paid the hushed voices no mind. Sure, to outsiders it may have seemed odd that the savior of Badlur’s Gate was so keen on visiting the same acquaintance, one who resided in such simple dwellings, but to you the luxury afforded as a hero and adventurer paled in comparison to a good conversation between friends.
‘Friends’. The word echoed in your head, like a schoolmarm repeating the dishonest words of a misbehaved child.
In truth, you found yourself more drawn to the older paladin than perhaps you’d like to admit. You found your admiration and respect for the former Hellrider only grew with each passing visit, and now, there was hardly a day the tiefling did not fondly cross your mind.
Then again, those silly girlish feelings would no doubt ruin the peaceful nature of your current relationship with Zevlor, so you pushed them aside in favor of maintaining a friendship while pining rather than speaking your truth and risking having no relationship at all.
Hearing a shuffle of objects on the other side of the door, you smiled and released a breath you didn't know you were holding. It was just like any other day, there was no reason to get nervous now.
“Ah, Tav,” Zevlor opened the door with a soft smile, “Right on time, as usual.” Always the gentleman, Zevlor stepped back, holding the door open for you.
“My parents always said punctuality is a virtue,” you smiled, remembering their words fondly. “As much as I try to embody their lessons, this life doesn’t present many opportunities to do so, so I like to fit them in where I can.”
Zevlor hummed, closing the door behind you. “They must be proud of you. Not every parent can claim their daughter is one of the great heroes of Baldur’s Gate.”
Walking over to the settee just beyond the door, you took your usual spot seated on the right-hand side of the rather cramped sitting area. Despite being inside Zevlor’s home many times, you still found yourself amazed at how the tiefling managed to move around without knocking his tail into everything.
The furnished room Zevlor currently resided in was a single-room loft, settled above a rather quaint little cafe spot in the lower part of the city. It wasn’t much, and it had very little privacy, especially for visitors, but that was little concern of yours. And despite Zevlor’s constant apologies for the small space, you felt more at home seated inside his little apartment than you did your camp at times.
In the corner opposite the door, a cast-iron stove and a washing basin with a faucet were secluded just beyond a shutter-style room divider. You knew from previous visits that was where Zevlor always warmed the kettle for your meeting tea. Next to the settee you were seated on was a single dresser, about waist high. Upon it sat the few various plates and utensils Zevlor used daily as well as the collection of mismatched tea cups and teapots. And despite never seeing the inside of them, you assumed the drawers of the dresser housed his clothing and armor. Although, you must admit you were rather curious as to how he got his chainmail and breastplate to fit.
Directly across from the settee, on the opposite wall was a twin-sized bed, undoubtedly too small for the tiefling paladin, even if he was never one to complain. Zevlor always kept it neatly made, the sheets all tucked in evenly, almost as if no one had slept in it the night prior. You supposed he had no choice, if he wished to entertain guests, as there was no way for their eyes to avoid it. Then again, a part of you had a feeling that order and precision were just key elements of who Zevlor was. Despite no longer being a Hellrider, and having long broken his oath as a paladin, several of his attributes like discipline and respect went far beyond any former occupation or title.
Setting your surprise gift onto the wooden coffee/dining table before you, you answered Zevlor’s observation with a much more melancholy smile. “I’d like to think that, if they were still here, that yes, they’d be proud.”
Taken aback by your revelation, Zevlor’s face fell before he recanted. “Tav, forgive me. I did not know your parents had passed. But I do still believe that regardless of where their souls may be now, they are looking upon you with pride.”
Careful not to accidentally knock you with his tail, Zevlor retrieved the teapot, ready with tea already steeping, and two of the mismatched cups, before he returned to be seated next to you.
Due to the tight nature of the room’s layout, and the small stature of the settee, every visit between the two of you resulted in your knees touching. In the beginning, Zevlor was overly apologetic, insisting he could instead sit on the bed, and allow you to have the sofa all to yourself, but you insisted the proximity was more than fine. You knew many people still saw tieflings as devils, monsters, or hellspawns, but you were not among them. The tieflings were just like any other race you had encountered on your journey: they were simply doing their best to survive.
If anything, the hardships Zevlor and the tiefling refugees endured before arriving in Emerald Grove only made you respect them more. You were no stranger to hardship. You knew how difficult it was to have to get back up after you’ve been beaten; particularly how hard it was to accomplish the sixth or seventh time around, but it was something Zevlor managed to do with dignity when leading his people.
You knew he did not see it similarly, his mind having been temporarily corrupted by The Absolute, but you would have fared no better if it was not for The Emperor’s intrusion. Truth be told, few minds ever could have resisted such a powerful psychic force. And even though several of Zevlor’s former tiefling friends and allies held him in contempt to this day, you could not bring yourself to agree with them.
After the tea had been poured and sipped, your comfortable silence gave way to conversation.
“How long will you be in the city this time? Any adventures planned for the future?” Zevlor asked.
“I do have some news,” you admitted, placing your teacup down. “I’ve been thinking of this for a while now, but I needed some time to come to terms with it.”
Zevlor motioned for you to go on.
“Well, it’s been nearly seven months since our victory against The Absolute, against Gortash, Orin, and Ketheric Thorm. The former Shadow-Cursed Lands have blossomed into a new hope for so many people. I’ve thought about hanging up my adventurer’s hat. At least for now.”
“I see. And what will you do with all your spare time? Travel? The Sword Coast has much to see, or so I’m told.”
You shook your head. “I’ve been thinking of settling down.” You fiddled with your fingers, hands resting in your lap. “Maybe starting a family.”
“Oh,” came Zevlor’s deflated response. “I see.”
You placed a reassuring hand on Zevlor’s shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people. And I want to continue to do it. But I think I can do it differently, in a way where I can have both, ya know?”
Zevlor nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes, certainly. It makes sense. You’re young, you want to live life to the fullest but you also don’t want to live it alone. I understand perfectly.”
Seeing Zevlor’s downtrodden posture, you brought your hand down from his shoulder and placed it on top of his. “The reason I wanted to tell you was because, well, I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to come with me?”
Zevlor’s eyes snapped up. “I’m- I’m sorry?”
“I found a house, a cottage in east of Reithwin. It’s nothing fancy, and it’s most certainly in need of some major repairs but there are two rooms. It’d be away from the chaos of the city, in a town itself that is starting anew. I thought, there’d be a chance, you’d prefer those circumstances as opposed to living here.”
Zevlor swallowed harshly. “I’m not certain what to say. You’ve already been such a help to me and my people. You’ve forgiven me even after… I do not know if such an old tiefling like myself is worthy of such kindness.”
“Oh Zevlor,” you sighed, pulling the older man in for a reassuring hug. “You deserve this kindness and more. You’ve survived so much, and you’re the reason so many others have survived. You stood up and fought The Absolute’s Army when it descended upon the city. You could have hidden. You knew what kind of power it had, you knew all too well the way it could destroy your mind. But you chose to do the right thing. You’re incredibly brave, and I wish you could hear me say that and believe it.”
Letting Zevlor go, you could see the faintest bit of water welling up within his eyes. But to further spare the former Hellrider any embarrassment, you thought it best if you took this time to go.
Standing up, you carefully slid over the rectangle box towards Zevlor before making your way toward the door.
“What’s this?” Zevlor asked, taking a good look at the box.
“Oh, I saw them at the market the other day, and I wanted you to have them.”
“Tav, please,” Zevlor started, his hands held up in protest. “You’ve already given me so much. I couldn’t possibly-”
You cut him off before he could start his whole self-deprecating spiel up again. “It’s nothing big, just a token. I wanted you to have your own set. That way, even if you don’t wish to come along with me, we’ll be able to use and enjoy them when I come and visit you here.”
You opened the door, letting yourself out. But before you descended the stairs, you turned to face Zevlor one more time. “I’ll be at the Elfsong Tavern for a few more days, I have some things to get in order, some other people to see. I want you to know we’ll still be… friends if you don’t change your mind. Although,” you spoke, a relaxed smile upon your face. “I truly hope you will.”
You reached for the doorknob, pulling it closed behind you.
Zevlor waited, listening to your footsteps as your boots descended the stairs. When he was sure you were not going to return, his clawed fingers moved to carefully remove the top of the box, being mindful not to scratch the contents inside. Once the lid was off, the softest of gasps escaped his red lips.
Nestled in the box was a matching tea set: one teapot, three teacups, three saucers, one sugar bowl, and one cream pitcher. The rims of everything were painted to look gold, and the main design itself was a collection of watercolor flowers, each very dainty yet boldly elegant.
Gently, one of Zevlor’s hands grazed over his knee on the part where yours rested against his just moments ago.
“Friends,” Zevlor spoke aloud. The word repeated inside the Hellriders mind. But unlike the commanding voice of The Absolute, it was soft and sweet and entirely in your tone. And in its echo a second word emerged, although similar in sound and nature, the weight of it felt differently settled upon his heart.
‘Family,’ Zevlor thought looking down at the tea set you gifted him. ‘Yes, I do think I would like that.’
A/N 2.0: Can you tell how much of a soft spot I have for Zevlor? Related Fun fact I took a BG3 personality quiz once, and it said that I’m him due to my longtime suffering and constant masochist desire to keep doing the right thing even though life punishes me for it…
(个_个)
As always, please Like and most importantly, REBLOG!
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#rolan x tav#zevlor x tav#rolan x reader#zevlor x reader#rolan imagine#zevlor imagine#bg3 x tav#bg3 x reader#bg3
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the unseen heart
y/n has feelings for bakugo, but he seems oblivious or uninterested, causing emotional turmoil.
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you sighed as you watched katsuki bakugo from across the classroom. he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his usual scowl plastered on his face. despite his rough exterior, you couldn't help but be drawn to him. there was something about his determination and raw strength that captivated you.
"y/n, are you even paying attention?" your friend, mina, whispered, nudging you with her elbow.
you snapped back to reality, your cheeks flushing. "sorry, what did you say?"
mina rolled her eyes playfully. "i said, you're staring again. when are you going to tell him how you feel?"
you glanced at bakugo again, then quickly looked away. "i don't know if I can. he probably doesn't even see me that way."
mina frowned, concern in her eyes. "you won't know unless you try. besides, bakugo might surprise you."
you nodded, though doubt gnawed at you. the bell rang, signaling the end of class. you gathered your things and headed out, determined to push your feelings aside and focus on training.
--
later that day, you found yourself alone in the training grounds, practicing your quirk. you were so absorbed in your routine that you didn't notice bakugo approaching until he spoke.
"you're doing it wrong."
you spun around, startled. "bakugo! what are you doing here?"
he crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. "what does it look like? i'm here to train. and you're going about it all wrong."
you frowned, a mix of irritation and embarrassment bubbling up. "i'm doing just fine, thanks."
bakugo scoffed. "fine? you're wasting energy with unnecessary movements. watch."
he demonstrated a more efficient technique, his movements precise and powerful. you couldn't help but admire him, even as your heart ached. it was moments like this that reminded you why you fell for him in the first place.
"see? that's how you do it," he said, turning to you.
you nodded, trying to mask your emotions. "thanks, bakugo."
he grunted in response, turning back to his own training. you watched him for a moment, then resumed your practice, trying to ignore the pang in your chest.
--
days turned into weeks, and your feelings for bakugo only grew stronger. each interaction with him, no matter how brief, was a bittersweet reminder of your unspoken love. you laughed at his snarky comments, cherished his rare moments of praise, and supported him during difficult missions. yet, he remained oblivious, or so it seemed.
one evening, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself sitting alone on the dormitory rooftop. the cool breeze was a welcome relief, but it did little to soothe your troubled heart. you gazed at the stars, wondering if you'd ever have the courage to tell bakugo how you felt.
"hey, y/n.."
you turned to see mina standing behind you, a concerned look on her face. "hey, mina. what's up?"
she sat down beside you, her expression softening. "i wanted to check on you. you've been acting kind of distant lately."
you sighed, resting your chin on your knees. "it's just… bakugo. i can't get him out of my head, mina. but he doesn't seem to notice me that way."
mina gave you a sympathetic smile. "have you tried talking to him? really talking?"
you shook your head. "i don't think i can. what if he rejects me? what if it ruins everything?"
mina placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "you'll never know if you don't try. and even if it doesn't go the way you hope, at least you'll have closure."
you pondered her words, feeling a mixture of fear and determination. maybe it was time to finally tell bakugo how you felt, no matter the outcome.
--
the next day, you decided to take mina's advice. you found bakugo in the common area, reading a hero magazine. taking a deep breath, you approached him, your heart pounding.
"bakugo, can we talk?"
he glanced up, his eyebrows raised. "what is it?"
you shifted nervously, trying to find the right words. "i… i have something i need to tell you."
he set the magazine aside, giving you his full attention. "well, spit it out."
You took another deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. "bakugo, i… i've had feelings for you for a long time. i know you might not feel the same way, but i needed to tell you."
for a moment, there was silence. bakugo's expression was unreadable, and you feared the worst. then, he spoke.
"y/n, i…"
before he could finish, the alarm sounded, signaling a villain attack. the moment was shattered, and bakugo's expression hardened. "we'll talk later. right now, we have to go."
you nodded, pushing your feelings aside as you prepared for the mission. as you followed bakugo out, you couldn't help but wonder what he was going to say. but for now, you had to focus on being a hero, even if your heart was breaking.
--
the mission was successful, but the conversation with bakugo never happened. days turned into weeks, and you couldn't bring yourself to bring it up again. you continued to fight alongside him, hiding your feelings behind a mask of professionalism.
but every now and then, you'd catch bakugo looking at you with an unreadable expression, and you'd wonder if maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. until then, you would keep your heart guarded, hoping that one day, he might see you as more than just a teammate.
#bnha#mha#anime#bnha x reader#mha x reader#x reader#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#katsuki bakugou#faithfulren
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You (not) Belong to Me
besfriend!Steve x fem reader / boyfriend!Eddie x fem reader.
— Summary: You were always in love with your best friend Steve, however, he never noticed it and when he did it was too late.
— Warnings: Angst, friends of enemies, angst, insults, and some fluff with Eddie at the end. (I think that's all)
A/n: English is not my native language, sorry if something is written wrong, I hope everything can be understood. :)
Five years have passed since you moved from Hawkins to follow your dream, it was very difficult of course, but now you are one of the most important artists in the industry. Many emotions were passing through your mind, many memories, your friends, your best friends, would finally be together again.
It was very difficult to convince your agency and manager that they would agree to have a date in Hawkins, but after some insistence, they agreed. Hawkins was a quiet, boring town, but now that you and Corroed Coffin had included it in your respective tours, the town was in chaos. Despite having called its leader and vocalist, Eddie Munson, satanic.
After two and a half hours of flight, your plane landed, there was a crowd at the airport shouting your name, holding banners, and asking for photos and autographs, you signed the ones you could, while you got to the car that would take you to your hotel, you agreed to see your friends. friends after your concert, so you will rest better.
You were about to end the show, this would be the last song, you were so happy to see how people had fun and sang all the songs on the setlist.
“Alright Hawkins, are you ready to go back to high school with me?” The entire crowd shouted, and that song that more than one identified with began to play.
"You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset
She's going off about something that you said
'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do
I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday night
I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like
And she'll never know your story like I do"
Despite the lights you could see your friends in the crowd, seeing that scene where they were chanting and enjoying your songs made you even happier. You really appreciated the support of your friends, they always gave you words of encouragement, even when you thought you wouldn't make it, but now look at you, you fill entire stadiums and arenas.
"And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town
I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down
You say you're fine, I know you better than that
Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?"
At that moment something clicked in Steve's brain. You were neighbors since you were children, however, being “King Steve” and you being just another “normal” student, there was never any interaction beyond casual greetings, however, that changed when you reached high school, being in the same class and also being neighbors, the friendship between you blossomed quite quickly. Without realizing it, you went and did everything together, many began to believe that you were dating, but you always denied it. However, behind all the times you denied it, there was a reality, you liked Steve.
"She wears high heels, I wear sneakers
She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time
If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along, so why can't you see?
You belong with me"
Steve started dating a girl from high school, she was the captain of the cheerleaders, like her best friend, you gave him all the encouragement and confidence to ask her out, to ask for a second date, and even to formalize the relationship; although inside you were dying of jealousy and reproaching yourself for not having the courage to tell him what you felt for him.
When the relationship ended after a few months, Steve, although he didn't show it, was heartbroken, so there you were, giving him words of encouragement and your shoulder to cry on, reproaching yourself again for not telling him your feelings.
"Oh, I remember you driving to my house
In the middle of the night
I'm the one who makes you laugh
When you know you're about to cry
I know your favorite songs
And you tell me about your dreams
Think I know where you belong
Think I know it's with me"
After class you had told Steve that you weren't feeling very well, so you weren't going to the party with him; He insisted on staying with you and taking care of you, but you rejected him claiming that you didn't want him to miss out on the fun and the opportunity to meet a girl that night. However, the reality is that you did not want to have him close, you did not want to see him flirt with various girls at the party, while your heart would break into a thousand pieces, you did not want to be alone with him, and fight with yourself for fear of rejection.
It was around 11:30 when you heard the doorbell ring, It had already rung several times, but you didn't dare open it, because you were alone at home and Steve was also too far away to help you if he was a serial killer or something similar, you turned off the television, stood up and began to climb the stairs as far as possible. As silent as possible, your doorbell kept ringing.
“Sweetheart, is everything okay? It's Steve." Your legs weakened a little when you heard the nickname, you stood there for a few more seconds and then went down the stairs again and opened the door. “Steve? What are you doing here? It's not even twelve…” Steve entered your house and gave you what he had in his hands, four pieces of pizza, probably from the party, some gas station chocolates, and a small bouquet of roses that were almost withered. “I know, honey, but I didn't feel good at the party knowing that you weren't well, so I decided to come here, accompany you, and help you with whatever you need.” Steve turned to look at you and raised both thumbs. “Steve, it wasn't necessary, I already feel much better, I'm serious.” However, I can't hear you anymore, I was arriving at your room.
That night they spent together, they talked about school, problems with her parents, and love dramas. Finally, he discovered that your spirits were low because of a boy, so for about an hour, he asked you the name of the boy, without knowing that he was him.
“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor
All this time how could you not know, baby?
You belong with me
You belong with me
You belong with me
Have you ever thought just maybe
You belong with me
You belong with me"
“Thank you very much, Hawkins! A round of applause for this wonderful band that accompanies me, a round of applause for you, I hope to see you soon, thank you very much.” You said goodbye to your audience as you left the stage, leaving behind the screams of all the people who loved and supported you. Steve also quickly got up from his seat heading towards your dressing room, he ran as fast as he could to avoid encountering the entire crowd. Finally, he was able to sneak through the crowd and the small spaces under the stage to get to your dressing room, he knocked on the door insistently, until you finally opened it.
“Steve!” You quickly hugged him. “Sweetheart” He said while hugging you, “You know, I finally understood everything, I understood why my relationships never lasted with any girl” He began to say with a smile, as he separated from the hug and took your hands, you just had a face surprised and confused. “What are you talking about Steve? I'm not understanding you at all” You said laughing, his eyes went to yours. “It was always you, I was always in love with you, I finally understood all the signals you were giving me… I really was an idiot for not realizing it.” Steve said with a smile, a slight blush on his cheeks, you didn't know what to say. “Steve I—” Your words were interrupted by your other friends who shouted to get your attention and ran to hug you.
“It's good to see you all again, thank you very much for coming.” You spoke, as you looked at your friends. “My god, you guys have grown so much” You spoke addressing Dustin, Mike, Will, Eleven, and Max. Who smiled back at you. “It's incredible to be all together again… Only Eddie is missing and the whole group will be reunited again, it's a shame he's coming here until tomorrow.” Dustin spoke, you simply nodded with a mischievous smile, while the others discussed agreeing with him.
“Love, everything is done, we can go with the boys.” Said a voice speaking distractedly, also walking looking backwards, making sure everything was in its place and order. “Edward…”You spoke. Eddie turned to look at you with a smile and then saw who you were talking to, the one who was waiting to see you talking to your team quickly covered his mouth, “Shit” hoping that by magic no one would have heard what he had called you. All your friends looked at them surprised, especially Steve, “Did you listen carefully to what he said?”, “Did everyone hear the same thing?” They all asked at the same time, you and Eddie just laughed, and you raised your left hand to your mouth to cover your laughter a little, “Wait… You already have the ring!” Robin shouted, everyone stopped talking and turned to look at them again, “God, at what point?” “When were you planning to tell us?”, “Were you guys already dating when you left here?” Dustin asked, everyone had a lot of questions at that moment. “Oh no dud, three years ago she was part of the cover of one of the band's albums, we started talking more often and well, now we're going to get married” Eddie explained with a big smile on his face. While all this was going on and Eddie was answering some questions you noticed that Steve's mood and expressions had changed and rightly so. Actually, in those years that you were in love with him, you gave him all the signs you could, even the most obvious ones, like the time you kissed him pretending to be a little drunk, however, there was no response from him, so from that moment on you decided forgetting him, you moved to Los Angeles and met Eddie again, from the moment you started talking to him you realized how gentlemanly and warm he was, you never noticed it when you still lived in Hawkins, he quickly won your heart, and Now you were about to marry him, the love of your life.
“Love, is everything okay?” Eddie asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I'm sorry, I zoned out a little, I remember how we had it before, I'm very happy that we are together again” You responded with a smile, Eddie hugged you and kissed you on the forehead. “What do they say about going out to eat something?” Dustin said, “I'm hungry and you two must give us a lot of answers.” Everyone laughed. “We can go to my house, we can be calmer,” Steve spoke, with a noticeably low mood.
“Does anyone know what's wrong with Steve? Since we came back it's been weird” Robin said, looking at Steve who was in the backyard of his house. The others denied. “He probably didn't have a good day,” you said. “I spend the whole day excited about tonight, it's weird” Dustin added. “I'll go talk to him” You warned as you stood up and walked in Steve's direction.
"Everything is alright?" You asked, but there was no answer, so you just sat next to him, giving him space, “You're my best friend, I know we haven't lost communication a bit, but you can still trust me.” Again there was no response, although you had an idea of what he might have, from what he had told you in your dressing room. “That's the problem” He finally spoke, turning to look at you. “I'm your best friend” You didn't respond. “Why did you never tell me?” He asked, a hint of confusion showing on your face. “Tell you what?” Asked. “That you were in love with me” Your confused expression became a little more evident. “I knew you were like this because of this” You stopped looking at him and directed your gaze towards your ring. “If you had only told me, I would have given you the ring you are wearing,” I added. A little anger began to grow in your chest. “Are you really in love with him?” Asked. “Or are you just with him out of spite?” You didn't answer anything, you could hear how drunk he was, so he was just saying it because he was drunk, not because he meant it. “What does he have that I don't have?” “Edward Munson” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “What could be so special about the freak?” “What does the freak have that King Steve doesn't, huh?” He said with an annoyed tone in his voice, you remained silent, you really didn't want to say anything and ruin your friendship, however with everything Steve was saying, he was going that way, Steve probably wouldn't remember tomorrow, but you would, and probably after that night the friendship between the two of you would no longer exist.
"I bet when you realized that I didn't feel the same way about you, you ran into his arms." You remained silent, you didn't believe everything he was telling you, he was your best friend, how could he say something like that about you? "You know... For a long time it was said that you were a slut, I never believed them but now I realize it was the truth" Steve laughed at the moment, he turned to look at you, and you were already looking at him, however, the tears were beginning to come out. your eyes. “I’m thankful I never dated you, can you imagine King Steve dating a slut?” once again he laughed. Without realizing it, Eddie was a short distance from you, he had heard everything, to say that he was angry would be flattery, he wanted to go with you and confront Steve himself, however, he restrained himself, he knew that it was a problem between you and Steve, He shouldn't get involved, you two would talk later.
The anger was already accumulated in your chest, Steve reacted until he felt the burning of your hand on his cheek, there he woke up, he realized everything he had told you, and he regretted it instantly, however, it was too late. "You're an Idiot!" You said a little louder, getting your friend's attention. “I gave you a lot of signs when I was in love with you, all our friends realized it, except you Steve, even someone who didn't know you or me would have realized it” Steve's face of regret was evident, all the others were now only a meter away from the two of you. "You know... now I'm grateful not to be with you, I always thought you were a gentleman, but now I realize that when you're drunk you transform, your true self takes over you, imagine being your best friend, you call me a slut, what wouldn't you say to me being your girlfriend or wife?” Steve felt the gaze of all his friends staring at him, especially Eddie's, without even seeing him he could tell that he was very angry. “You could have fooled us all Steve, saying that you had changed, that you were different, but now I realize that you will always be the idiotic and stupid King Steve” You said. You gave him one last look and then went inside the house to grab your things, Eddie followed you, and you noticed how angry Eddie was, you took his hand, then you remembered that your friends were still there, you turned to see them, their confused faces told you everything. “Guys… sorry about this… I didn't think it would end like this tonight, I'll make it up to you, I promise.” Everyone nodded and some said there was no problem. You and Eddie left Steve's house hand in hand and headed to the car you had rented, before getting in you could notice a flash behind you. “Shit” They both thought.
After that discussion everyone went home, Steve was alone again, the regret was much greater than him, the image of all his friends being disappointed in him after you left was present in his head, but without However, the one that was repeated the most was yours, seeing him with teary eyes listening to him call you “slut”, he wondered what had happened to him, why call the person he loved that way, the person he has always loved. It had probably been jealousy, for not acting sooner, and now you were happy for someone else, the guilt was killing him, if he found out that you and Eddie broke up because of that, he definitely wouldn't be able to live in peace, he knew you would never want to have anything. with him now, and knowing that the person you loved would leave because of him, he couldn't bear it.
The walk from Steve's house to his hotel had been silent, which meant something to you, you and Eddie always had something to talk about, even if it was stupid. Once in his hotel room, you headed to the bathroom and Eddie stayed in the small living room. You took a rather long shower, and when you came out of the shower you noticed that Eddie was not in the room, you put on your pajamas and got ready to sleep and rest, tomorrow you would talk to him and explain everything to him. For about thirty minutes you tried to fall asleep, but you just couldn't do it, you got out of bed and headed to the small living room, there you saw Eddie sitting, he had a music book in his hands, without making much noise. When you approached him and sat on the couch leaving a little space between you, he turned to look at you, the image he saw made his anger return, you looked tired and irritated, and rightly so, after a concert and everything that step, your eyes were red and swollen, making it obvious that you had cried. “I don't want to bother you, I just want to talk to you… explain what happened.” You spoke, Eddie responded a few seconds later, “You don't have to explain anything to me, I know what happened” He responded, you looked down at your ring, it was probably over between the two of you. “I'm not mad at you, Love… I'm mad at Steve, for everything he said, for what he called you…” You turned to look at him. “I always thought that you and him were dating, that's why I didn't dare to confess it to you when we were at school… But when you told me that you and he weren't together, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to be with you and since that day I haven't regretted it.” Eddie smiled, opening his arms in a hug, and you snuggled into his arms. “I love you so much” You said, “I love you too” He responded, getting up and carrying your bridal style towards the bedroom.
A year later you found yourself on stage again at Hawkings, your wedding with Eddie would have been a few months after their photos appeared in the newspaper speculating about their relationship, the day of the fight at Steve's house.
“Very good Hawkins, I'm very happy to be here tonight, for the next song, someone very special will accompany me on guitar, with you, Eddie Munson!” Eddie came out on stage, the entire crowd went crazy, absolutely everyone since those speculations about the two of you, he began to comment that you would be a great couple, one of the best in the artistic medium. However, no one confirmed or denied the news. Eddie greeted the crowd, then hugged you, and you confirmed your relationship with a kiss, the audience once again applauded and screamed at this.
You brought your microphone closer to him, “Good evening Hawkins, I'm glad to be here with you, but above all to share the stage with this wonderful girl” He said looking at you “Now we will play for you “Slut!”” The crowd went crazy once again, there was a lot of speculation. and theories for who this song would be for, but now, it was more than confirmed.
"Flamingo pink, Sunrise boulevard
Clink, clink, being this young is art
Aquamarine, moonlit swimming pool
What if all I need is you?"
Steve, who had gone to your concert, was clearly incognito because, after that night, the group had decided not to communicate with him much. I knew that fight could have perhaps inspired this song, although I wasn't proud of the way you had written a song, thinking of him.
I hope you like this little (long) one shot, it's the first time I have written something like this, so I would also like you to give advice or recommendations. I hope it's not too long or boring. I would appreciate your comments. 💗
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#joe keery#joseph quinn
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I'LL SEE YOU WHEN I FALL ASLEEP. — The Tokito family's oldest child returns home.
— trigger & content warnings. contains spoilers for the infinity castle arc & takes place around/after the end of the manga, major character death, grief, self-hatred, survivor's guilt, etc.
— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. kamado tanjiro, kamado nezuko & reader, but the fic is still muichiro-centric. reader is 16 and is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader was a demon slayer. reader is muichiro and yuichiro's older sibling. 3.1k words.
— author's thoughts. suffer, manga readers :) anyways why are there so few platonic fics about mui and yui??? they are literally my sons. please. begging the kny community to write more platonic content about them sobs weeps cries /lh
Morning sunlight kisses their skin tenderly, caressing their face with its reassuring touch, but it does nothing to soothe the dull ache in their chest.
In the absence of all else, that dull ache perpetually remains—a constant, ringing reminder of their utter failures as a person. Of their failures as their family's oldest child. When they feel nothing, when all of their tears have run dry and left them with vacant emptiness, that dull ache remains still. When the tears fall endlessly, ever continuing regardless of how many times they try to dry their face, it remains still.
Inconsolable, that is what they were. Wholly and truly inconsolable.
'It wasn't your fault,' Tanjiro would insist over and over, because he knows not what other words he can say to them, because he knows what it is like. What else could he possibly say to ease their grief? He hasn't the slightest idea, because really... there is nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to do, other than sit beside them and let the grief come and go as it does—it is a nonlinear thing, grief. Tanjiro knows the process all too well. It will get better and then worse, before repeating the cycle again and again. He knows there is nothing he can do other than hold their hand throughout it all. There is no getting rid of the pain before it heals on its own time, so the words he chooses are 'You will feel okay one day.'
'They wouldn't want you to linger on it,' Nezuko would say, but she also knew not what to tell them. She, much like her older brother, is not unfamiliar with the guilt they felt for simply being alive. She knows that feeling all too well. She does not recall much from her time as a demon—she has explained that those memories are more like a distant dream, something she cannot quite touch and can only catch brief glimpses of, rather than actual memories she can recall at will. Despite that, she knows it hurt when she discovered herself to be the only one who survived that day. It still hurts. Less, but it does. She knows not what to say to them, but she knows that time heals, so the words she chooses are 'You will feel okay one day.'
Dew clings to the grass and leaves. The dirt squishes beneath their steps. A thin fog (a mist, they dare think, but the fleeting thought makes their stomach drop, so they do their best to rid their mind of it) has settled just above ground level, and they absently wonder if it rained the night before; it must have. They hadn't noticed.
It would be borderline impossible to, with the night they had. Being perceptive of and attentive to minute details such as whether or not it had rained a few hours prior was not in the forefront of their dazed mind at the moment.
(They did not sleep well, thoughts too preoccupied with the memories of what once was, of what could have still been.
...But the reality they dreamed of was not theirs, because they failed. They curse the world for plaguing them with such dreams—it was as if they were forced to peek into another universe, where they are happier now, helpless to snap their gaze away until whatever being tormenting them decided they had suffered enough. A punishment, that's what it was. A vile, awful, enraging punishment. Haven't they suffered enough?
Though, maybe they should at least be happy for them in that alternate universe. At least they're happy somewhere.
The thought is both comforting and devastating. Maybe if they hadn't been such a useless older sibling, they would be that joyful, too.)
The trek up the mountain was not nearly long enough; they hardly had any time at all to gather their thoughts, to swallow back the growing lump in their throat, before a vacant home entered their vision. It has been vacant for quite some time now, but the sting of what happened there almost three years ago feels exceptionally fresh, knowing that the twin who survived that event was also long gone now. The slightly chilly breeze stirs around them, swirling a few green and brown leaves that their trees had begun to shed. It welcomes them home, brushing across their skin and causing goosebumps to raise, beckoning them closer.
Fall will arrive soon.
...It has been some time since the nights have become safer to travel through. For the first time in thousands of years, demons were not a concern; the concerns now were more mundane. Animals, other humans, tripping over a tree root hidden by the darkness and getting wounded... yes, it has been quite some time since demons became a threat of the past. A few months, at the very least, but the pain of loss has grown no easier to bear. If anything, it has dug its vicious claws into their aching chest even further, threatening to tear open their ribcage and rip their bruised heart out at any moment.
It wouldn't be anything they didn't deserve, if that were to happen. It would be better that way.
...Tanjiro would tell them off for thinking like that, in the nicest and gentlest words he could manage. Their brothers would, too. Though, they're relatively certain that both of their brothers would use much harsher words. The thought might've made them laugh under another circumstance.
Even if they wanted everything to end already, they had no choice but to live, despite how much it pained them to do so. Maybe, just maybe, there will come a day in which living no longer feels like a knife to the chest.
That's something to look forward to. The day when their heart will not stutter when they see this vacant house. The day where they will not think 'It should have been me.'
Much to their surprise, there was no moss climbing up the headstones situated at the side of the house, and the grass was neatly tamed.
Someone had been here recently, then.
Sanemi? Giyuu? Perhaps Kanamori or Kotetsu. All options were equally likely; Sanemi, who they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt understood how they felt. Giyuu, who routinely paid respects to his fellow Hashira that fell in battle. Kanamori and Kotetsu, who may very well have died if not for their youngest brother's intervention back in the Swordsmith Village. They weren't quite sure who had been here (maybe they would ask around later, if for no other reason but to thank that person or those people), but... the gesture sent a wave of fresh tears to their eyes.
They hesitate, frozen in place. Shaking hands rise to their chest, clasped together in a poor attempt to put an end the trembling, and they briefly consider leaving.
It would be rude, though. To make the trek all the way up the mountain, to trick their beloved little brothers into thinking they were visiting, just to leave. They were never that cruel. Grief would not become their excuse for ignoring their brothers... or what was left of them, anyway.
Ginko sits on their shoulder. She has grown quieter than the used to be, and they know the loss has also impacted her. Still, she isn't completely placated, and she grumbles, "Are you just going to stand here like an idiot?"
"You've got working wings," they retort. "Go first, if you're so impatient."
She huffs, batting her comedically long eyelashes as she turns her little head away from them petulantly. She does not leave their shoulder. Ginko has never been nice or pleasant—she was only ever nice to Muichiro, really. Everyone else, including them, would shown get her nastier side. Spoiled princess are the words they would use to describe her, personally... but she isn't heartless. She does not dare move forward before they do.
(They know she isn't heartless. They still sometimes think about how weak and sick she became after the tragedy, and really, they were no better. She had slept by their side for weeks. Whether to keep them or herself company, they did not know, nor did they really care. She was their closest companion for the first few weeks, when they were too tired and absentminded to bother seeking anyone else out.
What an odd situation to have been in, where their best company was the bratty crow that used to deliver their brother's mission assignments. It feels unreal to think about, but it is the truth.)
Steeling their resolve, they move forward.
In front of the four grave markers, they kneel, paying no mind to the wet dirt and cool grass sticking to their clothes. If anything, the cold is welcomed. Their flesh burns hot with the weight of their grief. The cold touch feels forgiving, welcoming. Ginko stretches her wings and delicately glides over to perch on top of her former master's headstone.
Between the middle two stones sits their blade, sunk deep into the dirt, never to be touched again. Vines have begun ascending the half that still stuck out of the ground. It would be difficult to get it out, they think. Good. There it shall remain, never to be used again, a monument honoring their family and the sacrifices made to protect the world when the world never knew it was in danger in the first place.
They sit like that in silence for a moment, a chill ascending their spine as the cool morning wind kissed the crown of their head and brushed through their hair.
A moment passes. Then another.
And finally, they manage something:
"Hi," they say, voice coming out unsurprisingly meek and quiet. They're sure that if they tried to speak any louder, any clearer, their voice would crack and break. "Mama, papa, Yuichiro, Muichiro... I'm home. Again." It is at this point that their tone wavers somewhat. Their hands, now situated in their lap, immediately latch onto one another again in an attempt to steady themselves somehow. "Um, Tanjiro and Nezuko are here too. Or they will be. They just wanted to give me space first."
Muichiro would be excited to see the two, they think. He always got along particularly well with Tanjiro, and Nezuko was the kind of child who had a very kind demeanor about her, so most people grew to like her even when she was a demon.
They're hardly aware of the stinging in their eyes—it's a feeling they've grown very used to, as if it was their most natural state of being. It may as well have been. It's what they had become accustomed to feeling in the past months; it was either that, or a dreadful emptiness that made their entire body feel weightless, as if they barely existed.
It was always too little or too much.
When would they be able to come here without crying?
"I'm sorry," they choke out, folding in on themselves. Locks of their hair fall forward, forming a curtain around their face that hides their pitifully broken expression from prying eyes, and their forehead ever so slightly comes into contact with the damp dirt below. "I'm so— I'm so sorry," they weep, "I should have done more. It should— should be me buried, n— not you, not any of you—"
There is a dagger stuck inches deep in their gut. It feels as if someone has twisted it, now, because as they speak through their cries, they remember that Muichiro was never buried. His body was never recovered. It only makes the hot tears stinging their cheeks pour out with more force.
Buried in the spot the grave marked were only some of his personal belongings along with things he was known to like.
There was nothing they could have possibly done to change what happened to their parents; it was just a stroke of terrible luck for the both of them that would not have been changed regardless of what they did differently, but in a hysterical state, there is no room for nuance. Grief blends together, and they can't think clearly enough to verbally distinguish between if they meant 'It should have been me' in reference the twins or for their parents.
The answer was clear nonetheless. It hung in the air, ever present.
It should have been them instead of Yuichiro that day.
It should have been them instead of Muichiro that day.
Would either of those outcomes have changed anything?
If it had been them dying in Yuichiro's place, what would have happened that night in the Infinity Castle? Would both twins have died regardless, making their sacrifice utterly meaningless? Would only one have died, leaving the other to exist completely and entirely alone in the world? If they had died in Muichiro's place, would he be the one knelt before their grave, wishing it'd been him instead?
How selfish of them to wish it had been them instead.
How selfish of them to want their brothers to hurt like this instead of them.
...But they know that isn't what they're trying to imply. No, they would rather suffer this pain a million times over to spare their siblings the pain of having to feel it even once.
What they wanted was to give even one of the twins a chance to live past twelve or fourteen; both died far too young, meanwhile they lived on. They had turned sixteen recently (or was it a while ago? They were uncertain; the days, weeks, and months had all blended together in a blur of agony). They had no choice but to keep living, to keep aging, when it should be their little brothers instead of them living on and growing up together.
A soft hand on their shoulder causes their breath to hitch, and they adjust, peering upwards.
Tanjiro is there now.
He's crouching down, fingers softly kneading their shoulder. When he sees that they're looking at them, his half-blind gaze softens, and he smiles.
It makes their heart ache.
"It's okay," he whispers, and they are suddenly hyper-aware of the gloss over his eyes. He must have heard them. 'Don't cry for me,' they want to say, but the words don't come out, and they know he would cry for them regardless of if they told him not to. "It's going to be okay one day."
Ginko glares at him a bit. It's her least favorite rhetoric to hear—'It's okay.' She doesn't say anything, though. because he is not saying it to her, and if it comforts them even the slightest bit... well, she supposes she can tolerate it.
A stifled whine manages to shove its way past their barely parted lips. They squeeze their eyes shut, hoping to stop the tears.
It doesn't work, of course, and they can only break out into another sob.
The boy's gaze is warm, too warm—it looks too much like their father's.
Tanjiro, ever the patient and kindly person that he was, sits there with them until their tears run dry. They want to cry more. They want to curl up into a ball and let the Earth take their body so that the pain would finally cease.
They cannot, however. Their only choice is to sit up and continue forward, one day at a time.
Straightening their spine, they sit up, turning fully to Tanjiro with tired eyes.
"Do you feel better?"
"No."
He reaches out and squeezes one of their hands, face twisted in empathy. He doesn't seem to care about the dirt that has clung onto their palms. In silence, with only Tanjiro and Ginko at their side (more or less; the crow has yet to move from Muichiro's headstone, but her presence is enough for them), they sit.
It's a few moments later that they register the sound of dirt squishing under someone's steps, and they turn their head.
It's Nezuko. In her hands is a small basket.
"I'm here," she says with a kind smile. She looks like her brother when she smiles like that, they think. Her gaze is just as warm as Tanjiro's is when her eyes land on them. "I brought rice balls and paper."
...Rice balls. She brought food.
Nezuko was always adamant on pestering them about self-care in the first few weeks following Muichiro's death. 'He wouldn't want you to destroy yourself like this,' she had said at one point, a stern glare fixed on her face. 'Your brother being gone now is no excuse to neglect your health. Please eat, [Name], if not for him or for yourself, then for me. For Tanjiro. For everyone living who still loves you and worries about you.'
Her tender, worried attentiveness almost makes them want to cry again, but they have no tears left to give
On the rare occasion where they would not listen to her, she would get Sanemi, who would threaten to kick their ass if they didn't get themselves together. The threat of being beat up by the former Wind Hashira was usually enough to convince them, but they doubt that he ever would have actually done it—Shinazugawa Sanemi is many things. He is not a hypocrite when it comes to the matters of being the eldest sibling... not anymore, anyway. He was once, but he is not now. The grief he carries resonates deeply with theirs, and he was not taking particularly good care of himself, either.
They should probably visit him one of these days. He might be in need of the company, though he would never say that out loud.
"Paper?" they wonder quietly, hoarsely, head tilting to the side inquisitively. Neither sibling seems to mind the scratchiness of their voice. "
Tanjiro's face then brightens. "Want to see who can throw a paper airplane the farthest out of the three of us?"
Oh. Oh.
"...I'm going to absolutely annihilate you both at that." Something stirs in their chest. For the first time in a while, the dullness fades somewhat, and there's a thrilling edge taking its place. Their eyes shift between the Kamado siblings. "I'm the one who taught Mui how to get so good at it. You don't stand a chance. You do realize that, right?"
He grins. "We'll see!"
For the first time in months, they feel something other than void emptiness or overwhelming grief.
The wind rustles around them again, and they like to think that Muichiro is there, cheering them on from where they cannot see or hear him.
...But they do feel him, and that is enough for now.
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#✧— aphe's creations.#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#platonic demon slayer x reader#platonic kimetsu no yaiba#platonic demon slayer#platonic kny#platonic x reader#muichiro x reader#platonic muichiro x reader#tanjiro x reader#platonic tanjiro x reader#nezuko x reader#platonic nezuko x reader
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Shiv weaponises her vulnerability to victimise herself to force Tom into forgiving her [1][2] + doesn't respect his boundaries [3][4] when he needs space from her.
1. In 1.10 Shiv comes clean to Tom on their wedding night about her cheating on him, AFTER their marriage (despite Tom asking her beforehand and giving her a chance then). Shiv weaponises her vulnerability into forcing Tom to forgive her, bringing up how when they met she was a "mess" and in a "very bad place" and how she needs him and also tries to gaslight Tom about their relationship never being monogamous. He forgives her because he's in a difficult position (divorce on the same night as marriage?? She didn't give him an out to call off the wedding beforehand and waited until after he was secured), he loves her, and he's forced to sympathise and accept things.
2. Shiv only apologises to Tom when she sees how cold he's being with her in 4.8. There's real danger he's actually done with the relationship. The kicked dog isn't returning to heel. She apologises. He doesn't accept it (you don't have to accept an apology, especially if you're still upset and someone is tryna force an apology on you because THEY feel bad and want to alleviate their guilt and return things to something that THEY'RE comfortable with). She uses the fact that her dad just died, which doesn't change the fact that everything he said in the prior fight was true. Their relationship had been shit for ages prior to Logan's death, therefore Logan's death doesn't excuse the rest of the relationship, and he's still immovable. Damn, he's always comforted and folded to her before, he's not doing that right now. Shit. Bring out the heavy. I'm pregnant and it's yours! The ultimate card to reel him back. He wanted a baby right? But he doesn't even believe her now... Why should he care anyway? How much has she ever cared about him?
3. In 4.7 Tom walks away from Shiv and goes to the balcony, needing space, telling Shiv he's tired. She doesn't respect this need for space and corners him on the balcony, literally not allowing him any reprieve, and actively mocks him for being exhausted, pressing and pressing him until he snaps, despite the fact he didn't even want to fight in the first place. He needed space and wasn't allowed to have it.
4. Tom is exhausted and stressed out of his mind in 4.8 with his job (something that means the world to him and yet also something Shiv has never taken seriously - and how could she understand the importance it holds for him when she's a nepo baby). He asks Shiv to talk about this another time and that he can't do this right now. She doesn't respect his request and presses her needs above his and takes him aside again and isolates him, and then acts surprised and offended when he doesn't respond how she wants him to. Ironically if she had actually respected him asking to talk another time when he wasn't so stressed, she might have gotten the results she wanted: Tom back in her pocket.
#tom wambsgans#just a little character analysis#i realised tonight that she's rarely vulnerable with Tom - which is something he's always wanted#and so she weaponises her vulnerability and uses it on Tom when she wants something that her assertiveness can't get her#ie forcing him to forgive her#it's interesting too that she tries to ask for some slack cos her dad just died#everything in her mind is revolving around Logan now. everything wrong in her life is because her dad died.#totally consumed with grief in a way she doesnt even realise because it's so repressed#without meaning to her thoughts are all circling him#so she blames the relationship degradation on her grief for Logan's death#despite the reality of why it ended again#which was Tom realising the relationship was and always will be unequal and shitty#and she never really gave a fuck about how he felt esp in regards to prison but also the rest of the relationship#mind you i don't think at all she's conscious of the fact that she does this#but her vulnerability undeniably has ulterior motive and because she's so repressed she's not aware of her subconscious drives#she's never vulnerable for the sake of it. of being trusting. of being open with your partner - which tom values a lot#hence his relationship with Greg#she's oretty much only vulnerable with him to gain something from him#which is ultimately to keep him secured and not let him leave her#succession HBO#fucking phenomenally written character#how the fuck did they make her.
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I just saw all of Puella Magi Madoka Magica for the first time (I only really knew that the white creature was evil) and HOLY SHT. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't any of THAT.
Now need to find where to watch the movies!!
Homura is my fave!! She is best girl!
#puella magi madoka magica#I had this anime on my watch list for the longest time and I am so glad I finally watched it#I need to scream with somebody about this#in the beginning I found practically all the girls annoying say for homura#like sayaka I really liked her wanting to figjt for justice and to protect others but her head hottedness kinda pissed me off#madoka has such a good heart and was amazing and so loyal and a good friend but her naiveness I guess pissed me off#same with that yellowed haired magical girl but could also repsect her fighting for justice and to protect others#the red haired girl I could repaect her fighting only for herself becauae it was obvious her attitude stemmed from experience and likely#a tragic past#but her not caring about what happened to others initially regardless also rubbed me the wrong way#lol#with homura I guess that despite being cold aloof and indifferent and obvious having a tragic story most likely she still sought to try and#warn madoka of the reality of being a magical girl#like all these fatal flaws of thr girls is what made them annoying but also good people at heart#idk why homura was the only one who didn't annoy me from beginning to end lol#not to say I hated the other girls no again I may have found them annoying but the tragedy of their fates and decisions was just damn#idk if I make any sense can't form a sequential coherent thought rn lol#i'm sleepy but here I was pelando los ojos cause I need to know what happened next lol#so yes#the other girls were kind of annoying but still tragic and not unlikeable per say but yes homura is best girl#that is all
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i'll read more from now on again
#🌙.rambles#so much to just think about n i'm lost in my own lil world#tmrrw gna have to face reality again bcs of school :c but. yk lately this year i think i've already developed lots#this past week has been especially formative.#i crave n yearn.. intimacy so much. i want to just be free like that. bcs i'm safe in my own self n. too much to say but#i think it's lonely. being out a lot today made me realize that. all these barriers in communication is so.. lonely#i want to read so much more for so many reasons but here with what i've already laid out the first reason i'll say is#i want to understand others better i want to even further expand my own thinking n just learn so much more#n then.. goddamn i want to write too. write so much so i could#it hurts. it hurts so much i feel like i know n think n feel more than i should n the wisdom is breaking me apart i don't know how to put it#into words. maybe that's why i've been afraid to start new things despite my insatiable curiosity n passion.#afraid of how it'll fill me with even more & i'm not sure how i'd manage. i feel as though i understand life differently than most..#most people around me at least. i see myself in musicians. artists. writers.#people who create once they've taken in much as well. people like me but.. it's been rather disturbing when i realize how most of them end#up like. n i wonder. i just wonder so much. n wish n dream that maybe i could end up differently.#i want so desperately to break out of the chains of reality of society of.. all those. idead that are taught to us n internalized ever since#we were born? i don't know how to write it and i don't think words could ever do it justice. but i want to truly be who i am at heart.#and yet being self-aware i suppose is confusing in such a bittersweet way. there's so much more that i do not know and cannot grasp#& then sometimes at the end of the day i just wonder n dream about if ever i would be more connected with reality. with this world.#regardless of how much one may put out to the world.. it'll never be understood or known in the same way as the one it originates from.#it's lonely. sad. but it makes what we can convey and relate with much more meaningful. n i'm so grateful for those things#n there's also just so much that relates to it n. yeah. is part of it like#the unconscious subconscious n conscious mind#for fuck's sake i want to learn so much it's overwhelming. psychoanalysis n neuroscience n#i want to learn more of others too. i want deep conversations. i want to read more books n listen to more music n just consume more n more#to learn more of the people who created them. everything around us is just so full of life n. it's so beautiful n so overwhelmingly painful.#my helplessness in doing more. i'm aware of why. n it just hurts. it hurts so much but i'm#glad at least that lately i've been more free. more myself. more self-aware n aware of the universe in general. n i look forward to#so much more. but.. yeah i still crave to be 'real' n part of this world in a more 'normal' way at times#i. have so much to write. but for now i'll return to reality with the this.. odd feeling in my chest. not enough too little too much. life
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I hate to say it but I found The Piano Teacher more engaging to watch than Tár
#i mean it isn't about engagement ofc#and tár is absolutely going for a different set of themes and ideas to explore#idk i was just left wont of a lot more and then it ended#again i feel that simply reflects reality#but idk i just found la pianiste was more satisfying despite how horrific some of the subject matter is#again. both films were going for different vibes so idek why on earth im trying to compare them#other than they focus on a music background setting and a person in position of power vs someone less so wishing to gain more power etc#idk. i just wanted a little more from tár. i think i just need to rewatch bc I'm so sad i didn't feel blown away#i must have been a lot more distracted than i thought#like i never checked for the time even once so i KNOW i was engaged but idk i felt so much more could have been resolved or explored#and it never was. whereas it's explored a lot and more elements are resolved in la pianiste#roacc
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Today I dreamt of somehow meeting at a personal level someone that exists irl and my brain seems that found funny to make it a vivid dream and also to have them interested in me and kiss me...
I'm not as much repulsed as I am concerned about the dream. Like I know I just know the online persona of this person, I'm not friends with nor I feel any bond towards them
Usually any stranger in the same place would make this dream become a nightmare, but even though it was unsettling, I don't feel like it was a nightmare either
I'm still pretty much not prepared to have any relationships, but the fact my brain though it a good idea to represent my reservations about having a partner by giving the subject the face of someone that I usually follow online and who's online behaviour feels comforting, is very unsettling
It's like "haha, look, not even someone who's opinions and values seem to be very aligned with yours would make you feel safe in a relationship anymore"
I really hate how past events have become a thorn so big and burried so deep in my heart that I can't feel safe opening it to anyone else no matter what... It feels unfair...
I can have friends, but anything else outside friendship sends my whole body and brain into distress mode and it's honestly a terrible feeling of wanting to experience something I'm basically terrified of
#momochiiee mussings#I was doing so good#why now bring this up again for fucks sake#I wonder if I'll ever overcome this#I'm not sure if I can say it's PTSD... I mean I did experience a great amount of physical pain when my past relationship ended for good#like I felt my body in pain my heart about to explode and then I remember having a fuzzy numbing sensation like several hours later#I was told I had been replaced within a week or two when we agreed on taking some time for ourselves to think things through#and I was replaced by someone I had to see my ex constantly joking about them being their wife for a year#jokes ended becoming a reality and the realisation of me just being baggage for them was... terrible#thinking things through... yeah I probably have PTSD after all#and the falling off of a long friendship a couple of years ago probably added to that old rejection trauma#at least this time I cut ties myself for good cuz it was very detrimental to my mental health#there's been an improvement I guess even if the emotional bond despite being strong wasn't as strong it's still an improvement
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✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).
⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )
#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }
#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.
#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡
© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.
you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.
and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?
(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)
but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.
(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.
time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?
time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)
✧ a moment among the stars:
ticklish.
the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.
there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.
“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.
there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.
“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.
“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”
his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.
you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!
every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.
“mwah, mwah, mwah—”
“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”
(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)
will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.
(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)
the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.
if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.
(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)
veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.
mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”
at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.
looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?
✧ a moment among the stars:
“...yet another headache.”
as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.
you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.
a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.
(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)
veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”
oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.
you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.
“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.
“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.
(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)
“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.
“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”
“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”
(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)
“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”
“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.
“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.
(your heart skips a beat.)
will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.
how mysterious.
but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?
your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.
pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.
(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)
the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.
fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.
(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)
if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.
as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?
(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)
✧ a moment among the stars:
“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”
sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.
“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”
you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.
he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”
or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.
(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)
“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”
“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.
most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.
“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”
you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?
(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)
will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?
after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?
but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.
(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)
dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”
(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)
sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.
(it remains persistently.)
when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.
when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.
(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)
✧ a moment among the stars:
“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.
but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”
you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”
he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.
“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.
“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.
“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.
dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.
“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.
(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)
“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”
“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.
“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.
(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)
— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡
#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio x you#sunday x reader#sunday x you#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#hsr fluff#hsr headcanons#hsr imagines#seelestial.inks
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gojo had a dream you died.
it was partially the reason why he woke up in a cold sweat… it was horrid.
he could still hear your screams, the life leaving your eyes, but more importantly, he remembered your final words that were murmured to him. “satoru, don’t… cry, i’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.” and he believed you, that everything would be okay. despite tears filling his eyes, labeled the strongest at that moment, he couldn’t have ever felt so weak.
the dream felt so real, that was the scary part. he remembered each and every detail. from the feeling of you giving his wrist a light squeeze, the sweet smell of your natural scent.. the eerie sounds of your irregular wheezes as you were clinging on your final moments.
“don’t leave me,” he mutters, he remembers saying that. three simple words, yet his dilated pupils spoke a thousand. he started to repeat it. again and again as if it was a mantra. his words, his tone broke the more he spoke to you. that cute smile of yours never left your lips, it remained there. regardless of your inevitable incoming fate, he sobs, “you’re…you’re all i have left. i don’t wanna be left alone again, just stay. please, baby.”
“i’m not going anywhere, ‘toru,” you’d reassure him, a single tear drop of his falls onto your cheek.
after that moment, gojo wakes up. trembling, yet the dream wasn’t that feared him the most. it was him waking up with you not next to him..
cold, everything felt cold.
he shot up immediately from his dream. the cold sweat that forever continued to race down his back as he panted.
he was so used to your warmth taking up part of the bed. albeit, in this case though. it felt empty,
isolated.
it was near the middle of the night, gojo was drowsy, rubbing his eyes to blind his vision with imaginary stars. feeling for the bed, it was frigid.
“baby?” he’d grumble, white lashes partially open. silence called back to him, if it was anything about gojo, he hated being alone.
oh, he loathed it,
yet whenever you came into his life—he didn’t have to worry about that. you were always besides him, no matter what.
until now.
it takes him a split second before it dawns on him. your fatal death, it wasn’t another one of his silly surreal dreams. it was nothing but mere reality.
a breath gets caught in his throat once he realizes, being brought back into harsh realness. you were gone.
it’s been years, speaking of which…
it was your anniversary with him. the same exact day he proposed to you. he remembers it vividly, getting down on one knee with the goofiest grin. he didn’t even say, “will you marry me..?” instead, he snorts a sheepish, “let’s get married, heh.”
“i always forget around this time,” gojo sighs to himself with a soft tone, his voice was a bit raspy from abruptly waking up. intaking a sharp inhale, he goes towards your side of the bed and he reaches into his pocket.
“it should have been me,” and he doesn’t even care he’s talking to himself, it’s like for whatever reason, your presence was near him. “our marriage,” and then with a brief sniffle, he glances down at the ring you once wore proudly. he strokes it with a thumb before huffing out a shaky, “our marriage, it was supposed to last us for infinity…”
but it didn’t.
with hot tears streaming down his face and stuck a power he wished he’d never have, in the end, it couldn’t save you.
he couldn’t save you.
and now…
the strongest, the most brave to ever live and walk could easily be mistaken as the weakest.
#★vegasbaby.#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo angst#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk fic#jjk drabbles
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into the night | jeon wonwoo
SUMMARY: when you call wonwoo late at night telling him you're stranded, he drops everything to make his way to you (and bring you home safe)
PAIRING: biker!wonwoo x reader
THEMES: biker au, established relationship, terms of endearment, comfort fluff
WARNINGS: speed, fluff, kissing, a little suggestive (only at the end)
WORDCOUNT: 3.1k
A/N: just another very self-indulgent fic
the cool wind blows in your hair as you stand next to your car on the verge of tears. you really don't know how you ended up here - well you do actually. you were upset, overwhelmed from work and exhausted. you just wanted to run away for a bit, get away from life. but right now it seemed like life had caught up and was showing you the reality of your situation.
you pull out your phone from your sling bag and unlock it, your hands opening your contacts, your finger hovering over wonwoo's number. it was late, almost going to be midnight and here you were in the middle of nowhere because your car decided to break down. you wonder whether you should bother wonwoo tonight, having second thoughts, but your finger taps on his contact anyway, dialling his number. you don't think he is going to pick up after a few rings and you move your phone from your ear. that's when you hear the line pick up on the other end, wonwoo's voice floating in your ear.
"yn?", he asks, his voice tinged with a little sleepiness. "i-sorry did i wake you up?", you ask softly, looking down at your feet.
"no, i was up. are you okay?", he asks you, and that question gets you. you bite your lip in an attempt to not cry, feeling overwhelmed all over again.
"wonwoo", you say softly, feeling like an idiot for getting yourself in this situation.
"my love, what's wrong?", his voice comes through, concern laced in his voice and you can hear the sound of some shuffle on the other side.
"can you come get me?", you finally manage to choke out, your voice cracking, betraying your composure. "where are you?", he asks, his tone more alert now.
"i'm kind of stranded", you confess softly, and wonwoo catches onto the tremor in your voice, getting worried. "i don't know where i am, i was just driving and the car broke down", you try to explain softly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek.
"driving? why were you driving so late", he presses, to which you don't respond. you bite your lip in hesitation, unsure whether you want to tell wonwoo the truth or not.
you can hear him sigh softly on the other end before he speaks again. "send me your location and wait in the car, okay. i'm on the way", he says before hanging up.
after sending wonwoo your location, you settled into the quiet of the car, exhaustion weighing heavily upon your eyelids. despite your best efforts to stay awake, you unintentionally dozed off, unaware of the passing time and wonwoo's frantic attempts to reach you, the phone on silent.
in wonwoo's mind, each unanswered call heightens his worry, his imagination conjuring the worst-case scenarios, thinking something might have happened to you. it was unlike you to not respond to his calls. you'd usually reassure him with a quick call or text, but right now you were unreachable and panic ignited in his chest, propelling him to rush towards your location on his bike, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.
he finally reaches your location, finding your car on the side of the road with the blinkers flashing. with wonwoo's heart pounding with every step he takes, he approaches your car, his knuckles knocking against the window, startling you awake.
jumping up at the sudden noise, you blinked groggily, confusion clouding your senses. a figure stood outside, casting a silhouette against the darkness. fear momentarily gripped you until clarity dawned, and you recognised the familiar leather jacket that belonged to wonwoo.
with a shaky exhale, you reached for the door handle. as you stepped out into the cool night air you heard wonwoo say something like "thank god" under his breath as you stepped out.
"are you okay?", he asks, worried, his hair a touseled mess, falling over his forehead and eyes, blowing gently with the breeze. he looks you up and down, looking for any signs of injury.
"i'm okay, i just dozed off", you tell and relief seems to flood in his eyes. "you got me worried there, i called you but you weren't picking up", he says, looking at you, relieved to see you safe and sound.
a gush of wind passes, making you shiver. you cross your arms over your chest to offer some sort of warmth to your body. you stand there in front of wonwoo, avoiding wonwoo's gaze, dreading the question he might ask you about why you were driving out so late in the middle of nowhere. but the question never comes.
"let's go home", he says softly, reassuring in a way, holding out his hand for you to take, making you finally look up at him. you take his hand, walking along with him. he holds your hand gently but there's something comforting about his touch.
that's when you finally spot the bike - wonwoo's sports bike parked on the side of the road, making you turn your head to him.
"it's gonna get cold", he remarks, his voice gentle as he retrieves another jacket from his bike. he holds it out to you and waits patiently as you slip your arms into the sleeves, his touch tender as he settles the jacket over your shoulders. though it was slightly oversized, the garment seemed to embrace you in its warmth, a comforting shield against the biting night air. wonwoo's heart swelled with pride at the sight of you wearing his jacket.
"we're going home on this?", you question, apprehension evident in your voice as wonwoo zips up the jacket around you.
"why? are you scared?" he teases lightly. he knew all too well of your unease with riding on his bike, a fear you had yet to conquer since the beginning of your relationship. the whole thing seemed so intimidating to you, but wonwoo never pushed you to overcome it, understanding you and respecting your space. but tonight, it seemed like you were finally going to face your fear.
"it was the fastest way to get to you", he adds softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear as your eyes dart around nervously, still grappling with the idea of riding on his bike.
"do you trust me?", he asks, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. you lift your eyes to meet his, and nod slowly. "then let's go home".
wonwoo sits on the bike, manoeuvring it into position. he extends his hand, helping you to get on the bike and take a seat. once you're settled in the seat, you can't help but notice its height and weight, a realisation sinking on what you were about to embark on.
wonwoo hands you the spare helmet he brought along with him, and you accept it, your fingers tracing the smooth surface nervously.
"okay, some ground rules," he began, his gaze turning serious as he turns back to look at you.
"hold onto me no matter what or else you're gonna fall off", he says, his gaze turning amused when he sees the flash of panic in your eyes.
"woah not like that, i mean, it's better to hold onto me you know", he adds, chuckling softly and you make a face, smacking him lightly.
"tap me once to tell me you're comfortable, tap twice if you want me to slow down and tap thrice if you want me to stop or you don't feel okay", he instructs carefully. you nod at his intrusions.
"okay?", he asks again and you nod again.
"words, i need words my love", he prompts and you finally speak, squeaking out a small yes, still scared about being on the bike and the corners of his mouth tug up in a small smile.
you watch as he puts on his big biker gloves before taking the helmet from your hands and placing it on your head, adjusting as needed. he puts on his helmet too and waits. you're confused and hold onto his jacket to brace yourself. he opens the visor on his helmet before speaking.
"love, you gotta hold onto me", he says, startling you for a second. "i-i-am", you stutter out in surprise.
"that's not going to work", he says and wordlessly reaches out his hands to yours, guiding them around his waist and you hold onto him now. "that's much better", he remarks, satisfied before telling you he was going to start, putting down his visor.
the bike starts and wonwoo pushes off, riding in the direction home. and fuck, you had underestimated the speed that you'd be going at. your grip around wonwoo tightens and he smiles to himself. wonwoo's grateful for the helmet because gosh, he was melting under your touch truly. he finds you cute, so so cute and all his.
he still remembers the day he first met you. it was at the convenience store where he found you feeding a few of the stray cats that he usually feeds. he'd just gone in to buy some food for them and when he came out walking around to the back, he saw you. you were crouched down as you handed the cats some food and watched them eat with a tender smile on your face. it's was only a few seconds later that you had finally noticed his presence, standing up in a rush.
seeing the strange man in front of you all of a sudden, you panicked, taking a step back until wonwoo spoke.
"you feed them too?", he inquired, tilting his head to the side with geunine curiosity. he remembers the way you nodded your head shyly and the way you took him in, your gaze lingering at his tattoed arm that was exposed, the sleeves rolled up a bit.
from that moment on, your paths seemed to cross more frequently. wonwoo found himself drawn to your presence, often finding excuses to linger around the convenience store in hopes of encountering you once more. you'd get so nervous and shy every time he'd come around on that big bike of his, wearing that leather jacket that made him look so cool and his hair that had grown into a mullet that was a little long and shaggy and fell over his forehead and eyes, making him look hot, paired with the tattoos that covered his one arm, he looked irresistible. and not to forget his towering height - oh he was hot.
it had been almost six months into dating and you'd still never ridden on his bike before, until now. wonwoo gestures his hand in a thumbs up, asking you if you are okay and you tap his chest once. he smiles, glad, but really, you were scared, hanging onto wonwoo for dear life. you feel his hand gently intertwine in yours to reassure you as he slows down at a signal. you sit up a little straighter now, allowing your grip around his waist to loosen just a little.
he starts up again, accelerating again. you clutch onto him a little tighter than last time, closing your eyes. the rush of speed and nerves overwhelming you. you tap him twice, indicating you want him to slow down a little and he does, slowing down at a manageable speed for you but still going at a steady pace. as the minutes pass, you find the courage to open your eyes, lifting your head to take in your surroundings. to your surprise, you realized that you were in familiar territory—the neighbourhood where wonwoo lived. with his home now just a mere ten minutes away, a sense of relief washed over you, tempered with a newfound sense of accomplishment for conquering your fears, if only for a moment.
the rest of the ride is smooth. once wonwoo reaches his home, he parks the bike, turns off the engine, mountings his legs on the ground. your arms are still around his waist, gripping him tighter than ever because the bike was now leaning towards the left since he'd put it on the stand. you were somehow convinced that you were going to fall off if you didn't hold onto wonwoo. he takes off his helmet and sets it down in front of him on the gas tank.
"you okay love?", he asks when you haven't let go of him yet. "yeah i'm okay", you manage out softly, your voice muffled through the helmet.
you reluctantly take your hands off wonwoo and move your hands up to take off your helmet. wonwoo gets down first, his height and long legs making it easier for him than for you. he takes both helmets, placing them on the small bench in his yard.
as you remained perched on the bike, a hesitation rushed through you, with the sudden reluctance to dismount the bike. gazing down at the ground beneath you, you tried to steady yourself, despite knowing there was no real risk of falling. with a nervous gulp, you raised your eyes to meet wonwoo's, finding him regarding you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
wonwoo shakes his head a little, letting out a soft exhale, letting his hair breathe finally. he runs a hand through his dishevelled hair, the strands falling in an adorable mess around his face. he continues to look at you, wondering why you haven't gotten off yet.
"need help?", he prompts. "how am i supposed to-", you trail off, feeling embarrassed. you manage to swing your one leg to the other side and now you're settled in a sideways position, holding onto the bike so you don't slide off entirely. wonwoo walks forward and wordlessly holds onto you, his hands finding your waist to steady you as you peer up at him.
"i'll pick you up, just wrap your legs around my waist," he says calmly, and you furrow your brows for a second before nodding in understanding. wonwoo lifts you up effortlessly and you instinctively encircle your legs around his torso as your arms wrap around his neck for support. his one arm supported you, securely wrapped around your waist as he held you up. the proximity made your heart rate rush and you lean more into him so you don't fall off.
he grabs the bike keys before heading to the door, unlocking the door with ease and walking inside with you, holding onto you securely. you admire wonwoo up close and gosh, he was so handsome and pretty.
wonwoo sets you down on the kitchen island countertop, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment as you look at him. as you meet his eyes, you can't help but notice how your height almost matches his towering height now. he gives you a small but comforting smile before his hands move off your waist. he unzips his jacket, taking it off, only to expose his tattoed arm as he slides the jacket off, making you gasp ever so softly at the sight. you'd seen wonwoo's tattoos plenty of times before, but they never failed to leave you in awe every time you saw them. despite wonwoo's intimidating appearance - for someone who looked cold, badass and was so buff, he was so soft, sweet and gentle. it was a contrast that never failed to captivate you, drawing you closer to the enigma that was wonwoo.
wonwoo's wearing a sleeveless compression shirt and as you look at him, it's slowly turning your brain to mush with the way it was hugging his body perfectly at all the right places, showing off his build and muscles. the way the fabric hugged and accentuated every sculpted muscle of his sent your thoughts spiralling in a whirlwind. you have to tear your eyes away, opting to look at your lap instead, feeling the rush of heat flood your cheeks. wonwoo smirks to himself when he catches you checking him out and stealing glances at him, a little boost to his ego.
he takes off the gloves, placing them on the counter and finally, his attention is back on you. he looks at you, stepping forward so that he was closer, standing between your legs as he lifts your chin up so that you can meet his gaze.
"what's going on?", he asks softly, his hand caressing your cheek as he looks at you sweetly. your eyes dart to the side before returning to his unwavering gaze.
"i-i don't know", you confess as you look at him. "i just needed some space i guess, everything got too much", you tell and his gaze softens as he looks at you.
"next time you want to escape, at least call me, i can take you", he murmurs, his words carrying a sense of reassurance and comfort. you gulp at the closeness and his words as he stares into your soul.
"yeah-okay", you mumbled softly, blinking at him, getting nervous again. the way wonwoo could render you a shy nervous mess in mere seconds was something that needed to be studied.
before you can dwell on your response more , wonwoo closes the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender and gentle kiss. a rush of warmth floods your body and in that moment, everything seems to stop. he pulls away and you hope he can't hear how loud and fast your heart is beating.
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him forward as you bury your face in his chest, engulfing him in a hug. wonwoo's arms instantly wrap around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him, letting you bask in his embrace, the comforting weight of his presence grounding you as he hugs you back, burying his face in the crook of your neck. at that moment, amidst the warmth of his embrace, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of quiet intimacy.
bonus: the intrusive thoughts really won here
you riding the bike with wonwoo again, the wind is refreshing as he glides on the roads. after that day, you'd gotten a little more confident and okay with riding on wonwoo's bike. but now, it was like second nature to you. your hands are around wonwoo's waist before you have a little mischievous thought and you smile to yourself. your hands slowly creep up to his chest, your fingers finding the buttons of his shirt as you slowly undo them. wonwoo has no idea what's happening until he glances dow n at the feeling of your hands on his chest, seeing what you are doing.
"what are you doing?", he asks, his voice filling your helmet and you suppress the urge to laugh.
"i'm showing the world how sexy my boyfriend is, though i should be gatekeeping you actually", you tease, undoing another button as wonwoo's shirt now hangs on for dear life. your hands creep up under his shirt and you hear the soft groan he lets out as your hands caress his abs and you grin, satisfied knowing the effect you were having on him.
"oh love, you are so in for it when we get home", he says making you chuckle as you hug him tighter.
taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @kyeomyun @lvlystars @blue-jisungs @wootify @ihrtboo @idubiluv @n4mj00nvq
@joshuaahong @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852 @mirxzii @wheeboo @writingmeraki @wqnwoos
#another very self indulgent fic#skye's writing!#k-labels#caratlibrary#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen drabbles#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo fluff#svt imagines#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt fanfic#svt scenarios#svt drabbles#jeon wonwoo
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Gosh i just loved your Sunday fic.. 😫
Im wondering what about a naive type darling? With so much isolation, it has made darling insecure. Darling thinks Sunday deserves a better woman and just ups and leaves Sunday when he isnt home. But ofc is soon found not long after 😋
ohhhh so personally i imagine this happening after sunday uses the harmony one too many times on poor reader…you never saw it coming, never would have thought sunday would hurt you despite being isolated for so long. any thoughts you had about escaping, even going outside to see friends, are obliterated. sunday becomes your whole world.
Yan!Sunday x Naive!Gn!Reader
You’ve been standing in front of Sunday’s door, fist raised and poised to knock, for twenty minutes now.
For what feels like the millionth time, you lower your hand, worrying your lip.
He’s been in there all day. Sunday is a busy man, his schedule constantly filled with meetings and Family affairs, but never too occupied that he would ignore you for an entire day.
Your mind fears the worst; even those initial days of being drowned in the Harmony, before you realized Sunday was trying to help you adjust to your life with him, is preferable to this. Did you do something wrong? Who is he in there with? Is he ignoring you?
Has he…grown tired of you?
The mere thought chills your heart and fills your veins with ice as you take a step back, inhaling sharply.
The wooden door before you is polished to a fault, bright enough that you can see your faint outline. It bitterly reminds you of how inferior you are compared to him, a mere speck of dust, a fleeting shadow on the wall.
You start to spiral. Surely Sunday, the most handsome and sought after man in Penacony, could have his pick of anyone—so why would he settle on you? Why did he bring you here, trap you in this mansion, keep you by his side, if only to throw you away in the end?
Did he never love you?
Why does that thought hurt you so much?
Heart pounding and tears blurring your vision, you quickly turn and flee, your knock forgotten.
~*~
It has long grown dark on the streets of the Golden Hour.
The normally bustling city is slumbering, the only light provided by the plethora of flashing billboards that never sleep. The few individuals you have passed are either drunks stumbling home or the stray Intellitron. You’ve been walking aimlessly for hours, wiping away tears and fruitlessly searching for a way to escape to reality.
After all your time mulling in your sadness and insecurities, you have come to the conclusion that you should relieve Sunday of his care of you. He’s much better off without you, or rather with a better individual than you. He should be dating royalty, a celebrity, an angel. The type of person who would have knocked on that door, would have strutted confidently into his office and sat directly into his lap to—
Another pair of footsteps echo behind you.
You almost don’t hear them at first, but you most definitely see the haloed shadow on the wall in front of you.
“And where do you think you’re going, (Y/n)?”
You immediately freeze, your breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His voice sends little butterflies pounding against your chest, begging to fly to him.
“Do you really think this pathetic attempt to escape would succeed?” A hand wraps around your waist, spinning you around to meet golden eyes rimmed in violet. You expect them to be filled with anger, perhaps even loathing, but you’re shocked to discover they are brimming with nothing but thinly veiled panic.
His grip tightens when you don’t respond immediately. “Answer me, (Y/n).” His voice cracks as he says your name again. “Where have you been?”
Words clog in your throat. “I—I thought—you were—you didn’t want—”
“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t thinking. I believed we had moved beyond your futile attempts to leave, that you understood that you are mine—”
“But what if I don’t deserve to be yours!”
The two of you freeze in the wake of your outburst. His breath hitches as you lower your head and whisper softly, “I thought you stopped loving me the same as I love you.”
For once, you’ve caught Sunday off guard. His beautiful gaze widens in shock as he truly takes in your form—shivering, tears rolling down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms—and realizes his mistake.
You left because you thought he didn’t want you.
The mere idea baffles him. Standing before him is the most beautiful individual he has ever seen. Every fiber of his being screams for him to lock you in a birdcage and throw away the key—you are a precious treasure, meant to sing only for him. He has created you to be the perfect devotee in his very image.
And all of his efforts have succeeded, because you said you loved him.
His anger and fear immediately melt into softness as he holds your face between both hands, his forehead lowered to press against yours. “Oh, darling, no. You cannot fathom the adoration I harbor for you, the multitude of praises I wish to preach each day in your name.”
His voice takes on a nearly holy reverence, but his eyes shine with an untamed desire. “There is nowhere you belong except for by my side. Finding you missing this evening nearly tore my heart out. You must never venture out again, do you understand, my precious dove?”
You sniff and lean into his touch, a smile parting the river of your tears. Yes, that’s right. That’s what the Harmony said before, too: your purpose is to please Sunday, to serve Sunday, to live for Sunday.
Why would you ever doubt his love?
Why would you ever want to leave him? What a silly idea.
You think you feel a tiny pull at the back of your mind, a hook that wants to tether you to reality. But a quick slash of a knife severs the line, leaving you floating in a sea of multicolored bliss.
“I’ll never doubt you again, Sunday. I love you.”
Sunday’s lips curl into a smirk as he lifts your chin and examines the rainbows dancing in your eyes. “I love you, too, (Y/n).”
#yandere sunday#yandere sunday x reader#yandere sunday x you#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail#yandere#yandere headcanons#yanderecore#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#yandere imagines#yandere male#honkai star rail imagines#honkai x reader#honkai star rail#sunday hsr#hsr sunday#sunday
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1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ
summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.
content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread
💭 masterlist | next part
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”
Your ears were ringing.
After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.
“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.
Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.
Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.
Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.
You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.
“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.
“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.
“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”
“We?”
“Kaiser is downstairs.”
Of course, he is.
Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.
You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.
If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.
“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.
The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.
“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”
In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”
“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”
“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”
Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.
Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”
“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.
“Fuck off.”
“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.
You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.
You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.
You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.
Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.
If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.
Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.
“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.
“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.
“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”
Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.
“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.
Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”
“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.
Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.
It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.
Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.
Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.
But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.
“I swear to god this better be important–”
“Get ready,” he interrupted.
“What?”
“Look out your window.”
Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.
Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.
“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.
You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.
It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.
It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.
“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”
He’s taking me to it? “Why?”
Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.
“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.
You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.
The first one today.
Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.
But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.
You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.
And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.
“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.
Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?
“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”
Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.
Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.
“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”
“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.
Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.
Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.
It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.
You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”
Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”
Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”
“Call me by my name.”
“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”
“The one you used to call me.”
Mikka.
It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.
You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.
“I’m Michael.”
“That’s… long.”
“What?”
“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”
“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.
“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.
He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.
“Same thing.”
“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”
“Your point?” you countered.
“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.
“He was nice to me!”
“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”
You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.
“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.
Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.
“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”
“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.
“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”
“And you? Are you a gentleman?”
Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.
Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.
Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.
When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”
He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.
“Especially not one, doll.”
“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.
Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.
The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.
Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.
Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.
He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.
“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.
The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.
“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.
From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.
After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.
You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.
Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.
As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).
“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.
“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.
“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”
Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”
You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.
But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.
“You should be flattered.”
Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”
“Accepted.”
If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.
At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.
You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”
The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”
“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”
“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.
If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.
Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.
Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.
“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”
If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.
You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.
Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”
“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.
“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”
You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”
“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.
Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.
You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.
“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.
“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”
“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.
Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.
You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.
“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.
Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.
Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”
Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.
And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.
But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.
If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.
Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.
“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”
Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.
You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.
“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.
“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”
“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”
“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.
“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”
“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.
Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.
“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”
What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.
“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”
“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”
The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”
“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”
What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.
He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.
And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.
His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.
Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.
Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.
“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.
As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.
“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.
Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.
“Easy, doll.”
Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.
Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.
Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”
The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.
Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.
Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.
He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.
Damn it, doll.
Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.
Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.
The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.
It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.
Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.
It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.
The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.
What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?
Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.
Just then, a knock on the door startled you.
“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”
It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.
Shit.
note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!
#☁️ my ode to you#michael kaiser x reader#blue lock x reader#kaiser x reader#blue lock imagines#michael kaiser imagines#kaiser imagines#michael kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#michael kaiser#blue lock fluff#first milestone event!#writing: 004
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