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foreverdolly · 9 months

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𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 |80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 4.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part two, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be two parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

The incessant metallic clinging and loud mechanic whirs echoed against the cement flooring of the auto body garage. The sun was peeking just over the trees right outside the open garage doors, the spring sky slowly burning gold and pink. Most of the men were rushing to finish up with the vehicles that they were working on, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. There was one mechanic though -who might be young, but made up for it with skill- was still elbow deep under the car’s hood, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. He’d only been looking at the car for five minutes and knew exactly what was wrong with it. The elderly woman had gotten her car towed all the way to Travis’ shop after the damn thing stalled out in the middle of the Winn-Dixie parking lot. The young mechanic could see her through the lobby’s windows watching him, her tiny wrinkly hands balled up into nervous fists.

“Aye- Austin?” Travis jogged right up to Austin, placing his hand down on one of the side mirrors as he waited for the diagnosis.

“It’s not the engine. The transmission,” He pointed towards the old hunk of junk, leaning his head back under the hood to show his boss. “It’s completely shot. She said it will jerk when she accelerates and the wheel will sometimes shake when she’s goin’ fast enough. What’s happening is that it’s slippin’. The damn thing won’t stay in gear. This car is ten years out of date- I mean. . . It's a ‘74. So even if we order the parts-”

“It’s gonna cost more to fix than it would be for her to just buy a whole new one.” The boss finished for him, sighing when he saw Austin nod his head in agreement.

The long haired blonde blinked his eyes against the burning sunset, shooing a gnat away from his face as he leaned his hip against the car. He crossed one booted foot over the other as he waited patiently for the man to make a decision. While Travis enjoyed making money, Austin knew that the bastard was above stealing it from little old ladies. With a small huff of defeat the middle aged man began walking back in the direction of the lobby, most likely to break the bad news. He stopped just before he opened the door, pointing a quick finger-gun in Austin’s direction.

“Are you comin’ over to Mark’s cookout tonight? You can bring your girl.” He called out over the loud noise.

Austin shook his head before flashing the man a little face of distaste.

“I’ve gotta go to my dad’s house to grab some of my old shit. Besides- I don’t have a girl to bring.”

Travis shot him “a face” right back, but one of disbelief. “Yeah, right. A girl doesn’t just bring her friend a hand packed lunch every other day unless she was hopin’ for somethin’ to happen between them..” And before Austin could even defend himself the man was gone, sauntering solemnly over to the corner where the elderly woman was sitting.

You weren’t the one that was hoping for a chance at romance, but Austin was. He’d rather die than admit it, but his co-workers' words lit a small fire in his chest; a hopeful pyre that didn’t dim.

The wooden stairs were old and weather worn, the nails rusted with age. Austin always felt a sense of dread when he heard the familiar creaking under his feet, and the fact that he could hear the television droning on from inside of the trailer didn’t make it any better. It meant that he was home, and the blonde knew what that meant. A fight was sure to ensue, and after the shitty day that he had at work, that was the last thing that he wanted to endure. He found that the door was unlocked, per usual. The inhabitant of the rickety death trap didn’t have anything worth stealing.

“Why are you here?” The middle aged man looked terrible for his age, though Austin blamed that on the endless supply of alcohol and drugs that ran through the man’s system.

Austin cleared his throat, closing the door behind him with a grimace. He didn’t want to be here, but there were still a few boxes back in his old room that he needed to grab. After that he’d be gone for good, or at least that’s what he told himself anyway. His no-good father was used to relying on other people to save the day, one of those people being his own son.

He blamed his strong sense of duties on the fact that he was raised in the deep south. “Being a man” was hammered into his skull from the moment of his very conception. Taking care of your family, especially when they are unable to do it for themselves, was considered a must. Austin had always hated his father. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he had felt gratitude or love in any magnitude towards his father. Still, he was a man and needed to provide for his family. . . right? He didn’t want anyone to think less of him for abandoning his father. More than anything, he didn’t want the wrong kind of gossip ending up in the wrong people’s ears.

What was important to him now was getting the hell away from his abusive father. He was old enough to start thinking about what he wanted for himself in the future. He’d always craved companionship with a certain person. . . children were on his radar too. The last thing he wanted was for his druggie father to be in his own kid’s lives.

The lanky man didn’t fit in the small home anymore, and he hadn’t for years. Both physically and emotionally, he had outgrown his prison many moons ago. He took a few seconds to look around the living room. Now that he wasn’t there to clean up after the grotesque man, the house smelled absolutely putrid. Austin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes dancing along the empty beer cans and overflowing sink.

“Jus’ gettin’ the last of my stuff.” Austin grumbled, his bulky black boots sticking to the dirty linoleum floors as he tried his best to breeze past the older man’s old recliner.

A hand reached out, gripping at his wrist to stop him. Austin looked down, the muscles in his sharp jaw clicking as he held back the urge to rip himself out of the man’s reach. He knew that he was too big for the man to intimidate now, but his body still remembered the pain his father had put him through as a kid.

“Ya talkin’ bout that toolbox?” The man’s voice was gravely, all thanks to the menthols he religiously smoked. Austin could smell the Miller Light and smoke coming off of him now. It was nauseating.

The blonde ripped his eyes off of the man’s face, peeking off down the hall to see his old bedroom door wide open. He had locked it from the inside and crawled out the window the last time that he was here, taking the spare key with him. It was still tucked away safely in his wallet. His breathing stuttered when he realized that the doorknob had been taken off completely.

“I need it for work. What did you do with it?” Austin tried to school the deep southern accent out of his voice. He got into the habit of doing that around his father from a young age, desperately wanting to seem as different from the old man as possible.

“If that’s what yer here for, don’ bother. I sold it.” The young adult’s heart sank to his ass, and this time he didn’t hesitate in ripping his wrist out of the man’s hand.

“To who? Where is it?” Austin questioned heatedly, staring daggers into the old man’s face.

The sandy haired man was staring back at the television now, watching old reruns of some shitty old Western movie that must have come out in the sixties. He didn’t answer Austin, too drunk to care and too high to listen.

“Dad!” Austin’s deep voice boomed, echoing around the filthy trailer. “Where the fuck did you take it? The pawn shop off’a Assembly Street?” That was where his father often sold stolen shit for a few extra bucks.

That got the other man’s attention. He didn’t take kindly to being yelled and cursed at, especially not by his son. He could always deal it out, but refused to take it. Ray Butler had stopped beating on his son during his Junior year in highschool though, realizing that the boy was now bigger than him. Out of a cowardly fear for his own safety, he stuck to the emotional abuse instead, which only got worse once he didn’t have a true outlet for his frustrations. Austin bristled as he watched the old man glare up at him, taking a long swig from his beer before answering.

“I took it to Keith’s. If ya needed it so bad, why the hell didn’t you take it with ya in the first place? It’s in my house, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” It was surprising how coherent the man was, especially since he must have been drinking all day long.

Austin’s father hadn’t had a job in the last seven years, but still managed to scrape by somehow. He was a petty thief whose criminal record stretched all the way back into his boyhood. He had raised the blonde to be the exact same way, but the only thing Austin had truly adopted from his “teachings” was a shared hatred for cops and a scrappy sort of resourcefulness. The other kids that he was forced to interact with at school were the ones that taught him how to fight. They enjoyed taking turns trying to beat the shit out of the town’s poor kid, but once he finally hit his growth spurt in the summer after sixth grade the roles were largely reversed. Nobody messed with him by the time that he had entered high school. He was feared by his peers and just as hated.

The negative image that he had created served him well though. Not only had he made a name for himself, he had also gained the ability to protect his best friend, which was the only thing he really cared about. Getting the dog shit knocked out of him was one thing, but seeing boys and girls teasing her was a different story. He remembered storming into the girl’s bathroom during his junior year very vividly, yanking up one of popular blonde’s by the back of her shirt.

“I’m a Butler, so don’t think that I’m above hittin’ a girl.”

He’d constantly ask you if the bullying persisted even after that, but you always went out of your way to tell him that they had stopped their teasing. Austin was made fun of because he lived in a trailer that should have been condemned long since they originally moved in and barely had enough money to get school supplies every year, but you were picked on because you were perfect. It didn’t make any sense to him, but girls are strange creatures. You made good grades, was the nicest person he had ever met without even trying, and your natural good looks made matters even worse for you. Getting the mean girls to steer clear of you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping the male pervert’s away was an entirely different story.

It didn’t help that after a long day of putting up with the constant glares, rumors, and telling boys to back off, he’d be forced to come home to incessant tongue lashings. He barely had time to study after taking care of the forty year old drunkard, hence his rotten grades in school. You could only do his homework for him so many times, but hey- you tried. He graduated because of you, at the very least.

He had landed a job as a mechanic straight out of high school, having been skilled for his age. Who knew that driving a shitty lemon of a car that he constantly had to fix up would lead to a career? He had gotten lucky, which was a rarity in his life.

Getting his own place was one hell of an achievement, but his past always found a way to come back and haunt him.

Austin stormed through the connected kitchen and down the hall, sucking in a deep breath before he entered the room. All of the boxes that he had stacked in the corner had been ransacked and picked clean. It was Austin’s fault for thinking that a simple locked door would keep his father out. The blonde could scream over his stolen Iron Maiden and Dio tapes later, for now he needed to focus on the important thing: his tools.

“You sold them to your crackhead dealer? For what? A bag, right? That was over a hundred dollars worth’a tools!” He screamed from the backroom, kicking an old wooden chair that had been junking up his old room for ages. The thing went flying, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding cracking noise.

Austin was covered in car oil, smelled like gasoline and sweat after a long day of work, and all he had wanted was to slip in the trailer undetected and grab his things. He had hoped that his father would have been passed out in his room by now so that he could have been in and out without being forced to converse. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. The blonde reached for the metal baseball bat that he still had stuffed under his childhood bed, knocking it against his boot a few times before storming out of the room, pushing past his father and heading straight for the front door.

“Austin, wait,” The male knew what was coming. The only time his father ever referred to him by his name was when he wanted something. “Can you give me twenty dollars? I need’a pay the power.”

The baseball bat felt heavy in his hand. He balanced the weight for a second, his jaw clicking as he imagined just how good it would feel to bring it down on top of the other man’s head. If Ray ended up dead, he was sure that he could blame it on a handful of people who he had stolen from or cheated. Austin didn’t need that on his conscience though. So instead of barking back a reply or even pulling out his wallet, he yanked his hand away with a grunt, storming out the door.

“Jus’ use the money that you got from sellin’ all’a my shit.” He called out before slamming the door behind him, the small and dingy diamond shaped window vibrating with the force of his anger.

“Is your mama home? If not then I’m gonna use your shower.” Austin gently pushed his way into the house, kicking off his dirty work boots before bounding up the familiar carpeted stairs.

You blinked in the entryway, slowly closing the front door before turning around to watch him go, the chain from his wallet jingling with his movement. With a small sigh you locked it behind you, following up after him.

“Well hello to you too.” You teased, watching him open up the linen closet so that he could grab a towel. He was caked with grease, his sun kissed cheeks speckled with black and gray. His black work shirt fit snugly on his form, having shrunk in the wash. At his hip, swinging around with every step that he took, was his black handkerchief. It was also wrecked with engine grease, having been used to clean his hands one too many times that day. He looked devilishly handsome, but he always did. Nothing new.

“Sorry. Really bad day. Just got back from Keith’s place- he had some of the shit that I left at my dad’s.” He left the bathroom door open as he slipped off his socks, then hurriedly took his shirt off and threw that into the dirty clothes hamper. His small apartment didn’t have a washer and dryer hookup, so he had been doing his laundry at your place for the last two months.

You didn’t mind, and your mother and father hadn’t noticed either. You sucked at your teeth, turning around to give him privacy. You heard the shower turn on, then the familiar clanking of his chain wallet hitting the side of the sink. Once you heard the shower curtain open and close you turned around, seeing the room empty, his dirty clothes piled neatly in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you as you stepped inside, jumping up on the counter so that you could swing your legs back and forth as you spoke. He seemed frustrated, and you could tell that he needed to talk about it.

Growing up in a tragically tiny town meant that everybody was always in each other’s business. From preschool to your senior year in high school, every moment was spent with the same exact children. You could count the newer families to move into the small community over the last five years on one hand. Life was slow moving in the old south, and things were horrifically monotonous. You and the blonde had been stuck together like glue ever since primary school, and you didn’t see it changing in the future.

To say that you knew Austin like the back of your hand was an understatement. Every flaw, quirk and triumph had either been discovered by you, with you at his side, or involved you in some way. In a town filled with mostly elderly folks, kids often found a group of likeminded people and stuck with them for the entirety of their lives. It was horribly predictable of the two of you, yet here you two were, connected at the hip. The bond between you and Austin went above just being best friends. It was something tied to your soul. It wasn’t just hard to imagine a life without him in it, rather it was impossible.

He didn’t have to tell you that he was angry for you to know that he was beyond aggravated. The restlessness was plain to see. Whether he would be upfront and tell you about the reason or not, you could tell that he needed someone to just sit and listen. Austin wasn’t the kind of person to talk in depth about the things that really upset him. He was more of the “suffer in silence until I inevitably blow up” type. You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to whine and cry to him about even the slightest of inconveniences. The two of you were polar opposites, and yet it just worked.

“Keith let you in the house?” You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you watched the steam beginning to curl up and over the curtain.

Austin let out a humorless laugh, and you could imagine him shaking his head back and forth. You smiled despite the situation, bringing your hand up to your mouth so that you could bite down on your thumb nail. You instantly regretted it, pulling away to see that you had already chipped your freshly painted fingers.

“A’course he didn’t. I broke into the fucker’s place. Got my tool box back, but the damn thing had been ransacked already. The bones picked clean. I’m out over fifty dollars in tools- checked it once I got back into the car.”

“Jesus- did he see you? That guy is absolutely insane.” Thankfully, you’d only met the man in passing a handful of times. He was the crazy townee that everybody knew and feared. Keith was the kind of person that you point out to your developing teens to scare them away from drugs and alcohol. “If you don’t want to end up like Ole’ Keith, you better not touch that stuff.” He had a bunch of handmade signs outside of his house with bible scriptures on them, meanwhile the man was dealing meth and coke to make a living. As was the deep south, filled to the brim with religious and moral hypocrisies.

Either you were a devout Christian or just another local crackhead. Thankfully, you and Austin didn’t fall into either of those categories. You seemed to have made one of your own over the years.

“He wasn’t home. His truck was gone. The dude left his bedroom window unlocked, so I just ripped the screen off.”

You used to worry for Austin on a daily basis. The burns and bruises he’d come to school with broke your heart, but no matter how many times you begged your parents to let the blonde come and live with you, they always let you down. You were happy that he finally had somewhere safe to lay his head at night, though he still hadn’t broken the habit of spending most of his down time with you (and you prayed he wouldn’t ever grow out of that habit). As soon as he got off work he was making his way up to your bedroom, often dead tired down to his bones or pissed off. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway though. Your father was a hotshot business man who was away for work most of the time, and your mother insisted on following along with him after the “incident” that happened when you were twelve.

Men who spend most days without their wives and children breathing down their neck usually take advantage of the opportunity. Your father was no different. He was no saint. Then again, neither was your mother. She took most of her frustration out on you after that, and though you knew that her outbursts weren’t a direct cause of anything that you had personally done, that didn’t make it any better.

Austin was just as much your therapist as you were his. Maybe that was the cause for your codependency. . . either way, neither of you regretted it. It only strengthened the bond, really.

After Austin was showered and dressed in an outfit that he had left at your house some weeks ago, the two of you found yourselves sprawled out on your bed. You were busy finishing up some homework for one of your classes, and he was reading one of your magazines. He had his head hanging off the side of the mattress, ankles crossed up on one of your pillows. His wet hair was dripping onto your floor. The constant droplets hitting your outdated shag carpet lulled the two of you into a comfortable silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk

“Where’s a newer one? This one’s a year old.” He suddenly dropped what he was reading onto the floor next to his head, sitting up so that he could face you again.

You scrunched up your nose, dropping your psychology textbook beside you.

“That is the newer one.” You told him, to which he scooped it up and off of the floor, turning it over and pointing at the date.

He was right. It was old.

It was the June twenty-first issue, the date clear to see on the front: nineteen eighty-four. Bob Dylan was posed on the front in all of his tambourine-man glory.

“Shit. Sorry, Aus. I thought I handed you the Beatles Anniversary edition.” You started to stand up, but he waved you off.

“I should probably get going anyway. I have to try to cook myself something. If I don’t eat now then I’ll jus’ go to bed hungry.”

You had hoped that the two of you could order pizza tonight, but you kept your mouth shut. Lately you found yourself clinging to him a little bit harder than usual. Maybe it was the stress of your sophomore year in college, but you couldn’t be certain. You tried to school the disappointment off of your face as you nodded, standing up to walk him back to the front door.

“Are we still driving down to see Dave’s show? His band sucks, but he’ll be disappointed if we miss it.” He asked you at the front door, shoving his sock clad feet into his work boots and tying them up haphazardly.

You slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, eyes wide. You’d completely forgotten about your friend’s show tomorrow. You’d planned to stay after class and study in the library, but you didn’t mind cramming for next week's test. Austin laughed, the sound causing you to smile to yourself. His laugh was deep, rich and completely contagious. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He leaned down so that he was at your height, his smile practically blinding.

You sucked in a breath, but nodded your head anyway. It was hard not to notice his beauty in moments like this. He’d always been handsome, but lately you’d been looking a little too closely at that. A sick twinge of guilt soured your stomach, a feeling of what could only be categorized as “betrayal” causing your face to flush. He was your best friend, and if he knew that you were looking at him like that he would probably be disgusted with you. Hell, you were horrified by your own thoughts recently. You tried to blame the odd feelings on your long-standing lack of romance, but you were starting to believe that was just an excuse.

“I completely forgot.” And you felt bad about it. You’d been so busy with your school work, the recent fight that you had with your mother and. . . well. . . Austin. You cleared your throat softly, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the tiled floor to try and distract yourself.

Austin seemed to notice the change in attitude and put his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in the way that he knew you despised. He chuckled when you slapped his hand away, instead moving his hand to the base of your neck so that he could pull your much smaller form against his in a tight hug. He’d always been lean and tall, but his physically demanding job had caused his muscles to fill out. He felt warm and strong, smelling of your shampoo.

“I’ll drive us tomorrow, alright? Maybe you can get some studying done in the car.” And with that he removed his arms from around you.

You felt the loss of his warmth like a slap in the face. You let him go though, watching as he bounded down the steps towards his van, his keys jingling in his hand with the movement. He was in higher spirits after spending a few hours in your presence. He felt lighter, like some of the crushing weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You leaned against the doorframe, peeking your head out just to watch him.

“I love you! Drive home safe, alright?” You called out.

Austin couldn’t fight off the blush that raised to his ears, but he turned around and quickly returned the sentiment. You had told him that you loved him every day, but his heart still pounded like it had the very first time. Only these days he wished that you really meant it.

That you loved him the same way that he loved you.

#foreverdolly #austin butler fanfic #austin butler #austin butler fluff #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler angst #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #elvis baz luhrmann #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #self insert

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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The Places We Hide Part 4

This is the real part four I swear. Also I finished the story and will be putting up one part a day until it’s done. There are 7 parts, but I’m not sure if I’m going to expand six and seven or combine them.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Buckley!” Eddie called out cheerfully. “How goes the videos?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, you guys aren’t subtle.”

Eddie blinked. “I don’t know what you mean, honey.”

Robin raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. “Straight for the pet names. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Eddie sauntered over and leaned on the counter, head propped in his fists. “I really, really don’t. So why don’t you tell me about it.”

She growled her frustration. “Steve has a panic attack. Disappears for five minutes and then twenty minutes later, you show up. I’m not stupid.”

Eddie smiled up at her. “Never thought you were. Does he include you most of the time he has attacks?”

Robin frowned. “I mean I guess.”

Eddie nodded. “And how often does he call me, instead of going to you?”

Her brow furrowed even farther. “Maybe once or twice a month?”

He stood up and tucked his thumbs into the sides of his jeans. “So what’s the problem?”

Her shoulders sagged. “Nothing, I guess. I just wish I could be there for him all the time.”

Eddie hopped up on the counter and slid until his legs were dangling next to register. “People need different people for different things. And there are some problems that he can’t go to you for.”

“But why not?” Robin pouted.

“Aren’t there things you can’t go to Steve for?” Eddie asked, honestly.

She ran her finger through a nick on the counter surface. “Yes.” Because of course there were.

“So where is he?” Eddie asked.

She jutted her thumb behind her. “Horror section.”

“Thanks!” He hopped down and practically skipped to the horror section.

Steve was shelving on auto-pilot. It was one of the reasons he kept the job because he could stock shelves or ring people up without having to be 100% present. But this time was bad. Eddie could see it in the Steve’s shoulders were up around his ears and how badly his left knee shook.

Eddie gently took the tapes from Steve and set them on the shelf sideways. Then he wrapped Steve in the biggest hug and just held him until he could feel Steve relax against him.

Then suddenly Steve was crying and clutching him as if he was his life line.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, rubbing his hands up and down his back, until the crying became a shuddering hiccup.

He pulled a little bit away so he could see Steve’s face. “There you are, Stevie. I found you.”

Steve let out a watery little chuckle.

“Let’s go to the bathroom and wash your face, baby, okay?” Eddie said softly.

They walked to the bathroom with Eddie’s arm still slung over Steve’s shoulders.

They got him cleaned up and calm before Eddie asked, “What happened this time?”

“Old man Miller’s truck backfired.”

Eddie winced. That was his least favorite game to play in the trailer park. Car backfire or gun shot. It was even worse during New Years and the 4th of July. When there was third equally bad option of fireworks.

“And you had a flashback?” he asked, reassuringly.

Steve nodded. “Robin was helping a customer so no one saw me duck behind the counter. But then it happened again.”

“And then you ran for the phone to call me?”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate you coming out.”

“You know I always will,” Eddie said with a soft smile. “You help the rest of us with our nightmares and other bullshit, so it’s only fair I help you with this one thing.”

Steve sighed, but it was a light, happy thing. Eddie liked it. A lot.

Steve gave him a hug and Eddie let out a happy sigh of his own. Steve stepped back after a moment and then squeezed Eddie’s arms.

“I really need to get back out there, before Robin kills me,” he murmured, looking away.

“Probably,” Eddie agreed. “But you should tell her about why you call me, okay? She’s really worried about you.”

Steve nodded. “I will.”

Eddie walked with him to the front of the store. “Do you want me to stay nearby while you talk?”

Steve looked at him like he had hung the god damn moon. It was enough to make him blush. Steve smiled softly.

“If you would,” he said quietly.

Eddie nodded and thumbed at the candy section. “You know where to find me.”

Steve nodded and walked over to the registers where Robin was eyeing them.

“Hey,” he greeted warily.

She wrapped him in a huge hug. “You know I’ll always be there for you, right?”

Steve hugged her back, squeezing as tight as he could. “I didn’t want to worry you. It just gets so bad, Robs.”

She just held on. “But Eddie? He helps?”

Steve nodded into her shoulder. “He...” He didn’t know how to explain what Eddie did. What made it different from the love he got from everyone else. It just...was.

“He’s Eddie,” she supplied.

“Yeah.”

And that was all that was really needed. He was Eddie. And that meant comfort.

Robin stepped away and wiped at her eyes. “Stop it before you ruin my makeup. Again.”

Steve laughed. “Didn’t you know that the smudged look is all the rage right now?”

Robin glared at him. “And what would you know about makeup trends?”

“Please between you, Nancy and El leaving all your girly magazines at my place all the time, it’s god damn miracle, I’m not better at this shit then all of you put together.”

She swatted at him playfully, but he dodged it. Soon the where running around the store giggling and cackling like children.

Eddie laughed when Steve hid behind him to get away from her.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he teased. “I’ll save you from the big bad birdie.”

“Hey!” Robin protested.

Steve and Eddie both laughed. Today was a good day, Eddie decided. And judging from the grins on Steve and Robin’s faces, they thought so too.

Part 5 Part 6

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #steve needs a hug #ladykailtiha writes

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thesundaycoffeeclub · 9 months

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An Ode To The Printed Newspaper

It’s like slow food but better.

I don’t know when my grandmother first subscribed to the “Süddeutsche Zeitung”. But I know that the “SZ” is an integral part of her daily life for a very long time now. She gets the printed issue delivered Monday through Saturday and every morning — either seated at her dining table or in her armchair in her living room — you‘ll find her hidden behind the large pages. She reads the paper meticulously. Articles will be read completely or not at all. No skimming.

Her news consumption is limited to reading the “SZ” and maybe watching the “Tagesschau”. No smartphone, no apps, no notifications, no alerts, no breaking news, no newsletters (aside from this one, of course). Because the printed paper provides her with what algorithmic news outlets and apps cannot provide her with: a daily limited overview over what matters, one that is complete, without live crisis coverage and stressing updates by the minute. A medium that has an end, without doomscrolling, auto-play or rabbit holes.

And, honestly, do we really need all these live updates and notifications? What’s the worst that can happen? The really important stuff will find it’s way. You will hear/read about it anyway. But do we all need to be the first ones to know? Is coming in second or third such a bad thing? Would it maybe be a good idea to take a step back first, wait for things to develop before jumping to conclusions based on headlines and one-liners? Wouldn’t it be a better and healthier way of news consumption if we’d train ourselves to have a bit more patience when stories are evolving?

With newspapers you need patience. You need to take time and be focused while reading. But newspapers make it easier to stay focused too. A live-coverage-free report of what happened and of what is happening. No hyperlinks, no ads. And often, while sauntering through the pages like you would stroll through a park, you will find yourself reading articles that no algorithm would ever present to you on your smart device that knows so much about your interests and reading habits.

A newspaper does not have a personalized feed. It’s all there and it’s all the same for everyone and because of that it will always be more, broader and deeper than our narrow personalized feeds and timelines. A paper may confront you with opinions you (thought you) didn’t share, with coverage you thought you’d find irrelevant, with research you didn’t know about and with people and stories you wouldn’t know you could identify with. And if you‘ll read about something in print, you can still dig deeper online and start your own little research.

The constant exposure to news flashes, breaking stories and ads that are catered to our online behavior can’t be healthy. It’s like soft drinks and processed food. That stuff is tasty, but never sustainable.

I opt for slow food and printed newspapers. Like my grandmother. One of the most open, curious and well-read people I know.

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peachtree-dish · 3 years

Text

A Te Che Sei Il Mio Amore Grande

I'm writing fanfics again. Woot!

Inspired by the song of the same name.

Chapter One: Quando Ti Guardo

June 06, 1969

Luca drummed his fingers restlessly along the soft velvet of his armrest, his eyes switched from peering out at the Italian coastal terrain and once again reading the watch that rested against his wrist.

“You’re doing it again.”

His eyes snapped up to watch as Giulia sighed at him from behind the thick leather-bound novel in her hands. As her amused yet exasperated gaze landed on him, he grinned sheepishly.

“Mi dispiace, Giulia. I honestly don’t remember the ride being this long.” He checked his watch again and grimaced. “Has it really only been ten minutes?”

Admitting defeat, the red-headed girl marked her place and set the book aside. “Luca, it’s been nine months, si? But what is the one thing we’ve learned about time from Segnora Rosa?” She quirked a knowing brow at him as Luca slumped forward.

“Time is always constant, lo so.” He mumbled.

“Esattamente, therefore,” She continued as she picked up her book with renewed gusto, “the train will take exactly an hour every single time we travel to and from Porto Rosso.” With her argument settled, Giulia returned to her page and began reading once more. After a moment of stillness, she peered at him subtly from above her page. Luca was looking outside once more, his eyes filled with a mixture of yearning, and his mouth twisted in anxiety. With a kinder expression, she said, “If it’s any consolation, amico mio, I’m sure he’s just as nervous to see you.”

Luca puffed out his cheeks but didn’t reply, instead preferring to peer down at his clasped hands.

“Maybe you could finish the bracelets you’ve been working on, that will help you pass the time better and maybe keep your mind off things, eh?” She nodded to his school jacket pocket which held a mass of multicolored strings that had yet to be organized. Perking up at the thought, Luca agreed and set to work on detangling the threads from one another.

Outside the bright light of the morning sun blazed peacefully across the pristine indigo coastline and followed the two youths on the journey. Some miles away, a small town was anything but peaceful.

“Massimo!” A young man jumped up the paved stairways of Porto Rosso, disturbing the half-dozen pigeons resting there. At their indignant coos and squawks, Alberto quickly glanced back with a slight shout of “sorry!” before continuing on his rampage towards the Marcovaldo residence. Skidding to a stop once he passed the archway, he leaned heavily against the tree that he and Luca had slept in nearly a year ago prior and gasped.

With a large crash, both Massimo and Machiavelli burst through the front door looking frazzled and ready for a fight. The latter was fully puffed up with his claws digging into the cobblestone walkway and his pupils shrunken to small slits. Massimo swiveled his head around looking for whatever danger could have provoked Alberto’s shout, his shoulders hunched and his good arm gripping his harpoon tightly. However, when no danger presented itself, he glared half-heartedly through his eyebrows at the young sea monster who sheepishly grinned.

“Well, where’s the fuoco, eh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Massimo, everything’s fine. But!” He pointed animatedly at the large man, “you are aware of what day it is, right? We only have a few hours until-”

“Until Giulia and Luca arrive, si piccolo, lo so. You’ve only been talking about it for a month now.” Shouldering his harpoon and popping his neck, the old fisherman turned to enter the house, an unhappy Machiavelli climbing onto his open shoulder, but not before growling irritably at Alberto.

“Come have breakfast, Alberto, we’ll see what we can do to keep busy while we wait.” The large man patted Alberto’s sun-kissed shoulder before entering the house. Slumping in resignation, the teen followed behind Massimo but not before stretching to give one last searching look at the expansive cliffs that breached the horizon, hopeful to see a plume of smoke.

**************

When the train finally pulled into the stazione, Luca was already flinging the train door open and running into the waiting arms of his mother who squealed with delight and refused to set him down for several long moments, much to Luca’s embarrassment and secret delight. An equally excited Giulia was soon to follow, and she said a quick hello to the Paguro’s before launching into Massimo’s open arms. While his father patted him on the head and asked the generic questions of wellbeing, Luca tried to glance around his parents. If Massimo was here, then so was-

“I told you I’d be okay.” Luca’s heart thudded painfully in his chest for one moment as Alberto sauntered into view. Prying himself from his mother, the young sea monster swiftly walked to Alberto and embraced him without pause. Luca buried his face into the crook of Alberto’s neck and breathed him in for the first time in nine months.

Whatever nerves and fear Alberto had been holding released him the moment his best friend enveloped him in his arms. Luca had grown slightly taller over the colder months and his skin had lost its sun-kissed pigmentation, but the warmth in his eyes had not faded in the slightest.

“Welcome home, Luca,” Alberto mumbled into his friend's hair, ignoring the wetness gathering at the corner of his eyes, he pulled away with a chuckle. “Are we going to do this every time we say ciao?” Luca smiled wetly and scrubbed weakly at his face.

“I think I could get used to it if it’s with you.” Alberto resolutely decided to ignore the heat that gathered in his cheeks as Luca turned to answer Massimo. Brushing it off as too much time in the sun, he tuned into the conversation just as the gentle fisherman began speaking of their new fishing truck.

“Grazie to Alberto’s ‘knowing fish’, we earned enough for me to invest in an auto,” Massimo stated proudly, clasping a large hand onto Alberto’s shoulder. The teen modestly scratched under his hat and shrugged, turning to Giulia and Luca.

“He’s really only saying that. Massimo did all the hard work; I just stuck my head underwater a few times every day to navigate us. But!” Alberto waved towards the station entrance and began pulling Luca by the hand. “you really have to see the truck I’ve been writing to you about.”

The truck itself was what could hardly be described as new. The front bumper was barely hanging on and rusted completely through on the right side. Green chipped paint covered the doors and Luca noted with a swell of warmth the black hand-painted logo of “Massimo and Alberto Fishing co.” Most people would consider the truck like garbage, but Alberto found the faded paint and broken glass charming, and he said as much to the group. Giulia rubbed suspiciously at the truck’s tailgate, her eyes squinting as she studied it.

“The Americans call it a ‘Hudson pickup’,” Massimo announces proudly, his pronunciation heavily accented.

“I’m still not sold on it being actually safe, but I’ll admit it wasn’t too bad the first time Massimo drove it.” Daniela opined, opening the front door with a loud squeal.

“Yeah, not so much when Alberto decided to try it,” Lorenzo muttered good-naturedly. “My tail still won’t swim straight.”

“You drove the truck?!”

“You crashed the truck?!”

Giulia and Luca exclaimed, she glanced curiously at her papa who raised his hands innocently. Luca began looking at Alberto’s arms and skin, scouring for any injuries, completely ignoring the rest of the conversation.

“He’ll be sixteen this year, mia figlia, he’ll need at least a year of practice. Nessun problema, your time will come soon.”

“Oh, come on,” Alberto kindly pulled Luca’s hands away and hopped on the rear end beaming down at his family, “it wasn’t so bad for the first time. Plus, she just needs some love and she’ll be right as rain. You guys just can’t see her potential.” He patted the chipped paint fondly. “Not to mention this makes delivery way faster.” Massimo chuckled as Lorenzo continued to grumble and Daniela merely rolled her eyes.

“Si, and speaking of quick deliveries, let’s go home and eat lunch, hm?” Massimo lifted Luca and Giulia's luggage into the bed of the truck while the rest of the family, the Paguro and Marcovaldo families together again at last.

As the truck rattled through the colorful fishing port threatening to fall apart, Giulia and Luca rattled story after story to Alberto and Luca’s parents. Alberto tried to ignore the feelings of jealousy at the way his friends appeared to be so in tune. He laughed politely at their inside jokes and did his best to understand half the jargon they spouted, but in reality, he felt more lost than ever before. Stuffing the uncomfortable feelings down as far they’d go, Alberto helped the Paguro’s down first so that Daniela could help with preparing the food alongside Massimo. While Lorenzo had shown an interest in learning the human ways of cooking, he hadn’t quite managed to pull it off as well.

“You set the curtains on fire one time, and they never let you set foot in the kitchen again,” Lorenzo complained to the kids as he followed his wife.

“Except it wasn’t just the curtains,” Alberto whispered loudly to his best friends who giggled unapologetically.

“ONE TIME!” Lorenzo called hotly from inside.

Giulia smirked at her friends, “Some things never change, amicos.” Grabbing her bag, she turned to the house, “Oh, and Luca don’t forget about your gift!” She winked knowingly at a flustered Luca and befuddled Alberto.

Alberto glanced down at Luca who was doing his best impression of a frozen fish.

“Uh, was that supposed to me-”

“I made you something!!” Luca blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth. He glanced nervously at Alberto, who merely stared back stunned. Fishing in his uniform jacket pocket, Luca wordlessly pulled out the two multicolored bracelets from his pocket and held one out to Alberto. Alberto stood frozen his eyes glued to the green and purple threads glistening in the warm afternoon sun, his mouth hung loose in a silent ‘oh’. The threads danced innocently between them, and Luca felt his bravado begin to waver. When he still hadn’t said anything or moved to take the bracelet from Luca’s grasp, the younger boy grew more flustered and started to pull away, his voice shaking. “I- I’m sorry, you probably think this is so stupid.” Luca tried to not panic, desperately willing his mortification away.

Alberto’s hand shot out to pull both the bracelet and Luca’s hand back. “I can’t believe you made this for me.” He whispered, cradling the bracelet tenderly as he studied it in his palms. He traced the twining threads and smiled at how the pattern reminded him of scales. He looked at Luca and put his arm around him to pull him close. “I love it, thank you. No one’s ever given me something so beautiful.”

“R-really?” Luca asked, his expression hopeful.

“Really. Did you make this too?” Alberto squinted at the painted pearl hanging from the end of the strings, creating a clasp to hold it in place.

“Giulia's mom actually helped me design those with her paints.” Luca motioned to the pearl. “She said that gifts help make the distances feel smaller.” He pondered the delicately painted waves of his own pearl. “It’s funny when I was learning so much and seeing so many places, I never realized how far from home I would feel.” His gaze landed on Alberto, only now realizing how close they were. Up close he could see the new freckles that peppered his cheeks and how his face was slimming down. Nine months of hard work had broadened his shoulders and caused his wiry arms to harden with lean muscle. Clearing his throat, he pulled away again.

“Anyways, I guess we better go inside before the food gets cold.” Blushing as red as Massimo’s favorite wine, Luca threw one last smile over his shoulder and ran inside. Alberto grinned in response and slid the bracelet over his wrist fastening it so that it hugged him snugly. An emotion that he couldn’t quite name filled every part of him, spreading from his toes to the tip of his ears. Walking inside to the smells of homemade pasta and loud laughter, Alberto felt that the promise of a wonderful summer had just begun.

#pixar luca #luca 2021 #alberto x luca #luca x alberto #fanfic #mutual pining #they share one brain cell #Giulia has it 99% of the time #just teens trying to figure out life #a te che sei il mio grande amore

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ineffablebooklover · 3 years

Text

So commissions are gonna come pretty slow, I have to do this all on my phone now sorry about that! Here is part 2 of...

The Crow Cafe Coffee Shop AU~ with the Crows, Ronmione, and Drarry -for @yarn-yogi

Chapter 2

Harry’s stomach turned with dread as Mr. Malfoy went to order, leaving Draco in his wake. “Oh if it isn’t Pottah and his friends!” Malfoy sneered, strutting in. “Studying so early with your gang, eh?” He turned to Hermione. “I thought you’d run back to where you came, but alas, you’re still here, trying so hard!”

(authors note: Hermione is Latina in this fic because I want to and also to show that the Malfoys are racist as heck)

Wylan looked up from his sketchbook, a little uncomfortable.

“Drop it, Draco. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’m not leaving because you don’t like me,” Hermione fought back.

Draco scowled, turning back to Harry. “You just need to stop hanging out with the wrong sort,” he said, glaring at Hermione and Ron. He gave Ron a once-over, scrunching his nose at the hand-me-down jacket and well worn shoes. “This one probably made you pay for that coffee, didn’t he, Potter?”

Wylan looked towards Jesper, then back to the four students, then back to Jesper. Jesper rolled his eyes. Inej glared at Draco, but had to continue to serve his inattentive father.

“They’re my friends, Malfoy. It would be good for you to remember that you’re not.”

Draco looked just about ready to stab someone. “So stupid, Potter. Who knew you-“

“Well are you going to order something, or are you just going to flirt all day with that poor boy over there,” Jesper cut in, suddenly right behind Draco, a cup of coffee in his hand.

Draco stuttered and blushed. “Flirting?? I’m not flirting.”

Hermione and Ron giggled, Harry said nothing.

“Trust me,” Jesper said. “I know flirting when I see it. I’m what you call a pro. But honestly, ‘bullying into submission’ is never the best way to go. Anyways, coffee?” Jesper grinned.

Malfoy was speechless, as if having an internal crisis. He didn’t want Potter like that, right? Right? The moment he asked himself that question, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He stormed out of the coffee shop, slamming the door.

Mr. Malloy noticed, grimacing and without grabbing his coffee, stormed out after Draco.

Jesper grinned, looking back to Wylan, who mouthed ‘thank you’ under his breath.

Kaz suddenly sauntered out from the back, cane clacking ominously on the ground. “Scaring away the pigeons, Jesper?”

Jesper gulped, taking a sip of his coffee. “Uh- no boss.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow, looking at the Malfoys, who were basically running away from the shop.

Jesper stuttered. “Well- he wasn’t going to order anything anyways,” Jesper said, starting to sweat.

“Actually,” Wylan said, speaking up for the first time that day. “I was just going to order another coffee,” he smiled at Jesper.

“Me too,” said Harry.

“I think I’ll need another coffee for the notes McGonagall just posted,” Hermione replied.

Ron looked at Hermione, confused. “But she hasn’t posted-oof.” He got an elbow to the ribs. “Right uh- I’ll have a pastry.”

“Awesome!” Jesper said, bouncing on his toes. “See boss? No business lost,” he grinned nervously, running over to the counter to put in the orders, but Inej already got it down, giving them both a thumbs up.

Kaz just shrugged. “Interesting way of doing business, but go for it.” Then he went back into the back room, cane clicking away into the distance. Jesper breathed out a sigh of relief, looking towards the four students.

“Thank you,” he smiled, having Inej ring up the orders.

The three study wizards turned to each other. “‘Flirting’? That’s a new one,” Ron chuckled.

“Oh hush Ron!” Hermione whacked Ron’s arm with her notebook. “Malfoy is just being an arse.”

“Well I mean if you think about it, Malfoy seems pretty obsessed with you Harry,” Ron pointed out, getting another smack from the notebook.

Harry rolled his eyes. “But the barista is right. He can’t just go around and bully people, no matter what the circumstance.”

Jesper popped up behind Harry, grinning. “Why thank you! I pride myself in my smarts. I have two coffees and a pastry for you three?”

He dished out the order and sighed, looking over to the side. “No matter how cute, getting to know the person is the first step.” He stared longingly at the boy with ruddy curls for a good 10 seconds. “So I’ll go do my job, enjoy the breakfast!” He rushed out, skipping away, ruffling the pale boy’s curls, then staring at him longingly from behind the counter.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at eachother, then burst out in giggles. “Who would want to get to know Draco though?” Harry chuckled.

“Wait so you think he’s cute?” Hermione shrieked.

~•~

Jesper fished around for the customer’s order when he stumbled upon a slip of paper in his pocket that he was sure wasn’t there before. It contained a phone number, and a name, ‘Wylan’.

Jesper scrunched his eyebrows, confused, then looked over at Inej, who was smirking at him. He showed the crumbled slip to her.

“His name is Wylan, and that’s his phone number,” Inej told him, a grin playing on her lips.

“Wait wait wait… Wylan? As in, consistent customer who I brought coffee to this morning Wylan? As in cute guy Wylan?”

Inej bobbed her head up and down and explained as Jesper’s eyebrows went past his forehead. “I told him it was for a rewards club at the cafe. I may have done the front work, but you get to do the real work now.” She nodded towards the paper. “No need to thank me.”

Jesper still bounced up and down, squealing as he hugged Inej. “Screw that, thank you Inej! What would we do without you, right Kaz?”

Inej turned and Kaz was behind them, his resting frown on full blast, the foundation of his face. He just looked away, a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

Jesper shrugged it off, and with one last thank you to Inej, went off to make coffee for the next customer.

Once the crowds died down, Jesper typed the number into his phone. He thought for a bit, then leaned on the counter as he started to type.

“Hey Wylan! This is a Crow Cafe rewards club notification! just kidding, it’s jesper, the cute barista. anyways, how are you?”

It was about 20 minutes before Jesper got a response, almost dropping his phone from taking it out so fast. “I’m okay, thanks. How about you? And how did you get my number?”

“the rewards card scam. inej (the other cute barista, not as cute as yours truly, though kaz would disagree) is very smooth when she wants to be.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense.”

“and why do you type with caps?”

It took a while for Wylan to respond. “I guess I just never turned off Auto-caps.”

Jesper thought out a response, then typed in, “well, I guess that just adds more layers to that pretty personality of yours ;)” He congratulated himself on the alliteration and clicked send.

There was a typing bubble, then it was gone, then it was typing again. “Is that a winky face?” Jesper smirked.

“Who are you texting during work?” Came a deep voice, and Jesper jumped to attention.

“Uh… just Wylan, my hopefully future boyfriend.”

“But Wylan can’t- well I guess there’s a feature for that now,” Kaz mumbled to himself. He looked back up to Jesper. “Orange hair, freckles, that kid?”

Jesper nodded. “That’s him,” he smirked. “And what did you mean by-“

Kaz just harrumphed. “He’s good at numbers, that might come in handy. Very well, carry on. But if a customer catches you on your phone, I’m taking it and you can kiss Wylan goodbye during work.”

“Yes boss,” Jesper chuckled nervously, then Kaz went back to the back room to do whatever Kaz Brekker does in the back room. Jesper got laser focused back to his phone.

“maybe it is ;)”

end of Ch2!

I might just try posting this on AO3 on my phone then updating there, we’ll see how that works out… anyways I hope you enjoyed this little segment!

also does anyone know how to put the little ‘keep reading’ thing on long posts so people don’t have to scroll past the whole thing if they don’t want to?

Up next… In The Heights nightmareAU

have a nice day :)

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

If it’s an option to have Flip give you his dick in a box, please sign me up! I’d love to request that for a holiday prompt, if you’re willing! Thank you! 🖤🖤🖤

(1.6k, NSFW (blow job/face-fucking, grinding/boot riding, fingering & comeshot), okay I have over a dozen requests for this now lmao. This is crack and it’s all @safarigirlsp & @lumberjack00fantasies fault !)

You come home from running a couple errands to find that Flip’s truck is already parked in the driveway. That was strange, you thought, because he wasn’t supposed to be home for a few more hours. For a minute, you wonder if everything’s okay, if something had happened at work for him to be home so early, but then you figure no, he would’ve called you if it were something serious. Shifting the big brown paper bag of groceries onto your hip as you close and lock the door, you hear a sort of rustling coming from the blackness of the living room.

“Flip?” You call, stepping out of your shoes and setting your bags down.

“In here ketsl.” Your husband’s smooth deep voice sounds from the living room where you heard the rustling, and you put your hands on your hips as you walk through the foyer.

“Honey why is it so dark in here?” You’re confused, but the moment that you step down into the sunken living room, the fireplace roars to life.

Your eyebrows shoot up, because illuminated by the fire, lying on his side on the plush shag carpet in all his glory is your husband. He’s dressed boots and all, got one of his hands propping his head up, but the other is holding a very…strategically placed present in front of his crotch.

“Hey, honey-bunny. I got something real important to give you.” Flip winks, “So, just sit down.. and listen.”

You take a seat on the couch, knowing that whatever he’s got planned, is certain to be the start of a wild evening.

Flip reaches over to the record player and drops the needle, and all of a sudden a groovy tune starts to play, something smooth and slow and sensual, and he clears his throat.

“Baby, you know we been together, such a long, long time…” Flip begins to sing, and your brows have a hard time coming back down to Earth, because your man hasn’t sung unprompted since the summer of ’67.

“Uh huh,” You try your very best not to laugh at whatever the fuck he’s doing.

“…And now I’m ready, to lay it on the li-ine.” Flip continues, in that deep deep voice of his that has you wondering if he’s pranking you. “You know it’s Christmas, and my heart is open wide, I’m gonna give you something, so you know what’s on my mind.”

“Did – when did you have time to rehearse this?” You look around, wondering if Jimmy is going to pop out from behind the couch with a video camera or something, but Flip gets up, holds the present as he saunters over to you while you continue, “We don’t celebrate Christmas.”

He takes a step to the beat, his hips swaying along.

“It’s a gift that’s real special, so take off the top.” He stops in front of you and his hips cant towards you as he encourages, “Take a look inside…”

You pull the ribbon off of it, and lift the lid and your hand flies up to your mouth because: “That’s your dick, in a box.”

Flip looks so pleased with himself, so pleased with this present of his, that he has to physically restrain himself from fist-bumping the air. You have no idea what’s gotten into him, he’s never done anything like this before – did he lose a bet?

Flip’s song isn’t over though, and now that you’ve seen his big gift, his hips buck along to the music as he continues to serenade you;

“Not gonna get you a diamond ring, that sort of gift don’t mean anything. I’m not not gonna get you a fancy car, girl, you gotta know you’re my shining star. Not gonna get you a house in the hills, a girl like you needs something real. I want to get you something from the heart, something special, girl.” Flip closes his eyes and lets himself feel the music, before pointing to his cock, “That’s right, it’s my dick in a box.”

He’s looking at you, eager for your reaction, and you realize he’s being earnest.

The music keeps playing as you reach inside the box, wrap your hand around his hard dick. How long has he been hard to keep it up? When did he come home and set all this up? You have a million questions, but all of them fly out the window when you shimmy the box off his cock, the proud curve of it nearly smacking you in the face.

Without saying anything, you lick a fat stripe up his shaft, and Flip pitches forward just a little, not expecting you to dive right in.

“Do you like it?” Flip asks, wagging it in your face, making it smack lightly at your cheek.

“You’re insane,” You firmly grasp his hard hard cock, making his whole evening when you laugh out, “But yes, I like it.”

You like it so much in fact, that you want it in your mouth immediately. Your tongue runs over the thick bulging veins as you slink off the couch and land on your knees on the carpet. The box with the huge hole on the side of it resting on the floor nearly takes you out of the sexy mood, but then Flip’s hand scratches against your scalp, and you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

You suck at the head of his cock, watching him bite at his lip, watching his chest start to heave from how hard he’s breathing. He must’ve been edging himself for ages, and you didn’t want him to have to wait anymore.

“Oh fuck.” Flip groans out as you begin unbuttoning your blouse. From his angle above you, he can see straight down your bra, your cleavage pushed together from your pretty bra.

You only smile a little, before letting your eyes close, head bobbing up and down over his cock. Your hand makes up for the few inches you can’t fit just yet, your spit lubing it up enough that the slip and slide is easy on his shaft.

“Mmm,,” Jerking him off and sucking his cock, you moan around him, and that makes Flip’s grip on your hair a little harder.

He shuffles closer to you, his jeans falling down his strong thighs just a little bit from no longer being held up by the box. There’s something so fucking hot about Flip with his jeans open, that dark happy trail scruffy over the tense muscle of his stomach. You take more of his cock down your throat, your other hand moving to rub against his thigh.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard tonight baby,” Flip promises, holding your head steady as he thrusts in and out of your throat, and you try your best not to choke on him, “Gonna make you fuckin’ scream with this cock.”

You only moan and nod, your pussy starting to clench and drip in your panties. If Flip is getting off, you don’t see any reason that you shouldn’t either, so you pull his leg forward and begin to grind your hips against the shiny toe of his new boots that you got him for Hanukkah this year.

“Jesus ketsl.” Flip grunts as you moan from the friction on your pussy, your clit throbbing. His thrusts speed up, until he’s fucking your face on auto-pilot, hips seeking the tight clutch of your throat, “You’re gonna come like this? Just like this? My cock down your throat?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” You take whatever he gives you, focusing on your own pleasure, on the way he pushes his foot up onto his heel and gives you a better angle to undulate your hips down onto his boot.

Your hands have an iron grip on his jeans, your eyes watering from the sheer overwhelming feeling of his cock down your throat, your pussy desperate to be filled the same way. He had promised, but you want it now, want to be fucked hard now.

“I’m – fuck, I’m going to come.” Flip’s stomach flutters and tenses in front of your face, and you know he’s close. You prep yourself for the taste of his come, but he shakes his head, practically drools all over himself as he watches your breasts bounce, “Gonna come all over these perfect tits.”

Only a few moments later, he’s pulling out of you carefully, and you gasp down harsh breaths, your throat raspy.

“Shit,” Flip spills himself all over your cleavage, watches as it splatters and lands on your flesh, the hot white ropes sticky. He sighs and shudders out his pleasure, reveling in the debauchery of it all.

“Get me off? Please?” You’re close too, your panties smearing your slick all over his boots, desperate for him, for anything he’ll give you.

Flip pushed you gently onto your back and shoves his hand into your soaking wet panties, thrusts three of his fingers into your aching pulsing cunt, one thumb on your clit and fingers you hard and fast until your thighs are trembling, toes curling, back arching out your orgasm.

He collapses down next to do, the both of you spent…for now.

The fireside crackles steadily, the record player having finished its song long ago. That damn box is still lying on the floor, the half-hazardly cut hole in the side reminding you of all this all started in the first place.

You break out into bright laughter, and Flip joins in, the both of you covered in come and sweat and filled with absurd joy. He certainly was something, your husband, you grin into his armpit as he hugs you close.

And even though you don’t really celebrate this holiday, you can’t help but think that maybe it was okay, just this once.

#Anonymous #cowboy answers #also like can we talk about how hot andy is in that sketch because i can not get over it lol #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman crack #blackkklansman #adam driver fanfic #adcu

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

Text

Reading is Fundamental (au / 4.3k words / single parent!dean / librarian!cas)

ao3 link

“Daddy, can you read this book to me?” Emma’s voice squeaked up from next to Dean. He turned to see her scrambling to sit on the chair next to him, slapping the book she’d chosen on top of the table.

“Not right now, Em. I just need to finish these notes and then we can go home.” Dean tried to let her down gently, hoping somewhere in her little three year old brain she’d be able to understand.

Emma nodded obediently at her dad but Dean could see the sadness and disappointment in her eyes. It made Dean feel like shit. Maybe going back to college was a bad idea. He didn’t need a fancy college degree, he could always just rise up through the ranks at the auto shop the long way. He was stretched thin and he knew it.

Dean felt a little tug on his arm and his eyes met his daughter’s. “Daddy, please can I go look at more books?” Emma asked, so politely Dean could cry. She was so young, she wouldn’t understand all the stress Dean was under but her tiny smile and beautiful green eyes melted Dean’s heart every time.

“Of course, baby. But don’t go too far so I can’t see you, okay?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically and climbed down from her seat with a “Thanks, Daddy!” and she was gone, disappearing behind the bookshelves leading to the kids books.

Dean allowed himself to get lost in his notes and textbooks once again, hoping he’d be able to get a little more done before the library closed.

But it wasn’t even five minutes later when he looked up to check on Emma and saw her being carried towards him by one of the most beautiful people Dean had ever seen. But he couldn’t dwell too long on the man’s god-like looks because, as they got closer, Dean could see that Emma had tears in her eyes and blotchy red cheeks.

Notes forgotten, Dean leapt from his chair to see his daughter. “Emma, what happened?” He asked as the man approached.

Emma didn’t reply. Instead, she looked up at the sound of her dad’s voice and reached out to him. Dean accepted her into his arms and she immediately tucked her head into Dean’s neck. Dean stroked a comforting hand down his baby’s back and turned to the man still standing in front of him. He looked at him for an explanation. The man just had a warm look of fondness on his face and didn’t catch Dean’s questioning gaze straight away.

Eventually, he caught Dean’s eye and seemed to snap back into himself. “Sorry,” he said. “She tripped on one of the mats in the children’s area. I saw it happen from where I was stacking shelves.”

Now Dean looked properly he could actually see a name badge with the library logo on it. The badge said this guy was apparently called ‘Castiel’. Weird name.

“I checked she was alright.” Castiel continued. “She said her knees hurt but it looks like she got a little burn from the carpet. Just a bit of redness, no blood. After that she just asked for her dad.”

Castiel smiled again at Emma until it seemed that a thought occurred to him. “Oh, and I did ask her permission before I carried her but in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done because I don’t imagine she can give her own consent. And I am a stranger.” The guy was starting to look a little stressed. “I assure you my intentions were completely innocent, I just wanted her to be okay.”

Dean was quick to jump in then. “Woah, dude, don’t sweat it. Thanks for bringing her back over for me. It’s my fault anyway. I should’ve been keeping a better eye on her, but I’m revising for exams and it’s kicking my ass.” He wiped his free hand down his face in exhaustion. “Normally, I do my college work at home but my neighbours have builders in and it’s so noisy.”

Dean was fully aware he was giving the guy too much information. But he needed to make it clear that he wasn’t a shitty dad who let his kid run off on her own all the time. Plus, this guy seemed to have a kind face that made Dean want to spill all his darkest secrets and worries.

“Well, there’s around half an hour until we close. If you still need to work a little more I can take Emma to choose out some books?” Castiel asked, tentatively gaging both Dean and Emma’s reactions.

Dean jostled Emma slightly in his arms. “Would you like that, Em?” he murmured in a low voice.

Still seemingly a little shy, Emma nodded and Dean let her down carefully onto the floor to find her feet.

Castiel knelt down slowly in front of her. “Do you want to hold my hand, Emma?” he asked, holding a hand out for her to accept.

“Okay.” Emma muttered, timidly. She took Castiel’s hand and let him lead her back to the children’s area.

As they walked away, Dean could just hear Castiel whisper to her, “What kind of books do you like to read?” and Emma’s resulting shout of “Superheroes!” Dean winced at the volume of her voice, checking around to see if anyone was annoyed, but Castiel barely flinched. He just carried on talking to Emma and making her giggle.

Their voices drifted away behind one of the shelves and Dean smiled to himself a little before returning to his work.

Almost an hour later, Dean glanced at his watch and quickly began packing up his things. He hadn’t realised the time and was consciously aware of overstaying his welcome when the library should have closed already.

He strode across the floor towards the kids area but found it empty and dark, clearly having already been closed for the night. He frowned wondering where Emma and Castiel had got to when he heard a familiar bubble of laughter coming from the main entrance.

Sat behind the front desk, Castiel was showing Emma how to do something.

“So after we’ve done that, we have to put a stamp in each of the books so people know what day they have to bring it back.” Castiel explained, pointing out the stamp page of a book in front of him. “Do you want to stamp the books you’re taking home?”

Emma’s eyes lit up. Dean smiled affectionately at his daughter, she loved anything involving paint or ink.

“Yeah!”

Dean decided now would be the best time to come out of his hiding place. “What’s going on here then?” he asked, sauntering up to the desk with a grin on his face. It turned out Emma was sitting on an empty space on the desk, with Castiel perched on the chair.

Castiel and Emma looked up at Dean’s voice.

“Daddy!” Emma cheered. “I’m working at the library with Mr Cas!”

“That’s awesome, Em. But we gotta go now. The library is closing and we still haven’t had dinner.”

Emma pouted. Her bottom lip stuck out and Dean hated it. He could never say no to that face, but not even he had the power to keep the library open longer. Plus, Castiel, or ‘Cas’ it seemed, probably wanted to go home too.

“It’s okay, Emma. You can come back tomorrow and help me. You did such a good job, I’d love to have your help again.” Castiel jumped in to reassure Emma.

It definitely did the trick as Emma’s face immediately lit up and she leaned over to give Cas a hug. “Thank you, Mr Cas!”

Once she let go of Castiel, Dean lifted her off the desk and into his arms.

He made eye contact with Castiel and instantly felt awkward. This dude saved him from having a meltdown in the middle of the library. And his daughter seemed to have fallen in love with him. What’s Dean meant to say now? Castiel was just standing there with kindness glittering in his eyes.

Dean cleared his throat. “Thanks, man. Y’know for earlier. And for keeping Emma occupied. I swear I don’t normally let her run-”

Castiel raised his hand to stop Dean. “It was my pleasure.”

Dean just nodded awkwardly and moved towards the exit with Emma still wrapped around him, the excitement of the day seeping from her tiny body and leaving her slumped against her dad.

He spent the rest of the evening and much of the night thinking about dark hair and striking blue eyes.

* * *

It ended up being a few days later that Dean and Emma found themselves back at the library again.

Emma hadn’t stopped asking and talking about Mr Cas.

Mr freakin’ Perfect more like.

Dean was sure he’d see the man again and realise he’d just let himself build up how great the man seemed. That Cas was actually just a normal dude doing his job. In fact, he’d probably forgotten all about Dean and his mischievous little girl.

They walked through the main entrance hand in hand. Dean could feel Emma tug his hand slightly, trying to direct him over to the front desk but Dean wasn’t sure whether he wanted Castiel to be there or not. He’d spent the last few days letting himself think things about the man that he probably shouldn’t after having only met him once.

But his eyes betrayed him and they took a quick glance over to the desk. Castiel wasn’t there. Dean was only half relieved.

Once they reached a table in the work area, Dean set himself up with his notes and a couple books for Emma to occupy herself with.

A few minutes passed with Dean squinting at one of his textbooks and Emma flicking through the pages of her books, only really looking at the pictures and making up her own stories to go along with them whispered under her breath.

Eventually, Emma sighed and turned to Dean. “Daddy?”

The silence was good while it lasted. “Yeah, Em?”

“Can I go find Mr Cas?”

How did Dean know it would be about friggin’ Castiel?

“Not right now, baby. He’s probably working.”

Emma sank down in her seat, crossed her arms angrily and pouted.

Dean sighed to himself. He hoped this wasn’t the start of her having tantrums again. She was an angel now most of the time but all through the age of two she was a little demon.

However, Emma stayed quiet and just spent her time kicking her legs up and down from the side of the chair. She wasn’t causing any upset so Dean let it slide just to try and get on with some more work.

It was short lived, unfortunately, because mere minutes later Emma shot up from her seat and ran off. Dean was about to jump up to grab her and make her sit quietly until he saw what, or rather who, she was running to.

Dean looked up in time to see Emma leap into Castiel’s arms as he approached their table.

Okay, so he was wrong earlier. Castiel was every bit as beautiful as Dean remembered and more.

Today he was wearing a plain shirt with a form-fitting waistcoat that hugged him all the right places. And his hair, oh fuck, his hair. It looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, or maybe rolled around in bed. Was Castiel seriously trying to kill him?

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean blinked and realised he’d been staring at Castiel for longer than was probably socially acceptable. Emma was also watching her dad with a mischievous smile on her face.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to will away the embarrassment of being caught staring. “Hey, Castiel.”

“I was wondering if Emma could help me again today?” Castiel asked, before turning to the little girl. “Do you want to help me put some books back on the shelves that people have finished with?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Is that okay, Dean?” Castiel asked, tentatively.

As much as Dean loved his daughter, it would be a welcome relief to have a little break, even if it was to do college work. “Sure, man,” he smiled, tiredly.

Castiel gave Dean a look that he couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t on his face for long before he turned his attention again to Emma and set her back on the floor. “Okay, Emma, can you wait for me at the front desk?”

“Yes, Mr Cas!”

“Good. Go straight there and sit on my big chair. Don’t go near the front doors okay? I’ll be there in a second.”

Emma didn’t waste another second before she was off across the library, skipping over to wait for Castiel.

Dean frowned, wondering why Castiel had remained with him at the table. The man had only moved enough so he could keep an eye on Emma sitting behind the desk and that was it.

“Dean-”

“Wait.” It had only just occurred to Dean. “How do you know my name?”

Dean hoped he wasn’t imagining the blush that spread across Castiel’s cheeks.

“I saw Mr D. Winchester on your library card that Emma used the other day. I admit I searched your name in our system to find your first name. I suppose I just wanted to put a name to the face.”

Castiel looked slightly guilty for looking up Dean’s private information. But Dean’s brain was stuck on Castiel wanting to know his name, and what that could mean.

Dean shook his head. “Oh that’s cool, man. I guess it’s only right as you keep saving me by occupying my kid.” He shrugged.

“Trust me, it’s no bother.” Castiel assured. “In fact, I missed you and Emma the other day when you said you’d come in.”

Dean didn’t want to think too much about Castiel’s choice of words. He was too stressed to risk his heart having too much hope.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Cas. Emma got sick at daycare so I had to leave work early and I didn’t have time to come study.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in alarm and he glanced back again at Emma, who was still sitting merrily looking at different things on Castiel’s desk. “Is she okay, now?”

“She’s all good. Just one of those 24 hour bugs that only three year olds seem to get.” Dean smiled, but thinking of those 24 hours made him feel tired again. There was nothing worse than your child being sick and not being able to do anything but try to comfort them and reassure them that it wouldn’t last forever.

Dean could feel the exhaustion seep into his bones as he talked with Castiel. His shoulders felt heavy and he knew he should sleep but he had another hour of revising to do before he had to take Emma home for dinner. And it was bath night too. God, it never seemed to end.

“Dean,” Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, making the man focus his tired eyes. “I know we’ve only met briefly before but could I ask you a personal question?”

At this point Dean is too tired to care. “Sure, man.”

“Is everything alright? Only, you’ve seemed incredibly exhausted both times I’ve seen you.”

Dean looked into Castiel’s warm, blue eyes and saw nothing but care and sincerity.

He could cry. He could bawl like a fucking baby right here in the middle of Lawerence City Library. It’s been a long, long time since somebody had asked him that and truly cared about the answer.

With tears building in his eyes, and taking a glimpse at his daughter smiling at customers as they walked by, Dean let out a choked sob. “I’m struggling, man. It’s so hard. And I’m so tired,” he admitted. “Between, work, college, and looking after Emma, it’s too much. I thought I could do it all. I thought I was ready but I’m not.”

Without taking his hand from Dean’s shoulder, Castiel pulled up a chair to perch on, moving closer into Dean’s space. “Do you have any family that can help you out?”

Dean let out a watery scoff. He knew Cas meant well but that was a loaded question with a long history.

“My mom’s dead. Dad is gone. And my brother is in California.” Dean replied, succinctly.

Castiel’s face filled with guilt again. “Oh goodness, I’m so sorry Dean, truly.” He moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder to rest gently on his clenched hand.

Dean sniffed and wiped the tears that had escaped from his eyes. “It’s fine, dude, don’t worry. It’s just always been me and Emma, y’know?”

“I assume her mother isn’t around either?” Castiel asked, carefully.

“Not even really sure who her mom is.” Dean said, bluntly. He prepared for the judgement to appear on Castiel’s face but it never did. So he carried on. “She was a one night stand. I didn’t know about Emma until she was left on my doorstep with just a little note with her date of birth. She didn’t even have a fucking name, Cas.” Dean wept. “She just got left there. I just happened to be home that day otherwise she could have been there for hours.”

“Dean, I-”

“Mr Cas!” Emma’s voice rang out from the desk. Dean turned his head to see his daughter smiling up at someone standing on the other side of the desk.

“I should go and help that lady. Could we finish this discussion another time? I feel like it would be good for you to have someone to talk to.”

Dean couldn’t believe how much he’d already shared with a near-stranger. But he couldn’t help but feel drawn to Castiel. And he had to admit, sharing this weight with someone had felt good.

“Sure, Cas. Go do your job. Just send Em back over here if she gets in the way.” Dean smiled, wiping the last of his tears away.

Castiel watched Emma sit safely behind the desk, babbling away to the lady waiting. He turned back and smiled softly at Dean. “She could never get in the way.”

At that Castiel gave Dean’s hand one last squeeze and headed off to greet the customer.

And Dean could swear he fell in love in that second.

* * *

Later, it was nearing closing time and Dean had managed to get a fair amount of work done much to his relief after having to take a few days off.

He’d glanced occasionally over his shoulder at Emma and Castiel, watching them do their jobs together. Both of them working with smiles on their faces. Every now and then Emma would say something that would make Castiel’s face scrunch up with laughter. Dean was glad to see someone else find his kid as funny as he did.

Okay, so maybe he’d spent more time watching Castiel with his daughter than doing work. Sue him.

In another life, Dean would have been all over Cas but, as much as he may have already fallen for the dorky, caring librarian, he barely had time to feed himself let alone have a relationship.

As much as he hated to separate the adorable picture in front of him, Dean knew he needed to get Emma home, fed and in bed. He gathered his things and made his way over to the front desk.

“Come on Em, time to go now.”

Both Castiel and Emma looked up at Dean with matching expressions of disappointment that it was time to leave already.

“But I don’t want to go.”

“We have to have dinner. And you need a bath tonight.” Dean reminded her.

“Can Mr Cas come for dinner?” Emma asked, giving Dean her best puppy dog eyes. She definitely had the Winchester genes. She looked exactly like his brother, Sam.

“You can’t just invite people to dinner at the last minute, Em. He’s probably busy and has someone waiting for him at home.”

So maybe Dean was trying to fish to see if Cas was single. At least then he’d know once and for all.

“Thank you for your concern, Dean. But I can assure you, it’s just me at home-” Bingo! “-and Emma was just telling me that you make the best mac and cheese with hot dogs ever.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that.

* * *

So that was how Dean found himself sitting opposite Castiel on his couch a couple hours later.

As soon as they’d walked through Dean’s front door, Dean had apologised for the mess. He was embarrassed by how bad it had got over the past few days. But with Emma sick and having to fit in extra shifts too, there hadn’t been much time to tidy.

They’d eaten dinner quickly. Emma held most of the conversation, telling Dean and Castiel about her day at daycare and how she was going to paint a picture for them both tomorrow.

Soon, Emma was tucked away in bed. She’d had her bath with little fuss. But she had demanded that Castiel read her a bedtime story. Both Dean and Castiel couldn’t help but snort with laughter at her serious grumpy face. Dean had left Castiel to sooth Emma to sleep with a story about two superheroes who fall in love. While Castiel was up with Emma, Dean was finally able to tidy up a bit around the kitchen and living room.

Now, Dean could feel himself getting lost in Castiel’s eyes, though that also could have been to do with the tiredness finally catching up with him now that he’d finally had a chance to relax a little.

The silence is soft between them, neither man pressing the other for conversation. Just happy to be in each other’s company. Dean didn’t know where Cas had come from but he knew he wasn’t letting him go. He’d have him in any way he could. Even if it meant only having him as a friend he saw when they took trips to the library.

Eventually, Castiel cracked the quiet. “So, Dean. What are you studying at college?”

Considering how their earlier conversation had gone, how much of a mess Dean had been, and his promise to continue the discussion later, Dean hadn’t expected that to be Castiel’s first question when they were finally alone.

“Um, business management. I work at an auto shop right now and I guess I wanna own my own garage one day. Maybe do some restoration too.” Dean shrugged. “But I’ll probably have to go the long way now. There’s no way I can carry on with college, work to pay the bills, and look after Emma on my own.”

“Dean! You can’t!” Castiel stressed.

“Cas, man, I know you mean well. But it ain’t that simple. I already have a deal with my boss to work through my lunch break so I can leave early to pick up Emma from daycare, which I can barely afford.” Dean shook his head. “Then I have to study with her around. This isn’t fair on her. At least without college I’d have more time for her.”

“Dean, do you enjoy being at college?” Castiel asked, squinting at the man in front of him.

“Besides the exams kicking my ass, yeah I kinda do.” Dean nodded. “Makes me feel like I’m actually achieving something y’know? Besides Em, of course, she’ll always be my best.”

“Okay, so you need to stay in college. It will benefit you and Emma more in the long run.” Castiel raised a hand to silence the protests Dean tried to make. “I will help you.”

“How’re you gonna do that, man?” Dean sighed. This sounded too good to be true.

“Well, if it’s okay with you, I could pick Emma up from daycare, and bring her to the library with me.”

“But what about your job?” Dean argued. “What would your boss say?”

Castiel just smiled. “Dean, I’m the manager. I am the boss.”

Dean couldn’t believe his ears. Could everything he needed actually be being handed to him on a silver platter?

“Cas, you gotta be sure about this. It would help me so fucking much but you need to be all in. Emma isn’t a phase that you can get bored with after a couple weeks.” Dean pleaded.

“I promise you, we may not have known each other for long at all but Emma has come to be very special to me and, well, so have you.” Castiel blushed.

And suddenly Dean could see himself sitting on this couch with Cas in the future with Emma squished between them, laughing at one of her cartoons. And boy does he want it. Badly.

If it went wrong Dean would blame what he did next on feeling tired down to his bones. Without thinking, he launched himself forward to capture Castiel’s lips in a kiss. It probably wasn’t a good idea to jump into something with a dude he’d known less than a week but sometimes the best things happen spontaneously. That’s how Emma came into his life after all.

As if reading Dean’s mind, Castiel deepened the kiss and pulled Dean even closer to himself.

* * *

From the very next day, it became routine for Castiel to pick Emma up from daycare on his afternoon break at the library. She’d keep him company and help him to tidy up as the library wound down for the day. Many of the customers were enamored with Castiel and his little helper.

Then, a couple hours before closing, Dean would come in. He’d find Cas and Emma wherever they were to let them know he was there and to give them both a peck on the cheek.

After Castiel had locked up, more often than not, he’d join Dean and Emma for dinner.

That first night together, they’d agreed through rushed kisses to take things slow and keep Emma in mind. But within a month, Castiel was spending most nights at Dean’s and had taken to dropping Emma off at daycare too, allowing Dean a little extra time in bed.

Perhaps their new dynamic was unusual but it worked for them. And it carried on working well when Castiel officially moved in, and when Dean graduated, and when he finally bought his own auto shop.

And when they adopted a little brother for Emma.

A/N: This one kinda got away from me but I love it! Definitely going to do more in this universe one day. Maybe Sam meeting Cas (and Emma?) for the first time? Who knows?

Hope you guys enjoyed!

If you enjoy my works and would like to be added to my tags list, let me know!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse @2musiclover2 @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @50shadesofsubtext @destielle @carryoncastiel @winchester-novak @angelwithashotguun @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @chaoticdean @jensenacklesruinedmylife @huckleberryhusbands @good-things-do-happen-dean

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #myfic #au #fluff #angst #hurtcomfort #first kiss #4k #strangers to lovers #parent!dean #librarian!cas #protective!cas #minor:emma

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 16

Day 16 - When your soulmate listens to music or is singing, you hear it in your own head as well. (Songfic, Crazy = Genius by PATD)

Pairing(s): Romantic Intrulogical, Ambiguous/Romantic Analomus, Background Roceit [the Janus part is ambiguous but whatever], Familial Logicality, Familial Virremile, Background Remile [again hinted]

TWs: swearing, sexual themes [light but they’re there], makeouts, Remus being Remus, drunken behaviour, pyromania, vomiting [not graphic just mentioned]

–

“Either of you pyros got a lighter I can borrow?”

Logan sighed, not making much in the way of eye contact with the emo sitting in the cell next to him and his soulmate. He dug into his jean pocket and lazily tossed the lighter to the boy clad in so much black and purple he looked like the sapient embodiment of a bruise.

“Keep it.”

“Oh. You sure? This is a pretty sweet lighter-”

“I insist.”, Logan groaned, running his hands down his face, “It’s not like I’ll be needing it ever again after this.”

From beside Logan, Remus slung his arm to the side, flopping it about limply to swat at his soulmate, “Shuddafuckup”, he slurred, hauling himself upright from his slumped over position, “S’gonna be fiiiine. Roman said he’d bail us oooouuuut, so fuckin’ chill-”

“Your brother told you last week that he would give us a ride to Dairy Queen but instead he was too fucking busy getting to third base with his boyfriend!!”, Logan snapped. Ugh, he would regret that in the morning. He ran his hands through his hair anxiously slicking it back. How had the night gone wrong so fast?...

‘You can set yourself on fire! You can set yourself on fire!’

Logan wasn’t sure what it was about the glowing ember embrace of a flame that drew him in toward it like a moth with a death wish, but as he allowed his soulmate Remus to haul his ass towards their usual hangout with the promise of some pretty choice items to burn, he found that he couldn't care less.

As he approached the overpass with his soulmate chugging a whole half a bottle of tequila without blinking, Logan wondered how he ever survived before without this whirlwind in human form.

‘She said at night in my dreams

You dance on a tightrope of weird

Oh but when I wake up you're so normal that you just disappear

You're so straight like commuters with briefcases towing the line

There's no residue of a torturer inside your of eyes’

“Check it the fuck out, babe! Did I bring the goods or what?”, Remus grinned nearly as brightly as the shine on the rather expensive looking crimson car - he guessed it might have been a Mercedes, but car brands all looked the same to him really - parked under the overpass. Logan didn’t have a particular favourite item to burn, but when Remus walked over in his lime green hoodie that barely covered his black leather shorts and fishnets to pose seductively on top of the hood? Logan hadn’t wanted to incinerate anything more in his life.

“You… How on Earth did you come by this?!”, he ran his hand along the curve of the hood, unashamedly letting his hand roam over Remus’ thigh.

His soulmate hummed, leaning in to steal a kiss, murmuring softly against Logan’s lips, “If I told you I might’ve hotwired it just this afternoon? Is that a turn off or a turn on?”

Goddamn him, Remus knew just how to speak right to Logan’s soul.

“The latter, and you know it.”, Logan all but growled into their kiss.

‘She said you're just like Mike

Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

Said you're just like Mike

Love but you'll never be Brian Wilson’

In the back of his mind, Logan did wonder what his father and morally conscious little brother would think; if they knew he snuck out to satisfy his pyromania, make out with his feral cryptid of a boyfriend, and engaged in petty acts of vandalism and thievery from time to time. What would Thomas and Patton think of their stoic, orderly son and big brother who - instead of studying for his undergraduate degree in astrophysics - would rather spend the night getting dangerous and dirty alongside his soulmate who had literally just admitted to auto theft to acquire a ridiculously expensive car for him to burn?

The thought was there for all of two seconds until Remus’ tongue licking into his mouth banished it away. The only thot he needed tonight was the one driving him crazy with a kiss alone.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

Knowing they came here for a reason, Logan reluctantly ended their makeout session and grabbed for his trusted blue lighter.

“How full is the gas tank?”, Logan made sure to ask, popping open the door to the driver’s side to see what was left in the car. Might as well keep anything worth selling.

“Not sure.”, Remus shrugged, twirling the keys around his finger excitedly while he finished off their first bottle of the night, “Wanna help me make sure there’s nothing left?”

‘She said darlin' you know

How the wine plays tricks on my tongue

But you don't seem to change when you stuff all of

your feelings with drugs

Other boys you may have dated serrated your heart with a slice

But the cut of your love never hurts baby, it's a sweet butter knife’

Logan wasn’t sure how Remus managed to look even more majestic every time he looked at him, but as he clung tight to the hand rest above the passenger window while his soulmate pulled off his sixteenth donut in a row, all he could think about was how lucky he was to have him. Like a trickle of water turning into a river, Logan recognised the beginning of Na Na Na starting to play in his head. Of course. He knew Remus well enough by now to know that was coming. The humming under his soulmate’s breath also gave it away somewhat.

While Remus kept trying to empty the tank, Logan couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for their first meeting; Remus’ older brother Roman had asked Logan to stand in for the theatre department’s regular dramaturge when Logan began to hear the beginnings of Avenue Q’s The Internet Is For Porn begin to invade his mind. Luckily for him, it hadn’t taken long for Remus to saunter over and try to flirt with him, humming the exact tune Logan had been hearing the whole time.

From there, they’d begun dating though it took a good few months before Logan would join Remus in his fantastical ramblings. He lamented on how he felt trapped by a father who meant well but expected so much from him, how stifled he felt having to be a role model to his living marshmallow of a little brother. How Logan just wanted the fun, exhilaration of doing something extreme for a change.

With Remus’ encouragement, Logan opened up about his pyromaniac tendencies which his soulmate was 110% onboard with. Ever since, the underpass had become their dirty, out of the way, graffiti scarred home away from home. Where Logan could indulge the urge to burn away his stresses and lose himself in Remus’ mantra of doing whatever the fuck they wanted.

‘She said you're just like Mike

Love but you wanna be Brian Wilson, Brian Wilson

Said you're just like Mike

Love but you'll never be Dennis Wilson’

With the car finally seemingly out of gas as it shuddered to a stop, Remus fluidly slid out of the open window - you know, like a normal functional human being - and slid across the hood of the car to open the door for Logan, “Alright, time for this bitch to burn!”

Logan was more than happy to get down to the main event after doing a last quick sweep of the car. All he’d found worth keeping was the planet shaped air freshener; so sue him, the sweet scent of mixed berries was delightful. Whipping out his lighter, Logan escorted Remus a safe distance away and pulled out the hairspray he’d swiped from his room earlier. He aimed the spray towards the car - making sure it wasn’t against the wind or pointed back at himself, he preferred to keep his eyebrows, thanks - and watched as the plume of fire engulfed the car’s seat cover.

Crackling flames. Straining metal. Hissing fabric burning to a plastic like mess. It was a symphony and Logan was it’s conductor.

With his boyfriend wrapping his arms around his shoulders, Logan tilted to kiss him once more as the heat of the fire caressed their skin. Remus’ eyes never once left Logan, seeing his soulmate delight in an act of pure mindless vandalism, watching the way Logan looked truly free, sent his heart racing. In compliment, Logan turned back to Remus, grinning already at the shades of orange and yellow that painted his handsome features. He always thought Remus was at his most beautiful that way.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

Logan couldn’t tell you what happened next; one minute the two of them were watching the flames while his soulmate continued his campaign to destroy his kidneys with alcohol, the next Remus was sitting in his lap leaving hickeys all over his neck while Logan let his hands roam around under Remus’ hoodie. In the back of his mind, Logan could make out the beginning of a song he didn’t recognise at first, but as the lyrics kicked in, he let out a breathy chuckle. Of course, trust Remus to pick a thematic piece of music for the night’s events. As the song got louder - and Remus marked him more needily - Logan found he rather liked the song. He’d have to ask Remus what it was called later.

‘You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire (hey)

You can set yourself on fire’

The next thing either of them knew, there was a vague clattering noise followed by a thunderous metallic bang. Followed by another, then another. One after another for a total of seven times before it finally quieted down. No music, no bang, just the fire crackling away. Thoroughly shaken, Remus and Logan untangled themselves from each other, the former demanding all too loudly, “What the creme fresh fuck was that?!”

“I-! I have no idea-”, Logan began. There wasn’t anything that would’ve done that inside the car, he’d checked. However, as he rounded the car, giving the flames a wide berth, Logan noticed someone laying on the ground on the other side of the car; dressed in a dark, patchy hoodie and ripped jeans, a plume of purple dyed frizzy hair poking out from the hood. He looked like your run of the mill emo. For a second, Logan was worried he and Remus would have to dispose of a body, but fortunately the young man groaned and began to sit up. To his side, Logan winced at a metallic glint blinding his vision.

The spray can doing so had clearly rolled out of the bag full of other cans, all in different colours. At least now Logan could put a face to the rather beautiful graffiti that tattooed the underpass as well as what had exploded in the fire as he noted the burst open paint cans under the car.

“Are you alright? What the hell happened?”, Logan questioned firmly, though he knew the disoriented emo on the ground likely couldn’t answer right away. He assumed from the way the young man rubbed the back of his head that he’d taken a rather nasty fall. The anxious artist seemed to remember exactly where he was, eyes blown wide in fear,

“Dude, get outta here quick-”

“There he is!”

Three officers rushed towards the two of them prompting the emo and Logan to make a break for it, being sure not to run into the inferno. Remus pretty quickly got the idea and joined the two of them. It seemed neither of the three of them knew exactly where they were trying to run to, but a silent, unspoken agreement saw them all heading for the same direction. Looking back on it, Logan wondered if parting ways and heading for his car with Remus could’ve at least seen them with a better chance of getting away.

But hindsight is a bitch that wakes up seven hours late and didn’t even bother to bring Starbucks.

‘And I said (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius

Then I'm a fucking arsonist (hey)

I'm a rocket scientist (hey hey)

(Hey ay, ay)

If crazy equals genius (hey)’

Before long, all Logan could hear was his sneakers scraping the ground and his own breathing competing against his heartbeat to dominate his ears. The urge to stop and breathe was intense but it felt as though doing just that would send the world crashing down around them.

Of course, prolonged exercise and a stomach full of alcohol wasn’t the best combination.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ puke-!”, Remus huffed, trying to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Just hold on, Remus, we’re-!”

Logan watched in horror as his soulmate stopped to empty his stomach, unintentionally doing so in a way that blocked off the hoodie clad young man trying his best to keep up.

“Ah sHIT-!”

He didn’t need to look back; the clattering of the satchel, the mutual yelps of surprise and pain, Logan kept running even as two of the officers apprehended his soulmate and the hooded lad. The guilt would catch up to Logan before the third officer did, or it would have if he didn’t mistime his turning around the next corner only to end up nearly getting run over. How poetic; from making out on a car hood to being cuffed against one. Had Remus not been busy insulting the officers’ mothers rather colourfully, Logan theorised he would’ve no doubt made some innuendo about it.

Exhausted from their chase and thoroughly cuffed, all Logan could do was let himself be loaded into the back of the cop car with Remus and the anxious emo.

‘You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn (hey ay)

You can set yourself on fire (hey ay)

But you're never gonna learn, learn, learn hey!’

“Mmm… Logan, can you-”, Remus burped a little too wetly for it not to make Logan feel as queasy as Remus looked, “Can you stroke my hair? Pleeeeeease?”

Sighing in that playful kind of annoyance only true love can allow, Logan did as asked. The night may wind up with him being harshly reprimanded by his father and possibly losing his come-and-go privileges, but at least for now he had Remus.

“...... I’m sorry.”, came the rough voice of the emo in the cell next to theirs, “You both wouldn’t be stuck here if it wasn’t for me.”

Remus just gave a dismissive grunt in reply while Logan assured their cell companion, “While you may have led the police to us, I doubt our proclivity for fiery vandalism would’ve kept going undetected forever.”, he looked the emo up and down, “Might I ask,...?”

“Virgil.”

“Virgil,”, Logan repeated, “Might I ask how you ended up stumbling across us?”

Virgil shrugged, “I’ve been painting the underpass for years. Pretty much everything down there’s something I’ve done.”.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I had a shitty night so I came down to paint something when I walked in on you two getting all ‘friendly’,”, he airquoted, “So I went to go home but I got stopped by an officer and started panicking. So I just…. ran.”

His posture curled a little while he twirled Logan’s lighter between his fingers in a stimming action, “Then I realised I was way too fucking close to the fire and I blacked out.”, Virgil embarrassedly pulled his hood up, “Fire scares the shit outta me, always has. Next thing I knew, I woke up with you staring at me. You both know the rest.”

Logan nodded quietly. It really did fill in a few gaps, “I can’t blame you for not wanting to stick around. I do apologise that we inadvertently ruined your night.”

Virgil shrugged, “Eh, it’s alright, it’s just gonna suck having to have my dads bail me out again. Not that dad would mind but pops will probably gimme another lecture about ‘unhealthy coping habits’ again....”

At that, they sat for the most part in silence. Then that song began to trickle into Logan’s brain again. As nice as it had been in accompaniment to their antics before, Logan found it almost grating now. He sighed and gently nudged Remus,

“Re-”

“Logan, babe,”, Remus groaned, beating him to the punch, “Can you fuckin’ give it a rest with the music? M’fuckin’ head hurts.”

“....But you’re the one who’s been thinking about that song, right!?”, Logan’s concern was obvious. Remus caught on as well.

“No!? I thought it was you!?”, he sloppily hauled himself onto Logan’s lap, pressing their foreheads together, “Issokay babe, I won’t let-”, he stifled a burp though it did nothing to save Logan from Remus’ drunken breath, “Won’t let fate change our soul bond! I’ll fuckin- I’ll whip out my brain surgery skills right here if I gotta-”

“Remus!”, Logan sternly held him back a little, “Calm down, let’s just try and think rationally, okay!?”

“.... Have you ever MET me, you stupid sexy science bitch?”, Remus cackled at the alliteration.

“Please be serious for once.”, Logan sighed, fixing his glasses in a self calming gesture, “Do you know the name of the song in your head?”

“Yeah, iss fuckin’ um...”, Remus clicked his fingers in thought, trying to place it, “S’fuckin Scream In The Club, or some shit who sings it...”

“..... You mean, Panic At The Disco?”, came Virgil’s voice from the neighbouring cell.

Remus pointed dramatically, “THATS THE BITCH!”. He put his fist to his chest to stifle another burp, instead taking a second to turn and spit out some of the awful taste on his tongue, “Fuckin’... the lyrics were like…. “You can set yourself-””

“- On fire?!”, Virgil finished, looking rather interested in the conversation now.

Logan nodded between the two of them, “Yes, that’s the same opening line I remember. Virgil, I take it you’re familiar with the song?”

“Well yeah, and I’ll do you one better. Uh,....”, he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I’ve had that song stuck in my head all night.”

Remus and Logan shared a look of shock. Could Virgil really be their soulmate? It would explain the times when they would hear music that didn’t seem to line up with each other’s tastes. Before Logan could propose a test, Remus was way ahead of him; he rolled his eyes as the music flooded into his skull.

Virgil brightened up, “Ashnikko, huh? Good choice-”

“HOLY SHIT, LOGAN, WE GOT-! WE GOT ANOTHER ONE!!”, Remus screeched, wriggling excitedly in Logan’s lap, almost causing his boyfriend to drop him.

“Indeed.”, Logan sighed fondly as he tried to get Remus to sit back down on the bench instead of his lap, “So now you better call Roman and see if he can bail us ALL out..”

----------

... I know I won’t probably be able to catch up but hell with it, I love some of the prompt ideas, I’ll just stop tagging the blog if I run over at this point.

A big thanks to @accidental-sanders for the idea for this one, it was really fun to do.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

#analomus #intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #my fics #fanfics #logan #virgil #remus #crazy = genius #songfic #soulmate september #I'm still going I s2g #I miiight put these all up on my ao3 tbh

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years

Text

Ancient

Linktober Prompt Day 21/31

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild

Word Count: 2,036

Triggers: None

She was brimming with excitement.

Link couldn’t keep his eyes off of her giddy smile, like at every second she was about to chuckle or laugh. She was absolutely bursting with anticipation.

Until, of course, her smile was out of his sight completely, Zelda rushing forward at the very sight of the Akkala laboratory.

“Come on, slowpoke,” she said, turning around to face Link while still walking backwards up the hill. Link caught a glimpse of her smile before she turned and ran up the hill. It warmed his heart as he continued to walk.

He caught up to her at the door. Her hands were behind her back and her feet were teetering her weight back and forth. Link wondered at how she wasn’t out of breath running up that hill.

“It’s unlocked, you know,” Link said as he came up next to her. “You can go in.”

“As excited as I am, Link, I’m not about to close the door in your face.”

Skies, that smile was ethereal. No wonder she was descended from a literal goddess.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Link said before looking between her and the door. “Well? Go ahead.”

Zelda bit her lip with a quiet daring in her green eyes, talking two steps forward and knocking on the door.

“Robbie!” A woman exclaimed. “We have guests!”

After only a couple footsteps, the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman with a neighborly smile. She looked to Zelda first and, not recognizing the Princess in the slightest, focused on Link.

“Why Link!” She exclaimed. “If you’re here to use Cherry, you don’t need to knock. Come on in!”

She stepped aside, Zelda entering first, but very slowly, spinning around and taking in the whole room of messy research that matched so much the inside of her brain. Link perched himself in the open doorway, crossing his arms and feet and leaning against the frame, of course with a smile of adoration towards his Princess.

Before the woman could even inhale to introduce herself, Zelda had rushed towards the Ancient Oven, standing on her knees and studying it with a hand on the head.

“Oh, Miss, I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” the woman said with a step forward. “Robbie isn’t too fond of strangers touching Cherry.”

Zelda turned her head.

“He named it Cherry?”

“Yes,” the woman said, her voice taking on a slight frustration at the reminder. “After his—“

“First love,” Zelda finished, to the woman’s surprise. “I remember.”

Zelda turned her head back to studying the furnace.

“She must have perished in the Calamity,” Zelda said quietly, before her mind started really focusing on the technology. “Remarkable. I was there when he drew it up. I never thought it would actually work, but he must have found a way around the interface incompatibility. Does it really repurpose ancient energy? How did he contain the power of the blue flame? Unless it’s rerouted through the conduits like a guidance stone. But even then, creating an intelligence able to take and receive orders is a feat on its own. I wonder how he managed it considering the margins of error.”

She beamed a smile back at Link.

“This is incredible.”

“Incredible, huh?” She heard a much older voice spout, standing up. “Has my wife finally come around to my precious Cherry?”

He came about to Zelda’s sights, looked up and his jaw dropped.

“Your Highness!” He exclaimed suddenly, his arms extending outwards and making him look like a starfish. “What a surprise! And a miracle! You have no idea how many specs I wanted to run through your brain over the years. I almost took up a sword and rescued you myself!”

“Your Highness?” The woman asked with a step forward.

“Yes!” Robbie said, placing his hands up his hips. “This is none another than Princess Zelda herself. Wrestled from her prison with the Calamity by none other than our Link!”

“I apologize for not recognizing you,” the woman said, shaking hands with Zelda. “The Calamity was long before my time, thirty years before I was born to be exact. My name is Jerrin.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Zelda said.

“If you’re the Princess,” she said. “That means you knew Robbie when he was…what…about twenty?”

Zelda nodded.

“Yes, all of them,” she said. “Purah, Impa, Cherry. We worked closely together on studying sheikah technology.”

“And we’ll be happy to catch you up,” Robbie said. “Although I can’t help but obsess over the fact that you called Cherry incredible. She doesn’t get a lot of appreciation around here.”

“Robbie,” Zelda insisted. “Cherry is absolutely marvelous, how did you…”

They emerged into what Link would describe as incoherent technobabble between the both of them, finishing each other’s sentences and poking and prodding every inch of the ancient oven. Link watched amused as Jerrin sauntered over to him, the words flying completely over his head but Zelda’s smile shooting straight into his heart.

“She’s an interesting one, isn’t she?” Jerrin asked, stopping next to Link. “Not what I would expect of a Princess.”

“No, not at all,” Link said, watching Zelda.

“You saved her from the Calamity but before that, you were her…?”

“Knight attendant,” Link answered, Jerrin nodding.

“Do you know if she plans to rebuild the kingdom?” Jerrin asked.

“I’m not sure,” Link said, finally turning his head. “She mentioned something about it last week but she seems so much happier here in the wild that I wouldn’t be surprised if she just let it be. The people of Hyrule have gotten used to life without a centralized kingdom and although it could help unify it, I think Hyrule can prosper either way with the Calamity now gone. Really, I think it’s up to her as to what she wants her future to be.”

Jerrin nodded.

“And you’ll continue to protect her?” She asked. “Without being sworn to by a standing kingdom?”

Link almost laughed.

“I can’t imagine myself not,” Link said. “I plan to protect her and love her as long as me being by her side makes her happy.”

“That answers my next question,” Jerrin mused before Link felt Zelda grab his arm, pulling him further into the lab and in front of the oven.

“Put something in!” She exclaimed. “I want to see what we can get!”

“All that are available are weapons, Your Highness,” Robbie said. “Link already purchased the guardian armor a while ago.”

Zelda’s head spin to Link was quick.

“What?”

“Oh, right,” Link said, clearly forgetting.

“Are you serious?” She said before taking his hand with both of hers and pressing up against his arm. “Armor made from repurposed guardian parts…how could you keep this from me?”

Link looked into her face with a blushing smile.

“Oh? Did you want to see it?” Link asked teasingly.

Zelda nodded quickly.

“Yes, please.”

Link pecked her lips.

“Okay.”

He stepped a bit away from Zelda, rummaging in his seemingly endless inventory before he realized that Jerrin, Robbie, and Zelda were all staring at him expectantly.

“I know I took my shirt off in here once, but maybe a bit of privacy?”

They quickly realized their error, Robbie returning up the stairs to peer up at the encroaching stars of the approaching night and Jerrin leaving to find a merchant at the nearby stable to collect ingredients for dinner.

Zelda waited outside impatiently for Link to emerge, and it seemed the longest five minutes she had ever experienced. She was even surprised at her lack of patience, keeping Ganon at bay for one hundred long years.

The door opened and her heart quickened, pushing away her immediate thoughts as she really studied him, Link stepping out with a slight spin.

“One guardian-covered significant other ready to be studied.”

“Fascinating,” she breathed, stepping forward. She touched the inactive guardian eye on his helm first. She walked around him, her hand grazing along his shoulder, his back, before she stopped at his left hip, kneeling, her fingertips tracing the orange lines of the greaves.

“How does it do against Guardian attacks?” She asked.

“It isn’t impervious,” Link explained. “But I take less damage. The burns are less severe, barely even showing up. If it hits directly it only burns the armor.”

Zelda nodded.

“Just like they are to each other,” she said. “Their lasers can harm each other, but not as easily as flesh.”

She looked up.

“In an early stage, Robbie mentioned auto-regeneration. Does this have that?”

“Auto regeneration?” Link asked.

“He talked about channeling the type of energy from the Shrine of Resurrection, the energy that healed your injuries. If you took damage, the armor would slowly heal you.”

“No,” Link said with a shake of his head. “Nothing like that.”

Zelda nodded as she sat up.

“Again, the compatibility issue,” she said. “Different types of sheikah technology don’t transfer well without a proper conduit like a guidance stone, to funnel the flame into a different phase of matter. But the Shrine of Resurrection isn’t powered by any flame we could find. To this day, we still don’t know how the ancient Sheikah repurposed the energy to heal wounds.”

Link loved the way she went on and on, happily standing still to prompt it.

“This armor really is amazing,” she said with a chuckle. “I can tell what type of guardian each one of these parts came from, even since they’ve been repurposed.”

Her eyes shifted to the helm, noticing Link’s unrestrained hair.

“I imagine you took out your hair because the ponytail wouldn’t fit under that helm.”

Link nodded.

“It was pretty uncomfortable otherwise.”

Zelda stepped back, placing her finger on her lips. Link expecting her to make another scientific observation with the way her green eyes scanned him.

“That blue fabric underneath is made by the Sheikah, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s pretty tight,” she said with a smile.

What Zelda could see of Link’s face flushed red.

“Turn around again,” Zelda commanded, with a swivel of her finger.

“I thought you were interested in this for research purposes,” Link said as Zelda tipped her head.

“Oh, I am,” she said. “But it just flatters you so well. It’s an added bonus”

“Okay,” Link said turning around. “Now you are just looking at my butt.”

“I got distracted,” Zelda said. “You can pull off anything. Usually you aren’t wearing what I’m studying. I’d never get anything done.”

“I suppose I see what you mean,” Link said. “If I had you along on one of my adventures, I’d lose my head completely. If we had to save Hyrule again, it would end horribly because I’d be so distracted by you.”

“Link,” she said with a smile and shakes of her head. “You say the absolute worst things with the absolute best intentions."

Zelda walked forward and tipped the helm up so she could she his blue eyes.

“Although, I do agree with you that the end of Calamity Ganon being the end of our troubles is a good thing. Nothing lurking, nothing waiting for our death, or for its next move, just us.”

Zelda took off the helm completely before seeing him with his hair down for the first time. She ran her fingers through it slowly as Link’s eyes flitted to her lips. Zelda’s hand stopped itself on the back of his head, clutching his golden locks and bringing his forehead to meet hers. Her other arm was around his neck, with the helm dangling off her fingers

“Kissing me in guardian armor must be…”

“A turn on?” She breathed, finishing his sentence. “Yep.”

She kissed him, only after a couple seconds their heads tilting to let each other in, their mouths opening and their kiss deepening.

Link picked her up with his next breath as they continued, her body pressed up against his as he leaned back, holding her tight. He set her down gently.

“But honestly, Link,” Zelda said breathlessly. “It’s mostly you. Technology or not, I’ll always love you no matter what you wear…or no matter how little you understand my…what did you call it? Technobabble?”

Link nodded.

“And I love you for it."

#linktober #zelink #zelda #link #tloz #botw #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild #breath of the wild 2 #botw 2 #robbie #cherry #jerrin #sheikah #ancient armor

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Thank you kindly, sir part 2 (Keanu x (f)Reader)

Summary: AU. After your failed audition, you head to Keanu’s auto shop so he can fulfill his promise.

A/N: This a follow up to this work and since I’m drawing blanks on new titles, I’m keeping the same. LOL. Also, I decided to write with a plus size, latina reader in mind because I don’t think I ever read a story with that combo and my brain decided that was the way to go!

Wordcount: 1,8k

Warnings: smut (rough, unprotected sex; degradation kink; spanking and choking)

You weren’t even that surprised at how much of a mess the audition ended being. You had barely any time to prepare and you knew the second you stepped inside the room that the director didn’t like what he saw. Maybe it was the fact that you were a Latina woman with actual curves, unlike all the other candidates who were paler than glowsticks and just as thin.

Whatever it was, you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t pleased and it was enough to make you self-conscious and caught up in your head. You stumbled over the text twice and before you could even have a chance to apologize and ask for another try, he was cutting you off with a thank you and a promise of a call you knew it would never come.

With a sigh, you rolled up your script and stepped out of the room, dejected and depressed, wanting nothing more than to gorge yourself and a greasy burger and enough milkshake drown sorrows.

Instead, you chew on the protein bar you kept on your glove compartment and that tasted like cardboard since you couldn’t exactly afford to spend too much money. Not when you have to gave have your piece of shit car fixed. So while you chewed on the tasteless snack, you googled the address for Keanu’s auto shop. If you couldn’t eat away your sadness, maybe he could fuck it out of you.

The place was unlike any auto shop you had ever seen. All glass walls and sleek metal countertops, very modern. The cars waiting for service were all Porsches and Audis, expensive and high end, unlike your battered old Chevy from twenty years ago.

The clientele also was a distant cry from you. Men and women on their fifties, dressed to the nines, sipping water or coffee from elegant glasses and cups. They all eyed you with mistrust with your tight jeans shorts, oversized buttondown, and dirty converse.

“Hi, I’m looking for Keanu,” you asked the women in the front desk, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as she eyed you from the top of your head to the tip of your sneakers.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked her nose so high in the air you wondered if she could see anything at all.

“Not really,” you shrugged. “He just said I should stop by and he would take a look at my car.” You glanced behind yourself at the parking lot and she followed your gaze, snorting at the sight of your Chevy.

“We don’t really work with that kind of... vehicle.”

“Can you just call him, please?” You asked losing your patience with this bitch.

With a grimace of disdain, she followed your instructions, her little smirk turning into a pale, terrified look that filled your heart with satisfaction.

“Mr. Reeves said you can leave your keys with me and the boys will bring your car inside. You can go ahead and meet him in his office.”

“Thank you,” you flashed her a victorious smirk, setting your car keys on her waiting hand before sauntering to the stairs, putting and extra sway in your hips, and knowing all eyes were on your ass. It was a very nice ass after all!

It took you only a couple minutes to find Keanu’s office, his name etched with dark red paint on the dark wood. You knocked once, before stepping inside and he looked up at you with a small smile, phone glued to his ear as he spoke to someone in Italian, if you weren’t mistaken.

You took the time to look around at the elegant looking office, dark wood furniture and black leather couch and chair; metal and glass desk, walls adorned with pictures of sports motorcycles much like the one you saw Keanu riding last night.

“Sorry about that,” he said finally setting down his phone and standing up, he was dressed in a light blue button-down and tan slacks. “It was a supplier.”

“No problem,” you turned to face him, eyebrow cocked. “I thought you said you were a mechanic.”

“I am,” he replied with a smirk, leaning again his desk. “At heart, at least.”

“Right,” you chuckled, checking him out. Under the bright light of his office, he looked even more handsome.

“How was the audition?” He asked, taking his phone again and dialing a number. “Barbara, hold all my calls for now, please. Thanks.”

“It was pure crap,” you huffed walking over to him, and even though he was slouching slightly, you still needed to tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes. “So I hope this visit can save the day for me.”

“You’re talking about your car or...?”

“That too.” You smiled, resting your hands on his strong chest. “But I seem to remember someone promising to fuck my pretty little pussy so...”

“That can be arranged,” Keanu smirked, large palms warm against your waist as he tugged you gently until you were standing between his legs and he could catch your lips in a kiss.

At first, it was so soft, his tongue coaxing yours into a slow, sensuous dance, while his fingers explored your heated skin beneath your shirt. And as nice as it felt, it wasn’t what you wanted or needed.

You pressed closer, your tongue tangling with his, searching for more. Your fingers nimbly undoing his buttons, as you swung a leg over his strong thigh, straddling it and rocking against the hard muscle.

“You’re not very good at foreplay, huh?” He teased, nipping at your lower lip but catching on with the program and undoing your shirt until your black bra was in display.

“I’m a straight to the main event kinda gal,” you smirked at him, bending down to press kisses to the exposed skin of his chest, while he cupped and kneaded your breasts, making tendrils of pleasure swirl in your center. Unfortunately, it was just too little to do anything for you. “I’m not made of glass, Keanu. You can be rougher.”

“How much rougher?” He asked interest peaked if the bulge in his pants was any evidence.

“Shove me down on your desk and fuck me until I can’t stand straight. Make me your little whore.”

“Jesus!” He hissed, his eyes darkening as he looked at you.

“Choke me and slap my ass. Leave bruises all over my body.”

His kiss this time was hungry and desperate, almost bruising and you loved it, your nails sinking on his shoulder as you rocked against his thigh, your cunt throbbing with the friction but it wasn’t enough.

You palmed his erection, feeling the thick length of his cock pulsing against your hand as Keanu shoved the lace of your bra down and exposed your nipples to the unnaturally cold air of his office, making them perk up. You groaned when he pinched and pulled at them and this time the bolts of pleasure gathering in your center were sharp and intense, making that knot of arousal grow.

One of his hands fell to your ass, guiding your movements, making your ride his thigh faster, harder and you keened in his mouth, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer.

“Not yet, pet,” Keanu said, forcing you to stop. “You don’t cum without me.”

The harsh edge of command made you cunt throb and you nodded obediently, letting Keanu manhandle you until you were face-first on his desk, ass in the air and you flinched at the first sharp slap on your cheek, the fabric of your shorts doing very little to soothe the sting.

He reached around you, to undo your buttons before shoving them and your panties down your legs, hands cupping your ass as he hummed appreciatively before Keanu slapped you again making you whine and buck.

“Is that how you wanted?” Keanu asked against your ear and you could feel his erection rubbing against your drenched cunt, teasing you with temptation. You didn’t even notice him taking off his pants.

“Yes,” you gasped, pushing your ass back against him. “Exactly like that.”

Keanu just hummed, rubbing his head against your folds and you moaned, needing him inside your right the fuck now.

“I’m waiting, pet.” There were amusement and expectation in his tone and suddenly you knew what he was waiting for.

“Please, Keanu, fuck me. Fill my pussy. Make me your slut.”

“Oh baby,” he chuckled against your ear, hand coming to your throat and squeezing just the perfect amount to make you gasp and your sight blur. “You already are.”

He thrust in with one swift motion, making your cry out at being filled so wide and fast. Your entire body shook with the effort of staying still; of keeping any modicum of self-control but your higher brain function had shut down, leaving only the primal need of being taken and used. Soon enough you were rocking against him, grinding your hips to elicit those familiar bolts of pleasure, that sweet tension of desire in your core. It was enough for Keanu to take the hint and start to thrust, slow and steady and so not enough.

“Harder, please. I need it.”

He complied, using his hold on your throat as leverage to start snapping his hips so hard you heard the table groan and squeak beneath you. Now you had it. The delicious pulsing of your walls trying to pull his cock deeper inside you, his tip hitting that blessed spot with forceful thrust and you had never seen stars quite like that but when your orgasm overtook you, your sight blacked out suddenly leaving only all-consuming pleasure as your quaked and writhed and moaned beneath him.

You heard Keanu curse and hiss above you, his pace losing its coordination, becoming sloppier, even harder and you could feel your walls clenching tight around him, trying to keep him deep inside you.

“Come on baby,” you encouraged, breathlessly. “Cum inside me. I wanna feel you slicking up my thighs all the way to San Francisco.”

Keanu grunted and tugged you up until your back was pressed against his chest and he could grind into you, his hot breath against your ear.

“You have such a dirty mouth, pet. Beg.”

“Please, please, cum inside me,” you sighed, feeling the heat in your cunt start up again just as Keanu stilled. You felt his warm cum coating your walls as he groaned against your ear.

You two stayed together, catching your breath until Keanu pulled out and you felt the mess of fluids start to trickle down but you just pulled your shorts up, flashing him a dirty smirk.

“So was it worth the visit?” Keanu asked with a smirk of his own.

“Definitely.”

—

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#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #fanfic #plus size!reader #latina!reader #alternate universe #mechanic!keanu reeves

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter.

Crimson Butterflies

Ao3

Chapter 1: Falling Under Hard Times

Touya took a long drag of his cigarette, enjoying the flood of smoke into his mouth and nose and the stimulating nicotine within. His cyan eyes were lidded as he half-basked in the darkness of the alleyway, yet despite his apparent loitering, his gaze was keenly fixated on the man waxing the hood of his sleek cobalt blue Porsche across the street. The man had some gall, preening in his five-hundred-dollar leather jacket and designer skinny jeans in this part of town; he was obviously just looking for a quick fuck, as he increased his efforts every time a woman walked by. He’d sidle around the edge of the car, making a show of flexing his muscles as he swept the wax-coated rag over the smooth blue, shining surface of his sports car. He’d then flash a wink and a dazzling smile, making the demure girls giggle and prance away in their heels. Touya wasn’t sure how many girls he intended to hustle this evening, considering he’d netted ten phone numbers in the hour that Touya had been watching him from the gloom.

Just go in the bar and get to schmoozin’ some bimbo, already, Touya grumped, leaning against the cold, grime-coated alleyway wall with a scowl. I’m tired of watchin’ you cast your net for gold diggers. Though, Touya supposed that he wasn’t much better than those gold diggers, considering he was spying on the man with the intent to steal the Porsche he’s pretended to clean for the last hour. The sun was sinking below the cityline, catching on the rigid corners of the skyscrapers to scatter the beams and send bright yellow rays of light spearing in all directions. The day was ending and night was beginning, and soon, beasts like Touya would come out to prowl. This really was no place for a big-headed moron like that to be flaunting his car, but then again, that’s what allowed Touya to conduct business.

A street urchin had to eat, and it was gonna be good pickings when a Porsche was involved.

After five more minutes, it was clear to Touya that the man had no intentions of retreating into the bar until the sun had completely withdrawn from the sky. Touya’s gaze began to wander, exploring the different shops crammed into the plots lining the cracked tar and disjointed sidewalk of the boulevard. His cerulean eyes landed on the flickering static of an older, box-style television perched on a wooden box in the display case of an electronics store. Electronics always sell well, Touya thought, pushing himself away from the wall.

He barely glanced left and right before stepping off the sidewalk to saunter across the street. The man glanced in his direction, doing a double-take when he noticed the dark blue-purple scars and staples holding his skin together. Touya was quite used to the stares and surprised looks, but that didn’t stop him from flipping the pretentious bastard the bird. The man flushed and busied himself with fake-shining his Porsche. At least he had some common sense, but that wouldn’t help when Touya decided to nab his precious car.

A little bell twinkled weakly to signal Touya’s arrival into the electronics store. A ceiling fan circled slowly above his head, accented by the floor fan noisily spilling air towards the front counter. A man drinking Scotch grunted at Touya, not even bothering to look up from the pornogrpahic magazine he was flipping through. Touya almost felt bad slipping his hand inside his coat pocket to reach for his pistol, because he had to respect the sheer energy exuding from this old dude.

“I ain’t got nothin’ for ya ta take, youngun,” the man huffed as Touya approached the counter. It made him smirk; this clearly wasn’t the old-timer’s first rodeo. “If yer just killin’ time until that prick abandons his Porsche next door, I would appreciate if ya just left a fella alone. I got a granddaughter to feed, and not enough money to put food on the table with you upstarts struttin’ in here every week stickin’ me up.”

Touya slid his hand free of his pistol to lean up against the counter and lean his cheek in his hand. A street urchin had to have respect for a fellow man fallen under hard times. The old man’s gaze flickered up from his magazine finally, but when he realized that Touya wasn’t pointing a gun at him, he resumed ogling at the nude woman draped across the hood of a car in a very provocative and revealing pose.

“Does your granddaughter know you’re spending money on porn mags instead of food?”

“Tch. I nicked this from her good-for-nothin’ daddy’s stash,” the old man countered. He grabbed the plastic water bottle beside him, half-filled with the dark brown slosh of tobacco dip, and loudly spit into it. He snorted very unnattractively before giving Touya a tired look. “Does your momma know yer out here robbin’ poor old men blind?”

“You’re mistaken, old man. I’m just out here robbing rich stuck-up folks blind,” Touya smirked. The old man nodded appreciatively before looking back to his magazine. “Ain’t got a momma, anyway. At least, not one that cares.” Frowning, Touya picked at the fraying lining of the counter while the old man snorted with an understanding nod. After basking in comfortable silence with the old-timer, just listening to the flip of the plasticy magazine pages and the rumbling of the old fan, Touya looked outside to see that the Porsche was finally abandoned.

“Don’t get yerself caught,” the old man said without looking up when Touya sauntered back toward the front door.

“Don’t rat me out,” Touya countered, turning around with a smirk to walk backwards out the door. The little bell chimed farewell as he spun on his heel, a bounce in his step as he approached the Porsche. It really was a sexy car, shining oceanic blue as the fading sunlight played over its surface. Touya didn’t even spare a glance around to see if he was being watched as he strutted up to the driver’s side and tried the door handle. Unbelievable, he thought incredulously as it unlatched without resistance and pulled open. What a smug bastard.

Touya half-expected for the keys to fall out when he pulled down the sun blinder, but apparently the man wasn’t that foolish. Just as he was preparing to crawl into the car to start digging into its electrical innards, he heard a pained whimper.

Eyes narrowed, he looked over the roof of the car in the direction he thought the noise had come from. An alley loomed before him, shrouded in darkness as the sun continued to sink lower and lower. He wondered if he’d imagined it until he heard it again— a high-pitched whine, this time followed by an agonized moan. Curious, he closed the door to the Porsche and slowly walked around the front of the car, angling his head to try and peer into the shadows. He could seek a wobbly, shadowy blob in the gloom, slumped beside a dull gray trash can.

“Hello?” he called, stepping into the entrance of the alley. His shadow stretched across the dirt-coated cobblestone, long and ominous; it made the strange figure flinch and curl into a ball, another whimper echoing in the dark. Touya debated just letting it alone until he caught the sight of bright red smears on the ground. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking back up at the strange, trembling figure. Slowly, he walked forward, holding out his friends to maintain a non-threatening posture. “I know I look like a monster, but I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he joked. “If you’re injured, I can help ya.”

The shadow wobbled beside the trash can, debating; it didn’t flee as Touya crept closer. He stepped aside, allowing the light to fall over the stranger. The last beams of the sunlight spilled in now that it was unobstructed, illuminating a girl huddled beside the trash can, her expression pained as she pressed her hand into her left side. Touya could see crimson blood oozing through her fingers and staining her white form-fitting dress. Her black stockings were scuffed and torn in several places, like she’d fallen several times, and she was missing one of her boots. Her wild blond hair was crimped and tangled with dirt, twigs, and leaves, and her face was a bruised and bloody mess. She’d clearly suffered a beating.

Touya wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved in that. Whoever beat this girl to a pulp was probably nearby, and if this was a lover’s quarrel, that was the police’s business, not his. His ticket to at least a month of high living was parked just a few yards away; if he bothered with this girl, he certainly wouldn’t be able to make off with the Porsche and go sell it to his auto dealer. As if she could see his interest waning, the girl reached out to clutch at the tattered end of his coat.

“Please,” she begged hoarsely. “Please don’t leave me…”

Well, damn, he thought, his mouth twitching down into a frown. Sure, he was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t heartless; how could he refuse her, when she was bleeding out and pleading so pathetically? Her eyelashes fluttered as she let out another small groan, body swaying as she struggled to stay conscious. She lost the strength to continue to tug at the hem of his jacket, but as her hand slipped away, Touya quickly leaned down to gently grasp her hand. He ran the pad of his thumb over the scrapes and bruises over the top of her hand while he crouched down, looking the tired girl square in her hazy eyes.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you,” he promised quietly. Her eyes flooded with tears and then rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and dirt staining her face. They then fluttered shut as the relief overwhelmed her, finally sending her into unconsciousness. Touya caught her when she slumped against him. “Jeez… What have you gotten me into?” he sighed with a wan smile and nestled her head into his shoulder; her labored breaths puffed against his scarred neck, but no answer. As gently as he could, he bundled her small body into his arms and stood. She whimpered, her fingers clawing into his shirt and blood staining the material. She snuggled into him, seeking his warmth and comfort, and Touya couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Clingy, aren’tcha?” he chuckled, adjusting her to make her fit more comfortably against him. He turned to look longingly at the Porsche. The owner had procured some company; the girl giggled and touched his arm seductively as she sat in the passenger seat, making sure to spread her legs just enough to give him a peek of the show to come. The man wasted no time in rushing to the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life and the tail lights flashed crimson in the gloom, the beams refracting like the wings of red butterflies as he zoomed off with what could have been Touya’s prize.

Touya looked down at the unconscious girl sleeping fitfully in his arms. Would his consolation prize turn out to be better than the original, or was he getting himself into something far more troublesome than he imagined? He supposed he’d just have to find out. He turned on his heel to melt into the shadows, leaving the city streets he knew too well behind him.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

#dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #moe kamiji #kamiji moe #burnin x dabi #dabi x burnin #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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vminity21 · 4 years

Text

Whimsical | knj

Pairing: Student!Namjoon x female!reader

Genre: fluff/mildangst

Word Count: 4,788

Warning(s): mild language use, slight angst involving the struggles of adulting, tooth rotting fluff, Rating: pg

Summary: Living paycheck to paycheck after moving to Gyeongju has done nothing but plague a bundle of stress upon you. Deciding to take a stroll where the cherry blossoms abundantly bloom, you did not expect to run into an acquaintance of the past; and you definitely did not expect the measure he takes to make sure your burdens are lifted off your shoulders.

“What do you mean it costs this much?” When shock mingling with frustration forms into an exasperated sigh, your hand rakes through your hair in disbelief portraying the definition of stress in its purest authenticity. Your fingers that are curled around the auto insurance bill leave small indents behind when the dreaded piece of paper is now being placed upon the table. “Damnit,” tears flood your eyes while your palms shadow over your cheeks. You have already set money aside to save for the rent for your apartment along with your car payment as well as savings toward your electricity cost. Today, the discovery of your current expense being fifty more dollars than usual means that, yet another week goes by with surviving off the little groceries you have left stored in your pantry.

Shoving out of your jacket, the light air of spring has begun, and for once, you would like to appreciate nature without the anxious feeling of life overwhelming your mind. Eyes scanning the vacancy of your apartment, loneliness returns, and the yearn to hear your mother’s voice has never felt so painful. It has only been six months since you moved hours away for a job offer that you felt would be a good opportunity to further you into the career you have sought for. But, never in your existence did you dream that living paycheck to paycheck could bring so much misery, and hardly being able to speak to your mother has been weighing heavy on your conscious, but your determination to make her proud is what matters to you the most.

The jingle of your keys resonates the living room congruent with the shift of your feet wiggling into your tennis shoes. If there is anywhere you want to be right now, it’s not in this apartment, not near the opened envelopes of woe, not near your bedroom that reminds you of your exhaustion, and not near the refrigerator that is empty of any content that can fill your tummy. The drive to the local park flourishing with pinks and whites of cherry blossoms comes into view quicker than you anticipate, and with schools being in session, the area is not as crowded as it would be on the weekends. Petals float in the wind, swooping to the ground to paint the cement with color- your footsteps slow when the tunnel of tree branches exuberates perfumes of the florets to ease your tense frame.

You return to work tomorrow, but gratefully there is plenty of hours left in the day to explore, and with the solace of the atmosphere, it feels nice to escape from the turmoil of watching your paycheck disappear in order to live. A bench appears further into the path, mahogany tint with protruding sunlight breaking through the trees. Memories of what you consider your ‘past life’ churns with images of times where your grandfather shared stories of his childhood speaking lines of wisdom that encouraged you to be the person that you will and have become. He was the first soul to bring you to a park when you were younger, giving you a tour of what all there was to see- your almond eyes widened with wonder, gripping his hand while you would point out all the sights.

You miss those days more than you will profess, wishing you can relive them especially with what you have been enduring since your move. Gaze dropping to your shoes, hands in pockets- you gasp in surprise when your shoulder meets the figure of someone walking from the opposite direction,

“I’m sorry!” Panic is etched in your voice while you swiftly bow, a blush creeping to your cheeks in embarrassment when your steps quicken along the path. The tone belongs to a man who apologizes in return, yet your eyes keep their focus away from him; you’re very timid, something you’ve struggled with since the day you were born, and it’s hard enough to face your fears as it is, and uncertain on if the stranger would have been angry with you, you find it best to pretend it never happened. At least here, you feel safe alongside nature, and when the familiar sound of a rippling lake perks your auditory senses, a small tug of relief pulls at the corner of your lips, and the earlier chagrin of interrupting someone on their tread will no longer disturb your meditation.

Something seems familiar about this place. Blusterous winds streaming through strands of your hair that tickle your shoulders beneath the blinding rays of the sun where grass pokes at your legs that are exposed from the end of your dress wrinkled upon your thighs. Cumulus clouds keep their distance from the beams flickering immensely within the blanket of blue, brightening the vibrancy of yellow flowers swaying beside stems of rubicund leaflets enhancing the field in iridescent whispers of delicacy.

You have seen this all before somewhere in the slumbers of imagination where your heart aches for peace such as this. Steeps of ornate mountains encompass the field in lavender shades collecting the finishing touches of scenery your dreams desire. But, there is something different. Rather, the sense that you are alone diminishes which prompts your vision to parade the panorama of daylight until a figure enters a distance ahead of you. A pile of wispy, light hair clears to reveal a man, eyes closed- the backs of his hands posed upon his knees leading to his fingers aimed upward mirroring the position you are in. How he seems so close when he is far away startles you even while you memorize the sight of his thick lips lying in a straight line of content.

Your head tilts in profound concentration of where you may have seen him- where you may have known him, but you come up empty, for here in this world of tranquility, you have not seen him here before. There is a strange ponder of wanting to rise to your feet, but you lean forward instead, observing the slow rise and fall of his chest where he breathes in and out deeply. He is clothed in white, darkening his already tanned skin- your stare tracing from his neck to see his face once more, and when your lids squint to study him,

He opens his eyes-

“Ma’am? Ma’am,” the echo of a calm voice breaks through enough to awaken your bleary eyes, “Ma’am, are you okay?” Drool gathered at the corner of your mouth you swipe with the hem of your sleeve; your eyes are sensitive from how bright it is outside, and it takes a moment for them to adjust once you turn your head gradually in order to remember where you are. The flowing trickles of water, the soreness of your back scratching from the log of a tree, and the soft squeeze of a large hand on your shoulder alarms you enough to realize you fell asleep while reminiscing at the lake.

You refrain from cursing under your breath when nerves shoot through your veins, gathering yourself enough to look at whoever is hovering above you. Stuttering to find words, you weakly accept the strong hand offered to you to help you up. Concern is etched in the shape of brown irises reading your stare while nostalgia fogs your brain. “Do I- do I know you?” Your voice is hardly a murmur, but he timidly steps away, the familiarity of his face bringing a quiet gasp to your parting lips.

“We, uh, we um, ran into each other earlier,”

“Oh no,” shame shudders your shoulders when you press your forehead into your palm to lightly rub your eyes, “God, I’m so sorry-”

“No, no it’s okay! Really, it’s okay. It was an accident-”

“I should have watched where I was going-”

“Well, I should have, too.”

With a creased forehead, your body is still recovering from your unexpected nap, and you’re trying to feign bravery to return your eyes to the stranger whose hair is hidden within a black beanie, yet blonde tufts brush the tips of his ears. Dimples illuminate his rising cheeks from the tiny grin embellishing his expression, and dialogue disappears from your tongue at the noticing of how exquisite he is.

“Kim Namjoon,” his large hand swallows yours as it did minutes ago, but this time in a polite shake of greeting.

“I’m [Y/N],” you nod seeing his grin widen to cause a silent sweep of relief to your system.

“Wait a minute,” your eyelids enlarge from the recognition now embracing your thoughts. Flashbacks from high school smother you immediately when the images of a quiet persona who sauntered the hallways with the intelligence of an Einstein clicks on a lightbulb subconsciously. “I do know you, we-” wetting your lips, you stammer in fear of being wrong, “We went to the same grade school. You- you beat me at the math competition! Wh- what brings you to Gyeongju?”

“College,” his voice is shaky for you to jolt at the realization that you are still shaking his hand- roughly you might add, awkwardly releasing to return your limb to your side. It’s already humiliating enough to stand before him after plummeting into his side when first arriving to this destination, to then making a fool of yourself sleeping in front of him to also awaken to ruin all ounce of potential conversation you could have had. Preparing yourself for the worst, you wince, wishing you could slip under the covers of your bedroom to hide away forever. “What about you? Are you attending University here, too?”

“I- erm, about that-” There is not a way for you to explain, because there isn’t much to say other than your heart belonged to another career path. “I received a job offer here. One that I thought would provide good benefits than my original plan, but it’s not what I expected,” Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow igniting a surge in frantic slews of sentences from your mouth, “I mean, I love it. I really do, it’s- it’s what I love to do, but I guess- I want- I want more from it. But I don’t know how to- I-” Warm chuckles leave his lips that halts your rambling in a heartbeat, “I talk way too much, I’m sorry-”

“You’re not talking too much. You’re fine, I promise.” a brief spark settles a reminder of your budding attraction toward him that your chest heats with a dark hue of red; your arms slide to cross over your chest in an attempt at hugging yourself- timorously beaming up at him to search his tender gaze. “You know, if you’re up for it, there’s a restaurant not too far from here that has the best pasta I’ve ever had,” Namjoon’s fingers disappear into the pockets of his jeans- nervously rocking on his heels because after all these years he never thought he would run into anyone he once acquainted with in his younger days, but here you are, standing before him in all your glory. You were someone he admired from afar who treated him as though he was part of the team versus an outcast as others preferred him to be. But you were different. You never saw anyone as below you, and though the pair of you never blossomed into a friendship, you at least treated him with kindness despite the rumors pupils whispered in the foyers. “I already planned on going there today actually-”

“I’d love to!” Your fingertips shut your lips from the excitement you didn’t mean to interrupt him with, “I mean, I uh, I’d- I’d like that very much, thank you,”

It’s strange how the imagination of a world can seem so real, and the awareness of how close he is bringing flutters of butterflies within your stomach while your ears tune in to the scuffling sounds of your footsteps prodding along the route. No matter how hard you contemplate, whatever vision you had at the lake isn’t coming to you, but the consistent feeling that you’re experiencing brings the suspicion that whatever you dreamt is now becoming a reality.

The air is calmed in a manner that reflects a pleasant silence where your focus happens to remain on the cold mush of fibrous moss gathering between your fingers. Eyes are closed momentarily yet the hint of the sun is evident, but the source of your confusion isn’t from the odd wonder of why your hands are gripping the earth, instead, it is for the question of why your back is pressed to the ground as though you have fallen into slumber.

Blinking open to the blue of the sky, you are paused for only a mere moment to discover this time, sparse altocumulus clouds entering your vision enough to ease yourself to sit up. Freeing your digits from what you see to be a deep shade of magenta mingled with numerous hues of green festooning across the land, it is astonishing the beauty your vision is encountering prompting you to whirl your head in every direction to take in the glacier gray of the mountains you observe to be cratering a lapis glow of a lake.

The familiarity of a reminiscent involving a body of water decides to accompany your mind, but the difference between your memory of what you assume regards to reality, is that what you are gazing upon now, is nothing but magical. In wondrous awe, you find yourself standing, taking a slow bare foot forward, just to be halted when the feel of something is settled around your head. Furrowed eyebrows, you lightly tap along what feels to be numerous twigs tangled together with stems of bloomed petals. You raise your other hand to retrieve the item, glance widening at the myriad of dancing colors in the form of flowers embellishing what looks to be what one would call a crown.

Has it been there all along?

An inkling to turn around urges you to do so, lips parted in a gasp though not one sound escapes. He stands before you, the man from a preceding ponder, dressed in white, angelically beaming from head to toe, imitating the enchanting resonation of the atmosphere, causing you to long for whatever bliss he has within his touch. Did he give this to you?

Tenderly, he reaches to place his fingertips beneath the flower crown where your heart leaps at the faint brush of his skin. Lifting it ever so steadily, he returns to set the emblem where it belongs, to the empress of his heart, of his universe, completing you in all entirety. Your eyes flicker between his in suppressed doubt; is this real? You are so enveloped in the amiability of his gape, your palms extend to fold along his shoulders, leading his hand to rest at the side of your neck. He is reading your soul as much as you are trying to decipher his, but there is a connection that no other will ever be able to gain from you as much as him.

The nearness of him is what you are now in concentration of, leaning closer, waiting for what you are hoping for-

Namjoon’s long frame slides upon the plaid picnic blanket, abdomen first, while he folds his arms to where he rests his cheek, “I’m feeling the weight of that essay from last night,”

“And, you still turned it in late,” you tease, munching on a snack while he throws a playful side glance. It’s been a month since the reuniting, and the friendship has become exactly what you have been needing. Unfortunately, finances have still been a heavy burden, but at least you have found an ally in Gyeongju who is just as excited to see you as you are him.

“I mean I was pretty distracted,”

Scoffing, you smack his shoulder lightly with the back of your hand, “That video of that kitten was so cute, and you know it,”

“I never said it wasn’t cute,” the way his lips break into the widest smile, his eyes squinting in the way they do that then reveals his dimples; as much as you’d like to deny the way your heart feels a sense of longing, you mask it quite effortlessly.

“You literally giggled so much, I thought you were going to pee,” breathy laughter escapes him prompting him to bury his head into his arms, your gaze never leaving his shaking shoulders. “Well, it’s true!” Moments such as these bring a joy you are thankful exists, but little does Namjoon know, or so you assume, that once you step into your apartment to be reminded of how little you have moneywise, the depression seeps in. It is hard enough to work every day as hard as you do, just to watch your paycheck subtract away right before your eyes with each bill. It is something you haven’t necessarily opened about, because you just don’t know how. And, the last thing you need is for someone to offer help that you know they may not have.

“That’s only happened one time!” He exclaims, him shifting to lean more on his side so he can peer up at you. This area particularly is further within the park where there are not as many trees, which gives enough space to lay out a blanket and view the scenery. Sunshine brightens the atmosphere as well as warming your skin, and though you’re continuing to cackle with Namjoon, you slide until you are upon your back, using your arm to shade some of the sunlight. One perk regarding the park is it’s free, which is why you always ask to come here when hanging out, and you refuse to let Namjoon pay a dime for anything, not even a candy bar.

The nearness of his body does not heighten your senses until you turn to look at him, and that’s when you melt wishing nothing more than to kiss him. Which explains the dreams you’ve been having lately. Laughter has ceased for the time being, instead the conversation moves into a different subject, one you hoped wouldn’t happen, but considering your avoidance of going to many places, and the embarrassment of Namjoon seeing the emptiness of your kitchen one too many times, the paranoia of him catching on to why you have been slightly more stressed than usual may enter his suspicions.

“Have you been okay?” By the tone of his voice, you can tell right away he is aware of something. But, how can you tell him you are fine, when you are nowhere near one hundred percent. You definitely feel that way when with him, because he makes you forget about the reality at home, but gives you a time to escape, a time to embrace the joy he provides you every chance he gets. Should you tell him the truth? “[Y/N], I never mentioned this before just because I figured it was just coincidence, but when was the last time you’ve gotten groceries? Like, actual groceries,”

“Ramen is groceries,”

“I-” Namjoon pauses, “What I mean is, more than just ramen noodle cups and stale chips,”

“Maybe that’s how I like my chips. Corny and stale,”

“That sounds-”

“Listen,” you lift an index finger, “if vegetables and fruits would last longer than a week, I totally wouldn’t feel like I’m wasting money.”

“You know if you need anything, I’m here for you,” his words nearly bring you to tears, leading you to turn your head in the opposite direction to avoid his concerned expression. He knows you are making excuses at this point and of course, he is not entirely sure of why, but he may be able to guess correctly if he tried.

“I don’t need anything, I promise I’m fine,” your reply is soft, but loud enough for him to hear. Though you can’t see it, Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, him picking at his fingertips while in deep concentration. He is learning that you, stubbornly, are most definitely not going to let him help in any way, but unbeknownst to you, is that he will stop at nothing to make sure you are okay no matter what.

“Look at me,” your heart skips a beat immediately when you slowly return to where he is within your glimpse, his thumb reaching to brush your bottom lip where he inches much closer than you anticipated. All you know, is that if he reads every word that your mind is screaming, your heart may burst out of your chest. Yearning for his kiss, he is close enough to where his breath sweeps your chin, “[Y/N], really, if there is anything at all that you absolutely need, please know I will do anything for you,”

Your fingers bundle into the collar of his shirt absentmindedly, letting his forehead press upon yours before you dare to close the gap you are so anxiously wanting to do. His thumb now strokes your cheek, tickling your skin to the point you feel breathless.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, a hushed tear dropping onto your cheek before he swipes it away.

“I just want you to be okay,”

“I am,” you try your best to sound reassuring, “Joon, I promise you I am,”

“Okay,” he whispers, and even then, you have no idea the best that is yet to come.

Sleeping cherry blossoms encircle you save for the entrance of a tunnel gleaming piercingly bright in the distance that seems so close yet so far out of reach. The iridescent shades of the petals glitter in preparation for what is to come, but your focus solely remains on the escape ahead into a world you have always dreamed of. Or is this the world you have always dreamed of? Scents of the florets waft past your nose in a way to ease you, and the lingering thought of the man clothed in white shadows the crevices of your conscious. Just the mere reminisce of him prompts his appearance and as he stands behind you in all his glory, he knows the desire looming beneath your chest for the magic you crave.

His arms reach to link around you, chin nestling on your shoulder; there is no fear for he is the only being welcome in your world of serenity. Your hands smooth upon his folded arms that remain resting against your abdomen, and forever seems to be in the forefront of your mind. Spinning within his embrace, a subtle smirk graces his mouth while your hands glide to his chest, and finally after many dreams of pining, he leans in to close the gap- snatching your lips as softly as you have imagined causing the closed petals all around the pair of you to bloom endlessly, flourishing every ounce of space the two of you may have had a fraction before. The power is within his kiss, summoning the blossoms to awaken as they are meant to. The same as he is meant to be with you.

“I miss you, too, Mom,” you smile into the phone, sifting through the mail you just checked, eyebrows furrowing when you feel as though something is missing. “Yeah- yeah, I have, I mean, yes mom, I may have a boyfriend,” you giggle, shaking your head at your persistent mother who has been dying to catch up with you since you moved. “I think- yeah, I think he may be who I’ve been waiting for,” when a knock at the door alerts you, you quickly bid your mom a farewell with the promise of calling her back tomorrow before you start work again.

Staring at the pile of mail, you wonder why the utility bill has not been sent. It is around the time that it should have arrived meaning you may need to take a short trip to the leasing office if Namjoon doesn’t mind. Giddily, you skip to look through the peephole to see him, standing tall with his slim fingers slipped into his pockets. Unlocking the door, you run a swift hand through your hair in an attempt to neaten the strands before opening the entrance. “Hey!” You breathe, gesturing for him to come in, and when the door closes, you leap into his embrace before smiling into a sweet kiss.

“Are you ready for today? The weather is beautiful out,”

“Beyond ready,” you kiss him again. The anticipation to explore another location involving nature is what you enjoy especially with someone who equally enjoys it as much as you. “But I must make a quick trip to the leasing office if that’s okay? I have Netflix if you want to chill for a bit- it shouldn’t take too long.”

Namjoon chuckles, leaning in to press a slow kiss to your lips, “Everything okay?”

“Mm yeah,” you reply in a daze, “I just haven’t received my utility bill yet and I’m concerned. Can you um, can you do that again? I may need the extra umph,”

Breathy laughter is interrupted when he kisses you again, and it takes everything in you to pull away, “Okay, I feel better now,”

“Good. Whatever it takes,”

As much as you would love to not have to pay any bills, you saunter across the road to where the leasing office lives, encompassed by sparse trees and a small swimming pool off to the side. You are happy to see Jung Hoseok, leaned on his desk, spectacles slid down his nose, and gaze distracted by whatever he is reading on the computer screen.

“Good morning,” you greet, Hoseok immediately looks to see who has walked in, gesturing with a smile toward a seat in front of his desk.

“How can I help you today?”

“Yes, um, I just went through my mail today and I realized I hadn’t received the utility bill for this month, so I wanted to check to make sure I didn’t miss anything,”

“Ah, yes, let me pull up your account here,” his fingers fly over the keyboard, the clicking noise being the only sound filling the space. “Hm, looks like it’s already been paid for.”

“Excuse me?” Confusion is evident within your voice as well as plastered upon your entire expression. “When did I? I paid it?”

“Mhm, as well as your rent for the rest of the year among all of your other bills. There’s enough money on your account to just automatically draft-”

“But I didn’t-”

“Well it says it right here,” he pokes the screen once.

“Are you able to see when the money was put in? I have no idea how-” The realization hits you suddenly prompting a small gasp.

“Er, is everything okay, Ms. [Y/N]?”

“Yeah,” you say quite breathlessly, gradually standing to your feet, the world spinning faster than you could have prepared for.

“I mean, I can ask my coworker, Taehyung if he knows anything. I got back from vacation today, so I may not have the answer for you-”

“No, no it’s okay. I- I think I know who is responsible. Thank you so much, Hoseok.”

“Anytime, dear!”

Being slightly dizzy while running is an interesting combo, but you make it to your apartment without tripping over your own two feet and you stand before the door, your chest heaving. The dreams you have been having- it all makes sense now. You wanted nothing more than a reason, or a miracle, to feel as if you were home, or where you belonged, and finally, it was given to you in the most unexpected way. When you came to Gyeongju, you had no idea that Namjoon would show up in your life and turn it into the most beautiful adventure you have ever had. You were willing to suffer through the bills if it meant being close to him, and how he figured out your hardship, you are uncertain- you always avoided the subject when it came to hardly having any money. Slowly stepping into your apartment, you click the door closed, Namjoon’s focus turning from the tv to you as he rises to his feet. You are speechless as you gaze at the man of your dreams. When he said he would do anything for you, you never imagined this.

“Whatever it takes?” You croak, hardly sure even now what to say. Namjoon will do anything to make you happy, and that is how you knew after getting to know him the past few months that you were wholeheartedly in love with him. You will spend the rest of your life trying to thank him no matter the circumstances, and as soon as his frame entangles with yours, he whispers,

“Whatever it takes.”

#btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btswriterscollective #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #namjoon soft #namjoon fic #namjoon one shot #namjoon aesthetic #4k +

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Seven

A/N Daniel really can’t catch a break, huh?

Daniel didn’t want to leave his house for the rest of his life after the embarrassment in the diner. He went right home after finishing the declined plate of fries on his own and locked himself in his room to bask in his humiliated shame, face down on his bed. Maybe it was just all one big coincidence that he kept tasting strawberry milkshakes and this one girl happened to like them. Even by Monday, Daniel was still feeling the lingering embarrassment but he convinced himself to get to work. At least there he wouldn’t have to face her again.

Christian got to the auto shop first – he had insisted on driving alone again – and Daniel pulled into the parking spot beside him. His brother didn’t even look at him as he got out of the car and sauntered inside the garage. Daniel frowned, turning off the ignition and followed after him.

A car was waiting for him when he started his shift, caked in dirt to the point that Daniel wondered where the hell the owner lived to get it that filthy in the city. Regardless, he filled up the bucket of soapy water and got to work scrubbing.

Christian and Corbyn and Jonah had greeted each other with handshakes and pats on the arm before starting their jobs for the day and Daniel watched silently as they chatted. It was a steady routine on the days they worked; Daniel left alone in his corner of the shop and the three older guys working together like he didn’t even exist. Not that Daniel minded; he knew their type well from high school and the ‘greasers’ weren’t his usual crowd.

By afternoon, after a quiet lunch where Daniel ate his sandwich at the opposite end of the table, the shop had a guest. One look at the girl from the diner walking through the open garage door and Daniel was throwing himself onto the cement floor behind the car he was washing, eyes wide and nearly full of fear. He swore softly under his breath before peeking up through the car windows to watch her walk across the shop in a blue dress and a matching ribbon in her dark hair, her white kitten heels clicking gracefully against the floor, and that silver ring still tucked on the chain around her neck.

Daniel felt his cheeks flush pink at only the sight of her and as she glanced around the shop he ducked down and out of sight from her gaze. He listened intently to any sound he could pick up.

“Hey, Loretta.”

“Hey, Jonah. Is my man around?”

“Just talking to the big guy. He’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“Swell.”

Daniel peeked around the hood of the car to see her sit down on one of the stools by the tool shelves and, only moments later, Corbyn returned from talking with the boss.

“Hey, doll. What are ya doing here?” he asked coolly, greeting her with a kiss to her cheek.

“Just came by to visit you.” she shrugged sweetly, setting her hand on his arm.

“Not really the place for you though, is it?” Corbyn said as he lifted up the hood of the car he was working on.

“I can just watch.” Loretta assured him quickly, “Mum is just picking up some groceries down the street.”

“Did she like your new necklace?” Corbyn smirked, reaching over to scoop up the ring around her neck on his pinky.

“She was very thrilled when I showed her, yes.” Loretta bit back a smile to her boyfriend. “You know she’s very fond of you.”

“I know.” Corbyn winked, nudging her cheek with his finger.

“Daniel.”

Daniel nearly jumped five feet in the air from his spot on the ground, hitting his head off the side mirror of the car he was supposed to be cleaning and he looked up to his older brother, a hand on the now forming bump on the top of his head.

“What, Christian?” Daniel mumbled.

“Are you staying focussed? This car isn’t going to wash itself.”

“Yeah. Just…” Daniel couldn’t even think of an excuse, fading out with a sigh.

“Get up. My job’s on the line if you slack off too, you know.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Daniel got to his feet, keeping his head down as he felt everyone look over at them, Loretta included, and he couldn’t help but flush pink under her stare. He watched his brother walk back off and then turned to the hose in his hand, the water spilling into his shoe from how he held it for the prior few minutes.

It was just his luck that the next week or two, Loretta visited Corbyn at the shop a lot. Daniel hadn’t even set foot in the diner in hopes of avoiding her at all costs but then she would turn up at the shop instead anyway. Jack and Zach thought it was hilarious every time he told them she showed up again, but Daniel only wanted it to all be over.

It was a sunny and hot morning in mid July when Loretta Jean Howard walked into the car shop in brand new white high waisted short shorts, earning the attention of all the men in the garage. Her brown hair was flipped out at the ends over her shoulders, her red hairband matching her tight red shirt to show off her curves and was vastly different from her usual modest dresses.

Daniel did a double take when she walked in, not usually one to stare at a girl’s body since he prided himself on his chivalry and manners but there was something about Loretta that captivated him in every way - and he had barely even spoken to her. The sponge in his hand was dripping soapy water down his arm as he was distracted by her as she stopped just inside and took off her sunglasses, setting them on top of her head before scanning the place. Corbyn was on the phone with a client by his usual station, leaving Jonah elbows deep in a mustang on his own and Christian was working underneath another car farther down the row.

Which left Daniel as the only visibly not-busy person in the general area.

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t notice her sauntering over to him at first until she was right beside him, smiling lightly at the water that dripped down his arm and into his sleeve.

“You got a light?” she asked.

Daniel snapped back to reality, clearing his throat and taking a step back, “Wh-What?”

“Do you have a light?” she held an unlit cigarette between them, the end stained in red lipstick from where she once had it resting between her lips.

“No. I don’t. I-” Daniel stammered, desperately trying to steady his words. “I don’t. I…I think there’s one over here, one sec-”

He barely even turned around before he was tripping over his soap bucket and spilled the dirty water all over the cement floor and Loretta gasped as she lifted up one of her pristine white heels out of the splash.

“Dammit. I’m so sorry.” Daniel rushed, scrambling to grab the spare lighter that someone had left on the shelf by the water faucets. He stepped through the puddled soapy water and tossed the lighter at her, trying to be cool about it but it hit her in the chest and fell into the water. “Shit, oh gosh, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Loretta chuckled, bending down to pick up the lighter.

He watched her set the cigarette between her red painted lips and she flicked the lighter, setting the small flame against the end before taking it right back out between two fingers.

She held the lighter out to him again, “Thanks.”

Daniel only nodded, reaching out to take the lighter from her and their hands brushed. He felt a weird warmth spreading up his arm and right down his spine, making him stay frozen in place as he watched her walk back of to her usual stool. She held out the lit cigarette to Corbyn who was still on the phone and he bent down slightly to let her set it between his lips and he sent her a wink as he took a puff.

Daniel closed his eyes as he sighed, letting his head fall back in disbelief of the absolute idiot he made of himself and he shoved the unclaimed lighter into his pocket.

Daniel knocked lightly on his brother’s door after dinner.

“Come in.”

He shuffled inside and closed it behind him, glancing over at Christian who was sprawled out on his bed with a magazine in only his pyjama pants and reading glasses.

“What’s shaking, little brother?” he asked, sitting up a little at his brother’s obvious hesitation and he pushed his glasses to the top of his head.

“Do you…can I…” Daniel took a few hesitant steps farther into the room, his hands wringing tightly behind his back. “Can I have some cigarettes?”

“You want a smoke? Why? You always hated them.” Christian crossed his arms over his bare chest in skepticism.

“Just…I want to try them.” Daniel shrugged.

Christian paused for a moment in thought but then nodded. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and got up to reach into the pocket of his leather jacket that was hung in his closet. He pulled out the small box of Camel cigarettes and pulled two out, tossing the rest of the package onto his bed. Daniel watched his older brother intently, unmoving, nervous, but still determined to see what all the fuss and the hype was about.

“Come here.” Christian waved him over to his window and he sat up on the desk that was in front of it.

Daniel rushed over and joined him on the desk, crossing his legs as he faced him and Christian passed him a cigarette. As Daniel set it between his lips, Christian unlocked his window and shoved it open so the fresh summer nighttime air leaked in through the screen.

“If you wanna smoke inside, do it at your open window otherwise Mum will smell it and flip her lid.” Christian instructed through his own cigarette balanced between his lips and he flicked on the lighter.

Daniel watched his brother light up and then a small puff of smoke fell from his mouth. Christian waved him closer and Daniel shuffled towards him some more, almost going cross eyed as he watched Christian light the end of his cigarette too. Daniel furrowed his eyebrows a moment as he carefully inhaled, copying the action of his older brother, and sputtered through a cough, a messy cloud of smoke tumbling from his lips.

Christian cracked a small smile, watching his younger brother suffer through another drag, his face going red as he coughed hard and exchanged the cigarette for his opposite hand over his mouth.

“What you wanted?” Christian teased.

Daniel shook his head, passing back the cigarette to him, sticking his tongue out to try and rid the sharp unpleasant taste from his mouth.

“Didn’t think you would.”

“It tastes like Grandpa’s armchair.” Daniel grimaced.

Christian laughed loudly, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“I should go to bed.” Daniel climbed off the desk.

“Why’d you want to try these? You wanting to impress a girl or something?” Christian smirked.

“I dunno.” Daniel mumbled.

Christian only took another drag of his cigarette through his teasing smile and blew the smoke out the window.

“Chris, can I…can I have a few just because?” Daniel asked.

“I guess. What do I get in return?” Christian retorted, reaching behind him to grab the box again and he pulled out three fresh smokes and held them out to him.

Daniel thanked him softly and took them, hiding them in the pocket of his pyjama pants, “I’ll bring you something from the diner next time I’m there.”

“Deal. Good night, little brother.”

“Night, Christian.” Daniel whispered before slinking back down the hallway to his own room. He set the cigarettes in his night table drawer and stared at them a moment before closing the drawer; the only way to get on Loretta’s good side was to cater to what she seemed to like, he was sure of it.

#🍓#why dont we #daniel seavey #soulmate au #christian seavey #corbyn besson #jonah marais #why dont we fanfic #au #wdw #limelight #why dont we imagine #why dont we music #daniel seavey fanfic

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junkercrush · 4 years

Note

Halo!!! I dont know your inbox is still open, but could I have a request please? Maybe Poly!Junkers harboring a crush and then dating reader who is really quiet around strangers but tends to liven up around people when theu gain their trust? I just love those two smelly bois! Also, I really like your writing and blog! Thank you!!

You sure can! Here you go:

“The Quiet One”

SFW

Pairing: Poly!Junkers x Reader

Words: 2,008

*~*~*~*~*

Prologue

Overwatch Headquarters: Cafeteria. 2076. Valentine’s Day.

The headquarters cafeteria was decorated in red, pink, and white. Paper maché hearts covered the walls. It was like someone hired an elementary school to decorate the room. Ironically, the entire Overwatch team made the décor. Jack’s orders.

“Ah, the day of romance.” Junkrat sighed as he dropped his food tray on a table beside his crime partner Roadhog. “This is the best time to hit the jewelry stores, mate! Let’s say we get us some diamonds after today’s mission. What do you say, Hog?”

Junkrat noticed Hog hasn’t touched any of his food. He snatched a heart-shaped cookie and followed his partner’s gaze towards the lone eater on the other side of the cafeteria: You. Hog let out a longing sigh.

“Rat,” Hog called out.

“Yeah?” Junkrat answered.

Hog took out a pink envelope from his pocket and gave it to Junkrat. “Could you do me a favor—”

“Wait a minute!” Junkrat sniffed the envelope and gagged. The giant wave of roses rushed through his nostrils. “Are you kidding me? You want me to send a love letter to the Quiet One?”

That’s what everybody in Overwatch called you. You barely spoke to anyone except during meetings. You were a scientist, Winston’s assistant. The people you’ve spoken to the most were Winston, Angela, and Mei. The Junkers tried to talk to you before. You would say a sentence or two before shying away into your lab.

“Please do this for me?” Roadhog pleaded. Junkrat’s eyes widen. He has never seen the Hog act so vulnerable about anyone before.

“Can’t do that, mate,” Junkrat said, crossing his arms with a sinister smirk.

“Why not?” Hog huffed.

Junkrat pulled out a crumpled envelope from his shorts. It had little heart doodles drawn over them. Unlike Hog’s envelope, it smelled like an auto shop.

“Because I’m going to give the Quiet One a love note first!” Rat said triumphantly. He jumped onto the table and started table-hopping towards your direction.

Roadhog growled. “Oh no you don’t, you little—”

Roadhog chased after Junkrat. People saw the big man storming the cafeteria, swinging his hook, and leaped out of the way.

What on Earth?

You looked up from scribbling scientific notes. Junkrat was jumping on tables towards you with his behemoth friend Roadhog running behind, trying to catch him with his hook. You instantly gathered all your books and binders from the table. Unfortunately, you didn’t save your homemade lunch on time.

“NO!” Roadhog grabbed Junkrat as soon as he landed on your table, slamming his face on your lunch. Hog looked at you and immediately wiped Junkrat’s face with a napkin. You hid your smile behind your binders.

“Sorry,” Hog apologized.

You waved your hands at him. “It’s okay, Mr. Rutledge! I—

“Roadhog here wanted to give a love note!” Junkrat shouted loud enough for the whole cafeteria could hear.

Roadhog grabbed Rat’s throat. “Would you shut up!?”

Junkrat only laughed and shoved his motor-oil scented envelope towards your face. “For you, darl! Take it and run!”

“No! Take mine!” Hog offered his pink envelope to you.

You quietly took both envelopes. “Th-thank you.” You whispered.

You didn’t think in a hundred years both of your Junker crushes would pass you love notes on Valentine’s Day. And to think you had to choose one of them to offer your V-Day note. Now, this was your chance.

“Here.” You gave the Junkers two heart-shaped notes. Both, written in gold ink, said:

I like you. Do you like me too? –(Y/N)

All eyes were on you. You couldn’t take the attention anymore. You scampered out of the cafeteria before the Junkers could say anything.

“Looks like we didn’t need to fight at all.” Junkrat laughed. Both Rat and Hog flipped the hearts over. You left them your phone number and private e-mail address.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Present Day

Your Apartment. 2078. Valentine’s Day.

“You think we’re going to have another indoor date?” Junkrat asked as he set up a romantic dinner in the middle of the living room floor.

Roadhog sighed. “No, we’re going out.”

“Really?” Junkrat blew the fire out from the candlelit dinner. “You know our Quiet One is not quite the people person.”

Roadhog chuckled behind his mask. “Give it time.”

You came out to the living room wearing a long winter coat. The Junkers stared at you curiously.

“Ready to go?” You asked your boyfriends. Junkrat sauntered towards you.

“What you got under there, lovely?” He purred. You backed away from him with a smile.

“No peeking until we get to the bar.”

Junkrat whimpered. “Just a little pee—”

“To the door, Rat.” Hog barked.

“Fine, fine.” Junkrat opened the front door for you. You stopped midway. A faint burning scent danced around your nostrils.

“Rat, did you leave the oven on again?” You asked.

Junkrat giggled. “I forgot about my brownies. Give me a sec. I’ll meet you and Hog down at the parking lot.” Junkrat rushed to the kitchen, cackling.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “I’m so glad he hasn’t burned down the apartment yet.” You sighed.

Roadhog gently grabbed your hand. “Me too. We don’t need another damn landlord suing him.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Some folks from Headquarters invited you and the Junkers to a couples’ night out at a Japanese karaoke bar. You always passed the place on your way to and fro from work. It wasn’t your kind of hangout, too noisy. However, it was going to be different since you had new friends along with you.

“Oi, you’re here! You’re actually here!” Lena, also known as the famous Tracer, ran to you before you could say hi. “I know we don’t see each other much. Do you remember me?”

You shyly nodded. You’ve seen her frequently coming in and out of Winston’s office. She always needed some fixing with the complex piece strapped into her chest.

“Let me take you to the crew,” Lena said. She turned to the Junkers. “Do you mind?”

Roadhog waved his humongous hand. “No problem. Rat and I have to go to the restroom.”

“Do we?” Junkrat asked innocently. His face and hair were covered with soot. Apparently, he almost lost his battle saving his brownies from the oven. Roadhog silently dragged Rat to the little boys’ room.

You took a deep breath. This was your chance to be more social. You’ve been working for Overwatch for four years now. It’s about time to spread your social butterfly wings.

You’ve been watching your co-workers from afar. They’re great people. Thank God, it’s nothing like high school. Your first two years sucked big time. Fortunately, your GPA back then helped you graduate two years early.

You shook the awful, awkward high school memories out of your mind as Lena guided you through the raucous bar. Your stomach rumbled as you spotted a couple playfully feeding ramen to each other. You were definitely ordering a big bowl for yourself as you soon as you get settled.

“Here we are, love!” Lena pushed through a beaded curtain and lead inside a private VIP room. You first laid eyes upon a mysterious red-headed woman. She was in the middle of stuffing sushi into her mouth. She turned to you and waved.

The cowboy McCree was sitting on a pile of lounge cushions. His arm was wrapped around a Japanese man you’ve seen every blue moon at Headquarters. McCree whispered something into the man’s ear, and the man burst out laughing, blushing too.

“Hello there,” McCree greeted. “It’s about time you came out of the fox’s den.”

Lena grabbed your hand and lead you closer to McCree. “(Y/N), you know McCree, right? This is his boyfriend, Hanzo.”

Hanzo cleared his throat. “Partner.” He shook your hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Partner? Really?” McCree whined as he pulled Hanzo back into the cushions. “We’re more than partners, Bud.”

“Hello.” Someone squeaked behind you. It was the redhead again. She was more gorgeous up close.

“Oh, how could I forget?” Lena groaned. “This is the love of my life, Emily!”

“Nice to meet you.” You said.

“You too,” Emily shook your hand. “Lena told me so much about you. How did you end up dating—”

“We have arrived!” Junkrat announced as he leaped into the room. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “Hello, love! Getting along with everybody, I hope?”

Roadhog soon followed and spotted the sumptuous Japanese cuisine displayed on the table. “Is this for me?” He sat down and started eating.

“My California rolls…” McCree groaned.

“Don’t worry, we’ll order more. It’s on me.” Lena chirped.

“You mean, it’s on Jack’s tab.” Emily corrected.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. He’ll understand!”

You giggled as you imagined Jack staring at his bank statement with confusion at the hefty bill from a karaoke bar.

You spotted a coat hanger behind you. It was getting hot. It was time you finally removed your coat. Roadhog rushed over to your side as if he read your mind.

“Let me.” He said. You watched his large fingers as he helped you out of your coat. You heard him gasp. Luckily, no one else heard it.

“What’s wrong?” You turned to him and smiled. You stood before your surprised lover wearing a tight sangria-colored turtleneck dress. You wanted to wear something sensual but nothing too risqué.

“Hooley Dooley.” Junkrat gasped behind you.

You pretended it was nothing and shrugged your shoulders. “It’s just a simple dress. I had it in my closet for a while. You haven’t noticed?”

Honestly, you ordered the dress online a week ago. Many reviewers said wearing the dress gave them more attention from their lovers. Some even got laid for it. You had no plans for sex (yet), but you did have in mind a little extra friskiness from the Junkers.

“Where’s the karaoke machine?” You asked, trying to break the Junkers’ attention away from you for a second.

“It’s in the next room,” Emily said.

You tiptoed over to the conjoining room and moved the beaded curtain aside. A microphone stood in a center surrounded by more lounge cushions. A tiny mini bar stood in a corner. A J-Pop band danced on the television with the English lyrics appearing on the bottom of the screen.

“Do you sing, (Y/N)?” Lena asked you.

“I’ll try.” You replied.

Behind Lena, you noticed the Junkers were still gawking at you. You gave them a flirty wink, and they acted like they were going to keel over.

The Junkers were overall pleased you were willing to go out and open yourself to more people. They’ve never seen such progress since the three of you started dating two years ago. They watched you proudly as you shared your adventure stories traveling with Winston around the world.

You spoke little Japanese to Hanzo (which was a big surprise). You were stationed in Osaka for four months for a scientific expedition. You had to learn the basics to get around.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After the night was over, Roadhog carried your sleepy self to the bedroom. It was 2:32am. You were tired as all get out. Surprisingly, Junkrat was still full of energy, even though he had too many sake bombs to drink.

“Let’s sing another song!” Junkrat begged Roadhog.

“Shh!” Hog covered Rat’s entire face with his hand. “(Y/N) is tired.”

You only moaned and rolled around on the bed. “Could one of you guys tuck me in?” You asked the Junkers. “One of you can take the dress off.”

Junkrat let out a high-pitched gasp. You chuckled. Where did the heck did that noise come from?

Junkrat hopped into the bed with you and roamed his hands all over your body. “Come here, darl!”

“No, Rat, I get to do it!” Roadhog yelled as he yanked the Rat out of the bed. You could only laugh as the two argued over you and pulled on your dress.

What a way to end Valentine’s Day and a new chapter to your budding social life.

END

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