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sugako · 3 years

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my roommate’s toys

kuroo x f!reader

sum: after listening to you, his roommate, get off on her toys most nights kuroo comes home early to accidentally find you when you weren’t expecting

cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw, smut, slight voyeurism (dub/non-con, kuroo listening to you masturbate), mentions of male masturbation, female masturbation, toy use (dildo, vibrator), oral (receiving), size kink, creampie, some aftercare, roommates to lovers

wc: 2.4k

a/n: i just had a teeny tiny thot and suddenly it was like 5 pages long, but mostly all just pure smut

If by some miracle you had been able to hear the front door open, you still probably wouldn’t have stopped. You knew he might be home late. That was what he said at least the night before, work was busy and he might be home late. Might, in your opinion, was a strong word that turned out to be a complete, accidental lie.

Kuroo really had thought he was going to be home a little later than usual, only telling you because he knew you wanted to watch some movie with him that night. Instead, he got even his extra work done all before he had to punch out. When he walked in, the house was a little quieter than normal. You weren’t in the main room of the apartment, the television wasn’t on, the shower wasn’t running, there was nothing for only a moment. The second he got his shoes off he heard you.

Pitchy moans barely quieted by the thin walls of the apartment hung heavy in the air. This wasn’t the first time he had heard you, of course. Sometimes late at night or in the bright hours of the morning, he would hear your quick breaths, muted vibrations, and occasional wet slaps. His hand would snake down to hold onto his remarkably hard erection, driven solely by the thought of you. The first time he had regretted it, felt awful after he came all over his stomach to the sounds of your sighs, but now it felt like part of his routine.

Now felt different. He longed to hear you and see you, to really see you. It would be an accident, he decided, feet already padding toward your door. Ever so slowly, he dragged a knuckle down the surface just above the handle, but the subtle noise didn’t alert you.

He had said “might”, which you had taken as “would definitely”. This was why you were backed up against the wall above your headboardless bed with a dildo hilted in you, rocking back and forth on it, grappling for your vibrator, knowing you needed to finish soon before he got back.

“Hey, I saw-!” His voice cut off at the sight before him, so much more than he had imagined. Parallel to his frame of vision, he got the perfect view of you being split open by a dildo suctioned to the wall behind you. It was a light pink, almost clear, completely coated in your slick.

The moment was extremely brief as, within the next tenth of a second, you rushed to cover up with a blanket, kneeling with your back flush to the wall. The blanket you had recklessly tossed over yourself barely covered your back or ass, but it was worth the try.

“Tetsurō!” You squealed, motioning to the door. He was motionless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. “What are you doing?! Go!” Your entire body burned in pure shame and embarrassment, completely unable to look at him but knowing he was still right there.

“I… what if…” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. He had practiced these silly cliche words time and time again in his head, always imagining it would come down to this, but not knowing his dream would turn into reality tonight. “I can help you.” He said with as much cool confidence as he could muster.

“That’s not funny. Just… just go so we can pretend this never happened.” You stumbled over your words, tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to imagine this wasn’t real. He took careful note of how you were trembling, nerves melting away.

“I’m not joking.” He said evenly. “I hear you all the time and now I come home to you basically screaming while you fuck yourself on a dumb, little toy. I want to help you.”

Finally, you looked at him again. His eyes were hardened, stuck exactly on you with a steely expression. Your chest heaved a little faster and you were suddenly acutely aware of how naked you were under the plush blanket and the toy still tucked inside of you.

It wasn’t difficult to admit to yourself that he was handsome and you had certainly thought of him other than a roommate in the past. The words were stuck in the back of your throat like putty, “Um, I…”

“Yes or no?” He kept his eyes straight on you, never wavering. The answer was simple you just had to get it out.

“Yes.” You finally said with a small nod. Kuroo couldn’t begin to hold back his small grin as he closed the door behind himself and advanced toward the bed. It dipped with his weight when he sat on the edge, forcing you to shift around the toy.

“Why don’t you start with taking that blanket off?” He trailed the back of his hand down your cheek, watching your teary eyes clear up as they filled with want rather than embarrassment.

“Yeah, just let me,” you gulped, trying not to wince while you pulled yourself off the fake cock.

His throat went dry when he realized what you had just done. Before the blanket could slip past your shoulders, he grabbed you and forced his lips against yours. It felt so natural, you cursed yourself for not having tried anything months ago. Tongues met each other in a messy, impassioned war, that you ultimately just let him win for the sake of his ego.

When he leaned you back on the bed, you had almost forgotten all about the toy still suctioned to the wall until it bumped the back of your head. Kuroo held back a chuckle but pulled it off the wall anyhow. You opened your mouth to tell him where to put it, quickly stopped by the cool, damp tip pressing against your lips.

“Think of this as a warm-up before the better and bigger things.” He purred while he pressed it deeper and deeper into your mouth, watching the pink plastic slip inch by inch into your mouth. Sucking lightly, you cleaned it, greedily tasting yourself, while he slowly and shallowly pumped it and out of your lips.

At last, when he pulled it away and saw the pornographic string of spit that connected your lolled, panting tongue to the narrow tip, he thought he was going to lose it. The next words you said didn’t help either.

“Bigger?” You whined quietly, concern and excitement etched onto your face. Groaning into your neck, he carefully tossed the toy toward the bottom of the bed.

“I’d say so, but you can be the judge.” Needing to unbutton his pants to relieve some pressure, he sat back up, making sure to pull the blanket completely off of you. “At least you’re a little prepped, but I think I can do more.”

In less than a moment, he had slinked between your legs, spreading your thighs wide with your knees draped over his broad shoulders. The first, hurried lap against your folds made you twitch against him involuntarily. Your hands immediately found his messy hair and grabbed on to steady yourself as he found your clit.

“Mmhm, you sound better in person than you do behind a wall.” He mumbled against you before he went back to lapping you up.

“Why…ah, why were you listening?” Too blissed out to feel embarrassed anymore, you barely felt a twinge of shame at his comment.

“Wasn’t listening, you’re just too fucking loud. And these walls are thin.” Kuroo rolled his eyes, trying to keep his focus all on how you were squirming under him, hips bucking against his face as you chased release.

Eyebrows knit, you tug a little harder on his hair, forcing a deep groan out of his that vibrates against you. “Should’ve told me,” you gasp when he gives your clit a hard suck, “told me before.”

“And not get this show?” Is the last quip he mutters back at you before his tongue flashes across your clit, forcing the growing coil in the pit of your stomach to snap. Completely out of your control, your hips grind and tremor against his face even though he has a tight hold of your legs.

While you struggle to recuperate under his, he’s tearing away the layers he still has on. His tie is somewhere near your side, button-up tossed on the floor, pants and boxers shucked to the foot of the bed, threatening to slide off. Blinking away the haze, you finally get a good look at him. The look is more than good.

Your eyes rake down his build, slim but obviously very fit for someone who works in an office. It’s obvious that you’re not being conspicuous, but you can’t help it, especially not when he was being honest about his ‘warm-up’ comment.

“My eyes are up here,” he chuckles before engulfing you and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “How do you want me?”

“Huh?”

“This is all for you, so how do you want me? Want me to fuck you like this?” His eyes flickered up and down your close bodies. “Or do you want to be on top? I could pick you up. Maybe from behind like you had that dumb, little toy stuffed in you?” He watches as your breath silently hitches at the last comment. “Tell me.”

“Y-yeah, want you, um, behind.” You choke out, feeling his hard cock brush against your thigh as he sits back on his heels again. Before he can instruct you, you’re already on your hands and knees, chest pressed into the mattress.

He’s glad you can’t see the way he slowly blinks at the sight of your pretty ass and the curve of your back. It almost doesn’t feel real. His perfect, cute roommate all splayed out, drooling cunt exposed and begging to be fucked by him.

Soothing a hand over your lower back, he pulls you back by the hips to line himself up, eliciting a little squeak from you as you’re jostled across the blankets. He presses his tip to your entrance, fingertips digging into your ass, as he slowly presses himself in. When he hears you whimper, clenching around him when he’s only halfway in, he pauses, letting you settle.

“Shh, it’s okay, you can do this. Relax.” He grunts, gently easing in another slow inch.

You’re so wet you’re already dripping cum along your thighs and down onto the sheets, but it isn’t enough to quell the stretch he gives you.

“Just so big,” you cry, trying to focus on relaxing while he splits you open. “Feels so good though.”

“I know, I know.”

He’s grateful that you’re holding your body so well, otherwise, he was worried he might just collapse on top of you now. Finally, he’s bottomed out, heavy balls resting against the top of your plush thighs.

“Please…” You sputter out, gently moving your hips back against his. “Want you to fuck me hard, please, Tetsu.”

He can’t say no to that. He also can’t say much of anything, transfixed on the way you’re creaming around his cock, pretty white ring already settled around his base before he gets more than three strokes in. The first few times he thrusts against you are light, he’s still easing you in, but by the fifth or sixth he’s slamming against you and picking up speed with each second that passes.

You’re whimpering and moaning in the sheets, going slack as his hands work in tandem with his hips to pull you off of him and bring you right back so he can slam in even harder. The front of his thighs slap against your ass, the smack echoing in the room along with the slick squelches from where your bodies meet one another.

“Like being fucked by a real cock?” He grunts out, hands grappling through the sheets for something he saw earlier.

“So good, yeah,” you whine, words barely stringing into a coherent sentence. “A lot better.”

“Wanna cum on a real cock?”

The loud whir of your vibrator makes you clench around him and whimper out some more nonsense. “Ye-eah, wanna cum. Wanna cum on your cock. Want you to cum in me.”

His entire body flares at your words, but he keeps up his bruising pace and reaches around to press the vibe to your swollen clit. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up with everything I have, baby. You just gotta cum first.”

The latter part is easy. Already so sensitive and so full now, the vibrator makes easy work of you, forcing you up and over that ledge once again. Your pussy flutters around his length, holding on so hard it nearly forces him to still, but he pushes through. He turns the vibe off, letting you settle before he really starts pounding into you, so close to his own release.

Your torso is slack, hips only held up by pure will and his hands that drag you along his cock like a ragdoll. A slurred string of praises to him, how good he feels, how good you feel drip out of your mouth like honey. You’re not even sure if he can really hear you, but you keep going until you feel him twitch inside of you and hold your ass flush to himself before strings of his cum splatter against your insides.

There’s so much filling you up, you feel hot, sticky drips trail down the inside of your thigh. Kuroo, a panting, flushed mess behind you, watches when he slips his softening cock out of you and his white cum slowly leaks from your still quivering entrance.

Daze finally breaking, he reaches up and grabs some tissues beside your bed and gives you a rough clean-up before he does himself, throwing the messy tissue toward the small bin in the corner of your room.

You let yourself fall to your stomach, lazily rolling over and pulling the blanket over your chin, motioning for him to get under as well. He complies, with a small, goofy grin, and snuggles close to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to hoist you closer.

“Good?” He asks quietly.

“Very good.” You grin, taking his face in your hands to push his stray hairs out of his eyes before you press a kiss to his forehead.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #kuroo x you #hq smut #hq imagines

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insomniamamma · 3 years

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Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.

Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.

"You did this on purpose." "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--" "You don't have a right hand," "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations." "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm. "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins. "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception. "You sure?" Asks Ezra. "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade." "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--" "No." "No?" "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."

Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring. "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.

Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do. Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.

He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled. "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"

Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab? He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him. "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you. "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid. Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest. "Hi Ez," "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder. "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer. "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes. "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?" "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?" "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-" "The wrapping was mutual-" "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head. "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch. "Tickles." "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him. “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.

"She's late," says Ezra. "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board," "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair. "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you. "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair." "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee. "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her. "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully. "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though." "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile. “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big. "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something." "I look forward to it," says Ezra. "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug. "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit. "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee. "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs. "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit. "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee. "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra. "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?" "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about." "Hmph," says Cee.

Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12

#ezra x f!reader w/cee #ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee #ezra and cee #soft!ezra needs his own warning #don't look at me #this is so soft

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imagineswriting47 · 3 years

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Running away

A/N: This is for the Anon who asked ‘ Hello! I saw that your requests were open, and I want to know if it’s possible to write a Dean x reader story where the reader has a dark/sad past ( maybe worse than the Winchesters?) that extends outside of America, like an international type of deal? Then maybe dean does something rude or finds something out and treats her badly, just something that causes her to run away? I literally have no plot to this! Thank you in advance! I want to apologize for this taking so long to get out.

Summary: When Dean finds out the truth about Y/N he doesn’t take it to well.

Parring: Dean/Reader

Warnings: None

Tag List: @akshi8278

If you had told me ten years ago that monsters and demons were real, I would have laughed about it. I would be thinking that you were saying some terrible jokes. Now I know differently. Watching monsters kill my whole family changed everything. How I survived, I will never know. Running away from everything didn't solve anything, either. Flying to America, I hoped that I could leave monsters hunting behind and the British Men of Letters. I couldn't. Once a monster hunter, always a monster hunter. So when I heard about some strange killings the town over from where I had been staying, I had to check it out. Meeting the Winchesters was not what I expected. Nor were they anything like I had been lead to believe. When everything was said and done with the hunt, Sam asked if I would like to come along. I said, 'no.' I gave them my number to call if they needed anything anyway.

After meeting Sam and Dean, I started hunting again. I was meeting other hunters along the way as well. But somehow, the Winchesters and I kept crossing paths. Every time they would ask me to come along with them, I told them 'no.' But the more that I hunted with them, the more I found myself wanting to go with them. For the first time since I lost my family, I felt safe with someone. But how would they handle the truth about me? My past is not pretty. The things that I did for the British Men of Letters are things that I can't forgive myself for. They will hate me if they know the truth about me. But Sam, with those puppy dog eyes, how could I say no. Even when I got a room in the Bunker, I still kept my distance. I was doing my best to keep my past from them. They could never know how much I care about both of them. I fear that they could use it against me, or someone could use the brothers against me.

The past, no matter how hard you run from it, will always find you.

A simple hunt that turned out to be demons changed everything. Demons lie; everyone knows this. But these demons were not lying about me. And when the beast was dead, Dean asked if the creature was telling the truth. Did I sell my soul? My silence was answer enough for him. Then the yelling started. I was everything that he said. I was no better than the monsters that we hunted. While my soul was still mine, it was dirty and tainted by the darkness that is Hell. It doesn't matter to him that my soul is still mine and that I still have my soul. That I managed to get the demon who I sold my soul to break their end of the deal was a miracle. By breaking their end of the agreement, they were making the deal void. Dean didn't care about that, and the whole way back to the Bunker, Dean was silent after Sam got Dean to stop yelling and get in the car. A yelling Dean I knew how to deal with but a quiet Dean that was a bad thing. When the car came to a stop, I all but jumped from the car and went to my room. Closing the door behind me, I sat on my bed. Only a moment later, the door was thrown open by Dean.

"Were you going to tell us?" Dean spoke the quiet furry easy to hear in his voice. I didn't know what more he wanted me to say. What could I say? "You lied to me—your just another monster. I trusted you to have Sam, and I's back. I trusted you, and I should never have done that..." I don't hear anything after that; his words keep getting harsher and harsher. Seeing the chance when Dean stepped further into my room, I ran. Once past him, I let the tears fall down my face. When I felt like I ran into a wall only to have two arms wrap around me.

"Y/N?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just so sorry." I whisper as I pull away from him. Running to the garage, I jump into my old car. Once out and onto the road, I drive. There was no destination in my mind; I just kept driving; my tears had long since dried, not having the energy go further. I pull into a little service road with the car off. The silence is defining. I did not realize how used to the boys always talking I had gotten.

Climbing into the back of my car, I lay down. Pillowing my jacket under my head, I let the blackness of sleep pull me under. Though my sleep was restless, I could not get more than a couple of minutes of rest. The sun shining in the car's window decided for me that it was time to start moving again. Sitting up, I rub my face trying to wake myself up the best that I can. Climbing back into my car's front seat, I turn the car over and get back out onto the road. I keep heading west following the sun, still with no destination in mind. I only stop when I get hungry or need to use the bathroom. Putting as much distance that I can between the Winchesters and myself.

Just before nightfall, I find a small little town that has a cheap motel in it. Thanking my stars tonight, I pull into the motel parking lot. I was pulling out the little bag of clothing that I keep in the trunk of my car as a 'just in case kind of thing. The motel was reasonable but also dirty as most cheap motels come. Also, it doesn't look like any redecorating has been done since the eighties. After all the salt lines are laid out, I make my way to the shower. The water is thankfully hot, and I let it relax the muscles of my back. I was washing my body before stepping out of the shower. Towel drying my hair, I quickly re-dress and head out of my motel room. I am running into a small town looking for someplace to get something to eat. The town's dinner was little and '50s themed like much of all the diners I had obtained food over the years. Ordering my meal to go, I quickly make my way back to my hotel room. I eat fast, not even tasting what I was eating, knowing that I need to see what I had left in my car. At this point, I considered what had been left at the Bunker lost, and I needed to know what I needed to replace. The bags I felt had some weapons left in them but not enough to keep hunting for long. But I had left my phone behind in my room.

Over the next couple of days, I manage to get some money for doing some hustling at the bars. With that money, I got myself some new clothing and a burner phone. By the end of the week, I move to another town. I kept moving like that week after week, hustling money as I went. Three months after leaving the Bunker, sitting in a small bar, I hear the door open. Sitting where I was, I could see the door and those that walked in, but they could not see me. Standing in the doorway are the Winchesters. I wait for them to get to the bar with their backs to me before standing up and making my way out of the bar.

Once back at my motel room, I pack up my things, cleaning up, making it as if I was never there. By the time I am finished, I can hear the Impala's unmistakable sound pulling into the lot. I wait to hear a door close than wait longer to be sure before stepping out of my room. I am quickly making my way over to the car. I set my things in the passenger seat before walking over to the office. Once checked out and everything paid, I make my way back to my car. At the same time, my attention was elsewhere. I failed to notice Sam stepping out of his room. Sam doesn't see who I am until I am standing next to my car with my head down. "Y/N?" I hear Sam say to me as he moves to be standing on the other side of my car.

"Hey, Sammy," I say as I look up to him. Only the Sam that I see is not the same Sam that I left at the Bunker. This Sam looks so tired like he hasn't slept in weeks; the dark rings under his eyes are so dark. He even looks like he has lost weight. His clothing seems to hang on him. "I can't believe it, Y/N. Dean and I have been looking for you." When he mentions Dean, I can't help but cringe back, Remembering Dean saying that he should kill me. "Y/N?" When I hear my name, I look up to Sam. I can see the concern in his eyes.

"I can't, Sammy. I'm sorry, I-I have to go." I whisper to him as I pull my car door open. Making a decision quickly, I pull out a piece of paper and write my new number on it for him. 'Don't tell Dean.' I finish off the note before handing it to him. Once in my car, I don't wait to see if Sam reads the message before pulling out of the parking lot. I'm not on the road long before I hear my phone start to ring. Wanting to put more space between us, I don't answer.

I drive for the rest of the day and all through the night. I don't stop until I cross over into Ohio. I stop at the first motel that I come across. Once in my room, I plug in my phone before falling into bed. I am woken up hours later to my phone going off.

Grabbing it off the table, I find that Sam is calling me. "Are you alone?" Are the first words out of my mouth before Sam could even say anything. "Yes." Sam and I talk for hours after that. Mostly it was just me telling Sam that I was okay. That no, I hadn't been hunting. Then he asked what happened the night that I left the Bunker as Dean wouldn't talk about it. So I start from the beginning by telling him everything. The secrets that I had kept from him, why I sold my soul, how I got out of it. What Dean said to me and how it scared me.

Sam fills me in on everything that had happened since I left. I can't believe what Sam tells me how worried Dean got when he realized that I hadn't returned to the Bunker the next day. After a week, Dean was freaking out, calling everyone that we all knew to see if they had seen me or heard from me. At first, I thought it was because he was trying to follow through with what he had said in my room. Sam said that all he kept saying was that he needs to apologize.

Sam and I keep talking for weeks after that first phone call. He keeps his promise and doesn't tell Dean about our conversations. But with each chat I have with Sam, I make my way closer to the Bunker. Sam doesn't know this, but I plan on seeing him again in the next couple of weeks. Sending a text to Sam when I get into town, I tell him where I am staying. He doesn't get back to me right away, but when he does, it doesn't take him long to show up at my hotel room. Once my door is open, I am pulled open into a bone-crushing hug. "It's good to see you too, Sam."

"Same to you, Y/N." When Sam pulls away from me, I can get a good look at Sam. He looks so much better than the last time than I saw him. The dark circles are gone, and he seems like he has been eating better. "You look better, Sammy. How's Dean?" What Sam has been telling me about Dean is making me worry.

"It's not good, Y/N. I don't know the last time he slept. I can't get him to stop looking; it's killing me not to tell him that you are okay." Sam sits on the bed in the room with his head in his hands.

"Do you-Do you think that it would help if I went to the bunker?" I whisper to him as I take a seat next to him. This was my plan when I came here, but to hear Sam talking is making me nervous to see him again. It's been six months since I have been back. "Would you?" I can see the hope in his eyes as he lifts his head and looks at me. Shrugging my shoulders, I stand up and hold my hand out to him, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go." I want to get out of the door before I change my mind. It doesn't take long before we are pulling up to the Bunker and making our way inside. Sam stays back, letting me walk in first. The Bunker is quiet, not much noise to be heard, nothing like it was before when I was living here.

"Sam, where did you go?" I hear a yell for the library turning, I look at Sam, and he smiles at me in pushing me to the library. Dean has his back to me when I first see him again. "It's not Sam," I say to him. I can see him freeze before turning slowly to look at me. "Hi, Dean," I say when I can see his face. His face is pale; he looks so tired and underfed. I don't get the chance to get a good look at him before I have an arm full of Dean. For Dean being so much taller than me, he seems so small in my arms. But what makes me the most surprised is when I can feel tears on my neck. I start to walk backward and out of the room, slowly making our way to his room. Dean doesn't seem to realize that we are even moving. He is shaking in my arms but not making any noise either. Once in his room and laying down on his bed, all he keeps mumbling is 'sorry.' I keep whispering soothing words in his ears, hoping to get him to calm down. Slowly he stops shaking, the tears stop falling, and his breathing gets deeper, letting me know that he has fallen asleep. Not long after he is sleeping, so am I.

I don't know how long we are asleep, but I am woken up to the feeling of a hand on my cheek. Opening my eyes, I find Dean's green ones looking back at me. Looking Dean in the face, he looks better already; the dark marks under his eyes less pronounced his cheeks have color back in them. "You okay?" I ask him as I place my hand over his that is on my face.

"I should be asking you that Y/N," Dean whispers to me, his eyes closing as he says this. "I'm fine, Dean, I promise." I smile at him even though I know that he can't see it. Not knowing what to do, I move his hand off my face; turning my back to him, I sit up. "But I couldn't stay, Dean, not after everything. I-I'm not staying for long. I just thought that I would come and see you and Sammy." I can feel the bed moving behind me as Dean stands from the bed. He moves around the bed and stands in front of me. Dean is turning on the bedside light before kneeling in front of me.

"Y/N, I can never tell you how sorry that I am for what I said. I will never admit this outside of this room, but I was afraid. I sold my soul. I know what could have happened to you, and I don't want that for you. You are so beautiful and kind and everything that is good." Dean looks like he wanted to say more, but he doesn't. He takes a deep breath before standing up and turning his back to me. His shoulders fall.

"Dean, I'm sorry. But I couldn't tell you; I didn't know-how. I want to stay here. But I don't think that I can, not after everything. I know that I am better off on my own..." I don't get to finish my sentence before he turns back to face me, grabs my face in both of his hands, and kisses me. It could be barely be called a kiss more of a dry press of his lips against mine. "Please..." I can feel him whisper against my lips. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I lean up and kiss him. The kiss is rough, all teeth and tongue saying everything that both of us just couldn't put into words. I feel his hands on my ass before he is lifting me up. I warp my legs around his waist as he turns and presses me against the wall.

We kiss for what feels like hours about cant be more than a couple of minutes. "Don't leave me." I hear Dean whisper as he pulls away from this kiss. His head once again resting on my shoulder. I grip tighter to the short hair at the back of his neck before whispering, "There is nowhere that I would rather be."

With my feet back on the floor and the both of us cling to each other, I know that we have a lot that we need to talk about, and my past is one of them, but maybe this really is where I am meant to be.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave a heart and a re-blog. My requests are still open but it might take some time for me to get them out.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #sam and dean #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #Sam Winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader

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madhyanas · 3 years

Text

there can be no oceans

It's only when the Child needs a bath that Din realises his ship doesn't have one.

Read this on AO3!

Characters: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): One mention of ‘spice’ as a drug. Set sometime soon after Chapter 4: Sanctuary. No spoilers for S2.

Notes: i! want! to write! more! character fics! so take this. thank you @pettyprocrastination for taking the time to read this beforehand <3

masterlist

———

The Crest wasn’t built for children.

Her walkways are narrow, interiors unpainted. Any room not taken up by essential utilities has long since been repurposed for weapons and munitions storage. There are no rounded corners, no softened edges; there is no baby-proofing to speak of. A capsule of robust, sturdy durasteel hurtling through the galaxy.

As reliable as she is, especially in the hands of Din’s capable piloting, the bare minimum the Crest offers to any inhabitants at all is an absence of jagged scrap metal jutting out to be slashed on. Which is as close to a miracle as he’s going to get, considering his ship’s survived being taken apart and stitched back together again.

Sometimes the visor’s sight catches on a slivered scar. The junction between the cockpit and ladder, the panel next to the hatch. He’ll look at it for a second, bumpy and gnarled, remembering the Crest’s shell scattered in pieces across desert rock. He’ll remember his ship, peeled to bits without mercy. Then he’ll brush his fingers over the soldered mark, and walk away.

But despite everything, the Crest is comfortable; Din can admit that her resilience, outlasting her age, is something he’s grown attached to. And when it comes to the very, very mundane, the kid seems to have pretty good instincts — doesn’t dangle over heights, doesn’t stick his hands into sockets and plug ports. His ship, in and of itself, doesn’t pose a threat to the little one. So long as he’s not left in the cockpit unsupervised.

It’s a minor weight off his shoulders that the kid’s content to amuse himself with that gear knob, occasionally gurgling commentary to Din — who has found “Is that so, kid?” to suffice as proof that he’s listening — and offering a satisfied, toothy grin. This is typically the point that Din feels his mouth pulling up into a crinkling smile, fond and proud.

It reminds him of something Omera told him in passing. Din hadn’t understood the phrase at the time, hadn’t ever needed to apply it in his day-to-day.

“You’re lucky,” she’d said knowingly. “He’s an easy baby.”

Thinking of mudhorns and mudjumpers and the kid’s inability to follow instructions, Din didn’t think it made much sense. He understands it now.

But, no — the Razor Crest, being a gunship and not a nanny droid, was not constructed for childcare. In all honesty, this hadn’t really occurred to Din beyond the obvious.

Until the kid needed a bath.

A bath that his ship does not have.

Din sighs, standing in the refresher doorway and staring at the slim sonic shower compartment. The Child waddles in curiously behind him, leaning on his boot with both arms hugging the ankle. He coos up at Din questioningly. There’s a slight twitch of his ears before he raises his arms. Two chubby fists clench and unclench repeatedly, a familiar demand.

Din promptly bends down to pick him up, angling him face forwards to stare at the offending compartment together.

“It’s a sonic shower,” Din explains. He frowns, wondering how to go about this. The kid smacks his lips idly. “Don’t think it’s meant for kids, buddy.”

Those wide, dark eyes suddenly turn to him with hope, but Din’s already shaking his head. “No.”

The kid blinks, multiple times. Din could swear the little monster’s batting his eyelashes. “No. You still need a bath, you’re not getting out of it that easy.”

In his arms, the kid deflates with a huff. His ears droop so quickly they bat against Din’s chest and quiet grumbles buzz through the cloth of his shirt.

It makes Din smile, part-amused and part-relieved. He’s never been very good at the whole ‘disciplinarian’ thing, especially not with a kid that can move things with his mind. It’s difficult to tell where to draw the line between kind and disapproving. He’s probably leaning more into the former.

“We’ll just have to… figure something out.”

He glances to the left. The sink is built into the wall, a nondescript metal bowl with a drain and tap. Din avoids looking at the mirror above. After so many years under the helmet, it doesn’t necessarily feel surreal. It’s simply odd to have visual confirmation of what he looks like.

The kid squirms in his arms, and Din blinks, slowly placing him back on the ground. He shuffles out of the ‘fresher quickly to whichever corner he’s chosen to play in today, his stuffy brown robe dragging slightly on the ground. Maybe that needs to be looked at.

Din looks back to the sink, figuring something out.

———

For all intents and purposes, the sonic shower is useful. Or perhaps that isn’t the right word, considering it just does what it’s supposed to.

It’s efficient, then. A way for Din to stay clean without worrying about the ship’s current water capacity. Whether it’s actually pleasant or not is another question, but one that’s never been important enough to be asked.

Now, though, Din thinks he’ll need to find a more permanent solution.

The sink in the ‘fresher has its own water supply, true. But it’s enough for Din to wash his hands and shave every few weeks at most. Since the New Republic started cracking down on smuggling circuits, the price of water transportation fit for hyperspace has spiked. A popular medium for diluted spice, apparently. So he’s careful with how much he uses up, wary of the ever-dwindling pile of credits to his name.

He kneels down next to the sink, craning his head to check behind a panel and exhaling sharply with the protesting ache of his neck. It’s a small slot for a liquid tanker, and Din soon realises it won’t be enough to fill a cup, much less the whole basin.

It won’t work.

———

This brings him to the next idea. Somewhat quickly, because the kid seems to have gotten into his head that no water means no bath. That’s probably bad handling on Din’s part.

There are sealed tanks of water stored in a hull compartment. Bulk-purchased and potable, for prolonged journeys and adverse conditions. Tanks that he’s loath to crack open when there’s water available elsewhere.

He lugs one into the fresher, and when he feels his lower back twinge with the effort, he makes sure to bear the brunt of the weight with his legs. Then his knees begin to strain. He sighs.

He passes by the kid on the way, sitting on the floor and gnawing on his metal ball with intense focus and adoration. He looks up at the sound of Din approaching, tilting his head sweetly at the tall canister.

Din takes it as a question, so he answers. “No idea, kid.”

When he does, finally, manage to shove the tank in the refresher and pour as much of it as he can into the sink’s water supply tube, the Child follows. His head turns from the half-empty tank, to Din, and back to the tank. As the ears swish with every movement, like palm leaves twitching and swaying in the breeze, Din watches the gears turn patiently. It’ll click.

Then the kid thwacks a hand on Din’s thigh, and very insistently garbles something with a firm nod. His approval is understood.

Din smiles. Lets it linger on his face, melt in his chest so warmly he can nearly ignore his aching joints. Gently, he places a hand on the little one’s head, rubbing the spot between his ears and eliciting a fond coo. “Thanks.”

———

That good mood doesn’t last very long when the kid realises, eventually, that bath time has arrived.

———

A tragic wail cuts through the Razor Crest.

From where he’s held over the ‘fresher sink, the kid screeches in Din’s hands, kicking his little legs in the air and keeping a vice grip on Din’s sleeves. Even the ears — those huge, petal bat-ears — are wiggling up and down in his efforts to escape.

“Hey,” Din says. He tries for stern, but it comes out mostly tired. “Hey. Stop that.”

The kid is either ignoring him, or just can’t hear it over the racket he’s making. He scrunches his eyes closed with newfound vigour and shrieks so loud it rings in Din’s ears. He winces.

The Crest’s refresher is built into a cramped corner of the hull. Fitted with a sonic shower, privy, sink and mirror, Din’s fairly certain there are graves dug bigger than this.

It’s never mattered before, since Din spends so little of his time in here anyway, but now he’s stuck in a broom closet — a metal one, with solid, echoing walls — with a screaming child.

Din sighs, with feeling. His headache, which hasn’t let up since the jump into hyperspace, throbs heavily behind his eyes and between his ears. For a second, he toys with the idea of turning off the helmet’s auditory sensors.

The kid had more or less been fine at first. From filling the sink to fetching the soap — a standard, unscented brand that Din only really stores for handwashing — to barely managing to tug his robe over those oversized ears. The kid had insisted on doing that last one himself, until he’d stumbled with the shift in centre of gravity and bowled himself over.

He’d been fine, until his stubby, clawed toes first dipped in the water.

It’s remarkable, Din realises as he looks down at the distraught child dangling from his hands. The kid hasn’t really cried for… for anything till now. At the most, Din just gets a dry, unamused look whenever he hasn’t followed the little overlord’s express wishes. Like eating wild frogs off the ground. Womp rat.

Hearing the repercussions now, it might not have been remarkable so much as just lucky. How does one so small have lungs so strong?

“All right,” Din calls. Trying to be gentle yet also heard over the noise at the same time is a challenge, so it comes out somewhat choked.

At his voice, the kid takes a breather. Literally, his round body heaves in Din’s hands, gasping for breath after his tantrum. Din eyes the tear tracks streaming from his wide, dark eyes, and his sniffling little nose. He can feel the kid’s ribcage pushing in and out rapidly beneath his fingers, stretchy like a balloon fitting in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t forgotten how tiny the kid is but — a lump settles in his throat at the reminder.

He feels his face fall. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, unsure of what he’s pleading for but feeling as if he’s wronged the Child anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would upset you so much.”

Whether it’s his tone or the words themselves, something brings the kid to peace. Though still hiccuping, his breathing evens out.

“That’s it,” Din encourages. “Deep breaths.”

He inhales, lifting his head and shoulders slightly with the movement to demonstrate, before lowering on the exhale.

The Child watches him for a moment, blinking wetly, before doing the same. His ears perk up and down with every breath. “That’s it,” Din repeats.

When he’s reasonably sure the Child won’t start bawling again, Din takes a second to rearrange the kid into sitting balanced on his forearm, facing him towards the mirror. With the other hand rubbing circles into the kid’s back, he addresses the reflection.

“Listen,” he starts seriously. The kid looks up, watching the helmet in the mirror’s shiny surface. “I get that you don’t like it. And I’m sorry I upset you. But you need a bath, so we have to figure something out.”

Din swallows, wondering how they’re going to do just that. The kid, in the meantime, clutches the shirt of Din’s sleeve in two grubby claws and starts chewing, not taking his eyes off the helmet for a second.

Just as he’s about to ask the kid to stop, or at least lay off a little so the fabric doesn’t tear, he gets an idea.

———

In the recent past, Din can’t really remember when things last went his way. So he’s almost confused when the third time really is the charm.

“That’s all it took, huh?”

The kid happily ignores him, watching the gear knob through the shallow, mildly-soaped water with fascination. He stares straight down, his ears sticking up like fresh reeds from a pond, enamoured with the sight of his favourite thing underwater. The concentration he uses to roll it around with both hands softens the corners of Din’s mouth.

You’d never guess the little womp rat was raising hell just minutes before.

Fetching the gear knob from outside was a last resort. He’d been grasping at straws, willing to take anything that would calm the kid down.

And it worked. Leading Din to scrub the bar of soap between his hands, trailing suds through the clouding water.

The temperature suits the kid just fine, apparently. With no way to heat the basin, Din had just… waited for it to get more or less lukewarm. Not ideal, not by a long shot. He’d clenched his jaw, uncomfortable and awkward in the face of yet another reminder that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Standing around doing nothing didn’t sit well with him. At one point he half-seriously considered getting the flamethrower out to speed things along.

But the Child, naturally, didn’t seem to mind. He now slaps his hands into his bird-bath pool with delight, relishing in the waves he can create. The pale, fuzzy hairs on that wrinkly head don’t so much as twitch, and Din has to wonder if the kid’s leathery skin has something to do with that tolerance.

A bubble wobbles into the air, fragile and translucent. A dark, watery gaze snaps to it immediately — the kind of precision only reserved for mudjumpers. The kid stills, and the gear knob is momentarily forgotten in favour of biting through the air to catch the floating parlour trick between sharp, pointy teeth.

Pop. Smack on the kid’s mouth. A light burst of soap residue sprays on the kid’s face, and the squeak of a sneeze he lets out pushes him an inch backwards in the basin.

Din can’t imagine how a thing could be that tiny.

“Nice job,” he offers quietly, because a successful hunt is something to be praised. He gives the kid’s face a once-over — with eyes so big, it’s impressive that the soap missed them entirely. The kid whines disagreeably; he evidently doesn’t care much for the flavour. His button nose wrinkles, and he bounces again with a cough.

Din chuckles. The sound rings in time with water sloshing over the lip of the sink.

“Maybe save the hunting for outside,” he advises, patting the kid on the back. The Child looks up at him mournfully, as if to agree, before returning to the gear knob resting by his foot. A new game is begun; shoving the metal ball so that it rolls halfway up the sink’s bowl before returning straight back, like magic. Every metallic scrape brings a new ripple of laughter.

He should be more mindful of how there’s more water on the floor than in the basin, now. But there are always more tanks in the brig.

In a series of excited, comprehensive babbles, the kid begins explaining the rules of his new game to Din, who listens closely. He interjects here and there to show the kid as much, but is otherwise just a spectator to the kid’s lecture.

Then for a moment, without thought, he looks up. Straight ahead, into the mirror. And he almost can’t recognise the sight.

It’s his helmet, obviously. Comforting; beskar gleaming as much as the day it was first given to him. Unchanged. Same height, same clothes.

But his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, baring inches of skin and several wiry scars. The front of his dark, woven shirt is darker still with the water lapping over the sink’s edge, a sodden patch forming over his abdomen. He feels some of it drip onto his boots and the floor. His hands are covered in suds, tenderly but thoroughly scrubbing the edge of one floppy green ear.

The kid, sitting satisfied and unaware with his cherished toy, makes the image look complete.

Din looks at the man in the mirror, giving his son a bath in the sink. He thinks that his image probably needed a reset anyway.

Then, with something caring and delicate fluttering in his chest, he moves on to the baby’s claws. He makes sure to scrub between the fingers.

———

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shima-draws · 4 years

Photo

Aww yeahhh time for Kiyo to make his entrance!

I wrote an entire essay about him (again whoops) so it’s very long and under the cut for your viewing pleasure ;)

Kiyo

Age: 29

Hair color: Green

Eye color: Brown

Element: Stars

Kiyo, the Guildmaster of the Asterstone Guild! He only took up the position recently and has had the Guildmaster title for about a year and a half. He was the previous record holder for youngest Guildmaster until that title was stolen by Taku. (Kiyo holds a grudge about it but it’s playful.)

Kiyo, just like lots of other characters in ATS, was taken in by the Asterstone Guild at a young age. He’s similar to Shima in that he has no previous memories before showing up outside the guild one day, battered and bruised. (That marks three characters in this series with amnesia now! Wrow) He grew up under the watchful eye and tutelage of the previous Guildmaster, and because of how attached to him she’d gotten, it wasn’t long before he began to express desires to take over the guild once she retired. After a lot of thought and contemplation she eventually handed over the position to him. This initially resulted in a lot of outrage from the guild members because they did not think Kiyo was suited to be the Guildmaster, but he eventually proved them wrong once he stepped up to the plate and showed them he could act like a true leader!

They did have good reason to be nervous about that, though, as Kiyo is normally a very laid-back and carefree person and is strictly non-violent. This has lead into lots of situations where he’s opted out of fighting, leading his guildmates into lots of trouble when they needed a hand, and they labeled him as both a coward for avoiding necessary battles on missions (which is practically a requirement for a guild member going out on dangerous quests, you sort of have to have a battle prowess to take on any foes) and lazy for not participating when he should. Initially this bothered Kiyo a great deal, but the previous guildmaster assured him that not everybody is suited for battling others, and that he can still pave his own way to success in a non-violent manner. While Kiyo may not have a liking for fighting, he has an extremely smooth tongue and is very capable of talking himself out of sticky situations (mostly by bribing. He is VERY good at that lmao). He has a talent for manipulating others into doing what he wants them to, though he rarely uses this on people he considers friends. When Kiyo’s able to complete a mission and win the day without resorting to using their elemental powers in a fight, his guild members have to stop and think for a second like. Hold on. He just did that so easily, he made it look so simple, we really need to stop underestimating him and calling him totally useless (Kiyo: Hey. HEY).

Kiyo’s pretty close to all of his guildmates despite their constant ribbing—the one person he’s close to that adores him completely is Lacie, because he was the person to bring her into the guild (she was around 10, he was 17), and being the first person to genuinely show her kindness that wasn’t for ulterior motives, Lacie became very attached to him. Kiyo acts like an older brother to her, and Lacie supports him in whatever he does. She was thrilled when he took on the Guildmaster position, and he has a very soft spot for her :’) She always sings his praises to anybody outside who will listen, and gets angry at Emrys the one time he called Kiyo incompetent.

After becoming the guildmaster, Kiyo actually does a good job at taking charge despite the general opinions that he wouldn’t. He’s still very casual about it though and is a bit more flexible with how the guild is run, preferring to let the guild members do things their own way and be less strict about the overall rules. He’s basically got the “Do whatever you want!” and “Just wing it!” outlook, and while a lot of the members don’t like this attitude, a lot of them do. At the end of the day they all do respect him, though! While he isn’t a fighter he’s very good at giving orders and keeping things in check around Asterstone lol

Despite Kiyo’s insistence on staying out of battles, he’s actually an extremely skilled fighter, and is probably the strongest and most dangerous person in the entire guild. The issue with this, though, is that whenever he gets into a fight, he tends to get too “serious” and starts going off the walls, treating the battle as a game and something fun and entertaining. This leads into him not knowing when to stop, and nobody else being able to stop him, so he’s seriously injured other people without meaning to—revealing that he’s actually terrified of violence because he loses himself in it, and why he prefers to stay on the sidelines. It’s only when Kiyo gets really serious in battles that a darker side comes out, and where the star mark in his eye appears. It’s only been seen a few rare times throughout his life at the guild, so nobody really thinks much of it or notices it. It’s only after the star mark appears that Kiyo passes out afterwards, having exerted a lot of power and extremely skilled battle prowess nobody has ever seen before. However, after a grand guild tournament where Kiyo faces off against Taku and gets too into it, revealing his star mark and almost slicing Taku’s head clean off, one of Kiyo’s advisors at the guild starts to look into it out of concern for both Kiyo’s safety and that of others.

In the middle of all this mess, Kiyo meets Toru, and after nearly forcing him to join Asterstone, the two start growing closer 👀 Toru joins the squad of not putting up with Kiyo’s bullshit, but that’s only after he gets over his starstruck fanboy phase. Because Toru is newer to the guild and because he’s a non-elemental not suited for fighting, Kiyo instantly becomes attached to him, finding similarities in their preferences and backgrounds. While Toru does think Kiyo’s an idiot sometimes he treats him very kindly, and is usually the first to defend him when the other members playfully tease him, so Kiyo’s just like you are an angel sent from heaven just for me and I adore you. Still though with Toru being a non-elemental Kiyo stresses about his safety CONSTANTLY, even after Toru gets official training in self defense. If Toru’s in danger Kiyo will blow off literally everything else to go rescue him first, which the other members have to get used to as it happens more often than they’d like akdasbmlads

Later down the line the guild is caught up in something terrible, and find themselves being targeted by a descendant of a great inventor and sorcerer (not Elymas this time tho lol). She’s apparently seeking what’s known as the Velle Nova, and has reason to believe Asterstone is in possession of it. After Kiyo’s forced to fight and unleashes the power behind his star mark, the descendant reveals that Kiyo has the Velle Nova, and then the truth finally comes out…

Kiyo remembers everything about his past. Years ago, his town had been caught up in a great disaster, and he was the only survivor. He was forcibly taken in by several scientists, one of them being the ancestor of the girl descendant. They were attempting to recreate the Velle Nova, one of the great sorcerer Elymas’ inventions, which is said to grant any sort of wish imaginable. They wanted to claim that power for themselves and possess the powers of the universe itself. However every attempt had failed, and without the real Velle Nova they couldn’t achieve what they were after. So they decided to pour all of their research into Kiyo instead, and try to create the weapon inside of a human being. This ended up making a twisted, broken version of what should have been the Velle Nova. But Kiyo couldn’t contain its power—it was going to unravel the universe itself and either destroy everything or alter it tragically into something unimaginable. One of the scientists working with the group realized how awful their experiment was and, being a Time elemental, decided to erase Kiyo’s memories (with some help) and send him centuries into the future so that the rest of the group couldn’t get their hands on him. Hence Kiyo winding up outside of Asterstone with no memories, and the truth behind his star mark. It had been granting Kiyo his wish the whole time—the longing to protect the things he cares about by being able to defeat any threat in his way. Of course with the unstable power that he can’t control, it usually leads into disaster;;

Kiyo, now having recovered his memories, realizes that the same thing is going to happen again, and decides to seal himself off to protect Asterstone and the world before the universe unravels. Cue an epic PMD-esque goodbye scene where he bids farewell to Toru, gives him his trademark scarf, and vanishes, escaping into a dimension between time and space where his power can be contained. *Starts playing I Don’t Want To Say Goodbye*

Toru, absolutely devastated by Kiyo’s farewell, decides he’s going to break time and space to save his man, except there’s one small issue...nobody else remembers that Kiyo even existed, and Toru only managed to by some miracle (and also maybe bc Kiyo handed him his scarf idk some magic soul connection thing). But after a while...a long while, maybe like a year or more...they finally unlock the key to finding Kiyo!!

Toru and Kiyo share a tearful reunion, and Kiyo cries a lot because it had been so lonely sitting in that black hole all by himself for so long. Toru begs Kiyo to come back, and suggests that Kiyo separate himself from the Vella Nova in order to live a normal life, but Kiyo informs him that he and the Vella Nova...are the same. They’re the same combined entity! Kiyo says that if he tries to unfuse, he’ll just end up destroying himself, because there’s nothing to separate, being one singular existence. So Toru points out uh hey since you’re the same thing, don’t you get a say on how your power is used? “It’s your power, Kiyo” yes we’re referencing Tododeku here we go

Kiyo’s like hmm uh yeah I guess you have a point;; so we went through all that for nothing huh. And Toru tells him you’re a fucking moron and Kiyo’s like ahh yes but you loved this moron enough to come rescue him from the void ;) And they kinda sorta confess but not really? Kiyo’s too nervous and Toru’s too distracted trying to figure out how to get them out of there but no worries they sort it out later. Kiyo tells him that hey I’m still dangerous and I could lose control at any given moment and Toru’s just like well I guess we’ll just have to stop you and bring you back to yourself. So with the knowledge that he’s got a whole guild of awesome people backing him up and a boy who broke the laws of the universe to save his ass, Kiyo and Toru escape the rift and finally return home together 💕 And that’s pretty much how their arc ends!

Extra personality traits

-He has a really short attention span so this makes things painfully hard on mission briefings, which leads to Kiyo usually screwing up the mission one way or another

-He often charges ahead without thinking and is the first one to become a target in a bad situation. Nobody really feels bad for him though because most of the time it’s his fault for walking right into it LMAO

-He can be very childish sometimes and most of the time he does it on purpose. His guildmates complain that their leader is a whiny, immature brat

-He is an expert on how to annoy people do not test him oh my god

-He can be incredibly selfish;; He’s gotten better with it during recent years, but he got scorned for it a lot when he was younger. He’s also very emotional, and you can read what he’s thinking like an open book! When his friends can’t read him that’s when they start getting worried.

-He has no experience in romance whatsoever and it’s the one (1) thing that can get him flustered. Nobody at the guild has ever seen Kiyo get mildly embarrassed or caught off guard, so they begin to think it’s impossible to make him blush. Then Toru shows up and ruins everything lmao

-He has a great sense of humor and can always make others laugh! He’s also very mischievous and sometimes plays pranks on other members of his guild.

-He’s very stubborn when he wants something and not in a good way. He also pouts a lot when he gets like this

-He loves his guild and his guild members man :'( If any of them are ever in any real danger he's quick to offer himself up first as a target. He's protective of his friends and will do anything to keep them safe!

-A very very affectionate person. He mostly shows this through physical acts like hugging and generally touching other people. In return he also craves affection and gets very soft when it’s given back to him. I’d probably say he’s a little touch starved despite being in close contact with others all the time lol

#Me: Time for a new OC! *Writes a novel-length essay about their background*#Kiyo #Among the Stars #ATS #Shima's OCs #This took me way too long to write fnaskbldads god #Original character #Character art #Character design #Digital art #Art #Character sheet #Character reference #Shima arts #Long post #shima-draws

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enbyprentiss · 3 years

Text

Risky Buisness

Genre: Smut and some fluff

Pairing: SubSpencer x Dom!Penelope

Warnings: exhibitionism, mommy kink, handjob, slight degradation and bimbofication, some praise, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: this takes place in that one episode after Reid fucks up his knee and has to stay behind with Garcia, meaning Kevin doesn’t exist. Which is fine, I hate him.

Hotch tossed a file in front of Reid, who inspected it before picking it up.

“What’s this?”

“You told me you were clear to travel, you lied.”, Hotch stated simply.

“Naughty boy.”, Emily slyly commented before disappearing from the room.

“No, I didn’t. I am a doctor so technically it wasn’t a lie.”

“What was it then?”, Penelope mused, appearing in the doorway of the conference room.

“Um--second opinion?”, it wasn’t really a question but it certainly came off that way.

“Huh, you’re my bitch now.”, she smirked.

As if I’m not every day, Spencer thought as Morgan chuckled behind him. He picked up his crutches before following her back to her ‘bat cave’. Was he looking forward to getting to spend extra time with her? Absolutely. What he wasn’t looking forward to was being surrounded by screens all day. He couldn’t fathom how she works the miracles that she does, how she types at an alarmingly fast rate, practically piecing all the last pieces of every case together.

Penelope picked up JJ’s call, delivering details as she ripped one of her many desk toys from Spencer’s hand, which of course, made him pout. She hung up the call, picking up on Spencer’s signature puppy dog eyes.

“What’s the matter, baby?”, he muttered a small ‘Nothing.’, “Don’t lie to me, Spencer. I know you want to be out in the field, but we have to take care of our boy genius. You’re hurt, remember?”

He nodded, sticking his lip out slightly, “It’s alright, sweetheart. You’ll bounce back before you know it.”, she smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead, making him cheer up a bit.

Every second that they weren’t delving into file after file of victims and suspects, was spent messing with bright desk toys, sucking on lollipops (though that was mostly Spencer), and exchanging chaste kisses.

Spencer quickly grew into his role as assistant, even if it included interjecting Penelope’s words on calls. Of course, she loves seeing him do what he does best but that doesn’t stop her from shooting glares at him every once in a while.

“On it.”, they concluded the call while speaking at the same time. Penelope looked at him in disbelief.

“What?”, he returned her expression.

“Don’t you dare get sassy with me, Mister.”, she warned.

“Sorry, Mo--Penny.”, he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts before gently holding her hands in his, stroking his thumbs gently back and forth. And how could she ever resist her sweet boy? She lifted his hands and covered them in light kisses as he giggled.

They settled back into a comfortable silence before Penelope stole glace at her boy genius, “Dr. Reid, I know you are not typing like that!”

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“You are only using your index fingers! That’s what’s slowing you down.”

“It’s not slowing me down!”

“Oh, you poor little anti-tech baby.”, Spencer blushed as Penelope placed her hands over his, guiding his fingers over the keyboard, “See that’s better, try on your own now.”

His tongue poked out slightly between his pluh pink lips in focus, wanting to impress the tech goddess herself, “Like that?”, he asked, shifting slightly to look up at her.

“Yup, just like that. I knew you could do it, you’re so smart, sweet boy.

Every once in a while, Penny would turn to make sure he kept up with typing correctly, and to her surprise he did. Sure, he’s a quick learner but when it comes to technology he’s mostly stuck to his ways (which secretly drives her insane).

It had been a long two days, but the case was slowly coming to an end. Rossi patched them both in on the call.

“Hey that kid--the uh, the smart one. I could use a little help.”, the other man on the line spoke.

Reid turned to Garcia, quietly whispering, “The smart one, that’s me.”

“Reid?”

“Reid here.”, Penelope rolled her eyes at his little smirk.

“Cross word question. 10 letters. Crater creator.”

“10 letters. Crater creator.”, he repeated, his eyebrows crunching together in thought.

“Arctangent.”, Penelope stated simply.

“Did you get that?”

“Damn, she’s smart.”, with that, he concluded the call.

“Mmhm.”, she nodded looking at Spencer with a sly smile, “Who’s the smart one now, lover boy?”

He crossed his arms and sulked, “You’re being so mean, Mommy.”

“What, you can’t take it all of a sudden? Because you seem to love it when you’re being such a little slut.”

His face turned a vibrant shade of pink before Penelope cupped his jaw, leaving a heated kiss on his lips. He quickly returned it, parting his lips to give her more access. Slowly, she moved down to his neck, sucking lightly but careful not to leave marks and trailing one of her hands down all the way to the growing bulge in his pants. He whimpered as she palmed over the fabric put pulled away when she went to undo her belt.

“Mommy!”, he gasped under his breath, “What if someone sees?”, they had kept their relationship under wraps and were planning to keep it that way for a while.

“So you don’t wanna cum?”

“No!”

“No, you don’t want to cum? Ok, that’s fine.”

“No, I do want to cum! Please?!”

“Come here, then.”, she patted on her lap. He scrambled his way over to her, it was a bit of an awkward fit considering how much longer his legs were than hers, but neither of them minded. She actually undid his belt this time and he lifted his hips up slightly to allow her to pull his slacks and boxers down just enough to expose his cock. As soon as she grazed her fingers across his flushed tip he moaned out shamelessly. He really did try to hold it back, but he couldn’t help it. He always fell apart at the slightest touch from her. She swiped her thumb over his slit to collect the peads of precum, pumping her hand up and down slowly.

“Mmf! Mommy!”

She hummed against his throat, “For someone who doesn’t want to get caught, you sure are being awfully loud, baby.”, she teased.

“Can’t help it.”, he whined, “Feels t--too good!”, he yelped as she picked up the pace, just to be a little more wicked. Spencer ducked his head down, burying his face into her cleavage in an attempt to drown out his noises. She moved one of her hands to pull down the hem of her dress to give him more access. And feeling his hot breath, and vibrations of his moans against her skin was enough to have her soaking.

“God, you’re such a good boy, Spencer.”, he bucked his hips up into her hand at the praise, “Do you want to cum now?”

He nodded frantically against her, “Words please, baby.”

“Yes! Please, please, let me cum!”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

“Oh, oh, oh! Mommy!”, he moaned out desperately, coating her hand in thick white ropes. Penelope put her fingers up to her mouth, sucking them clean and giving Spencer another sweet kiss.

“Thank you, Penny.”, he smiled shyly.

“You are oh-so very welcome, honey. You’ve been such a good boy these past days, helping me out.”

“Love you.”, he muttered.

“I love you too, Spence.”

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baepsaetan · 3 years

Text

Novocaine Enough | Yoonseok | Part 1

Amazing banner credit to @joonscore

Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Wordcount: 6.1k

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

Summary: Four years later, and Yoongi is still an itch under his skin. Hoseok is trying to move on, from his past life and his past love, but there are some voids that can’t be filled. Some needs that can’t be met. And when Hoseok enters a club and hears the music of the man he left so long ago, he realizes that some addictions can’t be healed by anything as simple as time.

Warnings: Swearing; implied, mentioned and past drug use/abuse (cocaine, ecstasy, weed, alcohol); past overdosing; mutually unhealthy relationship dynamic; explicit (kinda angry) sex, including biting, oral, gagging, rimming, edging, marking, barebacking, thigh riding.

Ao3 Link: here

A/N: This took me a disgustingly long time to complete, but I’ve limped to the finish line! I wouldn’t have got there without @ditttiii, who helped me talk through an early version of the fic. Also major thanks to my beta @birbdae for cleaning up this long piece!

Is there anything he loves more than stepping into a club for the first time? The easy answer is yes, but in the moment – in the present – right now – Hoseok can’t give the easy answer. Shoving through the door is like plunging into water, waves of heavy bass surging against him as he submerges into the half-remembered music and suddenly warm air. The change in temperature is a welcome relief after the cold outside and only serves to reinforce the sensation of entering a thicker atmosphere. Breathing in against the sudden pressure, Hoseok does a grateful little skip as he pulls off his beanie and gloves.

Next to him, Taehyung laughs, the deep sound competing with the heavy music beating at Hoseok’s eardrums. “Not even on the dance floor and you’re already starting?”

Tossing his head to get his dark hair out of his face, Hoseok grins. “That suggests I ever stopped.” He hadn’t. Not really. Once you start to dance – to inhale the music and turn it into pure, unadulterated movement – you don’t really take a break. You just… slow down, sometimes.

His companion grins, a boxy affair with no ridicule in it. And why should there be? Taehyung is a dancer, too, and a helluva good one, if Jimin and Jungkook are to be believed. (They usually aren’t, but in the case of a possible new crewmember, Hoseok is willing to lend a little belief.) He’s known Tae for a year now, since Taehyung became friends with Jungkook in one of their classes and started hanging out with the crew, but it wasn’t until a week or so ago that Kookie persuaded him to show off his stuff. Apparently, in the past, there’d been some kind of accident that stopped Taehyung from dancing, yet according to Jimin and Jungkook, that hadn’t shown at all when he finally broke out in front of them.

Hoseok will see the truth for himself soon enough, anyways; it’s not like they came to the recently opened club to just stand around. His eyes flick eagerly at the thought, scoping the place out.

It’s pretty packed, and given how huge a club it is, that’s saying something. This is one of those open area concepts, all sprawling space with two bars pushed off to the corners, and a much smaller upper area, almost an oversized balcony. On the far side of the club there’s a DJ booth that’s swarming with people in front of it, so much so that he can’t see through the crowd to whoever is getting them so pumped. And there are more people streaming in by the second; he and Taehyung have had to shuffle to the side several times since they stepped inside, and by now they’re almost plastered against the wall. That would have been disappointing, except that according to Jin, on Saturdays the floor gets cleared at around 11 and the serious dancers get to have a go at it for a while.

In the meantime… Spotting a gap in the crush of bodies, Hoseok takes his chance and darts almost seamlessly through, throwing over his shoulder as he does so, “You want something to drink?”

His companion follows, albeit more slowly. Not that Hoseok can blame him; Taehyung is broader than he is, making knocked shoulders and collisions almost an inevitability. When Hoseok makes it to the nearest bar, he’s left the other behind.

It gives him plenty of time to hover around the edges, admiring the form of the bartender, who puts Taehyung’s shoulders to shame. The man in question isn’t exactly the picture of grace – not like those in Hoseok’s crew – but his energy is so loud, so vibrant, that it makes up for nearly dropped glasses and a few hesitations as he mixes the drinks for various customers. The breathtaking smile helps; the way he goes from 1 to 100 the second anyone tries to complain about the wait time probably helps, too.

Red-faced and outraged, he’s chewing out some poor guy for that exact offense when Hoseok finally finds room to sidle up to the front of the bar. “And if you think I’m making you another Manhattan after that comment, you can stick it straight up – oh. Hey, Hobi!”

The offender slinks away as Hoseok shakes his head in mock seriousness. “Is Namjoon paying you to bartend or to insult customers?” he shouts over the deep resonance that’s currently more a feeling shuddering across the floor than a sound.

Jin’s indignation doesn’t fade so much as evaporate entirely. Blinking with easy complacency, a small smile playing across his face, he turns and begins prepping the order a girl apologetically yells at him. “Just to bartend. The insults I give for free.”

“Wow, a star employee.” Fake seriousness dissolving into something more real, he asks, “Will Namjoon be around tonight? I wanted to ask him about the competition the club is hosting.”

It takes a few moments to reply, Jin’s hands and concentration caught in the mixing profession before he pulls himself away. “Not until a lot later, if at all,” the bartender replies eventually. “He’s looking after Remi tonight, so if he comes it’ll be after she goes to sleep. And can you imagine Joon leaving her alone?”

“No,” Hobi admits. Namjoon dotes on his daughter so much (the few times a month that he gets her) that it would be a miracle if he showed up tonight. Which is a little inconvenient for Hoseok, but the vague annoyance is buried under the reminder that being a good dad comes before being a good club owner.

He stands in fidgeting silence – silence surrounded by sound and people – for a few moments, playing with the studded collar of his black jacket, watching Jin work, and trying to enjoy the music. Taehyung must have been caught by someone, which is fine and not unsurprising given that it’s Tae. However, the absence of his companion, and with Jin mostly absorbed in his drinks, has mild anxiety trickling under Hoseok’s heels and through his fingertips. He rocks on the former and drums the latter against the sleek black leather of his pants in an attempt to drive the restlessness out. It doesn’t work particularly well, but automatically he finds himself adjusting his movements to the rhythm of the bass, and the focus required does help.

Each song is mixed so well, there’s no weird or awkward moment for his concentration to snag on, and the transitions are seamless, so smooth that the DJ must have curated this tracklist with individual attention to each end and beginning. Not unheard of, exactly, but certainly a pleasure when compared to many of the jarring amateur attempts Hoseok has been subjected to before. Last they’d talked, Namjoon had mentioned he was looking to hire another DJ for his new club, and if this is the man… well, Hoseok just hopes he’ll be the same guy who’s doing their dance competition, too. Another question – or request – to throw Joon’s way the next time they meet.

He’s just about to resign himself to submerging back into the crowd in search of Taehyung when the boy in question pops up, all teeth and warm apology. “Sorry, hyung! I saw a friend I haven’t talked to in a while, and you were so far ahead already I didn’t think I could call you back, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk for a bit so I paused and then I’d lost you and –”

“Don’t sweat it.” It’s always been a marvel to Hoseok that such a rambling and excited apology could sound sincere, but Taehyung makes it work one hundred percent. “Let me grab you something. What do you drink?”

“Oh, well, I like whiskey sours, but you don’t have to –”

“Whiskey it is.” As he turns away, Taehyung’s surprised expression isn’t lost on Hoseok. Yeah, he isn’t often this direct, but the young man’s never seen him at dance practice and besides, the music is scraping under his skin, rubbing his bones the wrong way in the best way possible. It’s forcing him into a different form.

Suiting word to deed, he returns to the bar, puts in Tae’s request along with his own. Like a cheerful despot towering behind his counter walls, Jin takes the order before other people’s, waving off the muted outrage of his customers with shameless ease. It’s good to see his relatively new job hasn’t reformed him too much; it’s not that Jin’s ever actively rude or cruel. but he just has one pace, and that pace is his own.

For all that Hoseok admires that quality in his friend, it still has him flushing and ducking his head apologetically at the accusing looks. He’s quick to grab the drinks, but when he tries to shove money at Jin, the other man waves him off. “My treat,” the bartender calls. “When you all start dancing, everyone’s going to get thirsty and I’m going to be getting tons of tips!” His laughter quickly spikes too high to be heard in this crowd, but he’s still laughing as Hoseok, even more flushed, winds through the press of bodies with the glasses held high.

When he reaches Taehyung, his companion just sips his drink, but Hoseok downs his. The burn down his throat is no more intense than the burn he feels building in his muscles. A different kind of heat.

He finds himself shifting, his body beginning to ache with impatience. Tae is an entertaining person, but Hoseok's restlessness is blazing through his concentration, leaving cinders in its wake, and words of any kind – no matter how entertaining – are a poor thing in comparison. While he's always eager to move when at the club, this is a new level of agitation, a heightened awareness of the sounds and heavy ambience, and at first, he doesn't know what has him so on edge.

They talk some more, just waiting, really, for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive. Taehyung doesn't have a car and Hoseok had agreed to drive him, and Jimin was going to drive Jungkook after a late class. They should be here within half an hour or so, though in the meantime Tae, ever obliging, grabs he and Hoseok two more rounds of drinks. It's while he's grabbing the third round that the impatience becomes less of a hum and more of a howl, and Hoseok grasps with a sudden jolt that it's because of the song that's currently playing.

Whoever is mixing this music is really doing an amazing job; the song modifications, amplifications and beat alignments almost make the atmosphere come alive, and all it needs is an avatar to show off just how much energy it really has. He could be that. He should be that. It’s almost like he and the DJ are in a private conversation, and they’re egging him on, jamming little pinpricks into his joints, demanding he dance.

His mouth is dry – too dry – but that's nothing new when he's in the club, and Hoseok hardly notices it. The next song has just come on, as seamlessly as the last, and with a sharp pang of understanding, Hoseok realizes why he feels so tense, even more so than usual.

This DJ – whoever they are – has similar tastes as Yoongi. The powerful flow of thudding music is creating something in Hoseok, a kind of nostalgic frenzy, and it makes him swallow hard, swallow again with the feeling of shards of glass and regret slipping down his throat. He hasn't heard a DJ who favours reverb and synth choruses so much since the last time he'd guested at one of Yoongi's gigs. How long ago was that? Four years? He can hardly remember.

To remember is absolutely not why Hoseok is here.

"Hyung?" Taehyung says something to him, has said it more than once, to judge by his tone. Hoseok snaps his eyes to the other man's face, his breath abruptly staggered. "Hyung, are you okay?"

"Yeah," and to Hoseok’s ears his voice sounds tinny, strained. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jimin and Jungkook should be here soon, right? I should go grab some alcohol for them."

"Do you wanna take your shot?"

"I will after. Be back in a sec."

"Sure...?" Taehyung's eyes are sharp and probing, uncomfortably and unexpectedly keen, and Hoseok can't remember if he knows about Yoongi. He definitely wouldn't know Yoongi – none of his friends do – because they didn't know Hoseok back then. So – there's no point in explaining. No point in bringing it up. Hoseok swallows again, and walks away, needing to escape. Although he can't escape the music.

He also can't help how his gaze skitters to the DJ booth, there and back again, short looks that can't penetrate the barrier of people crowded around it. It can't be him. It can't. The last time he saw Yoongi...

You didn't come here to remember, he reminds himself savagely.

Jin has seemingly even more customers pestering him than before, and just hands off the drinks without a fuss. This time, hypersensitive and too raw to accept charity, Hoseok makes him take the cash, pressing it to the counter when the bartender tries to decline. Head tilting, thick eyebrows furrowing, for the first time this night Jin looks something other than melodramatic, and Hoseok doesn't want that. He came here to dance, for Christ's sake, not have someone notice a mini-meltdown!

Hefting on a smile that feels like it weighs one thousand pounds, he brushes off his friend's concern and darts away, carrying a tray of glasses. He's hardly taken a few steps before he downs his drink. Too much, too fast, especially for him, but he needs the soft buffer of alcohol right now. Hoseok won't look at the DJ stand. It's not him. There's no way it could be Yoongi. And even if it were...

It's not.

And even if it were, what would he do? Go down on his knees and ask for forgiveness? Punch him in his bleakly certain face? Or–

It's not him.

The music resonates around him – through him – in shuddering waves, jarring his weak attempts to tamp it down, and Hoseok is starting to feel feverish with the familiarity of the flashbacks flickering through his head. He's definitely had too much to drink. He just – he needs to do something. He needs to move.

It is with a huge wash of relief that he gets back to Taehyung and sees Jimin and Jungkook have arrived. Jimin is dressed in faded denim jeans and a glittering blue and yellow jacket, though the jacket will probably be off by the end of the night if other nights are anything to go by. Jungkook is a little more subdued, just wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, but his outfit makes the tattoo sleeve on his left arm pop. Both of them are standouts in the crowded space. Add in Taehyung with his black and white patterned shirt and matching headband, and Hoseok really can’t blame the number of eyes he notices settled on the trio.

Taehyung is oblivious to it. “You’re back!” he exclaims, leaping forward to help Hoseok with the drinks.

Jimin’s sultry expression – he calls it his performance face – is something he wears as easily as his brilliant jacket, and he shrugs it off with just as much aplomb when his gaze lands on Hoseok’s tight look. Eyes flickering about as if he could spot the problem, his smile becoming warmer but tinged with concern, the small man accepts the glass from Tae and then asks, “What’s up?”

A grin can be a work of art, and Hobi turns this into a masterpiece. All ease and bright lines, no clouds in this painting. He’s not quite as good at lying outright, but the noise probably masks his beat of hesitation. “Nothing! I’m just excited to get started.”

“Makes two of us,” Jungkook comments, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he nabs a shot from Taehyung.

“Three!” Taehyung chimes in. They all fall silent, turning expectantly to Jimin.

He’s still watching Hoseok, his lips lightly pursued. Hobi can’t help his nervous titter at the close examination, turns it into a more raucous laugh. “You’re not excited, ChimChim? Come on, we’ve been talking about this for weeks!”

At last, Jimin breaks eye contact, if only to shove back the unruly silver bangs tumbling across his forehead. “I’m excited,” he says, apparently deciding to drop whatever he’d seen on Hobi’s face. “Just hope there aren’t too many rookie dancers around. We don’t wanna make them look too bad when we start.” The look he wears is nothing short of angelic, but Hoseok knows well enough the competitive edge that lurks under that innocent façade. Jimin likes to win.

Jungkook huffs a fervent agreement. He likes to win, too. He’s good at it. Actually, they all do, and they all are. There’s a reason Hobi’s put this particular team together.

Right. Something to focus on, instead of the shadow of memory that the music keeps trying to make more substantial. With a playful nod, Hobi notes with false regret, “Well, if Tae is as good as you say, they might be out of luck.”

“I’ll do my best!” the man in question promises earnestly, and Hoseok can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees a flash of… something… in Taehyung’s eyes. Maybe not the same sharp need to win that Jungkook wears blatantly and Jimin cloaks yet never lets go of, but something. Passion, at the very least.

Hell, it works for Hoseok. Who cares what drives his people, as long as it's driving them to work hard?

As long as it isn’t driving them straight off a cliff.

He knows exactly where that thought comes from, and unbidden he turns to the DJ booth. It’s still too crowded to tell who’s working there. Probably a good thing. At this point Hoseok doesn’t know what will hurt him more; if the DJ isn’t Yoongi, or if it is.

The rest of them are talking and drinking, and he listens with half an ear, half a brain, half a being. The other half is straining to tell if the music really is as familiar as he thinks it is. If he can match that melody with that moment, or that bass with that breath, or that reverb with that regret. It’s stupid, pointless, harmful, but he can’t make himself stop. How funny, that he could have sworn he was over this. Had drummed it out of his muscles and his head both. God, if only he could dance.

Like an answer from the heavens – or maybe elsewhere – the music suddenly cuts off. A voice comes on the mic, clear, crisp, and familiar, but not who Hoseok was half expecting. It’s Jin. “Hey ladies and gentlemen and everyone else. As ya’ll know, it’s time for the Saturday dance off! If you fancy yourself a dancer, stay where you are, otherwise get your ass out of the floor area marked by the thick black lines. If you didn’t know there was a dance off today and you don’t like it, there’s a big ass door under the exit sign. I think we’re over capacity anyways.” With a loud blare of feedback, he cuts off.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, people start wandering out of the space Jin had indicated, crowding against the walls, or heading to the smaller area upstairs. He thinks he sees a few people leave after the announcement, but that might have just been a coincidence. By the time things have cleared, there are some twenty people on the dance floor, not including his crew.

This is exactly what he needs to clear his mind. Hoseok observes those left, his head tilted, an easy smile unconsciously gracing his lips. He can tell at a glance a few people are just idiots who want to flail around and call it dancing. There’s nothing wrong with that, exactly, but experience has taught him that people like that usually get pretty embarrassed when they suddenly find themselves next to professionals. Unless they’re really drunk, in which case they’ll just be a slight distraction. Nothing his guys can’t handle.

As for the rest… Hoseok actually recognizes two women, a couple he’s met at a few competitions, both official and underground. They’re good. Really good. His smile grows, and amid the tingling warmth of all the alcohol he’s had, there’s a fiercer burn, a kind of exultant excitement. He’s too drunk, probably, but this is crystal clarity, a heatwave burning everything unimportant and leaving just his focus and his friends.

And the music. The DJ regains control of the mic system, and he’s starting off with something heavy, almost ominous. The bass is shaking the floor, shaking Hoseok’s foundation, and he finds himself shaking in response, with little tremors of tension. Whoever’s running the music, they know how to start a show, and Hoseok is aching to finish it.

This isn’t an actual competition, of course. No judges, or set songs, or styles. It’s freestyle, and if there’s any kind of critic, it’s the crowd, already buzzing with anticipation and adding to the air of expectation. Hoseok breathes in and it feels like he’s inhaling something far more than air.

Because this isn’t run by anyone official, there are no rules about who can start, or how, or when. While Hobi and the rest of the serious dancers size each other up and feel out the rhythm, a trio of wasted kids stumble into the center of the floor. Their awkward floundering is laughable, and so Hoseok does laugh, a joyful sound echoed by Jungkook and Taehyung and a good deal of the crowd and competitors. It’s not unkind, at least not on Hobi’s part; he’s just too excited to reach the level that’s so far above these people to keep back the explosion of mirth.

Jimin’s lip is lightly curled when Hoseok glances at him, but though he isn’t laughing, he’s squirming in place, clearly impatient to start.

Why keep him waiting?

“You ready?” he asks his crew, a redundant courtesy. They are. “I think we go low for this one? I’ll take the center? Let’s go… Jimin, then Jungkook, then Taehyung? And keep heavy on the left?” Phrased as questions, but they aren’t, just more courtesy, letting Taehyung know how he wants to approach this. They’ve already discussed general four-person set-ups, with Tae and without. The other two know what Hoseok wants. Everyone nods, short, sharp.

He steps forward. Not far. Not really enough to crowd the hammered trio’s space. Just enough to announce their presence and give them room to work. His friends follow, and Hoseok can almost feel them at his back. The wide grin has faded, replaced with an unintentional intensity that, unbeknownst to him, makes it hard for people to look away. Most of the laughter in the crowd dies, replaced by wire-tight quiet.

In that quiet, he begins. Slowly to start. Why hurry perfection? The music pours into his marrow and he turns it into movement, gives it form and features for the simple price of sweat. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung join in several beats later, not quite matching his moves or each other, but close. Distorted shadows. They flicker in time with the rhythm, a collection of power moves loosely connected by breaking. Hoseok breathes, draws in the crowd’s awe and admiration, and turns it into fuel as he burns through everything but the music.

Worries, memories, regrets, nothing can survive the blaze of his concentration, and Hoseok feeds them to the flames with ruthless abandon, glad to feel them smoulder to ashes.

His moves become sharper, harsher. Everything gets so much more defined when he dances. The audience, his friends, his body, they all assume a stark clarity, almost painfully distinct. He doesn’t worry – he just moves. The music pulses all around him, urging him on, a nameless connection, and as the fluid lucidity gets even sharper, he prepares to speed up.

Soon – in fact, at what feels like exactly the right moment – the song flows into something else. Faster and more electronic. His body reads it almost before his mind does and Hoseok feels himself changing his motions to fit. More popping now. It feels right to hit the floor, so Hoseok does, in a totally controlled spin on his back that nonetheless looks wildly, perfectly out of control. He stops with a shoulder roll that allows him to transition to his feet, making room for Jimin to step forward and claim center as the crowd cheers.

Jimin is… fucking beautiful. The thought is a vague spark without solid form in the midst of Hoseok’s movement, but it’s true all the same. He dances differently than Hoseok or Jungkook, more gracefully, like any second he could swap his bones for the wind and begin to fly.

Not immune to the effect, but far too disciplined to fall for it (much), Hoseok keeps up his pace next to Jimin, letting himself relax even further into the music. The drunk trio are long gone, shuffled off in embarrassment, but some of the others are inching closer. They’re being polite – letting his crew get in a full rotation – but that’ll end soon enough. He relishes their interest. Not because he has something to prove, or particularly cares what they’re thinking, but because once they start to respond, it’ll be another bar to aim for, another goal, one more reason to keep dancing. And God, does he want to keep dancing.

Jungkook is next, powerful, demanding. He hits each move like it’s personally offended him, smashes into the poses as if he wants to break through reality and reach some other plane. When his feet hit a series of rapid beats in quick succession, it’s enough to get the crowd, already primed, to start whistling and whooping.

Hoseok finds himself doubting his choice to put Taehyung last. From what he’s seen from the corner of his eye as they’ve gone, Tae has kept up fine, his movements slick and confident. Maybe just a hair slower than the trio, but that could easily be chalked up to a lack of familiarity, given how much the other three have practiced together and how long Taehyung has been on a break. Still, asking him to follow up what Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok himself have already shown… He’d thought it would give him time to settle any nerves and see how they all approached being center, and Jimin and Jungkook had sung his praises to the high heavens, but now it seems like it might have been cruel.

Taehyung moves into the middle, and for some reason there’s a sudden swell of appreciative screams. Not from anything Hoseok can see from behind and to the side – maybe Tae had made a particularly great expression? The screams don’t really… stop… after that. From what Hoseok can observe, he gets it.

Turns out it wasn’t cruel to put Tae last. Like, at all.

The man is a consummate performer. Several times, when Taehyung’s supple steps put his back to the front and Hobi can see his face, he’s almost literally struck by how good his facials are. Passion is the name of this game and Tae plays it to perfection, his expressions conveying such a range of intensity that it’s a surprise he hasn’t started a fire with his glower alone

Hell, Tae winks at him at one point and Hoseok finds himself grinning at the smug audacity, breaking his own fierce look. Whoops.

He whips it back on, but they’re almost done, anyways. Another group has edged closer, brash with impatience, and a few seconds later start their own dance. Of course, Hoseok’s crew doesn’t give way immediately – like you could snatch the crown that easily – and for a little bit they’re actually dancing against the other crew. It’s a brawl of sorts, Hoseok’s favourite kind of fighting. It doesn’t last long enough (it never does), but it’s exhilarating while it does. The fact that their opponents are pretty good is just gasoline added to the flames.

However, if a good dancer knows how to step while on the stage, a great one knows when to step off the stage, and as the most recent song winds down, Hoseok stops himself. Unwillingly, painfully, but he does. He gives a short bow to the opposing group, granting them the floor amid a cascade of cheering.

When he and his crew walk away, the shouting just gets louder, deafening in its wild appreciation. Exhilaration swells under his ribs, threatening to crack them with its overwhelming force. For just a moment, Hoseok hears the cheers, feels the way his body is still crackling with energy, remembers how good it had felt to move, and he’s complete. For just a second.

And then the moment is gone.

The rest of his friends are grinning under the praise of the clubgoers, a little playful swagger in their steps as they jostle each other, giving compliments and insults on the individual executions each had pulled. Jimin snags his jacket from a girl who had picked it up from the floor, waves with giddy appreciation at her. They’re quick to find a good spot to watch the other dancers, the crowd happy to give way after what they’d shown. A couple of people offer to get them drinks and Jimin accepts while Jungkook and Taehyung beam. They’re all practically glowing, flush with success. They’d done well; they deserve to be proud. He’s proud of them.

He can feel proud and still be hollow, right? The sudden empty fatigue hits him like a cement truck going 100. It’s almost always like this after he dances, and the more intense the performance, the harder he gets hit. Hoseok abruptly becomes aware of the sweat pouring off him, the waves of heat billowing across his skin, the strained, quiet pain of muscles stretched just a bit beyond their limits. He’s… tired isn’t right. He could do three or four more routines like that, all in a row, without getting truly, bodily exhausted.

Drained. Yeah. That’s it. Like he’d poured something vital into each move, spilled himself across the floor, until there was too little of him left.

Jimin and Jungkook know him well enough to give him a little space after a dance, but Taehyung isn’t in the loop yet. “Hobi-hyung!” Sweat has darkened the younger man’s light brown hair, and if it weren’t for his headband, it probably would have been dripping down his face. “Hyung, you were incredible! You have to teach me how to pop at your knee like that, I’ve only ever done my upper body!”

The disconnect is there, unbearably strong. It will fade in the next few minutes, leaving him just fatigued instead of full-on wrung out, but in the meantime Hoseok makes himself laugh. Taehyung deserves that much, even if it sounds strange to his ears. “Only if you teach me that expression you were wearing during the chorus while you were center. Think I saw a few people faint when you looked their way.” He laughs again, trying to make the sound more natural. Pretty much fails.

Taehyung seems grateful for the compliment, nonetheless. He bobs his head, flashing a boxy grin. “It’s not a fair trade. Making faces is easy; I think I’d have to be high to move like you were, if I ever could.”

His jaw abruptly tightens, tension arcing through his throat. So quick he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t expecting it, Jungkook and Jimin exchange a glance. They know (almost) all of his history. Jimin reaches out, plucks at Taehyung’s shirt sleeve. “Come on,” he whines. “Didn’t you see me? Don’t you think I was cool, too?”

It’s a masterful attempt at distraction, though Taehyung seems inclined to dwell on Hoseok’s moves. “Well yeah, of course! But what hyung did was –”

Jimin interrupts him. “Anyways, I want to introduce you to one of our friends,” he says cheerfully. “Seokjin-hyung. He works as a bartender here.”

“Oh, but Hoseok-hyung already–”

“I’ll come too!” Jungkook chimes in, and together they drag the bewildered Taehyung into the crowd and away. A kindness, letting Hoseok have this moment of weakness. What had he done in another life to deserve these people in this one?

What had he done? For just a second, a memory enters his head, of a few colourful blue and red tablets sitting in an outstretched hand. A voice, achingly ironic and raspy, asking, “You ready to get ecstatic?”

He couldn’t have said if it was the pill or the voice that he longed more violently for after the sodden rush of dance-inspired euphoria was gone. Given the way his eyes cut to the DJ booth, Hoseok supposes he has his answer.

He has his answer, but he doesn’t have what he wants. The press of people has dispersed with the dance-off, the clubbers are more interested in crowding the square than swarming the DJ, leaving his view clear for the first time tonight. There’s a girl working the booth. Not someone he recognizes.

Not Yoongi.

A shaky exhale splits his clenched teeth, and Hoseok closes his eyes. He hasn’t been listening to the music since they stopped dancing – not really – but it sounds different now. No longer as intimate, the connection between him and the rhythm is broken. Had he just imagined that bond before the dance-off, made up that gut-wrenching familiarity? Given that he hasn’t taken any drugs tonight, he seriously doubts that he has the creativity to imagine something so vivid.

Maybe the girl DJing learned in the same style as Yoongi. Maybe that’s what set him off.

He hasn’t had any drugs tonight, but he’s still coming down from a high. That’s how it always is, after dancing. He told his friends, his family, that he got clean, but it was a lie. Hoseok just replaced ecstasy, his drug of choice, with something else. Movement instead of MDMA. Not a bad trade. He couldn’t have made a career off of being a chronic user, after all. Couldn’t have found happiness, either. Probably.

His mouth is bone dry, and he’s lost sight of his friends. They’re probably busy harassing Jin. For a while Hoseok watches the other dancers, fingers tapping out a pattern on his thighs in time to the beats, grateful for the chance to pull himself out of his despondency with a bit of friendly critique. From what he can see, the group that went after them is the most skilled so far.

The couple he’d recognized earlier haven’t gone yet, and they’ll shake up the ranking, but slowly Hoseok settles into the comfortable conclusion that his crew is the best one here. It doesn’t matter – there are no announced winners – but it’s promising for the actual competition coming up in a few weeks.

Things get better. He gets better. He always does. By the time the couple finishes their piece – with a flourish of partner flips that have him joining the raucous cheering – Hoseok is back to feeling energized by the sweat still slick on his skin. He’s back to being overjoyed by the music beating against his eardrums, back to savouring the crush of bodies and noise and life that scream nothing more than here you are, right now, isn’t it amazing!

Even stepping in a thick puddle of someone’s spilled drink isn’t enough to dampen his spirits.

With a grin and a lighthearted curse, Hoseok heads to the bathroom, intent on wiping off his shoes. Sticky sneakers are a fact of life at clubs, but given that it’d been a mini lake of beer and he hates the sensation of his feet peeling across the floor, this seems to be a justified trip. Even better, the dance-off is finishing; he won’t be missing anything.

It’s as Hoseok is leaving the washroom, shoes squeaky clean, that someone grabs his arm from behind. Hard. He startles with a yelp that’s barely audible over the raucous noise of the club, his heart rate spiking. Moving jerkily with the admittedly excessive alarm pounding in his chest, Hobi turns to berate whichever of his friends thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.

Freezes. Stares. Doubts.

Hoarsely ironic, Yoongi observes, “Still as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks, huh?”

#yoongi x hoseok #yoongi #hoseok #yoonseok #sope #yoonseok smut #thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #my fic

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ewwhothefuckiski · 3 years

Text

More Than Friends- Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: @teti-menchon0604

"Heyyyy!!! I was wondering if I could request a Owen x reader where the reader and Owen are best friends but they act more like a couple than best friends ( like always hugging, cuddling, holding hands, etc.) Tha cast gets tired of it so they plan something to make them confess that they like each other and when they do confess they get together. 😊😊😊"

TW: swearing?, Nothing but fluff really

Edited by: @clean-bands-dirty-stories (let's be honest, this would have been horrible without them)

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: Shout-out to @im-not-fine and @bonobos-candy-bar for helping me with an idea for this one 🤍 also, sorry this one is kinda short

Taglist: @im-not-fine @i-thought-i-knew-what-love-was @winterberryfox @thedepthsofhell @headheartbellarke @bonobos-candy-bar @lmaohuh @theluketomypatterson (request to be added)

{MASTERLIST}

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

There had always been undeniable chemistry between Y/N and Owen; everyone could tell. They all saw the way the two looked at each other. It had been months worth of attempts to get them together, each one falling flat. Frankly, everyone was tired of watching them flirt endlessly, just to deny their feelings for each other if it was ever brought up. Especially the two involved.

Owen had been the first to break. It was really Charlie’s fault. He had been pestering Owen about the mystery girl that kept popping up again and again, ever since he saw Owen place a kiss on her forehead at the airport.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Charlie asked first thing to Owen as they loaded the girls’ luggage into the trunk.

Owens' face turned bright red, and when he spoke, his tone was defensive. "What? No."

That only made Charlie smile wider. "But you like her?"

Owen glared at Charlie, closing the trunk. "We're just friends." His tone was final… mostly.

Charlie had dropped the subject, but he had started picking up on little things here and there that slowly began to pile up. Like how they would glance at each other and smile when the other wasn't looking, or how they held hands literally all the time. Charlie noticed how whenever Y/N looked at Owen, he seemed to glow, his smile lighting up the entire room. How just Owen’s mere presence was so distracting to Y/n.

Madi was the next to notice. She noticed how Y/N seemed to have a pink tint to her cheeks whenever Owen placed a kiss on her head, or even when he just smiled at her. Madi also noticed how whenever they had to drag Owen away for filming, it was like Y/N's spirit was taken with him. The poor girl deflated, dismal and distracted until Owen returned. Pleasant to be around, and nice and kind, but nowhere near as enthusiastic as when her favorite blonde giant was around.

It wasn't long before the whole cast saw the way they looked at each other. Each of them made it their personal mission to get the two together before the end of the year.

They just didn't think it would be this difficult.

They had tried every trick in the book. They scheduled a "group dinner" and conveniently didn't show up. They tried playing Truth or Dare, but Owen and Y/N always picked truth, and whenever they were asked about their feelings it was the same answer.

"We're just friends."

Eventually, the cast grew restless. The end of the year was approaching fast and they still hadn't gotten together. It was getting more painful to watch the two pine for each other every day, and while it was adorable, it was also getting painful to watch.

"Alright guys, I have a plan." Savannah announced one day, waking into the room and sitting on the couch.

"What for?" Jeremy asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked up from his phone.

"Getting Y/N and Owen together of course!" She laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "And I know just how we're gonna do it."

Charlie sat up and gave Savannah his full attention. "What's the plan boss?"

Savannah grinned at his eagerness before launching into it. "Well, we've tried to get them to admit their feelings for each other nicely, and that's where we messed up." Charlie nodded, the rest of the cast silently agreeing. "So, this time, we don't give them a choice."

"What do you plan on doing, lock them in a closet?" Jeremy asked, rolling his eyes at Sav.

"Exactly!" She said, pointing her fingers at Jeremy. "We're gonna lock them in the old broom closet until they admit their feelings to each other."

"How do we get them in there?" Madi asked, looking up from her phone.

"We could just push them in there." Charlie suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "I can do Owen, Sav can do Y/N."

"Perfect!" Savannah yelled, high fiving Charlie. It was a truly desperate attempt, but at this point they were all ready to try just about anything. "Tomorrow?” Everyone nodded and Sav proudly settled on, “Tomorrow it is.”

×××

The next day came, and by some miracle Owen and Y/N hadn't noticed the mischievous looks the cast shared. To be fair, they had been too busy rehearsing Owens lines for his next scene - being professional… or maybe they were just too busy staring at each other to notice the others. As usual.

Finally it came time to strike.

"Hey Owen, could you come help me move this prop?" Charlie asked, knowing wherever Owen went, Y/N would follow.

"Yeah sure!" Owen smiled, offering his hand to Y/N. She gratefully took it, standing up and placing the script down.

Charlie led them down the hallway, approaching a waiting Savannah who held open the closet door with a smirk on her face. "It's right in here." Charlie said, pointing to the broom closet.

"Really? In the broom-" Owen didn't have time to finish his sentence as Charlie pushed him inside, Savannah quickly pushing Y/N in with him. Savannah was quick to shut the door and lock it, thanking the repairman who put the knob on the outside of the door. "SAVANNAH!" Owen yelled, rattling the doorknob as he banged on the door. "What’s going on?"

"You and Y/N are stuck in there until you admit your feelings for each other." Charlie yelled, smirking as he heard Owen groan.

"Just tell her you're in love with her already!" Savannah sighed, crossing her arms.

"You-You're in love with me?" Y/N gasped, turning to face Owen. She immediately blushed as she realized just how close they really were, the closet not leaving much room to spare.

Owen felt his cheeks heat up as well, his stomach churning. He felt something clog his throat as she stared up at him with expecting eyes, and he swallowed hard to try and dislodge it. Honestly… why not be honest? He wasn’t getting out of here until he was it seemed. "Y-Yeah I am. I have been for a while now." Owen stumbled over the first word, scratching the back of his neck. Y/N felt her heart stop as he spoke. She swore the whole world itself had stopped moving. "I-Its ok if you don't feel the same. I just-"

Y/N cut off Owen's rambling by pressing her lips to his, her hand reaching up to his neck, pulling him into her. Owen sighed as he kissed her back, his hands grabbing her hips, his stomach fluttering with butterflies.

Charlie and Savannah, who had their ears pressed onto the door, gasped and jumped for joy as they heard Owens' confession be silenced by Y/N. There was no doubt in either of their minds what was going on in there. They’d done it. Finally!

Savannah was quick to announce the news to the group chat and it wasn't long before Madi was running down the hallway screaming, "NO WAY IT FINALLY HAPPENED?"

Y/N and Owen pulled apart, laughing at Madi, resting their foreheads against each other.

"Will you be my girlfriend Y/N?" He tried to keep quiet, but he could hear the others outside making noises of celebration.

Y/N giggled, unphased by the dorks outside, and pulled Owen in for another soft kiss. Just before their lips touched she whispered, "I'd love to."

#owen patrick joyner imagines #owen patrick joyner angst #owen patrick joyner fluff #owen patrick joyner smut #owen patrick joyner #requests

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queenrose730 · 3 years

Text

Reckless

Part Nine

Master List

“Yn.”

“Hey Steve.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m ok. How’s Wanda and Sam?”

“Sam’s ok. Wanda is still messed up from what they did to her.”

“Bucky told me.” You rubbed your temples at the thought of what she went through.

“Yea. Hopefully we can get contact with Nat soon. I think she’ll be good to have around for Wanda.”

“Natasha?”

“It got back to secretary Ross what she did at the airport. She’s on the run too.”

“Jesus fuck. This is a mess.” Understatement of the year.

“I have some good news though.”

“What is it Steve?”

“Rhodey is ok.”

“He is!” It felt like your heart jumped out of your chest. He was ok.

“Vision killed his suit when he aimed for Sam.”

“Ok?” This didn’t sound good.

“He broke some vertebrae and severed his spinal cord. He’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Steve. This doesn’t sound like he’s ok.” The thought that Rhodey wouldn’t be able to fly because of this made you sick. At least he’s alive right?

“Take a deep breath in. He’s ok. Tony got him set up with an exoskeleton to help him walk. It’s similar to what you had after you broke your leg. I guess he beefed it up for Rhodey.”

“Thank god.” You let out a breath and leaned back into your chair. “Any other news?”

“I sent a letter to tony and a phone with this number.”

“What the fuck!” You sat right back up in the chair. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“Yn. Calm down. They are still our friends. I told him that if anything big happens that we are only a phone call away.”

“Steve.” He was right though. If they needed it, you all would be there. No matter what. You heard the door open behind you. You turned to face Bucky. His whole mood had changed since you came outside. A quick look into the suite told you why. Shuri and Ayo where there.

“Hey Steve. I got to go.”

“Everything ok sweetheart?”

Yea. It’s just time to get Bucky ready. Steve gave a sigh over the phone.

“Yn promise me you’ll stay there for him. I know you want to be out here with me, but Bucky needs someone there.”

“Fine Steve.” You tried to watch your tone. Not sure of how much Bucky could hear. “But you promise me. If shit hits the fan, call me. And just call in general. Don’t make me hunt your ass down.”

“I promise. Tell buck I said hi. I’ll try and come through once he’s out of cryo.” You turned to Bucky. He nodded. He had heard the conversation.

“Will do Steve. Be safe.” You stood up from your chair to stand in front of Bucky.

“Try not to be too stupid or reckless yn.” You let a laugh out at his words and hung up the phone.

“You ok Bucky?”

“I’m just nervous.” He looked every bit of it too. He was so relaxed this morning. Now his shoulders were tense and his nerves were written on his face. You placed your hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze.

“Come on Bucky. Let’s get this done.” You lead him back into the suite.

“Hey. I’m going to go get changed real quick. Do you want me to meet you guys down there or do you want to wait?” As comfortable at the shorts and tank were, you definitely needed to change.

“You can meet-“ Shuri was cut off by Bucky.

“We can wait.”

“Alright. I’ll be quick.” You walked down the hall to your room. Quickly you stripped of the clothes that you were wearing. Slipping on fresh panties and a bra then into a pair of leggings and a tee. Next you head to the bathroom. Your hair was a mess in what was left of a bun. You pulled you hair down brushing your finger through it before twisting it back into a bun. You heard the door open as you reached for your tooth brush.

“I’m in here. Just have to brush my teeth.” You did just that, putting a strip of paste on the brush and scrubbing at the morning breath. Nobody had answered you by the time you were done. So you expected the room to be empty, but Bucky was stilling on the edge of your bed.

“You don’t have to do this Bucky.” You sat down on the bed next to him.

“I don’t trust my own mind yn.” He ran his hand through his hair. “As long as I can be controlled no one around me is safe.” You stood and held your hand out to him. He took it and stood up also. You lead him out of the room. Shuri and Ayo had taken a seat while you changed. They both stood when you and Bucky walk in the living room.

“Are you ready Sargent Barnes?”

“I am.”

You dropped Bucky’s hand so he could walk next to Shuri. She was still going over everything that would happen while he was under. Ayo lead the way for the group and you were at the back. Bucky found your hand again once the elevator door closed. He quickly glanced down at you before fixing his eyes straight ahead. The rest of the way to the lab he held you hand. Ayo and Shuri were discussing something between the two of them. Being back on this floor reminded you that Shuri said she would answer any questions you had. Now wasn’t the time, but you tried to keep track of what you wanted to ask.

The doors at the end of the hallway opened, revealing the lab. Bucky froze. You nearly dislocated your own arm with how quickly he stopped and stood dead in his tracks. You followed his eye line. It went directly to the cryo chamber. Shuri went around it and started getting this ready. People buzzed all around the room. Ayo went and stood next to T’Challa. Bucky stayed still and your eyes were focused on him.

“I’ll will be ok Bucky. I promise.” You gave his hand the tightest squeeze. He nodded and walked forward. Someone directed him to sit on the bed and they started to hook up IV’s and other leads. You decided to give them space, walking to stand by Ayo and T’Challa. You made sure though to stay in Bucky’s eye line.

“Thank you again T’Challa.”

“You’re very welcome yn.” Neither of you looked at each other. Just at Bucky.

“Do you think Shuri can do it? Remove the code words?” You quickly glanced at him. He gave a small smirk.

“If anyone can, I would be her.” His confidence in her set you a bit more at ease.

“Good.” Bucky was all hooked up. They were just waiting for the all clear from Bucky.

“Yn?” It barely came out as a whisper. You walked to him and took his hand in both of yours.

“I’m right here Bucky and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Only because Steve told you to.”

“Wow. Ok ass hole. Be that way.” You pulled your hands from his sharply, but he reached out just as quick to grab one hand back.

“Shit I’m sorry yn. I-” You twisted your arm up to make him release you.

“I’ll see you in a bit Bucky.” You turned back and stood behind T’Challa. A glare set on Bucky who was looking at you pleading.

“We already Sargent Barnes.” Shuri walked up beside him almost to where you had been moments ago. She held a tablet on her hands.

“Ok.” He stood up and walked to the chamber. Getting in slowly trying to steady his breath. You could see on the monitors that his heart rate was rising. He turned back to you just before stepping in.

“I am sorry doll. Please be here when I’m out.” It took everything in you to only deepen your glare at him. His eyes were glazed with unshed tears. When he didn’t get a response he turned and stepped in. The top sliding down and the cryo process starting.

After a few moments someone gave the all clear, that he was stable. You turned sharply on your heals and headed out of the room. Bucky’s words may have been true but they still stung. You would much rather be out there with Steve instead of babysitting his friend, but something felt different after last night. Him being frozen will allow you to feed the hate that bubbled up at his words. Forcing whatever else is going on in your heart out and away. You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for the elevator. T’Challa had walked up next to you just as the doors opened. You both walk in; you rest your back against the back wall.

“Are you ok yn?” T’Challa presses the button to head back to the floor your suite is on.

“I’ll live.” You answer was short. Trying not to unload your anger at him.

“I hate to bring this up now. But I am going to have you moved out of the suite today.”

“Ok?” You straighten up off the wall. “What’s up?”

“There will be some ceremonies for me to officially take over as king. I would prefer if you were away from the city.” He did look apologetic. “Just as a precaution.”

“I totally understand. T’Challa. You’re harboring two international criminals. I’ll move wherever you need me too.” The fact that you were even here was a miracle after everything. You would do just about anything T’Challa asked of you.

“I have a home set up for you in the countryside. You’ll be tucked away.” He stepped aside as the elevator reached the floor. “I will have Ayo collect you in about an hour.” You stepped out of the elevator and turned back to T’Challa.

“Thank you T’Challa. Again, for everything. I’m sorry I have such a sour attitude most of the time.” He smiled back at you.

“You seem to have your hands full with Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes.” You couldn’t help but laugh. If he only knew that half of it. The door closed and you headed off to your suite.

Inside the suite was quite. Everything had been left almost untouched from breakfast. You could tell Bucky had done some cleaning before Shuri and Ayo showed up. It killed you to leave a mess. You had an hour before it was time to leave. It would only take a moment to pack what little belongings you had. You started to clear the table. Your mind wandered to what the house that you would now be living in looked like. You were hopeful that it had some modern amenities. Roughing it really wasn’t your style. Then again, you would be grateful for just about anything. You also had to figure out how to make some money. They gave you some clothes but it wasn’t much. Steve must have helped them get stuff for you. Everything was in your size and it was mostly leggings and tees. Steve was always about seeing you in leggings. He wouldn’t say it though. You’d have to add that to your list of questions for Shuri and T’Challa. Maybe they could set up a job.

Once the kitchen was clean you straightened up the living room and moved to the bed rooms. First checking in Bucky’s room. The sheets were still a mess and a pillow was still on the floor from where Bucky was sleeping. You loosely made the bed. Your room was next. The bed had barely been slept in so you left it as it was, grabbing your duffle from under the corner of it. Walking around the room you pick up the weapons that were stashed and the few personal items that you had. All placed snugly in the bag. Tossing it over your shoulder you check your phone. Ayo should be here any minute.

As if on cue, there is a knock at the door. You head out of the room, sliding your shoes back on before opening the door to greet her.

Tags- @ginger-swag-rapunzel

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #steve x reader friendship #enemies to lovers #marvel fanfiction #slow burn #steve rogers #captain america #winter solider #captain america civil war #marvel #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #reader insert

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

Parent Trap

PART 2

Marcus Moreno x Reader

It’s hereeee! Children’s shenanigans. Yearning. A kiss.

The Artist

The rest of the week went smoothly. Artemis was very excited to have a new friend and talked about Missy often.

Friday came around, and Shade had to inform the school that she was running late in picking Artemis up. A seller was taking his sweet time, in trying to decide which of the 2 pieces he wanted, before deciding he didn’t want either.

She was annoyed; it wasn’t uncommon for a seller to act like they wanted her work before making up some excuse as to why they were no longer interested. Nor was it uncommon for a person to try and haggle for lower prices, claiming ‘you should be grateful someone even wants your business.’

She was tired to say the least.

She finally, after 45 minutes, pulled up to the school, and made her way to Artemis’s class to pick her up. She was surprised when she saw Missy sitting with her.

“Missy? What are you still doing here honey?” Shade asked concerned.

“My dad’s running late, but I have no way of contacting him to find out what’s going on,” She admitted quietly.

Shade nodded in understanding, before pulling out her phone. Marcus had made sure to give her his number the other day when they saw each other dropping their kids off.

She called him. It took about 4 rings, before he answered, out of breath “Hey Shade.”

“Hey. So. I’m here with Artemis and Missy, are you uhh.. on your way hon?” She asked politely.

She hears him swear in the background before stating, “I promise I didn’t forget about her. It appears that someone has changed every clock I know. I haven’t been able to tell time for 90% of the day.”

“Haven’t been able to tell time eh? Funny. Had something similar happen the other morning when my alarm went off an hour early. Weird how these clocks… have just magically changed for both of us,” She noted staring at the two girls suspiciously.

Both of them shrugged acting like they have no idea what she was talking about, before looking away.

“Listen, can you tell Missy I am on my way, I swear,” He requested with a sigh.

“How about this… How about I take Missy home with me, and she can stay the night? In the morning, you can bring her a change of clothes, and pick us all up for our date,” She offered with a smile.

“Are... are you sure? It’s no problem for me to come and get her, it would just be a few minutes?” He questioned hesitantly.

“It’s not a problem. We will see you in the morning, yeah?” She assured.

“Sounds good, can I talk to Missy real quick?” He politely asked.

She handed her phone over to her, and they talked for a moment before she hung.

“Alright. Let’s get outta here,” She nodded her head toward the door.

The girls grabbed their things and the three of them were off.

She gets them home and told them to get to work on their homework. She checked on dinner that was cooking in the crockpot. It was crockpot chicken and noodles.

The girls finished up their homework and were currently helping her set the table an hour later. They were both giggling and whispering to one another.

“Alright you two, enough with the whisper party. Go wash your hands, while I serve up dinner,” She tells them, shaking her head.

She grabbed their bowls and ladled them a healthy portion for all of them. She had made some fruit salad to go with it and gave them a small plate of it.

By the time their plates were ready, the girls were bouncing back into the dining room. They took their seats, and she joined them.

Missy began asking questions about Shade’s work.

“So, what kind of art do you do?” Missy politely asked.

“I do mostly pencil sketches and paint occasionally even though I don’t think I’m very good at it. Been working on some new stuff, but... Mh. not sure how I feel about it so far,” Shade explained to her.

“Ooh. What kind of new stuff?” Missy asked excitedly.

Shade went to wave it off as nothing when Artemis piped up, “She’s been drawing the Heroics and their most famous battles! Kinda like a comicbook! It’s so cool!”

“What!? That’s awesome! Can I see it sometime? I mean. If you’re okay with it?” Missy asked amazed.

“Hmm. Possibly. If…” Shade began.

“If what?” Missy questioned.

“If… you promise to fix your dad’s clocks, and not mess with them again. I understand that both of you are excited to be friends and want us to get along too, but messing with clocks and alarms is not okay,” She bargained looking at both of them.

They both looked down, wincing as they mumbled apologies and swearing that they would fix things.

“Apology accepted. Finish eating and I’ll show you my workshop,” She stated with a smile.

Both of them perked back up and began eating again happily.

Once they all had eaten and cleaned up, Shade led them to her workshop. She slid opened the double doors and presented it to Missy.

There were several desks, covered in pencils, graphite and colored, pens, paints, and brushes. There was an easel and some blank canvases resting in a corner. She walked over to one of her sketch books and opened it about midway.

“Just, uh, don’t touch the ink too much. It takes a long time to dry,” She informed them setting it down on the small table where Artemis held her art supplies.

Missy was amazed. She stared at all of the drawings of Miracle Guy, Sharkboy & Lavagirl, Tech-No, and many other Heroics. She noticed one thing though.

“You haven’t drawn my dad yet?” She mentioned looking up at her.

“No. I haven’t. I for whatever reason… cannot seem to draw him. Every time I do, I worry I’ll mess it up. Your dad meant a great deal to me at one point,” Shade tells her, thinking fondly of Marcus.

Missy and Artemis looked at each other, a plan forming.

They spoke a little more about art and what Shade does before the girls ran upstairs to go play.

Or so Shade thought…

The Hero

Marcus was finishing up some paperwork that had piled up over the week when Miracle Guy stepped into his office.

“What are you still doing here, man? Shouldn’t you be at home? With your kid?” Miracle asked him.

“Can ask you the same thing, MG?” Marcus countered, referring to his nickname.

“Had a job I just came from. Mission report. Saw your light was still on, figured I should check on our fearless leader,” Miracle lightly teased.

Marcus simply hummed in response.

“So. What’s been going on with you? You’ve been jittery all week. I had thought it had something to do with the incident at Missy’s school, but now… not so sure,” Miracle brought up, sitting across from Marcus.

“Remember… when we first started out? I was with that artist?” Marcus began, biting his lip.

“Yeah. The really pretty one, that you wound up breaking up with, right?” Miracle recalled.

“Mh. Her daughter is now best friends with my daughter… and we have a date tomorrow… and I honestly… don’t know how I feel,” Marcus confessed, setting his pen down, the report no longer distracting him.

“Wh-… What? Seriously? Wow. What a small world? I mean… this is the first time you’ve gone out since Isabelle died right? I think it’s only natural that you’re nervous. But… it’s also with someone you’ve been with. I doubt she’s changed that much in 15 years,” Miracle noted with a shrug.

“Yeah. I just… hmm. I don’t know. I am nervous… but I’m also…excited? Happy? I mean… I wanted to marry this girl back in college, but life… got in the way. I guess… I’m just worried I’ll mess it up,” Marcus admitted with a sigh.

“Oh? You never told me that part? Listen. It’s one date. If you don’t feel sparks fly or whatever then, it’s not meant to be. But if you do, explore it. You deserve to be happy Marcus,” Miracle stated.

Marcus opened his mouth to reply when his phone rang.

He answers noticing it was Shade’s number.

“Hey, what’s-” He began.

“Dad! You should get over here! Like quickly! As fast as possible!” Missy voice came, rushed.

Marcus goes to question her, but the line ends.

Marcus quickly gets up, grabs his things and runs out to his car. The drive under normal circumstances was 20 minutes, but he was there in half that time.

He ran up to the door, banging on it, panicked.

When the door opened, Shade stood there, looking extremely confused.

“Marcus?” She greeted staring at him concerned.

“Are the girls okay? Missy called and told me I should get here,” Marcus explained quickly.

“Yes. They’re fine. They went upstairs to play?” She answered still confused.

“But they had your phone? And she sounded worried?” Marcus recalled the phone call.

She suddenly patted her pockets, looking around trying to find her phone.

The Artist

It slowly dawned on her what happened.

“GIRLS! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW” She yelled up the stairs.

A moment passed, and neither of them heard movement.

“I am so sorry Marcus. Artemis… must have grabbed my phone while I wasn’t looking,” She apologized, moving to go upstairs.

Marcus stopped her.

“Hey, so long as everyone is okay. Even though a CERTAIN YOUNG LADY IS GROUNDED. I’m sorry for almost busting your door down with my knocking,” He tells her, shouting part of his sentence up the stairs.

A loud groan could be heard in response.

“AS IS ANOTHER CERTAIN YOUNG LADY,” Shade mentioned loudly.

Cue another loud groan.

“Would… would you like some water?” Shade offered, twirling a lock of her hair.

“Yes. I would actually,” Marcus accepted gratefully.

The two of them stepped into her kitchen. Shade grabbed him a glass and filled it with water, before handing it to him. He downed about half of it, before setting it back down, wiping his mouth.

“So. What… what happened?” Marcus asked trying to understand.

She thought about it, trying to retrace the evening.

“Oh…. I showed them…some of my artwork… and Missy asked me why I hadn’t drawn you yet,” She realized.

“Oh? Ahem. So… Why…Why haven’t you drawn me yet?” He asked hesitantly and trying to hide his curiosity.

“I told her it was because… I was worried I would mess it up and that you meant a great deal to me… which is somewhat true… I have drawn you…but I always feel like… they didn’t do you justice,” She quietly admitted to him, not making eye contact. “Kind of hard to draw someone you were in love with for years. Especially when those feelings never quite went away.”

The Hero

He was surprised to hear that. He didn’t quite know how to respond. He did… know one thing though.

He moved around the island over to her.

“Forgive me… if this is too forward,” He whispered to her.

He gently cupped her face into his hands, and pressed a small, hesitant kiss to her lips. When she didn’t pull away or slap him, he kissed her again, but just a smidge longer.

He felt her arms move, sliding around his neck. He was extremely relieved when he felt her kiss him back. He lightly pinned her against her the island, his hands moving to her waist. They wrapped around her, pulling her close.

Their kiss lasted for a minute and would’ve gone longer if it weren’t for the fact that they heard giggles coming from the stairway.

They pulled away slowly.

“I told you that my daughter’s favorite movie was the Parent Trap, right? We’ve been Parent Trapped,” She whispered against his lips.

“You also said her number one favorite was The Mummy, which I guess it’s a good thing they didn’t unleash an unspeakable evil to get us together,” Marcus joked.

“This is true. You 2 are still grounded by the way, and Mrs. Moreno will be informed of that fact tomorrow when we leave you with her to go on our date,” She threw over shoulder.

There was a sound of 2 pairs of feet scurrying back upstairs.

“You… you still want to go out tomorrow?” Marcus inquired, hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. If you still want to,” She mentioned, biting her lip.

“Yeah. I do. Though… I think I should go grab my little delinquent, and take her home, so you can sleep without anymore “emergencies.” Plus, I apparently need to talk to her about boundaries,” Marcus noted as he slowly stepped away from her.

“Yeah. I apparently have to have a similar conversation. We’ll see you tomorrow?” She said with a smile.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Umm. Just one last thing,” Marcus hurriedly said.

He pulled her into another kiss, that she returned with a sigh.

When he finally pulled away again, he simply said, “One wasn’t enough.”

He called for Missy to come downstairs and get her things. He told her that a slumber party will have to wait for another time. As he took Missy home, he couldn’t help the smile on his face, as he thought about Shade.

He knew his evening was far from over, but he couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #we can be heroes #parent trap au

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

Text

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose - Puppy Love?

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader Warnings: Fluffy Summer Fun Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Kal and Moose seem to be popular, what can I say?

Henry Cavill Master List

“Oscar, can you not torment Kal?”

“I'm not tormenting him,” the boy pouted, attempting to push the dog away. “He keeps sitting on me, Uncle Henry.”

“Kal, stop sitting on Oscar.” Henry scolded the big black and white Akita.

Henry swore he could see Kal roll his eyes, but did as he was asked and climbed off of Henry's nephew. Kal yawned and laid on the bed in the corner, like a “good dog”, another eye roll. Please, this was his domain. Nobody moved him from his spot on the couch, except for maybe Moose. Even then, they would compromise and Moose would lie across the humans.

Closing his eyes, Kal sighed, listening to his human and the two tiny humans playing another video game. They had spent a part of the day outside in the garden yesterday. This morning they went for Kal's regulation walkie, and now they were in the house – again. Kal huffed and yawned. He wished Moose was there, they could bounce around the garden chasing squirrels, cats, and scare the tiny humans with their loud but harmless boofings.

Sprawled out on the “dog bed” Kal whimpered in his sleep. Oblivious to the fact he had company. Dancing around Kal with more energy than he knew what to do with, Moose nosed the big dog and yelped at him. Kal sniffled and boofed in his sleep. Henry laughed watching Kal completely ignore his best friend.

“He's pretty wrecked,” Henry explained with a casual shrug.

“Kids do that to ya.” You laugh, calling Moose back to you. “How was last night?”

“Good, they slept well. Aiden was up in the night, he crawled in with me, and went back to sleep. Thankfully.” A soft chuckle, Henry looked over his shoulder at his nephews playing the video game that he had set up. “They're glued to that thing.”

“Ah, like their uncle.” You tease, nudging him in the side. “Why don't we wake sleeping beauty and head for the park? Moose could use a nice, long run. He's been inside all day. I had Alfie this morning, he had an appointment so no dogs allowed.”

Henry snorted. “You're welcome to try and pry them away.”

His brother and sister in law had left the 10 and 6 years old with their uncle for the weekend, it was their anniversary and Henry wasn't doing anything. He had gallantly offered to take his nephews, they arrived Thursday morning and would be leaving around mid day Sunday. How hard could it be? His sister in law had told him not to let them spend the entire weekend in front of a screen.

Easier said than done. He'd had them for 24 hours and the majority of their time, they weren't happy unless they were stuck in front of a game. Henry couldn't blame them, it was an activity the three of them were equally matched at, and they all enjoyed.

“Hey guys,” You call cheerfully, walking into the room. “What's going on?”

You had met Oscar and Aiden before, although you weren't overly familiar with the two boys, you hoped they had remembered you.

At they very least, they would likely remember Moose. He had been the unexpected star of the show, stealing the tray of sausages from the grill allowing himself and Kal to a fine meal. He then proceeded to vomit on the lawn where one of the other nephews managed to step and slip in it. Henry had assured you that it wasn't a big deal. Right, because it wasn't him having to face the shame or clean vomit off of his dog.

“Playing a game,” Aiden answered dropping his controller and turning to you. “Would you like to play? Uncle Henry said it's okay for kids.”

“I'm sure it is, but I don't want to play. Thanks.” You smile, rubbing Moose's back. He stands beside you sniffing the small human.

Kal is awake, stretching and wagging his tail. Moose is here and the fun is never far.

“Okay.” Aiden shrugs turning back to the game.

“Oscar, don't be rude.” Henry scolds from his spot holding up the door frame with his body.

“Oh, hey.” Oscar turns briefly to greet you.

“So, how many more levels to this game?”

“Seven.” Oscar's eyes never leave the screen.

“Ah. Well, I guess you're probably going to play those then. Sorry, Hen, looks like you and Kal are here all day.” You begin to talk, making no sense whatsoever to Henry.

“Wh-I don't.” Henry begins, when you wink at him. Indicating for him to follow the lead. “I guess we are. Too bad.”

Aiden's attention was now piqued. Ah yes, the little ones always caved first. Standing up and walking to his uncle, Aiden hangs onto Henry's hand for a second before whispering to him.

“What were we going to do?” Henry asks out loud. Kal prances and Moose begins to wiggle around as well. Aiden nods.

“I came over to see if your Uncle Henry wanted to go to lunch, or maybe we could go to the park, then get an ice cream. But since you guys have seven levels left.” You shrug as casually as you can. “Guess Moose and I are on our own.”

“I want ice cream!” Aiden cheers. “Oscar, turn off the game. Turn it off! We can go get ice cream! Oscar!” the small boy pesters his big brother.

A sight all too familiar for Henry. He was often the one pestering his brothers to do cool things, too.

“Go away.” Oscar pushes Aiden to the side, trying to play the game.

“Oscar, don't push your brother.” Henry corrects. His brow knit, he means business. “Why don't we turn off the game and go to the park.”

Scowling, Oscar rolls his eyes, a Cavill trait. You can't help giggle at how much the two boys look like their uncle.

“Why can't she take him and we stay here?” Oscar pauses the game.

“Because we are all going, I said so.” Henry pulls rank over the sulking child. “Now, it is my game and I want it turned off. I will banish you from playing the rest of the weekend.”

Did that sort of thing actually work?

Indeed it did, for Henry at least. He didn't have to ask the second time. Oscar did as he was told, powering down the gaming system, not without a pout though. Dogs and children wrangled, everyone was out of the house in a timely fashion. Another grumble came, when the boys – primarily Oscar – realized that this was an adventure to be taken on foot.

Whatever, he would get over it.

Holding tightly to Moose's leash, Aiden walked proudly along side his uncle. The red Aussie being on his best behaviour, although you made sure to keep a close eye in case he got any ideas to run off with the child. Making it to the park in one piece, no run offs or mishaps, was nearly a miracle. Letting the two dogs off to play, Henry handed Oscar the ball and told him to throw it as far and hard as he could.

Aiden didn't go too far, sitting in the grass, chatting idly with you. He told you about his favourite subject at school. His favourite sport and hobbies. The topic of conversation got real, when he leaned in closer. Whispering that his favourite superhero was Ironman, but he would pretend to like Superman to make his uncle Henry happy.

Overhearing the confession, Henry shot you a wink and a slight nod. He was well aware of his nephew's acting skills.

Throwing the ball with his uncle, until the two dogs returned panting and tired, Oscar ignored you and Aiden. Enjoying the time he had to chat with Henry about various things. Sports mostly. He made the observation that the usually shy Aiden was your new best mate. Sitting on your knee in the grass, Aiden laughed as you tickled him. Your bonding interrupted by Kal wandering over and slobbering against your face.

“Kal!” You squeal and push the big dog away. “Get off.”

“I think he's saying it's time for ice cream.” Henry laughed, retrieving Kal.

“Ice cream!” Aiden cheered rushing to his feet, Moose dancing along beside him.

Settled on the grass under a big shady tree, Aiden had his wish. An ice cream cone in his hand, melted debris on his cheeks and chin. He was a picture of happy. Oscar sat with his back against the tree, watching flock of birds near by. Henry rested beside him, Kal's leash in his hand. The big dog licking his paws, having finished a small cup of delicious ice cream.

Sitting beside Aiden, you hold your ice cream for Moose to take a lick. He had his own cup as well, although he refused to share with you. Funny how dogs and children were that way. Henry had shared his with you, insisting that you try the passion fruit frozen yogurt. Resting in the shade, you can't help but enjoy the comfortable silence between the four of you. The boys had been perfect all afternoon, you were certain their mother would be thrilled to hear that they had done something other than played video games. In the silence, Oscar shifted around, sitting to face his Uncle.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Henry nodded.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Hearing the question, you nearly choke. Sputtering and wiping a hand across your chin.

“No, we're friends.” Henry rolls his eyes. Giving you an apologetic look.

“Friends who like to kiss?”

“No, friends who like to sacrifice small children who ask too many questions.” You speak without any thought on that comment. The sheer look of terror on the child's face is enough to force Henry into hiding his laughter.

“Uncle Henry, she's weird.” Aiden licks his ice cream cone, pushing the melting treat a little too hard. Resulting in it splatting to the ground, bottom lip trembling Aiden is on the verge of tears when Kal and Moose rush to the rescue. Kal hunting down the ice cream on the ground, cleaning up. Moose goes straight for the face, licking the remains off of the little boy's face. “Uncle Henry!” Aiden laughs as the dog's tongue tickles his face, Moose now joined by Kal.

“Boys, off.” You attempt to call off the dogs, while Henry has already gone to get Aiden a second cone. “Kal, Moose. Now.”

“Here we are,” Henry holds a new cone, laughing when he sees the sight. Aiden on the ground, Kal and Moose licking his face like it was their new day job. “Well, at least I won't have to clean him up.”

@laketaj24 @the-winter-witcher @viking-raider @sciapod @stars-meets-the-sunlight @honeychicanawrites @badassbakers @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @zoe-rachel-crisp @mrsadrianraines @angelic-kisses13 @marthasantos95 @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @shileen91 @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @nerdzzone @captstefanbrandt @supernaturalvikingwhore @intototaloblivion @carlya65 @letowolfie @thisisabigmaze @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @heavenly1927 @henchry @mitzwinchester @vicmackeybullshxt @dogshemp @alwayshave-faith @centaine @romyr4 @inside-the-time-stone @nedbear @ly--canthrope@agniavateira @flowerthug @badwolf-in-the-impala @mariahill2001 @mytbel0st @fcgrizi @dancingwendigo @peakygroupie @magdelen69 @s-ravenall @legendarywinchester1 @littlefreya @michelle-1185 @daniig95 @hcfavoritegal @didiintheblog @thiccgeralt @titty-teetee @charlieferret @taytayize123 @mis-lil-red @anndreaae @dearlybelovedluke @gearhead66 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @tinychemicals @mary-ann84 @townmoondaltwistle @buckysgoldenheart @thethirstyarchive @meowpurrbooks @hell1129-blog @nuns-and-roses @vikingsbifrost @comboboo @onlyhenrys @sideh0e @deathonyourtongue @obsessedwithcavill @omgkatinka @woofgocows @newfanhasenteredthechat @lestersglitterglue @speakerforthedead0 @rmtndew @ravenpuff02 @summersong69 @ladyreapermc @fuckoffbard @marswritings @cherrybloomn @radkesgirl83 @harrysthiccthighss @bloodyinspiredfuck @alyxkbrl @horny-nd-bored @aaescritora@writingforhenry @ffreadings @tsukuyomi011 @kaitieskidmore1 @newfanhasenteredthechat @kinbhot4henners @palaiasaurus64 @evnscvll @sofiebstar

- if you want to be added? removed, please let me know

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #Henry and Kal #the (mis)adventures of kal and moose #henry cavill fluff #kal cavill

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Month of Miracles Day 9 - Tradition

Find the prompt list here!

I’m mixing up the prompts a bit here because I had a plan for ‘Moments of Wonder’ that can’t happen until a little bit further on in the Hallmark AU. I was just gonna do the next prompt while I got a little bit ahead on the Hallmark ones since they tend to be longer, but...this one wouldn’t leave me alone and I didn’t have enough time today to do both. Honestly, I might not be able to keep up the one a day through the next week, but whatever I miss, I’ll catch up on Christmas week where we have some planned time off.

Marinette understood why her mother thought this trip would do her good, but the truth was that she felt at loose ends rattling around in Gina’s old-fashioned but large house, all alone. At home, there was always somewhere to pitch in, something that needed doing. Gina kept her life pretty streamlined, and when she was home, she delighted in fixing up anything that might be out of sorts in her home. Gina was just too efficient, so other than keeping her plants alive, which really wasn’t that difficult since Gina kept mostly hardy breeds that could survive being left under the care of a neighbor for weeks at a time, there just wasn’t much for Marinette to do.

Finally Marinette planted herself on the couch, set the TV to a channel covering the most recent fashion shows, and sat down to sketch. She’d have a lot of work to catch up on when she got home, so she might as well take advantage of some of this quiet time to get ahead.

She sketched a few basic silhouettes to warm up and get the juices flowing, but after that...nothing came. Every time she started a line, she quickly rubbed about it again. Stop editing yourself, she scolded. Just get it out, and you can fix it later.

It didn’t work. Everything she did felt wrong. Audrey’s complaints echoed in her mind. Too derivative, too pedestrian, where’s the art, Marinette? That’s why I hired you, and all you ever give me is this trash! Did I make a mistake bringing you on?

Did Audrey make a mistake? Marinette put down her sketchbook and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she dropped her face against her legs, fighting down the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed hard and tried to breathe.

Okay. So she couldn’t draw right now. That was okay. She’d do...something else.

She got up, leaving her sketchbook on the couch and the television on, and went into the kitchen. She started pulling out ingredients without conscious thought, the spiral in her mind continuing until she actually stood in front of the mixer, measuring cups in hand.

Marinette took a deep breath. She began measuring out ingredients, repeating the recipes in her head as she worked. This, at least, was something she could do. Nobody got all twisted up over cookies, after all.

Well. Except Audrey are you trying to destroy my figure you’re FIRED Bourgeois. Marinette pushed that thought aside. Rose would appreciate cookies, she was sure. Gina’s neighbors would too. Maybe even Sally...would it be insulting to take some to Sally? She tried to remember if she’d seen cookies for sale in the café, and finally gave up. She’d just make some, and figure out who could eat them later.

This was something she could do, and nobody could say she didn’t do it well, and that...that mattered to her right now. She could feel herself relaxing into the process, and she began to consider what she could make. Gina’s supplies weren’t as extensive as Tom’s, but there were still plenty of options to choose from…

Her first batch was in the oven, and she was making some simple Russian teacakes for a breather, when Gina’s old-fashioned doorbell rang.

Frowning, Marinette grabbed a towel from the oven and went to the door, wiping at least one hand as clean as she could get it before she opened it.

If she’d expected anything, it was a package delivery, or maybe even a neighbor stopping by with some cookies of their own—this seemed like the kind of place where that stuff happened.

On the doorstep stood a grey-haired woman with a bright smile, glasses that made her blue eyes look huge, feet well apart, and her hands solidly on her hips. Behind her stood Luka Couffaine, his lips pressed together in exasperation, propping up a large Christmas tree. He gave her a tight smile when her eyes flicked over him, but the woman in front of him had a presence that was impossible to ignore.

“Um,” Marinette said, smiling uncertainly. “Can I help you?”

The woman stuck out her hand. “Hello, lass. Marinette, isn’t it? Anarka Couffaine! Yer grandma be a friend of mine. When I heard you were keeping house for her while she’s away I thought we’d best be bringing over her tree!”

“Her tree?” Marinette asked, mystified. She glanced at Luka, and couldn’t help a smile when he mouthed I am so sorry at her over his...mother? Surely she must be his mother. Only a parent could put that look of embarrassed frustration on a grown man.

“Aye, Gina always gets a tree from us,” Anarka was saying. “Thought she wouldn’t be needing one this year since she’s gone. Hated to think of her not having one when she gets back, but it makes sense, no one here to take care of it and all. But since you’re here, all’s well. You can decorate it and have it ready for Gina when she comes home. She’s still planning t’be back for Christmas Day, aye?”

“Uh, yes,” Marinette said, reaching up to tug a pigtail and remembering just in time that she’d pinned up her hair, and that her hands were still dusted with flour despite the wiping. “She and my parents and all were supposed to meet back here for Christmas Eve, so I guess—but I don’t know if—”

“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Anarka burst out cheerfully. “She’ll definitely be wanting her tree, then. No worries, lass, we know where everything is. We won’t be in your way but for a moment.”

She didn’t push past Marinette, but it was clear she intended to move forward, and Marinette backed out of the doorway on instinct.

Luka gave her a kill me now look as he hoisted the tree and followed his mother. Marinette giggled in spite of herself, and closed the door behind them.

True to her word, Anarka knew exactly where to find Gina’s Christmas tree things, and ordered her son around with a brusqueness that left no room for argument or debate. Marinette hovered, a bit at a loss for what to do. She wondered if she should go change into clean clothes, but Anarka said they weren’t staying long, and she still wasn’t done in the kitchen—

The oven timer chimed, and she automatically turned to tend to it. She hesitated in the door to the kitchen for just a moment, but Luka was half under the tree, getting it adjusted in the stand while Anarka barked orders. Neither was paying any attention to her, and even if she wasn’t cooking for anyone in particular, she couldn’t stand to let perfectly good cookies burn for no good reason.

She’d just gotten everything settled when Anarka’s booming voice behind her made her jump. “I’ve got to run, lass, but Luka can finish getting things set up. I’ve already told him what to do and where to put everything. We left the box of decorations out for ye, so ye can get things all nice for when Gina comes home. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, so, goodbye for now. Don’t forget to check the water in the tree every day!”

Marinette didn’t even have time to answer before Anarka was seeing herself out.

As soon as the door banged closed behind Anarka, Luka made a beeline for the kitchen. Hands against the doorframe, he leaned in. “Hey.”

Marinette turned to look at him from where she stood rolling some kind of round cookie in powdered sugar. “I swear I tried to talk her out of it,” he told her, ears burning. “I’d have had more success wrestling a bear.”

Marinette laughed, blushing, and Luka couldn’t help his grin. She looked adorable, with her hair pinned up and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, flour streaking the red and green, frilled apron she wore. “I can imagine,” she replied, placing the sugar-coated ball carefully on a pile of others already in a dish on the counter. “She seems like someone it’s hard to say no to.”

Luka shrugged. “That’s my mom.” They looked at each other for a moment, Luka thinking about what a sweet picture she made and her thinking—probably that he was completely weird, standing here staring at her. “Anyway,” he said hastily, pushing himself back upright, “I’ll get this finished up and get out of your hair. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry and I had nothing to do with this...whatever this is.”

Marinette giggled. “It’s fine.” Her shoulders came down a little, and Luka gave her one more grin before he went back to setting up the tree. He was starting, he reflected ruefully, to have some dangerous if only thoughts. If only they’d met sooner, if only she weren’t leaving in a couple of weeks...

If only the people in his life weren’t so damn pushy, so that he wasn’t sure how much of the attraction he felt was sincere or mutual. If only he could be sure he wasn’t seeing things because Rose put the idea in his head.

Luka wasn’t sure what had put his mother on the scent. It was, just barely, possible that her motives were exactly what she said they were. Gina did buy a tree from them every year, and since they were friends it was usually more of a visit than a delivery, and Anarka had more than once hauled Luka out to help set the thing up when he was home.

Luka doubted it though. Either Rose had blabbed, or someone else had. Sally, maybe, who might have seen him holding her hand at the café, or maybe one of the townspeople who had seen them say goodbye outside afterwards, smiling and friendly. Marinette blushed so easily, and he did find her extremely pretty. it might have been easy for someone to get the wrong idea.

The television was on, but Luka hadn’t paid any attention to it until Marinette’s name caught his ear. He looked up, and saw a good-looking blonde man on screen, waving to the crowd before he turned to help a lady out of the limo he’d just exited. There was a smaller picture of Marinette on the arm of the same handsome blond in the corner.

Luka put it together with what Marinette had told him at the café, and pressed his lips together, irrationally angry at the man. Clearly he has a type, Luka thought sourly, looking at the new woman on his arm as the couple proceeded down the red carpet. Luka glanced back at the kitchen, and then walked over and turned the television off. Marinette didn’t seem like she was watching it, and she certainly didn’t need to see something like that by accident.

He finished up, making sure to clean up after himself as best he could, stacking the boxes that had held Gina’s things neatly where his mother had found them. Conveniently there was a broom in the same closet, so he was able to sweep up the needles he’d inevitably tracked all over the house.

He put the broom back, and went back to find Marinette. Whatever she was making smelled amazing. Luka paused in the kitchen doorway. Marinette was concentrating hard, piping icing onto cookies laid out in front of her. Even focused as she was, he couldn’t help but note that she looked more content than he’d ever seen her, smiling and at peace, humming softly to herself. She leaned back to study what she’d done, and the humming turned to singing.

Luka took a quick step back and turned, putting his back to the wall next to the door, one hand going to clutch at his heart as it suddenly decided to gallop away.

She was singing one of his songs.

So she’s a fan, he scolded himself. I knew that. And why should he care? By the end, Luke Stone had been almost an entirely separate entity from himself. An illusion created to sell music, not a real person.

Except Luke Stone still played Luka Couffaine’s music. And it was one thing to know Luke Stone had fans, to see them screaming in a crowd or throwing themselves at the security ropes to get to him, but...it was entirely different to hear sweet, sincere Marinette, thoughtlessly humming Luka’s songs just because she was happy and she enjoyed them. It was what he’d always wanted, wasn’t it? To know that people appreciated the music, and not just the image. It was no wonder his pulse was racing.

Luka sighed and closed his eyes. I’m in trouble, he admitted to himself.

Fiction Master Post | Month of Miracles

#quickspins #monthofmiracles2020 #hallmark au #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic #quickfic

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13-reasons-ideas · 3 years

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Marry Me - Monty’s Perspective

A/N: Here it is. I’m so sorry this took so long to put out. I was having a really hard time getting into the right headspace to write this. I hope you guys like it! I recommend listening to Thomas Rhett’s Marry Me when you read this. As usual, feedback is appreciated and much love! -Em

Ellie was coming back into town for her engagement party this weekend. I was the first person she called when Evan proposed. She damn near gave me a heart attack when I answered, and she was scream-crying.

Flashback

I was watching the Chargers game when Ellie called. “Hey Elliebear.”

“Heaskedmetomarryhim.” She screeched on the other line. I had no idea what she said. It sounded like she was crying. And that I would be deaf in one ear. I pulled the phone away from my head until she stopped freaking out.

“What was that?”

“Evan proposed.” What?

“Oh?”

“And I said yes. I’m getting married Montgomery.” Oh.

“That’s great Ellie. Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the pit that was forming.

“Thank you. I wanted you to be the first one to know, so I just wanted to call you quick. I can hear the game in the background, and we have more people to call so I’ll let you go now.”

“Okay, tell Evan I said hi and congratulations.”

“I will. Bye Monty.”

“Bye Ellie.” I hung up and sat back on the couch. She’s getting married.

End flashback

I was on break at work when I got a text from Ellie.

Hey you. I just got into town with Evan for the weekend. Are you free tonight?

I texted her back a few minutes later, yeah I’m free. What’s up?

She replied right away. Drinks or coffee? Just you and me. My parents are going over some details for tomorrow with Evan that they don’t want me around for.

Sure. Meet you at Monet’s at six?

I’ll save you a seat. Usual order?

You know I don’t change things Elliebear.

I stopped at home to change after work into something more comfortable. I grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a random t-shirt before grabbing an old flannel and running out the door, so I wasn’t late.Ellie barely beat me to the café. It wasn’t surprising really, since she was always the early one.

“Hey, what can I get you this evening?” the barista asked her.

“Can I get a-”

“She’ll get a skinny vanilla bean latte with only one pump of vanilla, a dash of cinnamon, and extra foam in a for here cup. I’ll get a regular black coffee. And she’ll also have the chicken and spinach sandwich.” I said behind her. The barista looked at her, unsure if she should ring it in or not. Ellie nodded and turned around to face me. Before I had a chance to say anything, she jumped into my arms for a hug.

“Hey Elliebear.” I grunted.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Our orders were finished quickly as it was surprisingly slow for a Friday night. Luckily, that meant our table was free. We sat down and conversation flowed easily. It was almost like we had never been apart.

“The ring is nice. It suits you. Bigger than I thought you would like but it’s nice.”

“It is nice, yeah. That reminds me, Evan said he’s looking forward to meeting you tomorrow.”

“So am I. See who finally caught your interest.”

“I was interested in other people before Evan.” She told me, scandalously. Sure, you did El. I didn’t let myself think about the possibility of her liking me that way when we were younger.

“Ellie. That guy from drama class doesn’t count. And neither does your chemistry partner.”

“I was not interested in Adam. And Zach was my chemistry partner. I can assure you I was not into him.”

“Please, enlighten me as to these people you were interested in before Evan.”

“There was,” she paused. “Dylan from sophomore English was cute. Ian. Couple other guys in high school. Peter from my first year anthropology class was… very attractive, and smart.”

“One guy aside from Evan? University of Georgia is a big school. There’s no way you only had eyes for two people.”

“I was busy. I practically lived in the library when I wasn’t in class or my dorm. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is there a girl I should be hearing about? Or should have heard about?”

“Nah. Nothing important or anything to write home about. I was busy.” I wouldn’t call what I did, dating. The point wasn’t to find someone to bring home. Who I wanted to bring home was over 900 miles away.

“Oh please Monty, you played ball at OSU. You honestly expect me to believe there was no girl in your life?”

“No, no. There were girls. Just nothing really serious.”

“Uh, huh.” She replied, sarcastically. We reached for our cups at the same time and our hands brushed. I was immediately transported back to the day of homecoming in senior year.

Flashback

“Remember students. The homecoming game is tonight at 6:30. You’ll want to be there early as our Liberty Tigers take on the Hildebrandt Mustangs if you want good seats. It’s sure to be a nail biter.” Principal Bolan’s voice boomed from the intercom during the morning announcements.

“Don’t know why he’s hyping it up to be a nail biter.” Scott laughed.

“We are playing Hildebrandt. We could literally not show up and still win.” I joked. “Have any of you seen Ellie? She’s usually here to force me to English by now.”

“Nah man.” Scott replied.

“Need lover girl to make sure you do what you’re supposed to?” Bryce teased.

“Fuck off. It’s not like that with us.” Unfortunately.

“Sure it’s not Monty. I refuse to believe you never hit it.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” I threatened, lowly. Don’t push it man. Bryce shut up at my tone. “I’m going to go try and find her. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

She was arranging her books when I found her at her locker. She was trailed by Clay and Alex. I pulled her into my arms and lifted off the ground. “Montgomery, put me down!” she laughed.

“Never.” I laughed, evilly.

“I have to grab my chem book. And go to chemistry.”

“I’ve got it.” Zach said as he grabbed her book, “you carrying her to class today?”

“Nah, I thought about it but since I had to come find her this morning, I figure she can make it there on her own.”

“I was running late. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to.”

“Excuses, excuses.” I replied, putting her down and shaking my head.

“I’ll see you guys later? Zach and I are running late.”

“Sure. Justin said if I don’t go to the game tonight, he’d tell mom and dad about Ani. And I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Someone has to keep Clay company, so I have to go too.” Alex said, pushing clay lightly.

“Great. I’ll see you then. See you at lunch Monty.”

I sat through just about the driest English class of my life, counting the minutes on my watch. Math was no better. We were reviewing for a test that almost the whole

class failed. Somehow that was our fault for not studying enough. I let out a sigh of relief when the lunch bell rang.

The table was already mostly full when Ellie came and sat next to me. “Ellie, think you could pray for us to not lose this game tonight?” Bryce sniggered from the end of the table.

“Hey, quit being a dick.” I stated. Bryce responded by chucking a grape at me. I threw it back at him. I knew how important her faith was to her. Some things just weren’t okay to be joked about or questioned. When it came to Ellie, faith was one of them.

“It’s fine Monty. Not like he hasn’t done it before.” I know he has. I don’t like it. “It’s going to take a lot more than God to help you win if you don’t learn to throw better than that in the next six hours. But sure.” I watched her from the corner of my eye as she smirked to herself before beginning. I’d seen her pray for real before. This wasn’t that. “Lord, please help the guys win tonight. Give them the ability to not trip over themselves when they make plays. And God, please show Bryce how to make the ball go where it’s supposed to and not hit some poor kid in the head again. Maybe, just maybe, then he will get laid tonight and we all know that’s really why he asked me to pray.” She smirked at Bryce. I choked on my juice. She probably isn’t wrong. Was pretty funny when that kid got hit though.

“You need to quit hanging out with Monty, he’s rubbing off on you too much. And I was serious.”

“I know. I’ll do it for real after lunch. You can sit with me if you want.” She was true to her word. I was late for Geography because I was watching her sit in an empty alcove praying. Bryce didn’t sit with her.

The locker room was abuzz with excitement. It was the homecoming game. Not to mention our season opener. If we wanted to start the season off right, we had to win. Sure, we joked around about Hildebrandt being an easy team to beat-they came in second to last in the league last year-but there was still a chance they would pull off a miracle. Especially if Bryce threw like he did at lunch. “Yo Monty, is Ellie coming to Monet’s tonight?”

“She said she would. Not that she’ll give you the time of day.” I waved off Matt’s question. She’s not interested. Trust me. Find someone else to have your eyes on. Several ‘oooo’s were voiced around us.

“How do you know?”

“Just do, man.”

“I could treat her real nice. She’d beg me for more.” Are you fucking kidding me?

“Oh shit.” Someone muttered, seriously. I didn’t really hear who it was. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears was too loud. Coach Kerba wasn’t in the room. He was talking to Banes about plays. No one in here will snitch. Not when it’s about Ellie.

I immediately turned towards him and cornered him against his locker. The rest of the team stood silently, watching us. I got real close to his face so only he would hear me. “You even think about her like that again and I will bury you so deep they’ll need ground penetrating radar to find you. Not that they’d recognize you if anyone found your body. If you so much as brush against her too hard in the halls, I’ll break your jaw. You understand Carraway?”

“Y-yeah. I got you. Never said a word.” He breathed in response. I had scared the living shit out of him. Good. I stepped away from him and after a few beats the incident was forgotten and the mood was light again.

The game wasn’t that exciting. Had it not been homecoming, most people probably wouldn’t have shown up. As expected, it was in our favour most of the first half. Ellie waved at me between plays. She was practically beaming. During the second half Hildebrandt seemed to find their groove and the game was at least interesting to play. It wasn’t the nail biter Principal Bolan had promised this morning. Everyone knew that regardless of how we played, we would end up winning. The game ended and the team and the crowd were excited. Matt and Garrison were so excited by the win, they tripped over their own feet and faceplanted on the sidelines. The excitement died down for a moment until they shot up and went on celebrating.

I waited for Ellie outside the locker room, as per our tradition. “Good game.” She called.

“Of course, it was. I was on the field.” I smirked.

“Modest as ever I see.”

“Do you expect anything else at this point Elliebear?” “Not really. But I can hope, maybe one day.”

“Maybe, but not likely.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it, Clay asked me to keep an eye on Justin tonight.”

“Is everything okay?” My brow furrowed.

“I think so. Clay said something about him having issues adjusting and stuff. Do you think you can play nice with him for a while?”

“I suppose, since he is your friend, I can try and be nice for a while. But not all night. I want some Ellie time.” Only because it’s you asking.

“And you’ll get your Ellie time. After you make nice with Justin.”

I sighed, making it seem like a hassle just to get a rise out of her. I was about to respond when Bryce called us, “are you two going to stand there and chit chat all night or are we going to celebrate?”

“We’re coming. Give us a minute asshole.” I called back to him. Bryce didn’t respond.

I turned around so I could give her a piggyback out to the car. “Hop on”. Once she felt secure, I walked us out to the parking lot. I pretended to not pay attention when she stole my baseball hat. She couldn’t see the way my smirk turned into a smile when she did.

“That’s my hat El.”

“I know. I happen to like it though, so I’m wearing it.”

“I’m not getting it back tonight, am I?”

“Nope. It is now mine. Might even write my name in it.”

“You do that Ellie. I won’t care when I steal it back who’s name it has in it.” Already has my name in it. Yours would just complete it.

“Fine. Then I’ll readjust it.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

I set her down at her car. “No, you wouldn’t.” I called her bluff. You’re too sweet to do it. Or you’d fix it right away if you did. She rolled her eyes at me.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at Monet’s in a few with your precious hat.” I waited until she got in her car and drove off, before starting my own engine and following her.

Ellie beat me to Monet’s as usual. I nodded at and stopped to chat with some of my teammates when I came in. Matt nodded awkwardly at me as I passed. I glared in return. My coffee was set across from her when I got to our table. “I see you told the truth. Can I have it back now?”

“No. I think it looks quite fetching on me, if I do say so myself.”

“Fetching?”

“Yes. Do you disagree?”

“No, I think it looks good on you.” Not that anything would look bad on you. Suits her. She’s wearing my shirt.

“That’s what I thought.”

We chatted quietly before Justin showed up. “Hey guys.” He waved.

“Justin! You made it.” She exclaimed, too excitedly. Making him think you were forced to babysit him by being overly happy isn’t going to help Elliebear. I shot her a tone it down look. Justin smiled uncomfortably as she offered up her seat. “Make room.”

“Can do sweetheart.” I flirted, patting the chair next to me. The smile and blush she tried to mask didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thanks for the coffee Ellie.” Justin said, taking a sip.

“No problem.” The three of us chatted idly for a while. I was on my best behaviour with Justin and even laughed a few times at couple things he said. There was no mention of what he witnessed in the locker room.

My hand found Ellie’s under the table and I grasped it carefully. I had to make it look like I hadn’t done it intentionally. I could see the pink flare of her cheeks and my lip twitched upwards.

“Hey Justin, come over here and look at this.” Charlie called. He was looking at something on Garrisons’ phone. Justin left us to go investigate. I caught the quick glance at our hands, even if Ellie didn’t. Thank you, Foley.

“And then there were two.” I muttered, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Then there were two.” She repeated.

“That shirt looks good on you. It’s pretty familiar too.”

“Oh, yeah. There may be a reason for that.” She seemed nervous.

“Need to go talk to Mike?”

“Not if you don’t have a problem with it. I think he would agree it was simply borrowing, rather than stealing. No need to involve Jesus.”

“I am. So now you’ve got my shirt and my hat. Anything else you intend on taking of mine?” I slowly inched closer to her. We have never gone here. But there’s no way she doesn’t feel this pull.

“Possibly. Depends what else you’re willing to offer.” She said, coyly. My fingers itched to brush the hair from her face. She beat me to it.

“I think there’s a thing or two I could offer you Ellie.” I replied, leaning in a little more. What am I doing? What if she doesn’t feel the same way. Am I about to ruin our friendship? Do I even care? Before I could kiss her, fucking Bryce Walker beckoned from across the room. Son of a bitch. You couldn’t wait two god damn seconds, could you? This better be important.

I stopped just short of kissing her. “What?” I answered, curtly.

“My place, half an hour.” He called back. That is what was so important you had to interrupt this moment? That could have waited. Fucker. I nodded in response and turned back to Ellie, hoping the moment wasn’t gone. I knew it was though. I sighed internally. She was smiling at me, but it didn’t reach her eyes like it normally did. She’s upset. I didn’t know what to say to try and salvage our moment. Instead, I watched her take a sip of her latte and check her watch.

“Shoot. Is that really the time? I have plans with my mom in the morning. I should get going.” I’ll take bullshit for 200, Alex. She never was a good liar.

“Oh, okay. Are we still on for waffles Sunday afternoon?” I tried to hide my disappointment.

“Yeah. Be at my place around one? I need to talk to Pastor Mike about a few things after service.”

“I’ll be there. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” She hurried out of the café so fast, someone might think there was a fire.

I threw my head back in my chair and ran my hands down my face. Bryce and Matt were watching me when I looked out at the room again. I mimicked Ellie’s actions and took my half empty cup to the counter. “You couldn’t have waited one minute, could you Walker?” I grumbled as I passed him.

“Sorry dude.” He called after me. “My place-.”

“Half an hour. Yeah. I got that.” I shook my head as I left the café.

End flashback

I turned to watch her take a sip of her latte. She still savoured the taste and licked her bottom lip the same way. “What about the blonde girl you told me about briefly?”

Blonde girl… Lip piercing? No. Was a red head. The sorority girl? That was the brunette with the Adderall. Blonde… oh! Chirpy. “Sara?”

“Yeah.”

“She was nice. Very peppy and chipper though.”

“Ah yes. Need to keep up that stoic exterior. Can’t have someone too chipper, lest people think you have a soul or something.” You always thought I did.

“Exactly.” I laughed. He took a long sip from his cooled coffee. “Can you imagine if I brought her home?”

“Well, knowing your mother, I would probably be attending your engagement party tomorrow instead of the other way around.”

“Oh probably.”

“How is your mom doing, by the way?” “She’s doing okay. After dad died, she was pretty out of it for a few months. She’s gotten better with time though. Really started to come into her own and forge her own path.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Not going to ask how I’m doing Ellie?”

“No. I know how you’re doing.”

“Oh really?”

“Montgomery. I am your best friend. Your dad was never a parent. DNA doesn’t make someone your family. You’re doing the same as you did the day you left and vowed to never speak to him again.”

Her easy explanation surprised me. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”

“I know. That’s why I have to remind you all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. How did Evan react to Scott on the way from the airport?”

“I’m not totally sure. I don’t think he realized how things worked at Liberty and exactly what you and I being friends meant. Scott told him about the treehouse.” Oh God.

“Oh no. Ellie. I need to look the guy in the eye tomorrow.”

“I know you do. Don��t worry. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I think he found it amusing actually.”

“Did he tell him anything else?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“No, mentioned how you guys fucked up and didn’t study for midterms and I singlehandedly kept you all on the team. And how Matt and Garrison managed to keep themselves above their feet until after homecoming senior year.”

“Of course, he did.”

“Don’t worry. Evan will like you.”

“How do you know?” Why do I care? Because you love her you dolt.

“Because I like you. And even though you think you are, you really aren’t a bad guy.” We talked for about another hour or so, just catching up, before we decided to call it a night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Three o’clock sharp.”

“Good.” She squeezed me tightly. When we pulled apart, I looked down and saw she was wearing my shirt. She kept it all these years.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I thought I lost that years ago.”

“You never asked for it back. We agreed that I technically borrowed it, remember?”

“Yeah, but I also thought you would have given it back by now.”

“I mean, I can give it back to you tomorrow if you want it.” She offered.

“No, no. You keep it. You seem comfortable in it.” She smiled and hugged me again before leaving.

No matter how much I tried to talk myself into cancelling at the last minute or just not showing up to the party, I couldn’t do it. As much as I wanted to let her finally think that I was an ass, I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt her like that. So, I manned up and went to Ellie’s engagement party. I showed up right at three, as promised. “Hey you.” She beamed. Her whole face lit up when she saw me.

“Hey Elliebear.” I said as I hugged her. Evan stood to the side, giving us a moment. He looked so uncomfortable with our interaction. Maybe he noticed how much brighter her face got when she saw me. She pulled away first and turned towards her fiancé.

“Evan, this is Monty. Monty, this is Evan.” She motioned between us. I shook his hand awkwardly.

“So, you found the way to Ellie’s heart, huh?”

“Yeah. She is something special. I thank God every day that she decided to give me a chance.”

“Don’t I know it?” I replied, trying to hide the wistfulness and ignore the pang of jealously in my chest.

Jill called her over for something and she pointed Scott out to me. Trying to avoid a pissing match El? “Coming Mom. Scott is over there by the cupcakes. Try to keep him from eating himself to a sugar high?”

I laughed, “can do Ellie. It was nice meeting you Evan. Congratulations.”

“You too Monty. Enjoy the party.” He doesn’t like me.

“Hey Scotty.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up. Justin and I had a bet going. I owe him fifty bucks.”

“Well, you know. It’s Ellie.” I grabbed a cupcake from the stand and took a bite. Not bad. I see why she wants me to monitor Scott.

“That’s why I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You came.” Justin said, patting me on the back in lieu of greeting.

“Yup. Where’s Sasha?”

“Girl talk with Ellie and Jess and some other girls.”

“Riveting. What choice did I have? My options were come, watch her with Evan, and hate every second of it for an hour or two, or, not come and have her hate me for the rest of our lives.”

“I guess. Are you going to go to the wedding?” Justin asked.

“See if Evan lets her invite me first. He doesn’t seem too impressed so far. Thanks for that by the way Scott.”

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you.”

“If you’re invited? Which you will be, because you’re her best friend.”

“Then what kind of best friend would I be, if I didn’t go to her wedding? I’d just hate myself for a few more hours then. That’s better than a lifetime of her hating me.”

“Fair. Look, if you want to leave, just say the word. We can go back to my place and drink.” Scott offered.

“Thanks. I need to stick it out. It’s Ellie.” The rest of the party was fine. I talked to Jill and Rob for a while. I even talked to Evan for a bit. It was awkward but we didn’t fight each other. If he suspected anything about my feelings for her, he didn’t say anything. I left that evening, wondering if he noticed Ellie looking for me and not him all afternoon and letting my brain go somewhere it hadn’t gone in years. At least, not willingly gone in years.

I held out some sick hope that maybe, just maybe, the engagement wouldn’t last. I knew it was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. This was the girl that I had been in love with since the eighth grade. That’s when she stopped being like one of the guys. When she became something more. Even though I knew it wasn’t an attainable thing, even back then, there was always this little spark of hope. She was the reason I didn’t really date in college. She was the reason no girl was worth bringing home to meet my mom. They were all compared to her. They would always be compared to her. I always hoped that she felt the same way about me as I felt about her. That hope vanished when I checked my mail after work that Wednesday. The fancy envelope and familiar script were enough of a giveaway. I didn’t need to open the card to know what it was. The invitation. I sighed as I went in the house and opened the card. I merely skimmed for the important dates and time. I knew in that moment that I had finally lost her. I also knew that I would go anyway as I signed, sealed, and mailed the RSVP that night. I had to go. It’s Ellie.

The day had finally arrived. I had been dreading this day for the better part of a year. It was the morning of Ellie’s wedding. I woke up, forced myself to get out of bed, made coffee, and showered. I stared at the black suit hanging on my bedroom door for fifteen minutes. Arguing with myself about if I was really going to do this was getting me nowhere closer to a decision. If I go, I’ll hate myself. If I don’t go, she’ll hate me. If I go, I’m losing her. If I don’t go, I’m losing her. If I go, then I’ll get to see her. If I don’t go, I won’t see her. If I go, I’ll have to hold my feelings in forever. If I don’t go, I’ll have to hold my feelings in forever. Finally, I came to a decision. I wasn’t willing to risk losing her because I couldn’t show up for her. If I wasn’t going to be able to be with her, at least I could still be in her life. Maybe. But I’d cross that bridge when I got to it. I put the suit on and fixed my hair. Then I went to the liquor cabinet and filled a flask with whiskey. I couldn’t drink it in church because if Ellie found out, she would kill me, Ten Commandments be damned.

I arrived at the church forty-five minutes before the ceremony was scheduled to start. I took a sip from the flask in my pocket on the city sidewalk. Spotting Bryce, I walked over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

“It’s going, you?”

“Same old, same old.” We chatted mindlessly for a few minutes until Justin showed up with Clay and Sasha. I’m shocked we haven’t gotten a happy announcement from them yet. She looks thrilled.

“Justin, Clay. Hey Sasha.” The trio greeted me, and Clay took Sasha inside. He seemed to pick up on the displeasure radiating off of her.

“Holding up okay?” Justin asked.

“Sure.”

“He’s at his best friend’s wedding.”

“I know. Just trying to be nice Bryce.” Zach showed up and broke some of the tension brewing between Bryce and Justin. Never thought I’d be happy to see Zach freaking Dempsey.

“So, I heard from one of the groomsmen that she looks beautiful.”

“Of course, she does. It’s Ellie. And it’s her wedding day.” I said. Scott found us milling in the back of the chapel and came over. He didn’t bother greeting us.

“Have you talked to her?” he asked.

“No. I wanted to give her space. In case I decided not to come.”

“Oh. You could go talk to her now.”

“And say what Scott?”

“Tell her.”

“Tell her what? It’s her wedding.”

“I know that.” I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to our little group. They weren’t.

“Tell her what exactly Scott? How do you propose I go about telling her that I think she’s making a mistake and that I’ve been in love with her since we were thirteen? I’m not going to do that. Not today. Not ever. I’m not messing this up for her.” I whisper-yelled.

“He has a point Scott.” Zach pointed out.

“If I say something, I’ll lose her forever. So, to avoid losing my best friend, I’m going to sit here, watch her marry the man she loves, and wish her the best. And then I will go home, get very drunk, and sleep the hangover off for the next two days.”

Scott raised his hands in defeat. “Okay. I get your point. I’m not going to push you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Even though I made a good little speech, the closer we got to the ceremony, the more uncomfortable I became. I couldn’t stop the thoughts of wanting to do exactly what Scott suggested. I wanted nothing more than to go find her and tell her how I felt. But then I looked around the room and saw all of these people waiting excitedly to see Ellie and Evan get married and live happily ever after. I wasn’t going to be the reason that didn’t happen. But the closer we got to ceremony time, the closer I also got to losing my resolve to sit here and watch this happen. I couldn’t watch her marry someone else.

“I can’t do this.” I said suddenly.

“What?” Zach asked.

“I can’t watch her marry him. I can’t sit here and watch them get married. I can’t give her up like this.”

“What are you doing Monty?” Scott asked. I stood up from my seat.

“Tell Ellie that I’m sorry.” With nothing more to say, I turned around and walked out of the church. My friends didn’t try to follow me, too stunned to process what was happening. I got in my car and drove. I wasn’t sure where I was driving until I pulled into the lot.

I opened the door to the quaint café and saw that our table was available. Though, I suppose now it was more my table than our table. I lost her today. There was no way I was getting her back after what I did. I slipped my jacket off and hung it over a chair to save the spot, before going to the counter and ordering.

“Can I get a tall bourbon neat. Make it a double.” Monet’s had been licensed a few years ago.

“Sure thing. Rough day?” The barista asked.

“You have no idea.” I shook my head and took the drink she set in front of me. Back at what was now only my table, I pulled out my phone and scrolled though some old photos. A lot of them were of Ellie. She used to like to steal my phone and leave me with some selfies to surprise me when I opened the app. I scrolled through the seemingly endless stream of photos and ordered another bourbon when I finished the first one. My trip down memory lane was interrupted when I got a text from Bryce.

I need you to tell me where you are.

Why?

Because I do. Now tell me where you are.

Why?

Montgomery. You want to tell me where you are.

Fine. If you must know. I’m at Monet’s. Now why do you need to know?

I’m sorry about homecoming night. I hope this can make it up to you at least a little. I stared at the screen in confusion. Shaking my head, I put my phone down and went back to sipping the amber liquor. What the hell is he talking about? Fucking Bryce. I didn’t look up when I heard the bell chime above the door. Nor did I look up when I heard the click of high heels against the wood floors.

“Is this seat taken?” I heard a familiar voice, softly.

I looked up at her then, my eyes widening in surprise. What is she doing here? She is supposed to be getting married to Evan. What does this mean? Why is she here?

“I couldn’t do it if you weren’t there. You’re my best friend Monty.”

I scoffed quietly before replying, “it’s not taken, no. Sit if you want,” and taking another drink from my glass, not looking at her for fear of letting my guard down again, only to be crushed again.

“Hey,” she started, reaching for my hand. I looked at her hand and paused before letting her take it, “I mean it. I couldn’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment. Noticing I had about fingers width of bourbon left in my glass, she grabbed it, downing the rest of it.

“Hey. I was drinking that.” I protested.

“I couldn’t marry Evan because he wasn’t you. And you weren’t there to say anything by the time I walked down the aisle. You were just going to give me away and live the rest of our lives wondering what if.” She told me while she stared into the bottom of the now empty glass.

“You- really?” Wait, how did she know I was there? “How did you know…?”

“Zach told me.” Of course, he did. I sighed internally.

“I know I wasn’t there Ellie. I just. I couldn’t sit there in that church and watch you marry him. And I knew I was and would be too much of a coward to stand up and say something when I saw you standing up there with him. I had to let you be happy.” I told her, trying to make her understand that I couldn’t be the reason she spent her life unhappy.

“Don’t you get it Montgomery? I wouldn’t have been happy. Not really. Or at least not for long. Not with Evan.”

“So why did you agree to marry him?”

“Because I thought it would be easier? My friends liked him, my family liked him, I liked him. I just thought that it would be easier to ignore my feelings. I could marry him, officially move to Atlanta, come home a couple of times a year, have a couple of kids. It all seemed easier than admitting to myself that I was in love with my best friend and if I really, truly wanted to be happy, I would need to be with him instead. And that admitting that would change everything. But I’ve learned over the past year that easy doesn’t always mean happy. And sometimes what we think is easy in the short term, isn’t always easy in the long term.”

Easier. Sure. She finally admitted it. She’s in love with me. I chuckled lowly, “took you long enough.”

She furrowed her brow at me, “what is that supposed to mean? I just confessed my love for you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah. It took you long enough to come to that conclusion. You were what? Half-way through the ceremony before you put a stop to it?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“Not exactly. I knew a while ago. I spent the whole morning shaking and waiting for you to come and tell me that I was making a mistake. When you didn’t come, I thought… that you either didn’t feel the same way, or that you were going to do the kind thing for once and not say anything, but I thought at least you would be there. When I saw that you weren’t, I knew I couldn’t marry him. Even if it was the easy choice.” When I didn’t say anything she added, “you picked a great time to do the kind thing.”

“Yeah, well. You knew it would happen sometime. You owe me another shot by the way.” I muttered.

“Oh please. There was barely a fingers width in your glass.” she told me, sighing dramatically.

I looked at her through my eyelashes, “they won’t serve you that small an amount.” she rolled her eyes and stood up to go order me another shot. Before I could chicken out again, I surprised her when I grabbed her wrist to stop her, before pulling her down into my lap, she fell rather gracefully given the fit of her dress and kissing her deeply. I pulled away first and turned to look out the window. Our friends had gotten out of the car and were clapping and high fiving each other.

“How about that shot now?” I smirked.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty de la Cruz fanfic #monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader #monty de la cruz #Marry Me #Thomas Rhett #one shot #original character #zach dempsey #Bryce Walker #Justin Foley

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

Text

Fictober 2021 1- “I need you”

Fanfiction or Original Fiction: Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (with mention to Nijigasaki High School Idol Club)

Summary: FTL is boring. Garrus doesn’t know what to do with himself until he gets a strange message out of the blue. What’s he going to find in that storage room, and who knew humanity’s first Spectre was such a fucking hipster when it came to music?

---

It was in his quiet moments that Garrus had to wonder how the hell he had wound up on a human ship in the first place.

Right then, he was having one of those quiet moments to reflect on as he stood around trying to plan his next move. They had just left a planet behind with plans to return to the Citadel in order to report on their findings. That left plenty of FTL time to get jobs that got pushed to the side during busier moments done. Problem was… he had finished all his.

Who knew being efficient could be such a downside? Damn his ability to get things done.

With nothing better to do, he had found himself once again down in the cargo hold, watching as people went about their business. Off to the side, some techs were trying to fix the Mako after it had been put through its paces. Just looking at its scratched, dented hull made his stomach queasy, especially when it revved to life to test the engine.

He was never getting in that fucking thing again if he had any say in the matter. Of course, he didn’t, but it was the thought that counted.

“Yeah…good luck with that.” He turned away, half content to count the boxes. To say he was bored out of his mind was putting it mildly. There was just nothing for him to do right then except people watch and try his best to stay out of the way. Given he was the only turian on a mostly human ship, that was probably something useful. Maybe he could use it as training?

…

Nah. Even he couldn’t float that one.

“Better go find something to do I guess.” He moved off from his box, heading towards the elevator. Garrus only got a few steps, though. Much to his surprise, his wrist began to beep with the sound of a new message.

“Huh, that’s weird.” He flipped his wrist over, the screen soon glowing before him. It was from a human address, that much was for sure. There was only one line of text, but the sight of it made his mandibles twitch.

I need you.

“What the…” Garrus realized it was coming from the Normandy, and nearby too if the trace he had on his omnitool was anything to go by. Well, he didn’t have anything better to do, so off he went to track the source.

It took him down a hallway, then another. It would be a miracle if he found his way back after, but he wasn’t worried about that. The strange message spurred him on as he took a left, and then a right. Then he was alone, standing in front of a door labeled storage.

Well… that was weird.

“Uh… is someone in there?” His voice carried down the empty hallway. “I got your message…”

The skittering sounds on the other side of the door stopped, then it was followed by muffled swearing as something dropped and scattered all over the place. A few seconds later, and the door lock turned from red to green, and the soft clicking let him know he was free to go through.

Well, might as well.

“I’m coming in…” The door slid open, and he stepped through. However, he didn’t really get too far as he glanced around. On the bright side, he was pretty sure nobody was dying anytime soon. On the other hand… what the fuck?

“Oh, hey there. Glad you got my message, didn’t think it would send down here.”

“You know, when you said, ‘I need you’ this wasn’t really what I was expecting…”

Garrus’ eye twitched as he glanced into the room. To put it bluntly, it was a mess. There were boxes everywhere, and some of them had spilled their contents onto the floor. In the midst of this chaos stood was the possible cause, holding a now emptied box and looking rather sheepish as he glanced at the floor around him.

For a small man, humanity’s first Spectre really knew how to make a mess.

Shepard chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I bit off more than I could chew.”

He put his box on a nearby shelf, sighing as soon as it was down. “These were a lot heavier than I thought they would be. Do you think you could give me a hand getting this put away? I was hoping to have it done before we exit FTL.”

A thousand thoughts ran through Garrus’ mind as he watched the Spectre continue to clean. Firstly, and most importantly of all – why was this his job? Last he had checked, Shepard was the CO on the Normandy. If he had wanted the mess cleaned up, he could’ve ordered one of the crew members to do it without much pushback. That was kind of the perk of being a CO, or so he had been told.

Maybe humans preferred all hands-on deck…

“Uh, sure…” He stooped to pick up a box, the contents rattling as he slotted it on the shelf. Then another box met the same fate. Now they had a little more room to move. “Why are you doing this by yourself anyway?”

Shepard’s cheeks were turning pink as he lifted a box. “I ran out of other stuff to do the last time we went into FTL drive.”

…

Well, shit. He could appreciate that.

The Spectre kept talking as he moved. “I knew it was a mess down here, so I figured I could clean it up while we headed back to the Citadel. Bo was supposed to do this with me, but she’s still in the medbay.”

Bo… Garrus couldn’t put a face to that name as he kept moving. Was there someone named that on the Normandy? Hell, he didn’t know… human names were weird. Whoever they were, he wasn’t too fond of them right now as he continued his menial labor.

“Oh, she’s the big human with pink hair. You know, the other Commander Shepard here?”

… Apparently, humans were psychic. Good to know.

Much to his surprise, Shepard startled chuckling at his startled expression. It wasn’t a bad sound, just odd. Humans always sounded odd to him, and that was with the translator working overtime. Whatever they actually sounded like, he didn’t know and honestly didn’t want to find out. He could live without that mystery being solved, thank you very much.

He didn’t hate humans; he just didn’t really care.

“How did you…”

The human kept chuckling as he reached for another box. “I remembered we never gave you our names when you started working with us. Doubt you’d hear it anyway among the crew, I don’t even know if they know them. Joker does, but hell if he ever uses them.”

That Garrus could understand. Turians were also on a last name basis in the chain of command. He honestly couldn’t remember what the names of his last CO’s might have been, and he didn’t really need to either. It was strange, but oddly comforting to know humans were on the same page.

Then again, as far as he knew it was just because they hadn’t asked. He doubted that, though. They were curious bastards.

“Ah. Well, she was pretty banged up from the last mission, no surprises there.” He put another box down. “Though she seems the type to sneak out of the medbay when she gets bored.”

That earned him a snort of laughter from Shepard as he continued to work. “You can say that again.”

“Fine. She seems- “

Shepard held up his hand, chuckling a little. “Sorry, that’s a human expression. You don’t have to actually say it again.”

Humans and their damn expressions. You think he would’ve learned by now to never take them at face value…

Still, Garrus kept on his work. With the two of them, the work went faster. Before long, a good chunk of the floor had been cleared. There were still plenty to be moved, but at least they could get by without bumping into each other. His carapace was still vibrating from having slammed into the human a few times, so he was glad for that.

“Alright, just a few more.” Shepard sounded cheery as he grabbed for a box on a nearby table. It must have been heavy, because he grunted and pulled back hard. Maybe a little too hard – the turian got to watch as he started to lean back. “Oh sh- “

It was instinct that led Garrus forward. Instead of the floor, the human hit the front of his armor with a hearty thunk. At least the box didn’t hit the floor – his talons were soon on it, steadying it. Just like he thought, it had been heavy – too heavy for the human. Even he felt a bit of the strain as they stood there in the middle of the floor.

“Fuck.” Shepard’s expletive hissed between his teeth as he and Garrus did their best to get the box where it needed to go. “Damn thing was heavier than it looked.”

The turian resisted an eyeroll as he slid it into place. “How about you sweep the floor and leave the box lifting to me? The only shelf space left is above your head anyway.”

That was probably a mistake. He hadn’t been around many humans, but he knew the smaller ones often had issues if their lack of height was brought up. Being on the Normandy long enough had shown him its CO was smaller than most of the crew by significant amounts. Maybe that was why he braced for the fallout.

Instead, Shepard nodded. “Yeah… that’s probably for the best. Thanks for the save, Garrus.”

He glanced around, and his pink cheeks started to turn red. “Uh… I can’t get the broom if you’re keeping me pinned against the shelf. Mind backing up a little?”

Huh?

Garrus blinked as he realized the position he was in. Shepard was right – he had the smaller man up against the shelf without any room to get out. They were practically touching they were so close, and he could actually smell the human thanks to the lack of distance. Surprisingly, he was rather sweet – kind of like a baked good.

Did humans make that smell naturally? If they did, he was kind of jealous.

“Oh… right, sorry.” He backed up, allowing Shepard to slide out. The human was soon grabbing for a broom and beginning his task. This left him to do the same, and then were soon absorbed in their individual chores.

Thanks to this, they fell into a rather easy silence that Garrus hadn’t found since coming onto the Normandy. While he didn’t exactly enjoy this kind of grunt labor, there was a weird sort of calm to it as he continued to shift boxes around. In the end, it was all work with his talons and none with his brain.

With everything they had been going through, he needed the break.

“This boulevard that leads to tomorrow has flowers blooming along it…”

A soft voice drew him out of his weird state of meditation. He turned around, still holding a box, to investigate the source. Much to his surprise, he saw that Shepard was still sweeping up. Not only that, but he had also started to sing as he cleaned.

“I’ll take the courage that you gave me and hold it close…” He was still sweeping, his voice barely above a whisper. It was surprisingly high, especially compared to his speaking voice. “We made this promise with smiles… And I’ll make it bloom…”

He broke off into humming at that point as he moved the broom across the floor. Garrus’ translator was going overtime as it translated. Songs were much harder than speech, so it took a few moments of feedback for the translation to spit out. However, it was doing so against his visor soon enough, a turian voice in his ear.

That… well, it wasn’t a song he would have expected from a space marine. Frankly, it sounded more appropriate for a teenage girl.

“And I promise to you… I want to tell you so many thank yous~” Shepard held the last note, pointing his broom at the last moment. Then he swirled around, obviously following some unknown dance routine. Unfortunately for him, that made him face Garrus.

Well… shit.

The color drained from the human’s face as he stopped singing abruptly. His cheeks turned pink as he put his broom back down on the floor and started to sweep faster. Something about his posture made the turian feel… well… kind of guilty.

Why, he had no idea. It wasn’t like he had done anything…

Still, Garrus frowned at the tension that filled the room. His mandibles twitched as he tried to think of an excuse or something to break the ice. However, he couldn’t find anything to say. They didn’t exactly cover catching a fellow soldier singing a strange little song during cleaning in basic for obvious reasons. He was kind of on his own.

He hated that.

“Sorry… I forgot I wasn’t alone.” Shepard’s voice was back to where it usually was as he kept his eyes on the floor. “It would be great if you didn’t tell anyone about that, thanks.”

Garrus allowed a nod as he picked up the last box to put it away. “Uh, no problem. I don’t think I’ve heard that song before. Is it from Earth?”

“I’d be surprised if you had, it’s old as hell and from a really niche genre.” Shepard chuckled rather sheepishly as he reached for the dustpan once he had finished with the floor. “God, that must make me sound like such a hipster.”

It did, but Garrus wasn’t going to say it. After all, the guy was kind of his CO at the moment. Kind of went against the code, you know?

“Could you… send it to me maybe? I’m kind of curious now.”

Now he was the one being stared at. Shepard had stopped sweeping, and his wide eyes were trained. Garrus felt his mandibles twitch as he looked around the room, wondering if he had said something wrong. Was he not supposed to ask? Did humans have some weird taboo about asking for music from people?

Spirits, knowing him he had walked straight into some diplomatic snafu. Oh well, he’d had a good life…

“You really want to listen to it?”

There was no denying it – Shepard sounded excited. Garrus in his relief almost missed the fact the other man’s posture had completely changed. No more was he turned in on himself in embarrassment. Now he was wide open, eager – his eyes were practically sparkling.

Talk about a change.

“Uh… sure. You have my address, so send it over.”

Shepard was already typing on his omnitool, grinning. “I’ll send a few over. If you like them, I have plenty more. They were a little different from the other groups in their company, but I really enjoy listening to them. A few even made it to my battle playlists. What can I say, nothing like chase or dive to get you going.”

Well… at least he wasn’t the only one to make battle playlists. That was good to know. At least they had something in common.

Garrus nodded at this, seeing the email already in his inbox. “Thanks, I’ll let you know what I think once I listen.”

He glanced around the room – from the looks of things, they were done. “Do you need any more help, or should I get going?”

“Oh, you can head off. I just need to finish sweeping.” He was smiling now. “Thanks for your help, Garrus. You’re a real lifesaver.”

Something about that made his stomach shift. Garrus at least managed a nod as he left, the door sliding shut behind him. He should have started moving, but something made him stay by the door, quiet.

He was probably wasting his time… but…

“The future we envisioned… let’s make it a reality someday…”

Yep. He was singing again.

Maybe that was why Garrus stayed by the door for just a bit longer to listen. Sure, there were better singers – and ones who could do it without blushing like idiots – but something about the Spectre’s voice was soothing. He had a nice voice, even if most of the time he used it to get the crew out of trouble.

He could get used to listening to it…

“Shit, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He shook his head, but yet Garrus didn’t move. After all, he wanted to hear the end of the song. Maybe later, he could compare the two. Until he had to, however, he was content to stay by that door.

Maybe he’d get an encore out of it. If all their FTL went like this… maybe the Normandy wasn’t so bad after all. He could get used to this.

#fictober21 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Alistair Shepard #Garrus Vakarian #Alistair is a pure aspect in the pure-cool-smile triad #just in case anyone was in both fandoms lol

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