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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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Thinking of a steddie neighbor “enemies” to lovers AU. Oh my gosh it’s so long again and now there’s ronance.

Steve is a middle school teacher, and he’s lucky to find a small house that’s close to the school he’s teaching at after the summer ends. In fact, he seems a little too lucky. It’s only after he’s signed all the papers that the old tenets show up to warn him not to buy the house because the crazy neighbor next door.

Steve kind of shrugs it off and thinks nothing of it because he’s dealt with crazy before, and his students give him something new to deal with every day.

During the move in process, he keeps glancing at the dark house next door. Sometimes he thinks he sees something, but whenever he looks there’s nothing there. Until one time when the neighbor seems to get something caught in the curtains and is unable to close them fast enough. But still, it’s only a small slit open and with the sun beating down, the glare is too harsh to really see anything.

For the rest of the day, he doesn’t see a single curtain move. And by the end of the day, when all his boxes are moved inside his house, Steve wants more than anything to just go to sleep on the bed he tiredly put together. Some of the corners aren’t tucked in properly, and Steve definitely doesn’t remember what box he put his pillows in, but he collapses on his bed quickly on the verge of sleeping.

Then, he can see, or rather hear, what the neighbors meant. There’s a screeching noise and then some loud crazy riffs being played from some guitar next door. Steve covers his ears and groans when he realizes that it’s not going to help anything. It’s as if the neighbor is playing their guitar outside the house.

It’s a new era of Steve’s life, so instead of letting it go, he decides he’s going at the issue head on. He groans as he pries himself out of his bed. Okay, maybe letting it go would be a better idea, but what happens when school is back in and he needs to sleep?

This is absolutely the right decision.

As he steps out the front door, he instantly realizes the problem. The neighbor has cracked the window next to Steve’s house as if he’s trying to be a nuisance. Maybe the old tenets were right.

As Steve approaches the front door, he glances around the porch and catches sight of a skeleton sitting on a small chair with a mug attached to its bony hand. Upon closer inspection, Steve notices it’s a Garfield mug which makes him smile a little. Maybe a little crazy isn’t too bad.

But the blasting from the house is bad. Steve takes a deep breath and loudly knocks on the door. The music halts almost immediately and it takes a few moments and a bit of cursing from the other side of the door for it to finally creak open.

Oh Christ.

The door slowly opens revealing longer dark curly hair, pale skin, big doe eyes, full lips, and altogether Steve’s absolute daydream which he guesses might quickly turn into a nightmare as the man smirks. “Hello, my handsome new neighbor,” the man flirts easily.

Steve won’t play this game though. He’s too smart now to open up this easily. His mouth forms into a tight straight line before he corrects the man, “Steve. And you are?”

“Eddie. A pleasure to meet you,” the neighbor replies with a bright smile as he bows dramatically.

Steve nearly groans at the sight of his head going dow-

No. He’s not doing that. That’s a recipe for disease. Instead, he’ll get to the point. “Nice to meet you, too, Eddie,” Steve ignores how nice the name falls out of his mouth as he continues, “It would be even nicer if you closed your windows or turned down your amps this late at night.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and he glances down at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock.”

Steve sighs, “Yes, and I need to sleep.”

The neighbor eyes Steve up and down for a moment. “What if I kept playing?”

Steve has no idea why he says it, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, tiredness from the move, or the fact that his neighbor is a bit overwhelmingly hot. But he answers, “Then you’re starting a war.”

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because the tampered down mischief in Eddie’s eyes light up. He holds out his hand, and Steve reluctantly takes it. “War it is,” Eddie says with a shake of his hand. “Goodnight, Steve.” Eddie squeezes his hand one time then releases it. The door is closed before Steve can process what’s happening.

With a sigh, Steve makes his way back to his house. Before he can make it there, the loud music already starts blasting again.

A little crazy is definitely bad.

Nearly an hour later, the music continues as Steve desperately tries to put a pillow over his head to block it out. He’s never been one that’s able to sleep with loud noises, but, no matter what, he will still wake up early in the morning and be unable to fall back asleep.

He groans and turns to the clock he ended up unpacking instead of sleeping. A few seconds until eleven o’clock. He watches as the seconds tick by, and as soon as it hits eleven the music stops. Strange.

But then the music continues again, and Steve nearly screams. But then he realizes… it’s different. It’s softer as if he’s playing a lullaby. And as much as Steve hates to admit it, it’s kind of lulling him to sleep.

It’s definitely not on purpose though. Even from their brief interaction, Eddie doesn’t seem to be the type to go easy when calling war. Maybe he’s just trying to get into Steve’s head.

As the soft music drones on, Steve finds himself drifting off to thoughts about his new neighbor.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning, Steve wakes up to the sight of the sun rising and blinding him through his windows. He needs to hang up his curtains. He stretches and slowly gets out of bed knowing he won’t be able to go back to sleep.

Time to start unpacking. He makes his way to the garage and peaks out the window on his way. All of Eddie’s curtains are drawn, and Steve doubts that he’ll be awake for hours.

When he opens the garage door, he spots something… interesting. Something that will make Eddie’s life a little miserable…

A lawnmower.

Now, Steve knows the lawn doesn’t really need to be mowed at the moment. But to get revenge… it’s worth it.

He still waits a few hours until it’s a somewhat reasonable hour for mowing. He doesn’t want the other neighbors hating him. He decides to start up the lawnmower right next to the window Eddie left open the night before.

A few seconds later, Steve sees the curtains yanked open and the window slammed down. He lets himself smirk a little at the mini tantrum. As he’s finishing up the first strip, he hears the front door to Eddie’s house slam shut even over the lawnmower.

Steve turns the other way to face his and Eddie’s houses as he mows the next strip. He glances up and waves with a big smile. Eddie is swamped in a large black blanket and squinting, or rather glaring as if the sun had personally offended him.

Steve stops the lawnmower and takes a minute to gloat. As the noise dies down, Steve asks, “Not a morning person?”

Eddie just frowns at him. It looks as if he’s taking all his brain power to come up with a response. His voice, low and raspy with sleep replies, “I would be if I had a better view.”

Steve huffs but looks down at his shirt that’s already starting to get a little damp with sweat. The morning sun in the summer is overwhelmingly hot, and Steve doesn’t want the farmer’s tan. He winks at Eddie before stripping his shirt off and tossing it at him.

“Better?” Steve asks as the shirt hits Eddie and falls on the deck.

“Much better, thank you,” Eddie says and has the nerve to join the little skeleton on his porch to sit and watch as Steve mows.

Steve tries not to think too much about it, but he’s overly aware of the attention. Not that he doesn’t like it, but he feels like he’s not winning the war. Time to call in Robin for reinforcement.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next few days pass by with Eddie playing loudly every night until eleven o’clock when he finally starts playing soft tunes that lull Steve to sleep. Steve pays him back by one morning mowing Eddie’s lawn while he watches. The next morning, he spends weed whacking his own yard, and the next day is spent weed whacking Eddie’s. Every time, Eddie is woken up but sits outside.

If Steve is being completely honest, the music helps him sleep, so he doesn’t feel like he’s losing the war too bad. But today is the day he figures out how to win because it finally worked in Robin’s schedule for her to come over later.

And after Steve shares the whole story after dramatically telling her it’s too much to share over the phone, he regrets it as Robin bursts out laughing. “You’re telling me,” Robin stops to laugh again, “You’re telling me that you’re complaining about going to bed an ‘hour later,’ but the reason you go to bed early is because you struggle to fall asleep. And his music is actually helping you, so you’re basically going to sleep at the same time. Plus, you’re doing his yard work while he ogles you, and you think this is a war?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what this is,” Steve says seriously. No other explanation.

“No, this is a weird mating ritual. God, your neighbors must hate you,” Robin comments before laughing again.

Steve sighs, “Robin, I seriously want to win against this guy. I mean, I even nicely asked him to stop playing so late.”

Robin eyes him. “Did you really?”

“Probably not,” Steve answers honestly, knowing it’s no use to lie to Robin. She figures out everything anyway.

“Here’s a plan,” Robin says opening a box and looking through it. “Why don’t you just ask Eddie’s neighbor what they do when he plays late at night? They clearly have some solution. And the true way to win the ‘war’ is by letting it not affect you anymore. Then, you don’t have to do yard work, and you’ll be taking away his view in the morning.”

…honestly, it’s a great plan. It really is. So much so that it’ll probably stop this whole war thing in its tracks. “No, I have to win this thing,” Steve replies instead of agreeing.

Robin sighs and grabs him by the wrist. “Come with me.” Instead of giving him the option, she practically drags him out the door. “Now, we’re going to meet this next-door neighbor of the infamous Eddie and give you a reasonable solution before you do anything irrational.”

Before Steve can disagree, Robin has him dragged out the door and two houses down. She knocks on the door. “And maybe you’ll see that the solution was so simpl-”

The door opens and out comes the other neighbor. Steve watches as Robin’s jaw drops as she takes in the sight of the shorter girl with curly hair and big blue eyes. “Hi?” The girl says.

Robin’s mouth opens and closes.

“Hey,” Steve says and reaches out his hand to greet her. “I’m your neighbor two houses down, and this is my best friend Robin. Sorry for stopping by in the evening. She was just telling me that I needed to introduce myself to some of the people in the neighborhood. Right, Robin?” Steve prompts when he notices that the girl is eyeing Robin too.

“I’m Nancy,” the neighbor says with a smile. She reaches her hand out to Robin.

“Robin,” Robin blurts out and takes a moment to shake Nancy’s hand.

The two girls shake hands for an embarrassingly long time. And Steve hates to interrupt for Robin’s sake, but he has to ask, “So, we were wondering how you dealt with Eddie’s music at night.” He cringes as he takes in how blunt he is, but he’s honestly curious.

Nancy laughs and replies, “Honestly, it was much worse before you moved. He would play until the early AMs.”

Steve thinks she must be wrong. Maybe he continues playing that lullaby stuff through the night. “You mean the softer lullaby stuff, right?”

Nancy shakes her head with a small smile. “Not at all. I’ve never heard him play like that before. Then again, my solution is noise cancelling headphones.”

Robin smacks Steve on the arm, “I told you the solution was simple. Plus, this really doesn’t sound like war, does it?”

Nancy leans against her doorway and asks, “Is doing his yard work supposed to be war?”

“That’s exactly what I said! See, Steve,” Robin says with a bright smile that Steve notices catches Nancy’s eye.

“Fine, then you two can see what happens when I don’t do anything tomorrow morning,” Steve says resting his hand on his jutted-out hip. Robin’s lip twitches as she holds back on making fun of him for the “mom stance.”

Robin smiles and says, “Well, I don’t have anywhere to be tonight or tomorrow morning, so I will stay the night.”

“I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep so you can’t,” Steve lies, knowing exactly where the air mattress is packed away.

“You can stay here,” Nancy suggests. “I’ll also be up early to spy on the drama.”

Steve recognizes the exact moment Robin processes what she’s said as her eyes widen a bit. “Promise I’m not a murderer,” Nancy says with a wink that seems to further melt Robin’s brain.

As much as Steve doesn’t want to give Robin more reason to make fun of him in the future, he has to give it to Nancy for how direct she is. He thinks he’s gonna like this girl.

“Well, we’ll go grab Robin’s stuff, and she’ll be back shortly. I’m going to crash pretty soon before the show starts,” Steve says with a smile. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you, Steve. I’ll see you soon, Robin,” Nancy says with a wave as she closes the door.

“Holy shit.”

“Robin, please save your freak out for a few moments when we get back inside my house. She can see you through the windows.”

Robin whispers under her breath a few more expletives on their quick walk back. “Holy shit!” Robin yells as they get inside.

Oh boy.

A few pacing freak outs, a quick pep talk, and a lot of fixing hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror later and Robin is finally on her way to Nancy’s. Steve watches through his window as she makes her way down the street. He has no idea how the hell it happened, but he’s happy for her.

…hopefully Nancy isn’t a serial killer…

Okay, maybe it’s a bad idea, but Steve needs to ask Eddie. He makes his way out his back door and sneaks over to Eddie’s house to the side window that’s already slightly open. He knocks on it a few times.

Eddie opens the curtains and lifts up the window some more. “Why hello Romeo. Why are you at my window instead of the door? Not that I’m complaining of course.”

“Nancy and my friend are spying on me. But I needed to ask if Nancy is a serial killer.”

Eddie stares at him for a moment. “Have you met Nancy?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know she isn’t a serial killer,” Eddie replies. “Is Robin the girl you were walking and holding hands with earlier?”

“Is that jealousy I’m hearing?”

Eddie shrugs. “Just trying to get in the head of the enemy.” It’s clear that Eddie is trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing but is failing to do so.

Rather than torture him by not answering, Steve quickly insists, “She’s my best friend. And she’s also staying the night at Nancy’s.”

Eddie sits on the window ledge. “Do they know each other?”

“Just met,” Steve says with a wide smile.

Eddie laughs and Steve can’t help but join him. Gosh he looks gorgeous.

Nope. Enemies. Right.

“I always knew Nancy had it in her. So, Robin’s… cool, right? I’ve got to watch out for Nance’s sake,” Eddie says and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Steve has the urge to tuck in the other side as well.

“Yeah. She’s great. Incredible really. Always has had my back,” Steve says trying not to gush too much. He needs to get out of this conversation fast before he does something dumb like continue it as if they are friends. “Well, I’m heading off to bed.”

“And I’m heading off to practice,” Eddie says with a wink. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve replies and holds eye contact with him for a moment as he walks away.

Ending this war will probably be a good thing.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning, Steve wakes up at his usual time, but instead of going to his garage, he starts to go through the boxes he hasn’t unpacked. He stares at the pile and sighs, “Yeah, this is gonna suck.”

A few hours later, and there’s a knock at Steve’s door. Probably Robin bored because nothing is happening.

He makes his way to the door and opens it. Not Robin. “Hey, Eddie. What’s up?” Steve asks, leaning against the doorway.

Eddie is weirdly not wrapped up in a blanket. He has his hands in the pockets of black, ripped jeans and rocks back on his heels. “I was just… checking if you’re okay.”

Steve stares at him for a moment and takes in the slight look of worry all over his face. He nods, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Eddie nods back and glances down. “I was just worried because… you weren’t waking me up with the usual ruckus. Thought something must've happened."

"Just unpacking this morning instead," Steve says with a shrug. Better to play it off as if it's nothing rather than giving Eddie the impression of the feelings that have already started to form.

"Right, well. I'll... head back then," Eddie says with a little wave. He makes it about two steps back before he turns around. "Is this about the music? I'll stop playing so late if it's really bothering you."

This is the part where Steve is supposed to say yes to this, send Eddie on his way, then celebrate. But after four days of this routine and so many nights of restful sleep... "No, it's not... it's not that. It’s um...” Steve trails off at a loss for words. “The war’s still on.”

Eddie smiles but it doesn’t seem entirely genuine. “Ah, getting in my head I see. I’ve gotta hand it to you, Steve, you aren’t just looks.”

Steve watches as Eddie leaves, shoulders tense as he walks back to his house. He catches sight of two figures two doors down waving at him. Robin and Nancy look like they’re huddled together, and shit, if Robin can do it so can Steve.

“Eddie!” Steve yells out. Eddie stops in his tracks and slowly turns around. “How about we make a peace treaty over dinner tonight?”

Eddie’s face slowly lights up with a genuine smile. “I’d really like that.”

“Finally!” A voice that sounds a lot like Nancy yells breaking the moment a bit. There’s loud laughter and a celebratory screech that is definitely Robin.

“Tell me,” Eddie says walking toward Steve’s porch, “How does one deal with loud and annoying neighbors?”

Steve laughs. “I have no idea, but I think my answer and Nancy’s will be very different.”

“Oh yeah? What are your answers?” Eddie asks, now walking up the steps.

“Well, you have to ask other questions first like: Are they one hundred percent your type to the point that you start a war with them that turns into you doing their lawn shirtless just to get their attention while they lull you to sleep at night?”

Eddie dramatically taps a finger on his chin and squints off as if he’s searching for the answer. “I have to say that Nancy... her answer will most likely be ‘no’ to that. I’m not sure though. Maybe we should ask her.”

Steve snorts and shoves at Eddie’s arm. Eddie locks eyes with him for a moment, and Steve can’t help but wonder if he could get lost in them forever. “Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes out as his eyes trace over Steve’s face and track down to his lips.

“Want to make that peace treaty over breakfast instead of dinner?”

Eddie smiles. “Absolutely,” he says and walks past Steve into his house before he’s invited inside. Steve can’t even be upset about it.

A glance down the street and Steve sees that Nancy is also heading inside but Robin trails behind looking towards Steve. He lifts his hand up and Robin does the same resulting in a quick air high five. They’re going to have a lot to talk about later.

My bday ficlet to you <3

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things #robin buckley #steddie fanfic #ronance

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m1ssunderstanding · 6 months ago

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Let it Be Close-watch

Paul, sweety, it's beautiful, but it's killing the vibe.

Ringo looks like a very old, very tired lab rat whose been put through the maze a few too many times

Somehow the air-brown mostly eaten apple is very appropriate.

She looks far too sweet here to ever let John down. Yoko has very kind eyes.

I love how it makes it seem like Paul and John are calling Maxwell “the corny one” but really we know from Get Back that they're talking about a particular arrangement they were trying out for Don't Let me Down.

I swear he's saying “John” there, not “Joan” and also he said “came down upon His head” so… Oh! And Max died in the end in this version? “Sure that Max was dead” Okay. So Paul kills John and then himself. Murder suicide story. Yeah, Paul, you're doing great mentally, we can all tell.

I love how George getting electrocuted was important enough to make the cut for both films. Poor baby. “If this boy dies you're gonna cop it” from the guy who was just singing about a serial killer.

They're so silly

Yoko does not agree with me

Paul: stealing your man, sweetheart. John: oh no I'm being stolen teehee!

They're so silly

Oh wait, were those bitchy looks at George??? Because there he is. Idk could easily be him or Yoko.

this poor autistic baby trying to use words (not his language) to explain music (his language)

“Good MoOornin! Wooah!” I think I just … You know how Mike said people were booing Paul in the theater watching this? Yeah it's because they were pissed he didn't step out of the screen and onto their necks.

Oh Michael put himself in his own movie too? Huh, cool.

They are always in my heart

The way Paul says “get on the mic” to John??? I would've thrown something, that was so fucking bossy! Just his tone and his face and his angry pointing fingers. So mean. And John just goes “okaaay”. Oof.

Ringo covering his eyes like a little kid watching a scary movie during the orange sweater fight. Same, babe.

Sounds like the original lyric John's going for is something long “All I want is you. Nothing else is gonna do.” But that obviously didn't fit with the tune. I wonder if there was a particular conversation with Paul being controlling that made the “everything has got to be the way you want it to” line click in.

Oh my gosh! So George is showing I Me Mine to Ringo and Paul and he says the “I don't give a fuck it can go in musical” line before he even plays it. Not after John's making fun of him like he does in Get Back. Nagra reels experts: which one is correct??

George: it's a heavy waltz. Ringo:*claps hands angrily and punches the air to a ¾ beat. I love him, he's like the core of “Beatle humor” to me.

Woah there! Okay this is the John/Yoko pda Peter Jackson cut, I see. I wonder if there's a lot more footage of them swapping spit that might make the “oh John was just so in love” theory more reasonable.

It's extremely impressive that George just wrote this whole thing last night. You know? John and Paul have brought in all fragments from what I can tell. He's the only one to come in with a basically finished product.

LMAO and we're just going to Apple now. No reason. Nothing happened. Nothing to see. Moving on.

Ringo is so so cute pretending to hide from the cameras. Really he should've been the cute one.

Is it just me or does Paul drop the sillies and get sad when he sings “always be mine” at John? It's his regular voice, too, for a minute, if I'm not mistaken.

Silly cuties. But John's grin and little sexy tongue action happens the second time Paul sings always be mine, so…

What friendly artistic collaboration looks like when it's not psychosexual

Paul: have you played the dubs? George: yeah. Terrible. Paul: Great! Ringo: terrible. John: laughs Paul: (sarcastic) oh, so dreadful. …. John: where's my guitar? Paul: (still sarcastic) well we're just the greatest band ever. Idk I just like this dialogue. It's very them, you know?

This is adorable.

But I also love how they're already communicating with eyebrows, you know? They just bonded so fast and I find that beautiful.

And then Heather ups their game from taking turns going “chchchchch” into the mic to meowing into the mic. She looks at Paul like “okay your turn” and he sets her down lol he's thinking ‘if I meow into the mic right now after John already had a sex dream last night about me, he might actually cream his pants and we can't have that on camera’

Lol Billy just magically appeared!

Paul you're literally so annoying. You started the goofing off and now you're like “alright lads, that's enough.” Mkay.

He is unbelievably sexy and talented though so you know he does have those little things going for him. Someone write me a Paul/Billy fic please!!

Kinda crazy how they all four just slide straight from “Kansas City” to “Miss Ann” to “Lawdy Miss Claudy”. Makes me think of something they might've done in Hamburg.

I'm sorry but Paul finishes “please don't excite me baby. I'm down in misery.” And John's immediate answer is, “well you can get it if you want it, and if you want it you can get it!” And Paul ends up singing “I want it I want it I want it I want it”. Nice. Very subtle, boys. And that's before John gets kinky.

I love how Heather just forces a hug from George and then immediately runs away. What a cutie.

But really. How did anyone watching this get the idea that John hated Paul? Just confirmation bias I guess?

All the cut off conversations kill me but especially the one where John's working though Paul's anxieties. They're just in the middle of it and then cut. “two of us Sunday driving…”

Someone should do a study of whistling in their songs. I feel like it's another one of their tip offs that “hey this one is about us” Anyway I love John's whistling here. He's so good at it. I can just imagine him as some farm boy picking apples, you know?

Imagine booing this poor stay puppy though, like. What? I mean, what if Johann Weiner was wrong and John wasn't crying at the sight of him and Paul playing triumphant together on the rooftop, but at Paul playing his little heart out about their doomed love. Idk it's probably both. Let's be real, John was bawling through the whole thing.

What is George laughing at? Picture quality is garbage because evil corporations don't let you take screenshots of their content, but he looks like that one kid in your elementary school class that just dumped Cheetos all over his crushes desk and thinks he's a criminal mastermind.

Also I do appreciate all the attention given in the chosen shots to the musicianship. I bet they liked that at least if they had the heart to like anything about the movie at the time.

I'm sorry but I love how in sync Mo and Paul are. With this ducking and later the shimmying. I know it's wrong to ship Ringo’s wife with one of the Beatles she didn't sleep with, but… idk I really want her to have bedded all four at one point, you know? She deserves it, being an og.

Okay but yeah I'd be having a public meltdown if I fumbled that too holy fucking shit

Ringo feeling himself as he should

George just looks like he smells nice. Unlike the others. You know?

John has such a beautiful smile. If somebody looked at me like that I'd put him up on a giant screen behind me on my world tour after he'd been dead for forty years too.

That pleeeaaaheeeaaase though. Looking at Paul. How did he survive I'll never know.

The cut from screaming Paul to grouchy nap lady is extremely painful.

John was so cool in this concert. Like the epitome of cool.

Kevin, my love, thank you for your service

I love Yoko leaning so far and craning her neck. She's like a mom at a school talent show. Like “I only came to see my baby.” Type vibe. Which is exactly what she's doing, unlike Mo, and honestly I find both of them extremely valid

You know in movies where the romantic leads are never looking at each other at the same time?

I think I watched George and John switching back on their amps like fifty times because I just love it so much. And from this angle, you can see John's saying something to Paul about it. He looks serious and he's shaking his head. I wonder what he's saying.

Mal Evans I love you forever for this. Look at his hand on the rail, just blocking them off completely, so protective.

Them turning to each other at the end always gets me. It's automatic, like second nature, and it's the last time ever. They deserved better.

Oh Darling duet in the credits are you fucking kidding me??? Was that in the original? “Believe me, when I tell you.” “Oh I do.” That's the second time that they gave away in this footage that they know they're talking to each other in their music.

Alright, that's it, I guess. And then MLH is haunted by this experience for forty years until he makes Two of Us to purge the demons.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #let it be

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waldau-archived · 7 months ago

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Hi love, can I request for Chan X reader, with the trope f2l?

here you go anon! this became WAY longer and a bit angstier than i expected (4k?? i thought i wrote like 2k), but it's all happy! hope you like it :) and here's the video in question. title taken from _WORLD by svt.

gender neutral reader. warnings: chan is initially tipsy.

won't let you down | 4,007 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this is the last time, chan tells himself, but he very well knows it's a lie. just like the past few times he's ended up like this, head resting against the scruffy but comfortable material of junhui's sofa, while seungkwan takes his phone from the table in front of him, unlocking it to call you.

it's happened enough times now that seungkwan finally knows the password to his phone, not that chan has anything to hide. he tries focusing on what seungkwan's saying to you, but there's a pleasant buzzing in his ears, and it would be a good environment to sleep if not for a) the angle of his neck against the aforementioned sofa and b) the music playing in the background, lee dokyeom trying to match the choreography while balancing a shot glass on his palm.

"there," seungkwan says, pushing the phone back into his hand. "try not to fall asleep till they get here."

easier said than done, especially when chan is much more of a lightweight than seungkwan is, even if he can hold his alcohol well. chan pockets his phone and tries adjusting his head a bit more comfortably. when he closes his eyes, he feels sleep tug at them, but it's not enough to knock him out fully.

a little jolt of guilt runs through him when he realizes tonight is your designated night in — you like having time for yourself, whether it's to catch up with old friends or make time time to check out vernon's movie recommendations. you shouldn't have to pick chan up from something that's his own fault.

he thinks about how you never once complain about what you do for him. there’s always an amused smile on your face, defending his tipsy self from his older brothers while you manoeuvre him out of the room, a steady arm around his shoulders, the way you let him rest his weight on you even though he’s so much more muscular than you are, and the way you sometimes let him loop his arm through yours as though you’re a couple—

he stops at that.

seungkwan's great when it comes to feeding his delusions, talking about how you definitely like him and that chan's the only one not seeing it, that he's kind of an idiot for dragging it out this long, that he should put everyone out of their misery and ask you out already.

again, it's easier said than done. chan's not like seungkwan — outgoing, with no hesitation when it comes to finding something out. chan doesn't act till he's absolutely sure about something, always thinking about the long-term consequences of every little action. and he could put everyone out of their misery by asking you out, but he’s not prepared for the misery that’ll ensue when you don’t answer the way he hopes you will.

unfortunately, there’s no proper way for him to ask you, his best friend, if you like him the way he does you.

chan just lets the buzz in his head drown out the thoughts crowding up. he will find the answer one day, somehow. he has to. just...not tonight.

he must have fallen asleep sometime between thoughts of wonwoo on the karaoke and you, because his eyes blink open to the sight of you kneeling in front of him, a concerned look on your face.

and gosh, does he hate it. he hates seeing you concerned when you look at him. he's still never gotten used to how your smile has been making him feel, and he doesn't think he ever will.

"hey," you say softly, moving to rest your hand on his thigh. an involuntary shudder passes through him, and you take your hand off before he can say anything. he mourns its loss almost instantly. "seungkwan said you had a bit too much to drink. you okay?"

the tattletale. chan stretches his neck and winces when a spear of pain strikes the left side of his head, going as fast as it came. "mm. look who’s talking."

you frown at him. "how much did you drink, chan?"

"i...don't know." it's true — he lost count after the first six shots. everything else was drowned out by being forced to sing on the karaoke or watching minghao try his hardest to sing some korean classics from the early nineties. it was fun, but there’s always the regret that follows the fun, and it’s strong this time. he looks at you apologetically, hoping his face is enough to make up for the words he can't say.

if he were a neon signboard, he wonders what the words above his head would be every time he looked at you — i'm sorry? for loving you the way i do? or i love you? but i've never been able to say it the way i mean it because i'm afraid of losing you.

you sigh and stand up. "get up," you say gently, giving him your hand to steady himself.

it's not the first time you've danced this dance, but it still makes chan's heart beat as though it's never happened before. it's muscle memory from here — he stands up on his feet, wobbly for a few moments till you slide an arm around his waist to hold him in place, his arm around your shoulders.

you’re wearing the hoodie he’d given you for your birthday. he can feel it before you see it, a drunk grin spreading across his lips. you look good in everything you wear, but this? chan’s weak.

you fuss about his hair looking messy and run your hand through it twice, fixing it to your liking. then it’s the default goodbyes, the promises to text everyone once he's reached home safely, and to hydrate himself so that he doesn't wake up the next morning wishing he'd never woken up.

but he doesn’t have to worry about all of that when he’s with you. you always make sure he’s taken care of, and it’s the only thing on his mind when both of you stumble out of junhui’s building, the cold night air making chan shiver and freeze for a second. his hand catches on the fabric of your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” he says, suddenly feeling nervous to meet your eyes. you shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“did you do something i should be worried about?”

“i…no?”

“then why are you apologizing?”

“i always do this.”

"and i always do this," you say, opening the door of your car and gesturing for chan to get in. "you're speaking as though i mind."

"i'm drunk. you should be sleeping. and...wait, you don't mind it?"

“no,” you say patiently, slotting your key into its place and starting the car. “we’ve had this conversation before, too. i don’t mind it. it’s not as if you don’t look out for me when i’m feeling down. i don’t know anyone else who would watch my favourite movies with me even when they’d rather be doing something else.”

"that's because you're my best friend," chan says, almost cringing at how earnestly, how easily, those words come from him.

"do you understand why i don't mind now?"

it's easy to give you anything, but chan still gets bashful about taking anything from you. he's much better at it than he used to be when you first met. he just huffs in response.

"what would you do without me, channie?" you ask, pulling out of your spot. it's an innocent question, slightly teasing, but chan takes it seriously. do you have any idea of what that nickname does to him?

"i don't know," he says honestly. "i don't want to know."

you sigh fondly and flick his thigh. "don't get all serious on me. i'm not going anywhere, and you know that."

sometimes chan wonders what you’ll do if you ever find out about what he feels for you. you’re too kind to let him down directly. maybe you’ll give him some time to get over you, so that you could go back to being friends again. or maybe, a cruel part of him thinks, you’ll cut him out of your life for good. neither option sounds good.

he can either take a step and watch the glass break, or never take a step and never find out what could have been. he’s precariously balanced in the middle, surviving on the quiet moments he has with you, moments that could be something more.

"i love you," he says, his words abrupt and almost harsh in the silence of your car.

"just because i'm driving you back home?"

or he can be right in the middle, where you don't understand how his love you is different from yours. it's not the best place to be, but he gets to be true to an extent.

"you know it's not just that." see through me, just this once?

"i do," you say, not looking at him. "i know." again. maybe next time.

it's muscle memory again, when you open the door to your apartment, flicking the lights on as chan clumsily kicks off his shoes. it’s not long before he’s had a glass of water and a tablet you pressed into his palm, not moving till he had it in front of you. he types out a clumsy i’m home now text to the group before he chuckles at the realization — none of his friends once assumed he was going to make it to his own place.

with his face washed and the headache dulling to a slight throb, he’s pretty close to passing out on your bed. he almost whines when you tell him you have some work left to do.

with the door shutting behind you, chan pulls the covers over himself, vaguely aware of how uncomfortable it is to sleep in skinny jeans. it’s not like you’ve never shared the same bed before, but it’s the first time he’s slept by himself in your bed. and the first time he’s been here since he’s realized his feelings for you.

chan tosses and turns as he tries to will himself to sleep, straining his hears to see if he can get any hints about how much longer you’re going to take. you’ve somehow not made him take his jean jacket off, despite the fact that you usually insist on making him remove that “atrocity” of an item before sleeping, but it’s what keeps him warm when he pads out into the living room to see why you’re still not done.

"...do this again," he hears you say into your phone. you're standing in the middle of your living room, looking like you've been pacing around for a while now. "i can't. i can't keep pretending everything's okay. this is like, what, the fourth time in the past three months?"

do what again? and who are you talking to, so late at night? chan wants to ask you if there's anything he can do, even though he knows nothing about what's wrong, but you speak again. he tries not to make too much noise as he takes a few steps ahead.

you groan into the phone. "what do you mean, drop hints? what do you think i’ve been doing? i’ll lose my mind at this rate. and i just can't tell him i can't keep picking you up from your parties every time you get drunk because i— hey. that's not the issue here. you know that."

chan's stomach drops.

there's no one else you pick up from parties, that much he's sure of. but you've been counting? and you're...annoyed by it, but you're too kind to say that to his face? he feels like crawling out of his own skin.

you sigh. "i'll try telling him the next time he's awake and feeling better, okay? no promises."

chan's already turning back to head to your room, mortified with every step he takes. he shouldn't even be here. he should be on the couch.

how long have you been feeling that way, without him knowing? how much longer will you be this nice to him until it inevitably slips out?

it’s not long before you slip into your bedroom, closing the door behind you without making too much noise. chan hears the clink of your toothbrush being put back into its stand and the sound of the light being switched off before you pull the covers and settle in.

chan tries to slow his breath to make it look like he’s sleeping, because he’s way too high strung for this. your conversation with whoever it was is still running through his head. probably one of his friends, and he can’t even be bothered to speculate about who it could be.

“chan?” you ask, breaking the silence in the room. he pretends to blink his eyes open but knows you’ve caught him when you ask, “not able to sleep?”

“not tired,” he says, voice cracking in between. you’re on my mind is far more damning than saying he can’t sleep.

“did i wake you up? i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s not that,” he says, a bit hastily. “just…had a bit too much to drink. i could run now if i wanted.”

“well, it’s a good thing i’m not going to let you.”

chan lets out a little chuckle. if only you knew what effect your words have on him.

“can i…?” you ask hesitantly, before he feels fingertips touch his own. he immediately locks his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand. it’s one of your ways of calming down when you’re stressed, and chan thinks he gets why.

feeling a bit brave, he lets his thumb stroke the skin of your hand. he does it till he feels your breaths even out, grip on his hand loosening. even when that happens, it doesn’t let go. he can’t.

but he has to, eventually.

seeing you sleeping gives him some time to collect his thoughts. he could just leave right now, before he makes thinks weird by overthinking again. he needs time to understand what you meant when you said you couldn’t keep doing it and yet you’re the one who held his hand to help him go to sleep.

surely you’re not going to be upset when he leaves a little earlier than he usually would, when he sleeps over at your place?

yet it feels like luck isn’t on his side when he pushes himself to get up, immediately hindered by a creaky spring in your mattress. your hand twitches at that, and he gets up in one swift motion to prevent any noise.

but when his hand is on the handle of your door, he hears his name being called out weakly. questioningly. he stays silent, hoping you won’t get up.

“are you leaving already?”

“just…forgot i left my light on. in the bathroom.”

“right.” he can’t see your face in the darkness of the room, but he knows you’re unimpressed right now. it is a weak excuse. “come back here, please?”

chan is powerless if you ask him something. against his best interest, he walks up to you slowly, standing near your bed.

“don’t do that,” you say, shifting to switch on your bedside lamp. “you look like a sleep paralysis demon without the lights on. sit here,” you say, patting the side of your bed.

something’s going to happen, chan can tell. he just doesn’t know if it’s something he should be looking forward to or not.

“i shouldn’t disturb your sleep, you know?”

“no. what you shouldn’t be doing is acting weird. you’ve been acting weird all night. did i do something?”

you look serious, chan realizes. there’s a small frown on your face chan wishes he could thumb out, or maybe even press a kiss to, to make it go. that’s what the problem is.

“you’ve done nothing,” he blurts out. “all me.”

“all you what?”

“it’s nothing.”

you sit up to push the covers off of yourself. “chan, you’ve been meek around me all night. i’ve never seen you do that. i’ve never seen you doubt yourself the way you did tonight. you know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

and how is he supposed to do that, when it could be the very thing that could lead you to never talk to him again?

“it’s my fault,” he settles for saying. “and i’m working on it. i promise you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“are you sure you can’t tell me about it?”

“positive.” i don’t know what would happen if i did.

you don’t look satisfied, but you let it slide. “are you still not tired? do you want to watch a movie? make something? pancakes, if you’re hungry?”

chan can’t help the laugh he lets out. you always think about him, even if you’re the one losing your sleep here. it’s the catalyst to the last lock on his words breaking.

“i love you,” he says, and the remaining words tumble out naturally like they were made never to be apart. “i love you, and i’ve been trying to tell you for way too long, and i think i missed my chance, because you clearly don’t like me.”

“i…don’t like you? and you love me? chan, what?” you ask, scrambling forward, hands resting on his thighs again. he doesn’t shudder, this time. lets his words come out the way they’ve been slowly forming in him, like a storm that’s been brewing for a while. all that will be left to see is the aftermath.

“i heard you say you wanted to tell me something when i felt better, and that you couldn’t keep doing…it anymore. if you didn’t want to waste time picking me up from parties, you could have just said that.”

“oh,” is all you say.

chan deflates. “we’re…not supposed to have secrets from each other, right? why couldn’t you tell me that before?”

“chan—”

“it sucks that i had to overhear you say that. i thought you trusted me enough.”

“chan, listen—”

“i’m not scared, if that’s what you think. i—”

“lee chan!” you exclaim, suddenly taking his face between your hands. he’s rendered speechless. “listen to me?”

he can do nothing but nod, looking into your eyes. you’re looking into his own.

“lee chan, i love you. do you hear me? you’re my best friend in the whole world and i meant it when i said i’d love you no matter what. but i also love you the way you think i don’t.”

chan’s brain short-circuits to the point where he doesn’t even remember what he was talking to you about, for a few moments. “you…love me?”

“i do,” you affirm. “i have, for a while now, and i never thought i’d get a chance to say it.”

it feels like a weight is being placed on him but also being removed at the same time. the weight of your love seeping into his skin through your hands holding his face, through your cold skin that he always wants to keep warm, through your eyes that are looking at him nervously, waiting for his next words, through your breaths that sound a bit shorter than usual.

the loss of the weight of uncertainty feels like the most beautiful thing he’s ever experienced.

“you love me,” he says. testing. confirming.

“so much, chan, i— i’ve been trying to tell you every single time i picked you up from one of those parties—”

“—that’s what you were trying to say?”

“i— yes.” your hands let go of his face to cover yours, and he’s never wanted to see your face more than he has now. he gently pulls your hands off to make you look at him, and what he sees is real. it’s not you letting him down gently, it’s not you pretending, because he knows you too well for that.

and now he knows that you love him just the way he loves you.

“you weren’t supposed to…why did you even hear me talking?”

now it’s chan’s turn to become shy. “i just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to come back. i couldn’t sleep.”

“silly,” you say, flicking his forehead gently. you tuck some of his hair behind his ear, and your expression becomes serious. “but i want to, chan. i want to take care of you because you’re my best friend. i like doing it. i— i love you, and i’ll always be there to take off your makeup and listen to you talk and cheer you up because i love you so much.”

chan knows. he knows about every little thing you do for him, and he hopes you know how he’d do anything you asked of him. he doesn’t even need to say anything to get you to understand what he’s feeling right now.

“so…you love me,” he says, teasing, because of the glare you give him. “how long have you loved me?”

you shake your head resolutely. “you’re going to have to wait a while to find out.”

“but what if i wanted to know now?” chan pulls the best puppy face he can, and it works because you sigh and pull him back into lying down with you, his head in your lap, looking up at you.

“you really want to know?”

“yeah.”

“it’s embarrassing.”

“that’s even better.” chan wraps his arms around your waist when you attempt to push him off. “i’m sorry,” he laughs, holding on to you. “please tell me.”

“i think…i think i’ve loved you since that night you fell off seungcheol’s bed because of how hard you were laughing. that night really cemented it for me. there really hasn’t been…anyone else for me, since then.”

the quietness of your voice makes chan’s throat constrict. “there hasn’t been anyone else for me, either, ever since i met you.”

you blink. “that long?”

“no! i mean— i didn’t think about dating ever since we became friends, and then not thinking about dating became thinking about dating you, and then—” chan pauses when he sees a smile on your face. “what?” he asks, a little self-conscious. “did i say something wrong?”

“i’m so glad i love you, you know?”

chan can’t take the way your face is straight and you’re just grinning at him like you didn’t steal his heart at an ungodly hour in the morning. “stop,” he mumbles, pressing his face into your stomach. “i’m really tired right now.”

“oh, now you’re tired?”

it take a little bit of moving to get yourselves under your covers again (chan’s jacket now sits on the chair by the desk, courtesy of you), and this time he has an arm around your waist with your head on his shoulder. it feels absolutely right.

“chan?” you ask, the single word drawn out in a way that tells him you’re on the brink of sleep again.

“hmm?”

“promise i won’t wake up to an empty bed again?”

his heart squeezes at the reminder. “promise. i’m not going anywhere. i love you.”

you don’t need to say it back, because he feels the smile you press into his skin.

"so? what does it feel like?"

“hm?” chan shifts in your embrace to look up at you. there’s really nothing better than coming home after a long day of practice, taking a shower and cuddling with you in bed, with you kissing his forehead. he feels really sleepy, but he tries staying awake for your question. “what does what feel like?”

“knowing what it feels like to like someone?”

ah. you watched the video, then.

“it feels…” it feels like everything, if he’s being honest. the best of all worlds. like the world sings every time he wakes up. like even the most mundane things like doing laundry and setting the table have a greater purpose, because he gets to do it with the love of his life.

“it feels like i’m lucky to be alive, because i get to love you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

#i really apologize for forgetting how alcohol works lets just say his tipsiness faded with his headache mwah #lee chan #lee chan fluff #dino #dino fluff #fluff #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #waldau writes #req

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inmyicyworld · 1 year ago

Text

Personal pillow

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft.

Words count: 1.7K

Warnings: none

Author's note: idk how I feel about it, but i've been thinking about clingy/soft Bucky for way too long, so here you go🫡

masterlist my ao3 ko-fi

Bucky Barnes wasn't the most affectionate and nice person on earth. Always grumpy and with an attitude, didn’t like physical touch, and hated being vulnerable and soft. However, when you were alone in your room, he was a completely different man.

The only thing that he loved more than you, food, and old music was sleep. He hated it right after the Winter Soldier program was removed because of the violent and dark nightmares, but you were the solution to all of his problems.

He loved sleeping with you. On you, to be exact.

He accidentally discovered it once when he just threw himself onto your bed and somehow laid with his head on your stomach.

You didn't know why your boyfriend liked it so much, but since that day he always ended up on your stomach, your boobs, or between your thighs with hands wrapped around your body, and it was almost impossible to drag him away. You always ran your fingers through his fluffy hair in soothing motions to ease the tension in his body, and it worked every single time. Bucky slept like a baby in your arms.

Today he left early in the morning for training with Sam, but then he had a lot of paper work and something that needed to be done in the city, so you didn’t really talk to or see him. He only left a kiss on your forehead while you were still in bed and sent you a few messages throughout the day.

It was your day off, and you didn’t feel like doing anything special or being productive. So you brought a fluffy comforter from your bed, a cup of hot chocolate, and sat in the common room to watch a movie on a big ass screen that Tony bought to show off.

When the film almost ended and you were already kind of sleepy, you heard firm footsteps from the hall. The tall and big body was standing in the doorframe, but you didn’t see your boyfriend’s face yet; it was pretty dark in the room.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” You paused your movie and squinted to see Bucky.

“Fucking amazing. A bunch of assholes and tons of reports that they sent me last minute.” He grumbled, coming closer to you. “Let’s go, I need my personal pillow or I won’t fall asleep.”

You tried to hold back a laugh when you finally saw his face. Tired and frowned with pouty lips like a child. Bucky was painfully cute when he was a little bit mad and annoyed, and you didn’t want to do anything more than pinch his cheeks and kiss all of his face.

“You look so cute, gosh.” You smiled, biting your lip. “But I have only... fifteen minutes of my movie left, and I really want to finish it today. Do you want to lay on me here for now?” You opened the covers and pointed at your belly.

Bucky stood there silently for a few seconds, still with a frown on his face.

“I don’t want these douchebags to see us here.”

“They won’t; Steve is on the mission, Natasha is already in her room, and Sam went on a date. C’mon, I’ll massage your head.” That was everything you needed to convince your boyfriend to give up. He took off his shoes and laid on top of you with his head on your stomach and hands around your waist.

You covered your bodies with a duvet and stroked his hair, brushing it over and over again with your fingers. You felt that Bucky pulled up your shirt a little bit, and as soon as his cheek met with your warm skin, he heavily sighted, finally feeling safe and calm.

“That's okay, baby.” You cooed, massaging his scalp. “Do you want to talk about your day? What made you upset?”

“No, just want to feel you, doll. Missed you so much.” He mumbled against your stomach and closed his eyes as your soft touches made his body almost melt into yours.

“I missed you too. I’ll just finish my film and we’ll go to sleep, ‘kay?” Bucky just slightly nodded, already feeling too sleepy to actually say something.

It didn’t take him too much time to fall asleep completely. Your gentle scratches and the way you rolled his hair around your finger, along with the muffled sound of the TV and soft cover on top of him, did their work, and Bucky was peacefully snoring on you in a span of a few seconds.

You weren’t much better than him; your eyes started closing as soon as the credit scene began, and you didn’t have enough power in you to resist it, especially when a giant, hot human pillow was sleeping on top of you.

So you just gave up.

The first thing that you heard when you woke up was mumbled talk and laughter. Your eyes snapped open because your brain completely forgot that you, in fact, weren’t in your room or bed.

The common room was filled with almost everyone. For fuck’s sake, when was the last time you saw that many Avengers together in one room? And now all of them were sitting on the other couches and armchairs, looking at you and laughing. Well, they weren’t looking at you; they were looking at Bucky, who was still glued to your body.

You quickly sat straight, now completely awake. The movements disturbed Bucky’s peaceful sleep, making him grumble and try to get you back under him.

“I didn’t know that Cyborgs could be so clingy.” The most annoying voice Bucky could’ve possibly heard in the morning filled his ears, and he lost every last piece of sleep in his body, sitting up on the couch.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Willson? All of you, in fact.” Bucky looked around the room, seeing Sam, Nat, Wanda, Tony, and Clint with shit-eating smirks on their faces; Thor, who looked just happy to be involved; and Steve and Bruce, who actually felt uncomfortable to be there.

“Sorry, Buck, they just...” Steve wanted to apologize but was disturbed by Tony.

“Sam just told all of us to come here a few minutes ago because he had something hilarious. And look! The strong and scary Winter Soldier is being a softie for his girlfriend.” Tony laughed, almost dropping his cup of coffee. You didn’t even expect that, but you felt a sudden wave of anger going through your body because you were already sick of everyone pushing Bucky’s buttons.

“Or maybe all of you should just mind your own business? You both would actually know something about Bucky if you tried anything besides making fun of him or trying to get him angry. You don’t even understand how fucking hard it is for him to communicate after everything that happened, and all of you are getting on my nerves. Just a bunch of children, I swear.” You growled, standing up and grabbing Bucky’s hand to drag him away.

Everyone was surprised by your words, and even Bucky looked at you with a weird expression on his face but still stood up, holding your hand.

“Sweets, it’s just a joke—” Natasha started.

“No, it’s not. I love you, Nat, I really do, but it’s not funny.” You looked around the room. “Y’all probably don’t understand the effect that your words have, but I see in private what none of you can. And when I tell you that your mockery and jokes make everything worse, I really mean it.” Bucky awkwardly shifted near you under all of the eyes that were glued to him. He felt exposed by the way everyone saw how he showed his affection to you and that he, in fact, was a really touchy and sensitive person. “C’mon, Buck, everything’s okay.” You looked back at him with your usual soft eyes, and his whole attention was now focused completely on you.

Everyone saw how Bucky’s body language changed when you talked to him, and even if someone like Tony or Sam couldn’t admit it out loud, the thought of being too harsh on Bucky appeared in their heads.

Without any further words, you lead your boyfriend out of the common room, leaving the Avengers in an awkward silence.

The comfort of your and Bucky’s shared room made you deeply inhale as soon as the door was closed behind you two. Before you could even say something, two strong hands wrapped around you from the back, and Bucky buried his face into your neck.

“Thank you, doll.” Your hand reached behind you to gently stroke Bucky's hair. “You didn’t have to do it, really. I got used to their words.” He squeezed you tighter, pressing his chest into your back.

“That’s not okay, baby. I’m sick of that. You may not say it to me or even admit it to yourself, but I see that it hurts you.” You turned around in his hands, placing your own on both sides of his face. “But that’s okay that you want to cuddle, to sleep on me, to be held. Really. There is nothing wrong with it. I’m really honored to be the person who is allowed to see your soft side.”

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much, doll, you can’t even fucking imagine,” Bucky whispered before leaning forward to kiss you.

“I love you, James.”

“Can we stay here today? I don’t really want to talk with anyone besides my sweet and protective girl.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his teasing tone.

“Of course we can, Buck.” That was your last word before Bucky lifted you off the ground, put you on the soft blankets of your bed, and climbed on top of you, happily wrapping around your body and falling asleep.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfiction #one shot #fluff #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky x you

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coolprettyleo · 9 months ago

Text

Don't Forget, Don't Forget About Me - Gabe Perreault ☆

wc: 1.9k

tw: angst. alcohol. kissing? cussing. partying. almost sa. slut shaming. weird frat guy.

part 2 of superman !!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

gabe hadn’t called. he hadn’t texted. it was now sunday night; the night before he was supposed to land back in boston and lottie wondered if he had even thought of her.

her little overthinking insecure mind couldn’t help but hope he wouldn’t go off and save some other girl. a girl who desperately needed saving just like the naive little freshmen lottie was a couple of months prior.

*flashback*

“c’mon!! we’re in college now, you have to actually leave your dorm if you want to make friends char” her best friend from home told her while they were face timing.

i mean its not that lottie liked to stay home. she kinda felt burnt out. her whole life she didn’t have strict authority figures who told her she couldn’t go out. so by the time she was eighteen years old in a new city she didn’t feel the hunger of freeness, every other eighteen year old was feeling.

she grew up with her grandmother in california who had already done her part in raising her children. she was raising lottie out of the kindness of her heart. or mainly due to the fact lottie would be in the foster care system since both her parents were in jail.

“i dont know what if something goes wrong” she says, beginning to look like she can be convinced seeing how cute dylan looks.

it might be fun to dress up and take cute pics…

“it’s college! you finally have the opportunity to be somewhere where no one knows you. you can talk freaking australian and stupid bitches would believe you. your just like every other bitch tonight!”

lottie couldn’t help but smile at her friends drunkness desperately regretting the fact she didn’t go to umich with the blonde friend.

“honestly thats so real and tru. when the hell did u start giving such good advice”

“shutup and let me help you pick a fit” dylan excitedly squeals.

—

lottie walked into a frat party alongside her roommate and some girls they had just met. the music was typical frat music but she was honestly feeling it.

maybe because she missed going out or maybe because her and her friends had just pregamed a bottle of titos before leaving the dorm.

the thing about lottie is that she doesn’t usually drink so when she does, she drinks to have a good time.

“oh my gosh!! charlotte pls let’s go dance. plsss” my roommate Mary slurred whining.

lottie was obviously not going to turn that invitation down, so off she went. unbeknownst to her she had already caught the attention of several guys with the worse intentions possible.

all lottie can remember of that part of the night is that she was dancing with mary having the time of her life and then the next thing she knew, mary was making out with some guy.

okay mary!! slay!

she didn’t want to awkwardly third wheel that, so she quickly made her way out the dance floor. into the kitchen where there were several tall guys standing around with red cups.

“hey charlotte right? we have english together” a shorter boy walked up to her. lottie didn't think he was with the taller boys.

ive never seen this man in my life.

but of course she was naive. and in her little naive mind she didn’t want to make this random guy feel bad so she went along with it. as if they were old friends. they weren’t.

“oh yeah! hi!” she told the black haired boy standing way too close for her comfort.

unbeknownst to lottie he didn’t actually have a class with her and he was just another dumb freshman hoping to get into a frat, trying to prove he was somebody to a bunch of nobodies. in all the wrong ways too. he had just been ordered to slip something into her drink.

why he chose lottie, she would never know.

“here let me get you some water, you don’t look too well”

“thanks!! thats so nice! I was just dancing with my roommate but I don’t know where she went, I think she went off with some guy which is totally fine! im not judging or anything, like good for her” lottie drunkly rambled. one thing about lottie is that she becomes a yapper with just one sip of alcohol.

“ya it can get pretty tiring out there” he said looking around and at her nervously handing her some ‘water’. or so she thought.

as lottie was about to pour the liquid down her throat a tall dark haired boy came and slapped the cup out of her hand. spilling it all over the floor and on her top.

what the hell man

“im so sorry but don’t drink that. here” he said handing her a bottled water desperately searching for a towel to give her to wipe off whatever the hell that liquid was which smelled like the farthest thing from water.

“cmon man i was already talking to her and it was just water” the frat boy said grabbing lottie harshly.

“get the fuck out of here ass hat. how stupid can you be”

"that wasn't water!"

the taller boy and i yelled at the same time while the frat boy shoved him.

“don’t fucking touch me or her” he said pushing him back. harder.

"she's pretty easy to touch man, I mean look at her" the frat guy drunkly said.

the tall dark haired boys friends quickly came and got between them before something bigger started.

“cmon gabe it’s not worth it” a freckled boy said to him while shooting a dangerous glare to the stupid frat guy.

lottie just stood off leaned against the counter trying to figure out who’s the hell are these people? and what the hell was going on? and did that asshole just slut shame her? what the hell did he even mean by that? .

“let’s go find your friends” he said taking my arm much gentler and guiding me through the party. trying to see if I recognized anyone.

“thank you for that, honestly. i didn’t think anyone could ever be capable of doing something like that” I told the boy who had gentler eyes now as we stepped outside. as lottie began to sober up, it hit her what could of happened if this mysterious boy never came to save the day.

im so dumb.

lottie couldnt help but think.

“well now you know for next time right” he said with a light smile as he texted on his phone.

whose he texting?

“who we texting!” lottie said jokingly. trying to lighten up the mood.

“im trying to call us an uber, your a freshman right?” he said with a chuckle, feeling a flip in his stomach as he seen her smile.

thats pretty.

“yeah, are you?”

“yeah, my names gabe by the way” he said realizing he never got her name or even told her his.

“charlotte. but i go by lottie” she said smiling at him, noticing gabe was honestly cute.

“the uber is fifteen minutes away” he said looking down at her, into her big brown eyes.

“thank you. really” she said starring into each others eyes, as if they’ve spent all eighteen years of their lives searching for one another.

feeling her heart beat a million times an hour; something lottie has never felt before. so she couldn’t figure out what it meant. heart attack? maybe?

lord save me.

*flashback over*

lottie felt like an idiot. she knew gabe was back from his trip seeing as his location was in his dorm. he usually would have asked her to go over by now or he would of came here, but seeing as he probably believed lottie didn't love him; he was going to be stubborn and not answer her.

screw it I cant take it anymore

lottie rolled her ass out of bed and put on her uggs as she marched down the hill to his dorm with a mission on her mind.

she had spent the weekend wallowing in self pity and she couldn't take it anymore. this had been the longest they had gone without speaking to one another since they got together and lottie realized she did not like it. not one bit.

—

"gabe just call her back, if she's calling you so much then she obviously does care about you" will snapped finally tired of seeing his roommate in such a terrible mood; all weekend.

"thats the problem! i want her to love me not just care for me. you guys know lottie; she cares for the homeless man down the street that she's never even met before!" gabe gestures with his arms.

"dont be complicated gabe" ryan chimes in, knowing all too well how their friend and teammate is.

as gabe opens his mouth to talk further he is cut off by a loud knock on the door.

ryan quickly trying to escape gabes self pity party practically runs to open the door while will and gabe stay sitting back on the couch.

"lottie! come in!" ryan says loudly looking at will with eyes that speak 'lets get outta here'. will practically ran out with ryan. not wanting to deal with depressed gabe any longer, not before waving at lottie on his way out though.

gabe rolled his eyes at their antics before getting up and walking to his room as lottie began to shut the front door.

"gabe wait! please hear me out"

"there's nothing to hear out lottie. its okay to not love someone back, you dont have to explain anything" he said looking anywhere and everywhere but her.

lottie took a good look at him seeing as he looked like his heart was breaking into a million pieces; lottie wanting so desperatly to put it back together one by one, however long it took. she loved him.

"you cant honestly believe that I dont love you gabe" lottie said softly, walking closer to him.

"look at me gabe" she whispered, while softly turning his head down to look at her. his deep green eyes has her wanting to scream from the rooftops.

"I love you" she said as she shook with nothing but raw emotion and pure love.

gabe couldn't help but scoop her up into his arms and kiss his girl like there was no tomorrow. smiling into the kiss because he hated what he had felt all weekend long.

lottie pulled away from the kiss as she wasn't finished. she planned the speech the whole way here, she wanted to tell him. because when you know you know and she knew.

"I love you gabriel perreault. and im sorry for not telling you sooner. i just assumed you knew and that was wrong of me and so sorry. since the very first day I've loved you. since you saved me from my own stupidity, I loved you. since you've put up through every bad habit and fit I've had, I've loved you-"

"lottie, i know. you dont have to say it" gabe said cutting her off knowing well lottie isn't one to scream her love from the rooftops. with his hands on her lower back. making her stomach do cartwheels.

god I love him. I want him.

"I want to though" lottie said, looking into his eyes. eyes that lottie thought were heart shaped starring deeply into her soul. leaning on her tiptoes to kiss his soft sweet lips again.

the boy who was her boyfriend. the boy she loved. the boy who knew she loved him. her version of superman. at least its the same thing too lottie.

the end!!

I dont know if I want to make this into an au or leave it as it is. we'll see!

#gabe perreault #gabe perreault x reader #bc hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey fic #will smith hockey #ryan leonard #hockey imagine

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a-aexotic · 2 years ago

Text

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. mentions of weed, alcohol, fighting, normal obx stuff, ooc!rafe

summary. rafe cameron is your friend (and soon to be more than friend), so you decide to make him hang out with your friends and brother so they can warm up to each other.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

The lights of the party were blinding and noise was very loud, you could hear the music from a block away. This was how most Kooks on OBX spend their weekends; with their friends, drinking.

Y/N and Sarah had convinced the Pogues to come to this Kook party. Usually they'd prefer to spend their night at the Chateau or at the Wreck but tonight, Sarah wanted to switch it up.

She hadn't been to a Kook party since she'd gotten with John B and she missed it. Sure bonfire parties were fine but they weren't Kook parties, not even close.

Today was one of Sarah's old friend's birthday and it was on Figure 8. It was a lot of convincing from Sarah and Y/N but the Pogues finally accepted.

"God, it's so loud!" Pope had shouted to JJ and Y/N. It'd only been two hours and the Pogues had already gotten separated. Kie and Sarah had disappeared and they're pretty sure John B went back to the car.

"Yeah, but that's kind of the point!" Y/N replied, shouting. Her, JJ and Pope eventually got outside and JJ took a dramatic inhale of fresh air. You and Pope rolled your eyes.

"Oh my gosh, I thought I was going to suffocate in there."

"You're fine." You patted JJ's back. He sighed and nodded, "I need a drink."

"Yeah, same" Pope added. "But I don't wanna go back in there, it's going to take us like an hour with all the people."

"You guys are so dramatic." You rolled your eyes playfully. "I'll take one for the team cus I really need a drink too. I'll be right back."

You started walking back into the swarm of crowds in the house, navigating your way to the drinks. You suddenly bumped a hard chest and you looked up to see Rafe Cameron.

If it was any other Pogue, they'd just scowl and walk away. But you knew Rafe very well, though. Better than most Pogues, or even Kooks in that matter.

He smiled at the sight of you. "Y/N!" He shouted over the booming music.

"Hey, Rafe!"

He leaned down so he could hear you better. He couldn't hear you over the loud music. "You haven't texted me in a bit, I was afraid you'd found someone else."

He was your friend and your dealer. You'd hooked up a couple times but that didn't really affect either of you until Rafe accidentally admitted he had a crush on you while smoking with you. Ever since then, things have gotten more complicated with the both of you, especially with feelings.

"'Course not, Rafe. You're the best dealer on this island." You noted as he smiled down at you.

"Oh, you flatter me Y/N." He let out a small laugh. "Where are your little... friends? I saw Sarah and I just assumed the rest of your group was here."

You tensed up at the mention of the Pogues. Rafe and the Pogues don't have a good history and you knew if they found out where exact their weed comes from, they wouldn't be too happy. Especially your brother, John B.

Rafe had become a little more open to being friends with Pogues after you so he's thought about maybe being nicer to the Pogues... for you.

"They're outside, um. I'm just getting some drinks for them."

Rafe nodded. "I can, uh help if you want me to."

You weren't sure about how this would end but maybe this would be the start of a friendship between Rafe and the Pogues - or at least they could be civil with one another, you'd be fine with that.

You knew you couldn't date Rafe without the approval of the Pogues (especially John B) so this was a good start to introducing them to the idea. "Sure."

You and Rafe took the drinks outside and as soon as JJ saw Rafe, he went up to him with an angry expression. "What the hell are you doing, Cameron?"

"Nothin just helping Y/N with your drinks." Rafe said simply. JJ was close Rafe, almost nose to nose. Rafe was trying his best not to throw the drinks in his face and punch him.

"JJ." You said sternly. "He's just.. helping, okay?"

"Are you sure he didn't try and poison us?" Pope finally spoke up as he glared at Rafe.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Pope. I saw him pour the drinks."

"Yes. And I'm going to drink with you guys, too." Rafe looked over at you for assurance and you nodded. That's what the two of you had agreed on.

JJ noticed the small interaction and he grabbed the drink from Rafe's hand and walked away towards the chair. Pope followed along as well.

"No one's thrown a punch yet, that's a good start." You mumbled to Rafe as he let out a small laugh. You followed them and had taken a seat directly in front of Pope and JJ.

You handed Pope his drink as JJ drank of his quietly, thinking. Awkward silence filled the group as you all drank from your cups, everyone studying the each other.

"This is good beer..." Rafe muttered as you nodded.

"Yeah, I'll have to ask Kelsey where she got it from." You responded as JJ groaned inwardly.

Pope and JJ exchanged a look. "Does John B know about your sudden friendship with Rafe?"

You glared at JJ. "That doesn't matter, I don't have to tell John B anything."

There was sudden silence as JJ looked behind you with a smirk, leaning back into his chair. You and Rafe turned around to see John B and Kie standing over you, scowls on their faces.

"Tell me what?" John B questioned as he looked directly at you, ignoring Rafe at the time being.

You cleared your throat. "That uh..." You paused to look over at Rafe. "I'm friends with Rafe."

"Friends?" Kie looked over at the proximity of both of you. You hadn't even noticed how close Rafe was to you; your legs were touching.

John B then look over at Rafe. "You're with friends with my sister?"

Rafe nodded.

"You're suddenly friends with my sister after publically hating on Pogues since, I don't even know." John B was starting to get angry. "Y/N, I don't know how you can't see it. It's obvious he wants something from you."

"Like what?" You countered, furrowing your eyebrows.

"I don't Y/N, what do you think?" John B exhaled angrily. "What is Rafe Cameron notorious for?"

"Weed?" You sighed. "Why would-"

"No, Y/N. He uses women, that's what." John B turned his head to Rafe, grimacing. You hadn't even thought of that. The idea hadn't crossed your mind because Rafe had never made an attempt to even touch you. It merely talking, nothing else.

Rafe was baffled at John B's accusation. "Me and Y/N are just friends."

"Oh, you want us to believe that shit?" JJ suddenly spoke up, pointing at your touching legs. Rafe instantly moved his leg.

Rafe got up and scoffed angrily. John B moved closer to Rafe and got in his face. "You ever talk to her again, I'll kill you, alright?"

He laughed bitterly at that. "Oh, like you stand a chance."

John B quickly pushed Rafe making him stumble. You scoffed at that, quickly going to Rafe's side. Kie went to John B, crossing her arms.

"John B, you can't just-"

He cut you off, "Yes I can, I'm your older brother-"

"Oh, you really gonna pull that card, John B? Seriously?!"

"Well, he is, Y/N." Pope chimed in.

"You all going to take John B's side?"

It was silent for a couple seconds and you scoffed at that, laughing bitterly. "Of course you all would. Do you even consider me a friend? Do you only see me as John B's irresponsible little sister?"

Rafe put his hand on your shoulder, making John B and JJ exchange looks. "I don't wanna cause problem between you and John B, alright? I'll just see you later."

Rafe had walked away before you could say anything. You were just left with the Pogues, the air thicker than it was before.

"God, you're never gonna let me be happy." You walked off as well, John B wanted to go after you but Kie put her hand on his shoulder.

"Give her time, alright?"

John B nodded at thar before taking a seat, sighing as he thought of what the hell he was going to do with you and Rafe Cameron.

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pouringmyheartoutforpaper · 2 years ago

Note

hi beautiful bela in portuguese <3

here’s a dialogue / hc request: ways lovesick! stevie flirts with the cute, shy girl he’s falling for

HARMONIAAAAAAAAAAAA

oh my gosh i have so many thoughts

ok steve is a gentleman. we know this. hes very much a traditional holding the door open walking on the outside of the sidewalk type guy. but its just so adorable that he puts in that little bit of effort, even 10 years into your relationship

but like the doors. always opening your door for you. sometimes even bowing if hes feeling enthusiastic or just wants to embarrass you

always pulls your chair out and helps you in. and he doesnt know how nice that is, but you do.

he also loves gift giving

he buys you things. never lets you pay for anything. and sure the necklaces are beautiful and all but your favorites are the pretty rocks he picks up on the way to see you, an old sweater of his grandmothers that he thought youd look beautiful in, an extra bottle of water in his car so youre always hydrated, little things that show you how steve he is.

hes a charmer. duh. we know this. he knows how to talk to women. or honestly just people in general. but he loves using his little talent on you.

like brushing your hair behind your ear while you talk because it makes you blush. every. single. time.

but whats really the best is his compliments. because you know he means them. hes so kind.

“you look beautiful”

“that color is pretty on you”

“you know, youre so funny, and like smart. you always light up whatever room youre in”

“i just love the way you see the world.”

“your brain is just so like- its so pretty. i love how you think”

“your essay is like- so good. youre so good at that. yknow i never really was good at writing and stuff. but like this is great.”

“your music taste is so nice, it suits you.”

“you always make my brain feel like -agh- you just make me feel all warm and cozy and fuzzy.”

OH! and hes also the most caring person ever. especially with you. he learns how to read your face. learns the little signals you give when your nervous. learns what turns you on. learns what makes you blush. learns what scares you. learns how to calm you down. hes just so loving. he is love. he loves loving.

if you look sad or anxious he’ll give you a gentle “hey, you okay?”

or maybe youre just getting overstimulated and anxious. and he can see it on your face and how youre breathing.

“lets go outside, yeah? you want to go outside? i know, i know, shhh. youre okay baby. youre okay.”

maybe youre about to cry. youre speed walking to an empty room so you can cry, and steve lets you get there. but then follows you instantly. knocking gently on the door and saying your name

“y’ok? can i come inside doll?” “hey, hey i know. whats wrong dove? hey, breathe. cmon, breathe with me,ive got you. y’want a hug?”

and he gives the nicest hugs. big, warm hugs that he loves so much. he loves hugs with his whole heart. makes him feel so loved and cared for. loves feeling your body in his arms. and so of course you instantly wrap your arms around his chest. hes warm and strong. he has an arm around your back, and the other cradling your head by his neck and chest. having you hear his heartbeat and mimic his breathing to calm you down.

hes just so attentive to you. he enjoys it.

and he definitely notices how you look at him. i mean no, at first he was oblivious. poor boy has about three brain cells all working together and doesnt really think someone could like him, let alone love him.

but once he does figure it out, hes relentless.

he sees how you look at his arms. so he starts rolling his sleeves up. making you stare and he just giggles a little.

sees how you look at his hands. so he does more with them. holding things for you. fixing things for you. putting on bracelets for you while he feels your pulse speed up.

and god when he notices the way you look at his bulge hes so smug.

he knows its big. he knows its nice. and he knows you want it. his favorite game is to look up at you and watch your face turn red while you pretend you werent looking.

he stretches and his happy trail shows beneath his shirt. and youre literally just entranced. hes trying to continue a conversation but you are just blankly staring at the little trail of hair. he stops talking until you notice, looking up at him. hes grinning. smug as ever. this time he knows you know he caught you. he just raises his eyebrows at you for a second, and then continues talking while you freak out internally and get unreasonably hot.

also this isnt flirting per say, but he definitely gets caught by eddie and robin staring at your boobs or ass at least three times a week. he gets so grumpy about it. he doesnt mean to, he just cant help it. you look too pretty. but of course he will never ever make a sexual move first. youre going to have to ask him for it if you ever want it.

hes just overall the sweetest man in the world. hes adorable.

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hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 8 months ago

Text

pairing: hyunjin x gn reader

genre: angst

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: established relationship, drinking, jealousy, mentions of cheating, use of the word ‘whore’, crying, members choosing sides 😬(kind of)

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace.

masterlist * part 2

You looked at hyunjin, so handsome, his hair sticking to his forehead, a grin on his face as he danced in front of you. The bass was shaking your bones and the lights were flashing as you swayed to the music. The club was packed and you were surrounded by people, your favorites in your immediate vicinity. You all had been drinking— especially Jisung, who was slurring his words, with a very sober Minho hovering around him putting the fear of god in anyone who came to close. You looked at Felix, his smile giving the sun a run for its money, having the time of his life dancing with Changbin. Jeongin and Seungmin were dancing around Chan, poking him and making fun of his ‘old man dance moves’. You took in the moment. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you started to get emotional. Not to the point where you were going to start ugly crying in the club, but your heart definitely gave a squeeze. You loved these guys. They were your best friends in the whole world. And you couldn’t love anyone more than you loved your boyfriend, hyunjin. He came up behind you now, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying with you. He placed a gentle kiss to your neck. You squeezed his arms, pulling them tighter around you. You didn’t think life could get much better than this. And just on time, here comes your bladder to ruin the moment.

You turned around in his arms, kissing his lips quickly. "I’ve got to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back." You said directly into his ear so he could hear you.

"I’ll come with you." He said.

"No, I’ll be fine. I’ll just be a sec." You didn’t want to pull him away from his fun.

He nodded at you and kissed your cheek. You squeezed his hand and turned away, headed in the direction of the bathroom. Pushing through the crowd of people, you found the bathroom, and unfortunately you found the line that stretched from the door. You sighed, and took your place at the back of the line. You pulled your phone out, scrolling social media. The line moved slowly, but eventually you were able to make your way inside and do your business. You washed your hands and left the restroom, headed back to your friends.

"Yn?" You heard a deep voice call from behind you. You turned around to find an old friend from school, who you hadn’t seen in years.

"Hey! Oh my gosh, how are you?" You asked, pulling him into a hug.

"I’m great, thanks. Just got married." He lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers, showing the ring. "My better half is around here somewhere, I think he went to the bathroom." He chuckled.

"That’s amazing! Congratulations!" You bounced up and down on your toes, excited.

"How are things with you?" He asked.

"Fantastic actually. My boyfriend and my friends are out on the floor dancing. I was just making my way back to them."

"Well it was so nice to see you, we should get together for dinner sometime. Maybe a double date." He offered.

"Absolutely!" You pulled your phone out. "Here, give me your number and we will set it up." He put his number in your phone and handed it back. After another quick hug, he went off to find his new husband and you headed back to your friends.

You soon found them in the same spot you left them, but missing a couple. Your boyfriend was gone and so was Chan. You approached Minho, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned quickly, and met your gaze.

"Where’s Jinnie?" You asked, leaning in.

Minho reached out and grabbed a handful of a wandering Jisung’s shirt from behind. He pulled him close. "Stop trying to escape." He told him.

"Dance with me, honey!" Jisung shouted in Minho’s face, dancing sloppily. Minho rolled his eyes and you giggled.

Minho turned back to you. "I saw him walking toward the door, and then Chan followed him a second later. Probably just needed some fresh air."

"I’m going to go find him" you said.

Minho nodded before being violently pulled by Jisung into a dance circle with Felix and Changbin. You laughed at the look on Minho’s face, completely unamused. You knew he had a huge soft spot for Jisung, he was just too good at hiding it.

Leaving them behind, you pushed your way through the crowd, bursting through the front door, cold air meeting your damp sweaty skin. You looked around for the guys. There were a few small groups of people waiting for cabs and a couple loners leaning against the building, smoke rolling from their mouths. You stood on your tiptoes, looking over their heads before finally spotting Hyunjin, sitting on the ground, his back against the building, his forearms resting on his bent knees. Smiling, you made your way over to him.

"Baby, where did you go?" You asked, finally reaching him.

He looked up at you from the ground, and your heart dropped. His cheeks were wet with tears. Your brow furrowed. "Baby-"

He stood up quickly. "Don’t you baby me." He said, pointing at you.

You were confused to say the least. You reached for his hand, but he pulled away quickly before you could touch him. "Jinnie, whats the matter?"

"Like you don’t know. Don’t play dumb, yn." He turned away, his hands running through his hair.

"I don’t know what’s going on." You say, feeling extremely sober now, but nauseated all the same.

He scoffed. "I can’t believe you. I never thought that you would do something like this. How could you cheat on me? Am I not good to you?" His tone sounded sad now. "I know I’m gone a lot for my work, but I thought we were doing okay."

"Cheating on you?" You asked, shocked. "I am not cheating on you."

That only made him angry. "Don’t lie to me!" He yelled. The smokers turned to look in your direction, but hyunjin didn’t notice. Or he didn’t care. "I saw you with him, hugging him, he put his number in your phone, yn! You just give your number to any guy who asks? I didn’t know you were such a whore." He spat.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. And those pieces poked and cut at your lungs, making it impossible to draw breath. "Excuse me?"

"Just go away, yn." He said, waving his hand and pacing back and forth, looking anywhere but at you.

You were frozen to the spot, tears brimming your eyes about to spill over onto your cheeks. Everyone was staring now. You couldn’t let him get away with this, you felt the need to hurt him as much as he is hurting you. But you didn’t think you could do it. "That guy putting his number in my phone, is a friend of mine from school." You tell him. He scoffs again, still refusing to look at you. "He was excited to tell me that he just got married."

He stopped his pacing and looked at you. He took in your red eyes, your quivering bottom lip and his heart broke. "He gave me his number so we could set up a double date. With me and you and him and his new husband." You said quietly.

Shit, he had fucked up.

"There you are." Chan said, out of breath. "I went inside looking for you, and then Minho said you went out here looking for me and it’s just a mess." You could hear the smile in his voice, but then he saw your face. "Yn what’s wrong?" He asked. And his question tipped you over the edge, tears falling freely now, sobs shaking your chest, legs giving out. Chan caught you, pulling you into his chest. "Hey, hey. Talk to me. What happened?" He asked, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Hyung, what’s happening?" You heard Felix ask.

"Hyunjin, why is yn crying?" Changbin added. You could hear the trepidation in his voice, prepared to deal with whoever made you cry.

You cried harder at the mention of his name, holding on to Chan as tight as you could, soaking his shirt.

"Hyunjin?" Chan asked, looking over to him while still holding your shaking body.

You lifted your head and looked into the direction of your boyfriend. Was he even still your boyfriend? You couldn’t see him through your tears, but you would know his outline any day. You could recognize him from his shadow on the ground. He took a wary step toward you.

"Yn.. I’m so sorry." He said, reaching his hand out.

You clung to Chan. You didn’t really want to be touched by anyone at this moment, especially Hyunjin. But you didn’t trust yourself to be able to stand on your own and Chan was supporting your weight. He could feel you grip him tighter and he ever so slightly pulled you away from Hyunjin.

"What did you do?" Minho asked, angry.

"I- I accused her of cheating on me before I knew the whole story. Yn please." He took another step toward you. In response, Chan took a step back (always the protector). "I jumped to conclusions, I’m so sorry. Please, baby, talk to me. I’m sor-"

"Don’t you baby me, hyunjin." You said, quoting him, your voice finding traction through your tears but still sounding watery. "Isn’t that what you said to me? Oh and that I’m a whore?" Jisung let out a gasp somewhere behind you.

Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped, and his head fell. "I’m sorry.." he said quietly.

Felix moved to his side, nervously grabbing Hyunjin by the arm.

"Let’s just go home, yeah?" Chan said, gently. "You can talk it out when your sober and calm." He used his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You nodded at him. "Okay, cmon sweetie." He led you down the sidewalk, his arm protectively around your shoulder. Changbin, Minho, and Han followed, the latter pulling out his phone to call a cab.

Felix held Hyunjin as slow tears were falling down his cheeks, watching you walk away from him and knowing it was all his fault. "It’s okay, Jin. You’ll work it out. I’ll help you." Felix whispered.

"Does anyone want to explain what’s happening?" Seungmin said, having just walked out of the club with Jeongin.

"And why are you crying?" Jeongin added.

Felix shook his head, meaning he will tell them later. "Just order us an Uber or something." Felix told him.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin angst #hyunjins orange slice too

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sn0wp1anets · 3 months ago

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observations about joel (mostly speech stuff) and interactions with others bc ive been hyperfixated since the beginning of time (also theres alot of bs commentary im sorry)

general stuff:

very very british like extremely british

'bloody' and 'blooming' ALOT - when he's annoyed or shocked or offended (im gonna call this his pseudo swearing for the rest of this for convenience)

instead of very he says 'well' sometimes (e.g. "this bloody pico park music is well annoying) and "absolutely"

instead of really he says 'proper' sometimes so "stress is proper northern" etc

instead of 'i haven't' he says "i've not"

he gives an explanation for basically everything he does and instead of because he says 'as' alot

'to be honest' "i bloody hate woodwork to be honest" (sometimes he says 'to be honest with you' too)

'innit' occasionally "it's like waterslide innit"

'like so'

'by the look of it'

he gets irritated really easily - "for goodness sake" and he'll start cutting himself off alot "this bloody-" and also his voice gets much more high pitched and his pseudo swearing gets way more frequent. also 'blooming heck'

(and also this isn't super relevant but when he gets mad all his friends start commenting on it and its the funniest thing- in the overcooked stream as soon as he starts getting annoyed everyones like 'oh here he is')

i didn't know if i should put this in a specific section but he says 'babe' alot - not just to lizzie but to jimmy like ALOT and also in general - i'll talk about this a bit more later tho !

pauses alot: in between words/phrases, and also before he answers questions (this is not as often but also if he wants someone to stop him- he was playing scrabble and was basically asking if someone could spell out vagina so he was slowly going 'and a g....and an i...and a n...' etcetc idk this isnt relevant i just thought it was worth mentioning)

he's kinda an oversharer 😭 ? (this is lh hes 31 im sure he shares what he thinks is appropriate) but at any given moment he starts giving details about his life- a kinda memorable example of this is in mcc26(?) when w*lbur made fun of his accent so he started telling a story about his grandfather and giving alot of details about him after he said he couldnt talk too much about it AND grian begged him to stop

repeats things (especially when he's annoyed) : "game's a bloody joke. game's a bloody joke"

he basically never says 'oh my god' its always 'oh my gosh' or 'oh gosh' sometimes its 'oh jesus'

his voice is generally higher pitched and more expressive in videos than in streams but this is more of a general cc thing than a specific joel thing

very confident in his builds (AS HE SHOULD BE !!!) and he'll share his thoughts alot : "i think it's come together really well" "lovely" "i'm really happy with it/with how it's turned out" etcetc

when he narrates he uses a mixture of 'I' and 'We'. what i've noticed is he uses I for his thoughts ("i feel like" "i think") and we for everything else ("we need" "we're quite high in the sky" etc)

'genuinely'

'what (are) you on about'

'what the heck'

he will say very random (kind of odd) things just out of nowhere as if its normal and he'll only realize it's weird when someone questions it? e.g. the mumbo trauma dumping bit in SL, or in one of jimmy's streams he said 'until i get back to the hotel if yk what i mean' and jimmys like 'i dont' and joel just goes 'idk either'

accent stuff:

it's really recognizable idk what to say

very northern: hes from yorkshire - his accent used to be stronger in his old videos but you can definitely still hear it (like its still super different from grian or like mumbo idk)

his 'th' sounds come out as 'f' (idk if this is an accent thing or a joel thing but he's talked about it and said his family members have it too)

again not sure if this is an accent or joel thing but when he says any word with 'con' he says it kinda differently- it's hard to describe but for example when most people say convention the 'on' sound is more like a 'un' sound? whereas with joel its very much an 'o' sound like in 'box' or 'coffee' (genuinely have no idea how else to explain it but in phonetic symbols- joel essentially never says /ʌ/ it's almost always /ɒ/ when its a 'con' word)

jimmy-

NICKNAMES !!! 'jim' is used alot - more than anyone else and one of the only people who calls him this. hes used 'mr neutron' too (idk how many times'

(he also doesnt actually say tim/timmy often and when he does its exclusively when grian is present)

typical british male friendship nicknames: 'lad' 'big man'

when he joins jimmy's stream he always says hi in a very dramatic way?? usually with a pretty deep voice (idk this is just something i noticed)

he calls him a loser alot?

(this might be more of a bad boys point) but joel is generally not that mean to jimmy? definitely he's meaner than he was a few years ago but that makes sense because they weren't as close but. he'll call him a loser and stupid/idiot sometimes but his main 'bullying jimmy' momentsare usually always when he's with someone else (usually grian, sometimes fwhip)

'what are you doing jimmy' or sometimes 'what are you doing with your life'

lizzie:

'babe' like all the time. once lizzie mentioned that they don't even really use each other's names alot because they just say 'babe' all the time

oli:

ok so joel really doesn't use that much like modern internet language but oli does and then joel will pick up on it (its cute but also horrifying sometimes)- he kept saying 'dogs' in reference to feet after oli said it

they flirt alot but differently to how he does with jimmy (hes more passive whereas with jimmy he initiates it more idk how else to describe it)

he calls him 'man' sometimes

he's also really giggly around oli theyre adorable

(tbh theres so much more to say about oli and lizzie but idk if i have the energy and time for like 10+ years of interactions rn - and honestly alot more for everyone else too but like.)

grian:

in general joel picks up on people's energy etc and mimics it alot but it happens so much with grian specifically - this sounds very weird but the more time he spends with grian in one go the more he starts to act like grian (especially with interactions with jimmy)

#this is rly fucking parasocial im so sorry #he takes up too much of my brainspace #joel smallishbeans #other people mentioned but not enough for me to tag idk #i feel like theres more to say about his interactions but i

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dreaming-of-mossballs · 2 months ago

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All of this, for a phonograph? - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: After having an odd dream and unexpectedly getting a promotion, you head down to the Underworld in some weird journey of self-discovery that ends up in a whole lot of chaos.

▸ Genre(s): fluff, angst

▸ Word Count: 16.6k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions, violence, mentions of blood, crying, emetephobia tw, having to wake up early,

A/N: IM SO FUCKINGN TIRED.

I was not expecting to surpass my word count record. Anyways, sorry for the initial jankyness. I don’t write in present tense often

MOSSBALL MASTERLIST (psst more gepard here)

Sitting at a desk in front of a window, accompanied by a stained brass lamp and an old family photo you were certain had been lost (during the evacuation of Rivet Town), you watched the people of Belobog mill about the Alexandra Plaza beneath the setting sun.

You smile softly to yourself, laying your tired fountain pen to rest beside a variety of parchments that contained pictures of flowers you had never seen, and writing that didn’t quite make sense.

Something tugs at the corners of your mind to make you rise from your seat and tiptoe down the hallway towards the kitchen.

It was your kitchen, presumably.

The mahogany floorboards creaked softly in protest, but they were covered by the sound of the familiar sound of music coming from the phonograph you’d had as a child. It got louder the closer you got to the end of the hallway.

How you missed those old songs. You used to sit by the fireplace with a warm cup of milk, listening to the music while the flames flickered at you.

From the kitchen, golden light peeps through the doorway at you. Warm and comforting, it drips over the paintings and vases decorating the hallway.

It was so strange. This place felt like home, yet you had never seen it before in your entire life.

As you push open the door, your heart leaps and lodges itself directly in your throat.

Oh. It’s Gepard, you think, surprised.

He stands in front of the kitchen sink, a bright blue apron adorning his waist and shoulders, with dishwashing gloves to match. Bubbles from the soapy water floated around him while he worked, and then sank to the tile floor, where they disappeared with a few soft pops.

The oven light illuminated something resting on the top rack. You lick your lips; it was always a joy whenever Gepard decided to cook.

“Ah, good evening, honey,” Gepard says, discarding his gloves and resting them on the counter. “Are you finished for the day?”

Honey?

Something about that struck an odd note.

“Yep! All done,” you say, not quite knowing what you’re talking about. “I can rest easy now. Thanks for taking care of the dishes,”

You smile and bound over to his side in your slippers.

“I’m happy to hear that. The pie is almost done, are you feeling hungry at all?” He asks. He unties his apron, (which, you might add, looks very good on him) and pulls two plates out of the cupboard. You have two of everything, from spoons to mugs. It makes your heart flutter like a herd of butterflies.

“Um… gosh, this was unexpected. But pie sounds great!” You reply while bending down to peer through the oven door. Its crust was a wonderful golden color, just like the sun. “What kind is it?”

“Apple,” Gepard replies. He sidles up next to you until your shoulders are touching. You had a decent view of the hair on the back of his neck from here, which was slightly darker than the hair on top of his head. Definitely cute, you think.

The captain smiles gently at you, almost puppy-esque in the way his eyes search yours for approval. He tilts his head downward and—

Wait a moment. Why was he so close? What was going on?

—to slowly and tenderly place a kiss on your cheek.

Your heart threatens to reach escape velocity.

Whoa there, scooter. Keep it cool, now, you scold yourself.

“You’re always so generous,” you compliment, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You shut your eyes, and this time, kiss him gently on the lips. It felt so right, the way you combed your fingers through his hair and how you knew exactly what to do.

Gepard’s cheeks burn pink as you pull away. The color contrasted his blue eyes, which resembled rich, deep sapphires with icy blue highlights at the bottom. You stared at them dreamily, when suddenly a strange ringing invaded your eardrums.

Oh, that must be the pie.

You pulled some oven mitts that were the size of cookie sheets out of your pockets and turned back to the oven— which had, for some reason, been very curiously turned into a washing machine.

You whip around again, and this time your husband(?) is dressed in full military regalia. Gepard takes a few steps back and throws himself out of the open kitchen window, saluting you as he goes.

You were certain you lived in a two-story building.

And oh, the ringing. It was getting increasingly louder. You clamp your hands over your ears indignantly while scanning the room for the source of the noise.

Can we not do this right now? You thought. I just wanted some pie,

Gravity seemed to be playing tricks on you as the fog began to lift, pulling you out of your deep sleep.

You blinked. The strange building had been replaced by the wooden ceiling of the Eversummer Florist you were used to.

Phonograph… I need to get my phonograph so Gepard and I can—,

Groaning, you limply smacked the phone on your bedside table with your arm and turned to tuck the blankets back under your chin. But the damn thing rang again as if to mock you.

Huh. I don’t remember setting two alarms, you thought. You clicked your tongue on the top of your mouth, cringing at the dreaded taste of morning breath as you sat up slowly.

You picked up the phone, hazily coming to the realization that it wasn’t yours. The alarm’s label was titled, “surprise,” which was ironic, considering it was quite the unpleasant one. A picture of Artem, from the hit novel, Tale of the Winterlands, was set as the lock screen.

There was no other person whom it could belong to.

The old wooden door to your dorm swung open, slamming into your armoire, which you were grateful was already chipped at that point. The sounds of streamers and confetti poppers blasted through whatever peace of mind you previously had, and a group of people, all wearing green berets, invaded your room. They were waving party wands around like it was the last day on Jarilo-VI.

Speaking of Vaska, she was busy pushing her way through the gaggle of people. She squeezed her body out of the fray to stand right over you, her green eyes staring straight at you unblinkingly, like some sort of lizard.

“Congratulations, (Y/N)! You’ve been promoted!” She cheered at you through cupped hands. Before you had realized it, you’d shot out of bed in surprise, flinging your covers everywhere.

“What? Really??” You asked, your jaw agape. You were still in your pajamas, but you were far beyond the fear of being seen in them.

“That’s right,” Meg, your boss, remarked. She was strict, but rather kind. “You’re now the general manager of the Eversummer Florist!”

She did have some odd ways of celebrating, though.

“Unless… you’d like to turn it down, of course,” she teased with a shrug.

“WAIT—! No, there’s no need. I would like the promotion, please,” you blurted. Vaska chuckled as she watched you scramble to put on your slippers,

Meg planted her hands on her hips sassily. “As I thought. Now, can you give everyone a thank you for giving you such a lovely surprise?”

“Thank you, everyone,” you gave them a toothy grin. A few whoops and cheers erupted from the back of the crowd.

“There’s a cupcake for you downstairs,” your boss added. “Pick it up whenever you like. Anyway, have a nice day off, kiddo. You deserve it more than anyone,”

“Aww, thank you so much!” You exclaimed. A cupcake sounded wonderful.

Meg tuned right around and whisked herself out of the door from whence she came. Everyone else followed suit in a single file line, like a group of ducklings. That made you chuckle.

You opened the blinds and peered outside. Icicles coated the power lines and hung from the roofs of houses, announcing the upcoming Solwarm Festival with their appearance. Meg probably had an ulterior motive, seeing as Belobog hadn’t held a Solwarm Festival in years— and Vaska had a particular penchant to break down under pressure. She could probably use another person to help ensure the festivities went smoothly.

You scoffed confidently at the challenge. With you and Vaska on the job, there was nothing on Jarilo-VI that could take you down. It would be a good way to show off your newfound skill at the job as well.

But as you stood there, woozy from the forceful wake-up and experiencing the overwhelming need to pee, your brow furrowed.

What exactly do I want to do from now on?

The question came hurtling entirely out of the Snow Plains, punching you right in the nose.

Yes, you had moved to the surface and become some sort of flower tycoon. And you were as sure as you could be that you liked your job. Plus, you had even gotten a promotion. To the position of general manager, of all things!

But had you really put any thought into what your future might be? You had been given the opportunity to move to the surface by the ADCS (or Administrative District Civil Service), and you had taken it.

After a year of living here, you now had a few more things to consider. Did you want to move back home? Surely not after getting a promotion. Your boss would kill you.

Additionally, you weren’t necessarily homesick. Life in the mines was largely nomadic. Where employment was, you would follow. You didn’t miss the hacking cough you’d develop during the winter from the rock dust building up in your lungs.

Friends didn’t stay too long either. You all had to eat in some way or another, and work wasn’t always guaranteed for people who traveled together.

Maybe you could help expand the flower business? Or even get an apartment of your own? Perhaps officially studying mechanical engineering might be the way to go…

All these thoughts made your brain feel like it was going to split. You sighed, plopping back down on your bed before you remembered Meg had given you a pile of flyers to hand out two days prior. They advertised the Solwarm Festival and its details, a good source of information for anyone who wasn’t privileged enough to have experienced the festivities.

You had meant to give one to Natasha, since you weren’t sure how well news travelled from one floor to another. Plus, since Rivet Town was mostly safe again, you could probably pick up your phonograph from your old home.

Rats, you thought. So much for my day off.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

The streets and buildings of Belobog’s Administrative District had a light dusting of snow on them, much akin to the powdered sugar they put on the pastries they sold at the local café.

Alexandra Plaza was certainly filled with things to do, including, but not limited to visiting the Neverwinter Workshop, seeing a play at the Golden Theatre, and taking a tour of the Belobog History and Culture Museum. It was nothing short of incredible. Of course, there were a fair amount of activities in the underworld too; they would just be considered less than legal to the people up here.

You munched on your cupcake as you meandered your way to the rail car, the one specifically tasked with bringing denizens of Belobog from one level to another as thoughts flowed through your head. They’d fly in like birds, then disappear without a trace, so you had no time to dwell on them. Ones about your future, your old home, and the expectations you had for yourself.

What is it that I want, exactly?

You weren’t quite sure. You shuddered. That dream earlier had really shaken you up.

They say people dream about what they want the most, you wondered. But was it realistic in the slightest? You didn’t think so at all.

A cloud of frosty air rose in front of your face as you let out a heavy sigh. As you were reaching the ticket gate, you rounded a corner and nearly knocked heads with an older woman. She wore a maroon leather jacket trimmed with brown mink fur that brought attention to the hood and sleeves.

She glared daggers at you, pulling her tote close to herself and mumbling something about “soot-dwellers.” Meanwhile, you did everything in your power not to let your eyes roll out of your sockets.

Straightening your back, you hopped onto the rail car, leaving the Overworld and your worries behind you.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

As the rickety screeches of the elevator subsided, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

The underground was as familiar as the back of your hand. Although you’d spent a fair bit of your years as a vagrant in the mines, Boulder Town had an air of nostalgia to it as well. The miners used to gather there for a meal and a drink after a long day’s work (although it was mostly for a drink, if your memory served you correctly).

Soot and iron flooded your nostrils in waves as you walked around the northeast corner of town. The faraway shouts of the Fight Club arena, along with the hearty laughter from the miners in the tunnels, could be heard.

And how you missed this feeling! The sighs, the smells, the feeling of belonging. It all brought memories flooding through your brain. You missed singing and dancing around a campfire with other workers— arms around each other’s shoulders, mugs of bread soda in hand— while also competing to balance as many items as you could on Peak, the lazy miner (the record was 17).

A common saying from the old folks was that Geomarrow could make your blood run hot. And honestly, you believed them. One glance around the city hammered in the impression of hot-blooded community you felt. Geomarrow was the lifeblood of Belobog, and you were proud to be a part of it every step of the way.

Surface-dwellers could never understand it, you thought to yourself smugly. But you would never say that aloud.

You blended in seamlessly here, no mannerism you’d learned as a child going forgotten. You fell back into your usual swaggering gait, patting the backs of every old friend you came across. There was Seele, arguing with some poor member of Wildfire right next to the grocery stand; Hook, who was running at full speed alongside two other children, and you could’ve sworn you spotted a flash of someone with dark blue hair and green eyes before they vanished into a dark alleyway.

Old neighbors and colleagues greeted you, which made you smile. In the Underworld, there were no formal titles that you had to remember. Nobility? Never heard of it. If you were self-made down here, it was no joke.

Speaking of self-made, Miss Natasha was the real deal.

After nailing a good amount of posters to the walls, you dusted the soot off of your hands and headed towards the local clinic. The shopkeeper’s bell rang as you entered.

“Hi there, Miss Natasha!” You waved, the fliers pressed tightly to your chest.

The clinician smiled gently at you. “My, my. It’s been a while, (Y/N). How’s life been treating you?”

She stood front and center of the small, cramped room. Only a few cots were occupied; your favorite one next to the Geomarrow heater seemed to beckon you to come and have a seat.

“Quite well, as a matter of fact,” you chirped. “How about you? It looks pretty empty in here… although I guess that’s a good thing,”

Natasha chuckled softly. “I’ve been healthy, thank you kindly. One of the miners actually had a baby last week,” she placed down the vial she had been holding onto a nearby table.

“That’s wonderful!” You responded, clasping your hands together. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

One of the flyers slipped out of your arms and floated slowly to the concrete floor.

“Shoot. Actually, I came down here to give you this,” you said, sheepish about your faulty attention span. You handed her a flier, which had an illustration of a bright orange Solarflower bouquet.

Natasha let out a gasp and placed a hand in front of her mouth. “My goodness. They haven’t held a Solwarm Festival in many years. I didn’t think there would be one ever again,” she beamed at you. “I would be honored to attend, (Y/N),”

You bounced happily on the balls of your feet. Somewhere in the background, the shopkeeper’s bell rang, but the noise was quickly submerged by your other thoughts.

“I’m so glad!” You jabbered on and on. “Make sure to stop by the florist’s for some free suncakes. We partnered with a local bakery this year, so hopefully we can draw in lots of business. And—,”

Natasha’s red eyes flickered towards the clinic entrance behind you for a split second, which made you pause and turn your head slightly. And oh boy, were you glad you did.

Because standing in front of the clinic door was none other than Captain Gepard of the Silvermane Guards, surrounded on both sides by armored soldiers.

The captain locked eyes with you for a moment before you decided the Geomarrow heater in the corner of the room was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen in your life.

Gepard’s eyebrow raised at you quizzically.

“Miss Natasha,” said Gepard. “The Fragmentum monsters in the southernmost part of Rivet Town have been taken care of. Is there anything else you’d like us to attend to?”

He shot another glance at you. There you stood— hands behind your back while bouncing from one foot to the other— decidedly not looking at him. You prayed to Qlipoth he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from his position.

It felt decidedly strange running into him like this. You stood on one side of the room in front of a few raggedy cots, and he stood on the other, soldiers ready to back him up at a moment’s notice less than a foot behind him.

Just like the day you came to the overworld, you felt completely out of place.

Natasha pressed her hands together with a pleased expression. “Wonderful! I believe you’re all set to go for today. Thank you all for your service,”

Her smile practically lit up the room. Gepard nodded. “It’s the least we could do, Miss Natasha,”

You took the opportunity to take a small sidestep towards a rack of scrubs to hide behind.

Natasha, almost certainly sensing your jackhammering heartbeat, turned towards you, effectively gluing you to where you stood.

Shoot! She’s like an apex predator,

“So… Captain. Have you met (Y/N)?” She inquired casually. “They were one of my biggest helpers back in the day, in fact,”

You jumped in, a hint of nervousness present in your voice. “Yes, yes. We’ve met before. We’re well acquainted— and um, friends, I guess?”

You muttered a quiet, halfhearted “yeah” under your breath. You couldn’t see the soldiers’ eyes under their metal visors, but you could guarantee they were eyeing you with major secondhand embarrassment. They probably had no idea you two knew each other. Or maybe they thought that some weirdo from the underground was cozying up to their captain. Decidedly awkward, you thought.

One of them let out a raspy cough, which brought you back to your senses.

“It’s really best I get going,” you told your old caretaker. “I have to pick up an old family heirloom at my old place. Nice seeing you, Gepard,”

You smiled as best you could, but to Gepard, it appeared as if it were made of ice. Compared to how much you usually talked, the room felt frigid in the absence of your chatter.

The captain wondered what the reason could be for such visible uneasiness. But he forced himself to keep his lips shut. Now was not the time.

Natasha gave you a reassuring pat on the back as you floundered around in your head. Better to let the youngsters sort themselves out, she thought. It was about time you learned, anyway.

“Oh, before I forget,” Natasha added. “Be sure to take care around that area, dear. You may need clearance to enter. Maybe you should bring someone along with you?”

“Right, sounds good,” you replied, glossing over the last half of what she had said. You wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. But Gepard’s incredible generosity could not be thwarted.

“Perhaps us guards could come with?” He offered.

You punched yourself mentally at not hightailing it out of there earlier.

“I’m sure its fine. There’s really no need to trouble yourselves—,” you said, waving your arms about.

Gepard didn’t falter in the slightest. “The leader of Wildfire herself said it may be dangerous, and it is imperative to us that the safety of Belobog’s citizens is ensured. We’d like to help if we can,”

Ouch. He was right on the money. Natasha’s powers of suggestion were seriously unmatched. The instructions her smile hid were very, very thinly veiled.

Your shoulders fell as you deflated. “Okay, fine,”

Gepard dipped his head, and all the Silvermane Guards tapped the butt ends of their halberds on the floor in unison, causing the ceiling to shake. A ceramic vase tipped over, causing the flower inside to meet its unfortunate end. You looked at it mournfully.

“Wait—,” you paused. “How many of you are coming, exactly?”

“As many as you need,” Gepard replied, tapping his fist to his chest.

You felt a wave of panic rising in your throat at the horrifying vision of being surrounded and jostled around by an entire squad of soldiers. “Oh, there’s no need for you all to come. Just one or two is fine, thank you,”

You imagined your old neighbors peering out their windows at you and gasping at the notion that you had been arrested.

“…you know what? Maybe just one is fine,”

“Understood,” said the captain. “You four may go back to your posts. I’ll accompany (Y/N) to Rivet Town,”

You cursed the goddess of fortune for choosing this exact moment to smite you.

Normally you’d be happy to see him, but all of these soldiers standing around were giving you a major freak-out. To make matters even more stressful, each of these people directly served the Supreme Guardian.

Of all people to have a gigantic crush on, why’d it have to be one of Belobog’s most incredible and amazing people?? You sighed. Why couldn’t you have fallen for that weird guy who stood by the Everwinter Monument every day? He was waaay closer to your league.

You gave Gepard a queasy thumbs-up.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

Humming an old mining song was the only thing keeping you distracted from Gepard’s shining presence beside you.

Now that the other guards were gone, it should be alright, you thought. But you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation for some reason.

Easy now, (Y/N). Yes, the object of your unrequited love is walking right next to you. But it could be worse. It could be an automaton Direwolf!

So why was it so damn hard to talk all of a sudden??

He didn’t look like a Direwolf, even though he was as tall as one, you thought. You narrowed your eyes at him as you walked to double check.

Gepard glanced down at you with a questioning “hm” that almost made you keel over.

Curses. This was overwhelming.

Additionally, your original hypothesis was proven correct a few months ago. Gepard was a big softie at heart. He’d even get down in the dumps when his flowers would inevitably die (which hadn’t happened recently, thanks to you.)

You wondered if he ever worried about other people’s opinions. He was so kind and considerate, it pained you to imagine him getting the brunt of public backlash as such an influential figure.

Knowing him, he probably didn’t. But if he did, he would likely hide it to avoid burdening others. He wasn’t exactly the type to expose his soft underbelly, after all.

You hoped that if anything came up, he’d consider reaching out to you. The man who was Belobog’s iron defense always went above and beyond for the people. But he ought to have someone looking out for him, too.

Scoffing at yourself, you shook your head. Gepard really brought out a slew of worries in you. You did your best to swallow down the lump in your throat when suddenly, you were hit with the nostalgic smell of your old favorite food cart.

Was that grilled olm?? Your mind kicked into high gear. Your stomach let out a loud growl as if to protest the fact that you’d only had a cupcake for breakfast.

You turned to your companion with a pleading look in your eyes. “Oh man, I’m starving. Gepard, would you mind if I made a stop for some grub real quick? I promise it won’t be long!”

“Not at all,” he responded. Without a second to waste, you took off running towards the corner of town where all the food stalls were gathered.

Gepard looked from afar with a pensive look on his face. You’d always held a sort of confidence in the way you walked, but here, in your second hometown, you flitted from stall to stall with an aura of familiarity he had never seen before. You had no problem dodging obstacles that cropped up from nowhere; Gepard, however, felt like his limbs were made of wood as he tried in vain to catch up to you. His eyes had widened hilariously as he stepped into a pothole and his arms went flying in the air.

“Oh my gosh,” you exclaimed while offering your arm out to him for balance. You bit back a laugh at his flushed cheeks. “Would you want to sit down while I wait in line?”

He accepted your offer graciously, and took a seat at one of the low-seated tables by a chain link fence.

You gawked as you watched the Silvermane Guard Captain willingly plant himself at a kiddie table. Gepard could barely fit his knees under it, making him stick out like a giant rock crab.

But you were rudely jostled from your thoughts, as just when you were about to order, two men shouldered right in front of you. You recognized the red leather jackets they wore, symbolizing they were fight club combatants.

Ugh. Scott’s boys. Many knew all too well about his unsavory business practices. Some got involved because they had no choice. Others joined because they wanted the power. You had stayed far away from the institution, preferring to run with a more respectable crowd.

One of the men had chopped brown hair and messy stubble, while the other had blonde hair cut in a mullet. Although you couldn’t tell he was blonde at first, because almost every strand was coated in coal dust. You pinched your nose shut at the smell of motor oil and grease.

They were busy chatting up the vendor with no hint of shame at what they’d done. Your eyes narrowed as you saw one of them shoot a glance at you out of the side of his eye.

They knew damn well what they’d done.

You weren’t going to take this shit from a couple of Luka wannabes, you decided.

Before the brown-haired man could finish ordering, you rapped him on the shoulder harshly. He paused for a short moment to turn his head towards you.

“Excuse me,” you said with a hint of disdain. “I couldn’t help but notice you happened to jump the line,”

The man turned without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. “…and a plate of Belobog sausages with extra sauerkraut—,”

Your eye twitched.

“Hey, you,” you interjected, tapping him again. “The line starts back there. Have you considered getting your eyes tested?”

“It’s just food, love,” he replied. The man paused for a second to spit a glob on the ground next to your shoe. Your lip curled in disgust.

“I see your mother never taught you manners,” you hissed.

The people behind you were starting to murmur.

You clenched your fist at your side as you stared him down, but before you could break his nose, you remembered that Gepard was still sitting by himself at the kiddie table.

You sighed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get into a fight in front of a refined young noble such as himself. He might have a heart attack.

Unfortunately, the brown-haired man wasn’t finished with you. He grabbed your coat collar and yanked you towards him as his companion snickered. You could make out every scar and every bead of sweat on his face.

Sheesh. Overkill, if you ask me.

“Look man, I’m sorry, okay?” You scowled. “Cut in line all you want. You’re the big man. Happy now?”

Okay, you had to admit that wasn’t the best apology in the world. But you would’ve vomited had you made it any nicer.

He snorted, reaching a calloused hand towards your messenger bag. “Yeah? Well, I oughta teach you not to—,”

You scraped the front of his shins as hard as you could with the inside of your steel-toed utility boots.

The man roared like a wounded bear and released your collar, enabling you the opportunity to push yourself away. As he fought through the haze of pain, he readied his stance to fling himself at you, when Gepard’s metal gauntlet pushed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Do we have a problem here?” Your companion asked.

His blue eyes narrowed threateningly at the man, who was currently fighting Gepard’s iron grip. If the captain had let go at that moment, he would have absolutely torn you to shreds.

Murmurs began to erupt from the crowd, such as, “Why is the captain here?” And “serves him right,”

The man snarled again, frothing at the lips. This time, he went for Gepard, wrapping both hands around his throat. You witnessed his expression contort in surprise, and your hackles raised higher than they ever had.

Thinking on your feet, you grabbed the nearest plate of food— which happened to be Frostweave Salmon with cocktail sauce— and threw a large fillet at the man. It hit him square in the face, temporarily stunning him. Sure, it wasn’t a taser, but it was the best you could do.

His blonde-haired companion, having a better sense of self preservation than he did, yanked him backward and away from Gepard. One downward glance at his plethora of medals told him all he needed to know. He signaled at his friend to retreat for the time being, and they slunk away, shooting glares full of venom at you as they went.

You snuck a peek at the vendor, who was currently cowering behind the condiment station. She motioned to you with her hand:

Just go.

Slipping a few shields on the counter for the trouble, you sped off towards Rivet Town once more.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

“Want one?” You asked Gepard. You held up a limp fillet about 20cm away from his face.

“No, but thank you for the offer,” he declined politely. Your cheeks were still flushed with heat from the subsiding chaos.

“I appreciate your help, by the way,”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, in usual Gepard fashion. The captain’s forward gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.

You soon reached the Rivet Town checkpoint run by two automaton hounds and a few vagrants with shovels. After quickly looking over your papers, they allowed you to enter the premises.

Ever since the disaster, the town had remained eerily silent. Even though it was safe, the only noise you could pick up was your own footsteps. You were so used to the background noise of gears grinding and metal squealing loudly, that the fact that you could hear your own breathing made a chill creep up your spine.

The creepy ambience aside, the salmon was awfully bland, you thought, while munching solemnly. The texture was that of something that had been frozen and thawed multiple times. You were disappointed the quality had dipped so low since you’d left.

“(Y/N), are you feeling alright?” Gepard’s voice rang out of the blue.

You nearly choked on a chunk of fish. “What? No, why?”

He looked at you with horror in his eyes. Realizing your mistake, you jumped in faster than you could say “chicken and mushroom skewer.”

“YES. I mean, yes! I’m okay, why do you ask?” You crammed the rest of the salmon in your mouth and tossed the empty plate in the nearest dumpster.

“Please excuse me for being intrusive, but you’re usually… a bit more talkative, perhaps?” Gepard said, scratching his chin. He had an instinctive desire to rest a hand on your shoulder, but you seemed farther away from him than usual, both physically and emotionally.

“I guess I do, huh?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m okay, just a little tired, I guess. Thanks for worrying, though,”

Gepard’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, but he didn’t want to intrude.

Meanwhile, you lamented at your emotional communication skills rivaling that of a five-year-old’s. You’d better pick up the slack before he started to suspect something.

As you continued on your not-so-leisurely stroll, you came across an open clearing, with nothing but a single food cart in the middle. It seemed to be fully operational, with steam still rising from the griddles.

The sight completely baffled Gepard.

“What reason would a food cart have to be all the way out here?” He asked.

“Oh, that?” You said, turning to look at the cart. The sight would’ve appeared completely eerie to a normal person; the cart had no wheels, and yet there weren’t any visible marks indicating it had been dragged from somewhere. “That’s Belobog Burritos, of course!”

“Belobog… Burritos?” He wondered aloud.

“Yep. It’s a food stall that’s kind of an urban legend. Been here as long as I can remember,” you shrugged. “It sits there every day, no owner or anything, but there’s always freshly made food. Even when the town went under, it was still up and running,”

You waved your hands in his face in a vague gesture that he assumed was supposed to be spooky. His irises made a concentrated effort to follow your every motion.

“…or so I’ve heard,” you continued. “Apparently, if you get something from the stall, you have to pay in full or some seriously bad stuff starts happening to you,”

Gepard cast a stiff look back at the cart, feeling his blood run as cold as ice. He suppressed a shudder and continued walking. But the thought kept weighing on his mind as he walked. He felt as if there was a lump in his throat, preventing him from breathing in all the way.

Jeez, he looks pretty shaken up, you thought as you stole a glance at him after a few minutes. His face was a few shades paler than it had been previously, and his neck was all stiff. It looked like he was trying his best to not be scared (and failing miserably).

Maybe you could hold his hand to make it less scary, a part of you whispered slyly.

You beat that internal voice with a sledgehammer as soon as it surfaced.

I guess I’ll check if he’s okay,

You tried to lay a hand on his deltoid, but completely missed and firmly patted his lower back— which was much more intimate a gesture than you’d attempted. Gepard’s shoulders flew upwards in a flash as he curled them in towards his chest, and his eyes blew wide open.

“Gyeep!” He let out a strangled shriek through clenched teeth.

Your jaw fell open.

“Oh, shit!” you stammered. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, are you alright?”

His armor rattled with how heavily he was breathing as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Sheesh, you had never seen him this shaken before.

Gepard’s face burned like a furnace. “I’m perfectly fine. Just ill at ease,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabbing at his forehead with it.

That didn’t do much to convince you that bringing him had been the right idea. You sighed. Gepard really was too kind for his own good.

Holding out your elbow at a right angle, you made a small offer to reassure him.

“Want to hold on to me until we get there?” You asked. “It’s okay if you’re scared, you know,”

You glanced around at the old, ruined buildings, which were surrounded by barbed wire and rubble. The whole area felt hostile, even to you.

“I don’t blame you, honestly. This place is pretty freaky,” you said with a short laugh.

“Okay,” Gepard paused. “If it’s alright with you,”

You smiled warmly at him. “Go ahead,”

He raised his arm and gingerly placed a hand on your bicep, curling his fingers slightly around it for a better grip.

“There! You have nothing to fear now,” you said reassuringly. Gepard blushed. He wanted nothing more than to beat himself up for falling apart in front of you in such an uncouth manner.

You continued walking towards your destination; this time, his heartbeat felt a bit more relaxed with you at his side.

After a short while, the ruined structure of your old home appeared looming from the dark. As a monument to the destruction, the skeletal building almost seemed to reach towards the false sky above.

“Quaint, isn’t it,” you joked, turning towards Gepard. Looking at the house in its entirety, the shutters were missing from the windows, the roof was nonexistent, and the chimney had been mostly reduced to a pile of bricks. It was entirely unsalvageable from a realist’s perspective.

The captain studied your features carefully— you showed no traces of hurt or anger that would normally be present at such a scene.

It puzzled him, how you were able to maintain such a cheerful demeanor when a building that was supposed to represent comfort and safety was torn completely to shreds. He was filled with admiration at how well you had held yourself together.

“Let’s go in,” you said. You nudged away the splintered wood door with your elbow and stepped into the building— you really hoped it hadn’t been ransacked while you were away.

Gepard’s hand dropped reluctantly to his side. He followed suit, scanning the interior for any structural instabilities.

“What are you searching for?” He inquired.

You were busy bending down over a fallen bookshelf with books scattered in its midst. You analyzed the wreckage; a few ceramic teacups and saucers lay crushed under the impact zone, which you took care to avoid.

You brushed a few coal-black cobwebs out of your way that made you want to pull your skin off. “Just an old phonograph. It meant a lot to me as a kid, so I figured it was time I went back for it,” you said, not bothering to mention the dream you’d had that morning.

As much as you wanted to deny it, it almost felt like the phonograph was the one part of the dream that could come true. Hearing the music you listened to in your childhood again wasn’t a hard thing to accomplish, but that lovely, soft feeling that had blanketed your heart when you had realized that Gepard was waiting for you in that kitchen— you didn’t think you could recreate that.

Considering your dream would never, ever happen.

You felt disappointment form a hard lump in your stomach.

When did I start believing in a pipe dream? You wondered. Natasha would scold you for chasing such nebulous goals.

“I got a promotion recently too. I was actually considering moving out and getting an apartment instead of staying at the florist’s. It gets crowded there sometimes,” you said offhandedly.

“You got promoted?” Gepard replied, his eyebrows arching in surprise. He hadn’t heard anything about this, even with Serval serving as the best grapevine around.

“Yeah, I did!” You said happily. “I totally forgot to mention it because—,”

I’ve been avoiding you since we went to the museum, whispered your inside voice.

“I… wanted to surprise the others,” you drabbled, your shoulders drooping the slightest bit. But you picked them up as fast as you could.

“Of course,” he said. “You have my sincerest congratulations,”

That sent another pang of guilt through you. He was so incredibly earnest. And here you were, lying straight to his face in order to keep him at an arm’s distance. All because your own feelings were too much to handle.

You needed something to take your mind off the situation, and quickly.

“Hey, check this out!” You said with a little more artificial enthusiasm than you’d intended. “This photo is practically ancient!”

You hoisted an old sepia photo of you and your grandmother in front of your chest. You were watching her lift a tray of cookies into the oven in the kitchen. There was a huge variety of sweets, including chocolate buckeyes, and coconut macarons. You missed her baking more than anything.

In the picture, your grandma wore a simple lilac apron, decorated lovingly with white lace around the edges. It was incredibly well-made; you’d had trouble finding one of similar quality ever since (even though the goods were supposed to be super high-end in the overworld).

Gepard, however, had lost all ability to speak, completely blown away by the piece of your past you had so voluntarily let him see.

You looked so joyful as a child, completely free of expectations that would have been bestowed upon you had you been raised as a noble, like him. That wide, toothless smile held treasures he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“So cute…” you muttered softly. You quietly removed the picture from its frame and slipped it into your bag, where you felt it rest alongside your old pickaxe that you brought with you everywhere.

Running a quick check in the tiny hall closet, you thought you heard the high-pitched sound of ice cracking in the kitchen.

Weird, you thought, poking your head around the corner to take a better look. But what you saw nothing short of baffled you.

An ice-type Fragmentum creature, donning the damaged apron of your beloved grandmother, stood in front of the oven range. The kitchen itself was mostly intact, save for a few boxes of grains scattered about and a few appliances knocked over.

“Oh,” you started. “Son of a—,”

The creature let loose a gurgling sound from its throat and charged at you.

“Shit—!” You yelped as you scrabbled around for the nearest weapon. All reason leaving you, you completely forgot about the pickaxe in your bag. In the few seconds before it reached you, you took notice of a rusty frying pan hanging from a holder on the wall. Mimicking Gepard, you swung it with every drop of strength in your body and landed a forceful whack on the side the monster’s head.

The sound of metal on metal rang out all through the house. Bits of ice fell off the creature, sizzling with eerie smoke as they hit the tiled floor.

The figure struggled to regain its balance, reaching its icy claws toward your face. You could feel the icy chill radiating off of them, stealing your heat away.

That’s my heat, you bastard!

Gepard, having certainly heard the commotion, came speeding into the room like the cheetah he was named after. You were clinging onto the back of the monster, which was bucking you around like a Voidranger in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

In a sudden burst of effort, it flung you backwards and sent you careening into one of the cabinets. Bits of rotten wood showered on you from the impact, and a stray spice bottle hit you on the head. You disgustedly spit out the sawdust that had snuck into your mouth and caked your tongue.

The captain desperately scanned the room for something to use. The kitchen was far too small to activate his shielding device, so he wrapped his arms around the nearest table and hurled it straight at the icy foe (all while praying you wouldn’t be furious at him afterward for ruining your kitchen).

Thankfully, the table made an excellent weapon. It sent the monster sprawling across the floor with a creaking groan. Gepard then launched himself at it and pinned it to the floor with his arms.

Unfortunately, the enemy hadn’t quite given up yet. It wrestled one of its arms free of Gepard’s grasp and reached its clawed hand to slice at his lower legs. In a strange fit of ingenuity, you grabbed your pickaxe out of your bag, wedged it under the Fragmentum creature’s head, and just like a bottle cap— you twisted its head clean off.

Letting out a sickening crack, the monster’s head rolled leisurely across the floor and bonked into an open cabinet door. You nearly vomited at the sight.

Now unoccupied, Gepard rushed to your side. “Are you—,” he started.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “I’m okay,”

You clutched your chest while letting out wheezing gasps.

The captain glanced around the area worriedly. “I think it’s best we get going. There could very well be more monsters around here,”

“Wait—,” you gasped, scrambling to your feet. “I think— I think I found it,”

You peered into the cabinet that had been violently smashed o pieces. Something glinted at you from the debris— but a grinding sound came from outside that made your hair on your neck stand completely on end.

Bending down, you brushed away the wood chips from the spice cabinet and successfully uncovered the old phonograph. It was in decent condition, aside from a few screws missing, and your family’s record collection lay right beneath it.

“Ah, classic gran,” you said aloud. She did have a habit of putting things in the wrong places, after all. That saved you from having to check the upstairs floor.

“Okay, now let’s go,” you declared. You crammed as much of the device as you could into your bag, the horn still handing out of the flap, and made a mad dash for the front door. Gepard’s armor rattled as he followed suit.

We better tell the guards about this, you thought while your feet pounded against the pavement. Your breath condensed in large clouds as your throat burned with the taste of iron.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to see if Gepard was still following, just in time to see his eyes widen in horror.

Your boots left long marks in the dirt as you skidded to a halt. There you stood, aghast, as you realized what greeted you wasn’t the exit— but an automaton Direwolf.

It stood tall and menacing, with steam pouring out its joints and pistons that fired like a heartbeat. As a piece of technology from the old world, no one fully understood how they worked, not even denizens of the Robot Settlement, who modified and repaired them for a living. It made dealing with hostile ones a living hell.

“By the Architects,” Gepard swore. “(Y/N), find somewhere to hide, quickly!”

You obliged, opting for the nearest shelter that happened to be a pile of crates and barrels to the right of him. You crouched like a bear cub with your knees pressed to your chest as you tried to get a grasp on the situation from your location. Your companion was gearing up to ready himself for battle.

Shit. I need an opening to activate Earthwork, Gepard thought. He hoisted the barrier-device-slash-guitar-case defensively. I have no one to cover for me here,

The aggressor made of meshing cogs eyed him ominously through its crosshair. He eyed it back, the gaze of a predator in his eyes. He refused to falter, even minutely. Doing so would mean death for the both of you.

It raised its one chainsaw arm with a thundering roar, and the battle began.

The earth shook tremendously with every step as it sped forward, full-throttle. Gepard’s heart thrummed as he tried to consider all his options, but it was closing the distance faster than he could formulate his thoughts. He couldn’t roll right or risk giving away your position, or dodge too much and risk leading it towards the settlements. But a solid hit to one of the leg joints would slow it down considerably.

The automaton Direwolf swung ferociously at the captain, cutting large glowing divots in the nearby boulders that sizzled as they touched the surrounding air. Steam hissed, loud and high-pitched in your ears, bringing out a type of instinctual fear from within you.

A grimace crossed Gepard’s features. Direwolves were built for speed, so there was no chance you could both outrun it. Additionally, there was nothing that could escape the gaze of its optical sensor with so little cover around. He was going to have to fight it head-on.

It raised its mechanical arm to strike once more. The captain grasped his battering ram firmly by the handle, and swung it in a large arc. It landed a solid blow in between the metal plates that comprised its abdominal area, and sparks showered in the air, suggesting a sufficient amount of damage had been dealt.

The now open wires sizzled as the automaton staggered backwards. Gepard wasted no time seizing the opportunity; he was relentless in his following sequence of attacks, aiming for the most vital points concealed within the machinery.

He ducked under its flailing limbs and struck a heavy blow on the machine’s back. But it swiveled its torso around unexpectedly, without moving its legs even a millimeter, and swung at him again, leaving deep scores in the earth. Gepard skidded out of the way, leaving his cape billowing wildly behind him with the following dust cloud.

Your eyes flickered around the area as clangs and thuds rang out around the clearing. You reached a mitten-clad hand out tentatively to slink along the ground, but retracted it as white-hot sparks showered your exposed forearm. You had to make your next move, and quickly.

There was no way Gepard could win a battle of endurance. Not even with his superhuman amount of stamina. You almost called out to him, but halted when you realized it could easily draw the Direwolf’s attention to you. And you had nothing but your old pickaxe in your bag to defend yourself with.

You had to get help. It made no difference if it was the vagrants with shovels or the entirety of the Silvermane Guards. You had to make sure Gepard got out safe.

You ran a quick scan over the area; there were a few other piles of debris that were sizable enough to stay out of the monster’s field of view. If you could just make it to the exit, you’d be free to call for help.

Ducking your head, you sprinted to the closest pile and dove behind it. You snuck a quick peek at the scene. Gepard was still holding his own. Good.

This time around, you hid behind a barrel laying on its side. A patch of metal lattice fell over with a loud crash due to the shockwaves of the fight, but the machine paid you no mind.

Finally, you resorted to shuffling on your hands and knees to crawl just out of view behind a tarp that was almost threadbare. By this point, your pants were ripped and your knees were bleeding, picking up bits of rocks and glass that stuck to your sticky skin. But you ignored it. You were in the homestretch. The guards couldn’t be too far away now, they had probably heard all the commotion and—

You heard a loud thud that made your limbs completely freeze over.

Trembling, you turned ever-so-slightly behind you. You caught sight of a stray barrel rolling over to bump itself on your foot, followed by a pained groan that stole your breath right from your throat.

Gepard?

In the dim lighting, you could vaguely make out a figure clad in silver and gold, laying limply against a wall, a few broken crates on each side. Fire flickered in the background, illuminating the barrier device laying discarded on the ground, just out of arm’s reach for him.

You noticed something drip down slowly from the top of his head and soak into his fur collar, staining it a bright crimson. His eyes were closed, and he was showing no signs of moving.

Blood… that was definitely blood.

Time seemed to grind to a halt around you. Your knees threatened to give out, and you could only vaguely make out the sound of your own voice— screaming, wailing— something that wasn’t quite words. The sounds from the enemy machine sounded muffled, as if they were deep underwater, in a world different from your own.

Shaking profusely, you became aware of just how much fear had saturated your body. But you had to keep moving. The captain was alive until proven otherwise.

And you would hang on until the very end.

You ground your teeth together and made a quick sweep of the area. There was a package of dynamite that miners used to blow apart piles of debris to your right, but you had nothing to light it with. Even if you did, you didn’t trust your aim enough to keep Gepard out of the blast radius. To your left lay some books, a radio, and— an oddly shaped rock?

Whatever. It was just the right size for throwing.

You stuffed it in between your arms and pushed aside another book just in time to spot one of the old flares the miners used to use.

Yes! That could be your saving grace.

Your arms wavered so much that you thought that they might fall out, but you had to keep going. Gepard’s life was on the line.

You whipped back around and cranked your arm back far as it could go, when suddenly, you felt something whir and vibrate in your palm— and a strange mechanical voice rang out in your ear.

“Hello,” said the voice, which seemed to be coming from your palm. “I am Findie, model 17703 of the home-finding series. Please input your instructions, and I will locate whatever you are looking for!”

You whipped the rock(?) in front of your face. One of the gears rotated, as if it were waving “hi” to you.

“What the FUCK??” You roared in surprise.

A rock was a rock, no matter how much it yapped, you decided. You twisted the cap off of the fuse, wound your arm up, and chucked the rock with the fury of a blizzard.

“Over here, asshole!” You screamed. Your fear tore through your body like a tornado, threatening to tear you apart.

Fury rolled off of you in waves as you held the fuse high above your head. Clouds of red smoke rose into the air and billowed around you, swirling around your dust-covered face.

The rock landed square on the machine’s metal head with a loud tang.

The machine turned towards you menacingly for a short moment, but immediately refocused on the prey directly in front of it.

Shit. That was bad.

You scrabbled on the ground for anything you could get your hands on. A lantern? That would do. A plank of wood? Why not. Who gave a shit at this point??

Anything that would get you out of there and safe and sound. You’d promised you would help Serval with an invention later that week, and you weren’t one to break your promises.

The items bounced off of the machine one after another. It would halt its movements every time one made contact, but you were running out of things to throw.

Tears and ash clogged your eyes, but you wouldn’t let up, even for a second. Not until every bone in your body was forcefully broken and you were bruised and battered into next month.

“Get your GRUBBY HANDS off of him!” You roared. Tears and snot were streaming down your face now, and your entire body screamed at you to run, escape, anything. But you forced your feet to stay rooted to the ground where they were.

Gepard’s head lolled weakly to the side. You choked as you assumed the worst had come to fruition, and you felt as if the world was crumbling around you.

You were in the middle of chucking a portable radio at the thing when you heard the smattering of feet heading in your direction. You gasped as a wayward antenna poked you right in the eye.

Soldiers. And a lot of them, at that.

Guards in Silvermane uniforms stormed the clearing, waving around halberds, cannons, and muskets galore. Without wasting a second, the cannoneers let out a barrage of attacks that nearly blew both of your ears off.

“Backup is here, Captain!” One of the soldiers announced. You spotted a slight movement from the spot where he lay.

Another wave of firing went off. Cannonballs embedded themselves in the joints of the machine, inhibiting its movement— it began to creak and sway on its feet. Evidently enough, it realized that the most imminent threat came from the squadron of soldiers that had arrived, rather than Gepard, who was likely unconscious.

The main soldier continued issuing orders. You watched him, completely enraptured, from behind. You hardly noticed as a Silvermane gunner snuck up from behind you, and shuttled you somewhere out of harm’s way.

Soldiers had successfully managed to surround the automaton, impeding its movement. The Direwolf stamped its feet in confusion at the sudden commotion.

Shots rang out once more, and several nets weighed down by iron balls wrapped around the machine— along with a grappling hook that tied its legs together with a cord. But the machine sliced through the feeble wires with little effort.

As you took a step back, something clanked against your thigh from inside your bag. You gasped, turning to the soldier beside you with a realization.

“You have to disable the control panel,” you said, recalling your previous knowledge of when you worked in the mines.

“We’re more than aware of that,” he said curtly. He turned back to the battlefields without as much as another word.

“Yes, but the door to the panel is impervious to attacks. Could you take out the optical sensor on its face, maybe?”

The guard sighed, but shouted to the nearest cannoneer to aim a shot towards its face. An explosion burst from the area where the attack had landed. The automaton was now twitching violently with its sensors disabled.

Gepard, who was slowly regaining consciousness, sensed the sudden halt in activity. It was far noisier than it had been previously, the shouts of men and the clanging of metal made his head throb with pain. Sticky red liquid coated his falling eyelids, staining his vision red. The captain ignored the pounding in his skull and forced himself to his feet.

I… have to… I’m… still.. needed…

His body groaned with effort. He fought through the haze of pain and commanded his eyes to focus.

Earthwork was just a hair’s breath away. All he had to do was grab it.

Qlipoth… give me strength!

The captain mustered every ounce of courage in his body, bracing his arm against a nearby wall for support. Blood dripped down his face with even more fervor, but he wiped it off with his glove, sending a few small droplets smattering to the ground.

“The captain— he’s alive!” One of the men cheered. You gasped as you saw him stagger to his feet.

Gepard willed his muscles to move and dove in between the machine’s legs. He snatched his weapon and spun, quickly smashing it in one of its knees. The Direwolf lost its footing and toppled over immediately.

“Captain, use this!”

Gepard swiveled, surprised to hear the voice coming from not one of his own soldiers, but you.

Your pickaxe sailed through the air and clattered on the ground at his feet.

“Use it to break into the control panel on its chest,” you instructed with a shout. “There should be an emergency off switch right in the center!”

He grabbed the tool, but instead of using it to pry open the door to the circuit breaker, he punched it repeatedly with the metal gauntlet on his right hand until the steel door crumpled like a piece of paper. Your jaw dropped in shock at the sheer ferocity of the sight.

Clinging to the machine’s torso, Gepard scanned the machine’s chest cavity for the switch. But bundles and bundles of wires blocked his view.

The gigantic machine began to rumble. Gepard had to act, urgently. There wasn’t enough time to search for the switch, but he had to do something.

As thoughts fired through his brain like lightning, he had an idea. He could use the pickaxe to hook under the wires and pull them out. If he used his hands, his metal gauntlet would likely act as a lightning rod and thoroughly fry him, but the pickaxe’s handle was entirely made of wood. It was a decent shot.

The captain held the pickaxe with both his hands and used it to dig under the nest of wires, using his legs to anchor him to the machine— and yanked backwards until the threads snapped. He did it again, this time winding them around the pickaxe like spaghetti before pulling once again.

The machine fizzled and popped, its lights flickering before finally succumbing to the damage and collapsed, leaving enormous dust clouds in its wake. You covered your mouth with your shirt to avoid breathing them in.

Gepard’s chest heaved with great effort, and three guards hurried to his side, immediately, shouting things like, “Captain, are you injured?” And “Captain, we were so worried!” You were surprised at just how much emotion the usually stoic guards’ voices held when dealing with their leader.

The young noble let out an enormous sigh of relief. As soldiers practically swarmed him on all sides, one offered their shoulder for him to lean on, and they hobbled back towards the Silvermane Guard camp together.

You were barely aware of the sensation of someone throwing a blanket around your shoulders (even though you were still sweating buckets), and leading you to another location. You figured this was the secondary location of the Silvermane Guards’ camp, reserved for dealing with the public.

Said location was farther than Gepard than you had hoped it would be, but you couldn’t afford to be picky at this point. You were dropped off at an inconspicuous tent that was complete with snacks and apple juice to await further instructions. You felt much like a lost child.

The tent had a few tarps and blankets on the ground to shield you from the cold, hard ground, which would suck the heat out of any living thing that it came into contact with. It also included a stack of down pillows in the corner, which you readily surrounded yourself with, stacking a few to prop yourself up like a makeshift recliner. They definitely weren’t the softest things in the world, but they offered a welcome respite for your aching bones.

Although the tent’s canvas was reasonably thick, voices still managed to make their way in from outside. Bits and pieces of conversations, mostly about the incident and how you were faring. You wish they’d just ask you, honestly.

The next time you heard someone’s voice, you took the opportunity to creep out of your tent and ask them how Gepard was doing. The recipient of your questioning was power-walking with a few rifles in their arms that were likely being brought back to the barracks.

You lifted a hand to get their attention. “Excuse me, is Gep—,”

You bit your tongue. The sheer amount of guilt that welled up in your throat was utterly stifling. You didn’t have the right to address him with so little respect after what he’d been through.

“Um…” you continued, fighting through the anxiety that threatened to close your windpipe. “Is the captain okay?”

“Captain Gepard?” The soldier turned to face you. “Yes, he has a few injuries, but he will survive,”

You let out a wheezing sigh of relief that made your knees shake. “Thank Qlipoth. What kind of injuries?”

“Well— he got his brains jostled around a little bit when his head got bashed against a wall,” the soldier mused. He had an air of casual-ness about him. “He has a few lacerations from some shrapnel as well. Did you see the one on his head? That one was real nasty,”

Nothing had prepared you for the way the ground wriggled beneath you or how your stomach flipped inside out and backwards. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as your diaphragm heaved uncomfortably. You staggered over to the scrap metal pile, where you proceeded to vomit up the meal you’d gotten from the food stall earlier.

The soldier watched as you wiped away the vile liquid dripping from your chin and turned back around.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Why the hell would you say it like that?? You glowered at him internally. He shuddered, feeling your gaze on him.

At that moment, you wanted to be anywhere else but there.

“I’ll uh— I’ll get you a cup of tea,” the soldier said apologetically. You took a seat on a wooden crate, bracing yourself by gripping its edges so tightly you thought your knuckles would freeze that way.

They came back in a heartbeat with a steaming cup of tea, as promised. It was the type commonly used in the Silvermane Guards’ rations. You drank it gratefully, elated to finally be rid of the taste of vomit in your mouth.

After you’d finished, you asked if there was anything you could help with around camp. The guard looked at you like you’d sprouted an extra head.

“H-help out? Why?” He asked. “We couldn’t possibly ask you to help out all you’ve been through, Mx. (Y/N),”

After all I’ve been through, huh?

You barked a dry laugh.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you said plainly. “You all have done so much for me. I feel like I owe it to you all,”

You clenched your fist to quell the slight bitterness that was eating at you. “Besides, the only reason I made it out of there alive was because the captain saved me,”

The soldier sighed, loaded with uncertainty at your statement. “I’m not sure, since it’s technically against protocol to enlist the help of citizens without proper reason. But firstly, you should go see the lieutenant—,” he said, resting his hand on his chin. “—I believe he wanted to obtain an incident report from you, but there’s a chance he’ll have a job for you to do afterward,” he pointed you in the direction of the tent, which had a large dark blue banner flying above it.

“Right, okay,” you acquiesced. You set your cup down, dusted off your tunic, and waved the soldier goodbye. He waved back, with a slight air of confusion about what had just happened.

Meanwhile, guards milled about everywhere you went. You soundlessly slipped into the tent you had been directed to, awaiting your sentencing, sitting down in a foldable metal chair in front of a desk with a quill and an inkwell. You flinched at how cold it was.

The tents here weren’t the most comfortable thing ever, but they were much neater than the ones in the vagrant camp, where people hoarded every scrap of metal they could get their hands on. This led to tents looking more like portable junkyard balloons.

A breeze of air whisked its way inside as the tent flaps peeled open, and the lieutenant’s metal visor glowed like a flame in the lamplight. The man had to duck a fair bit so as not to act as an extra support pole inside the tent.

He set down his hefty shield with a clunk, all while sitting down in front of you. A sheaf of papers also made its appearance from his bag, and he shuffled through them with incredible dexterity (considering he wore clunky metal gauntlets on both hands).

“Hello,” the man said, raising his hand in greeting. “I’m Lieutenant Thrace Hawthorne of the 4th Division of Silvermane Guards. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You must be (Y/N), I presume?” He asked as he extended his other hand towards you.

You took it cautiously, keeping a close eye on his body language. “Yes, that’s me. I was instructed to come here by another guard,”

He gave you a firm handshake, but squeezed your knuckles in a way that made them throb with pain. Air hissed thinly through your teeth. “Yes, and I thank you for being here as we intended,”

You retracted your arm, eyeing the man up and down suspiciously. You couldn’t discern his facial expressions with that stupid hat in the way.

“—you are aware that the Silvermane Guards do everything in our power to maintain a safe environment for the people of Belobog, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied obediently.

“And, in order to keep the Guards as safe as possible, we need as much information as we can get,”

You nodded.

“Good,” he said while dipping the pen nib into the inkwell. “So, I will be asking you a few questions about what happened down here today. Is that alright with you?”

You agreed, albeit not too enthusiastically. Something in your gut told you that you didn’t exactly have the option to refuse.

“I’m glad we have an understanding,” he replied smoothly. “So, what kind of business were you two conducting in Rivet Town earlier today?

You paused, scratching your chin. “I went to retrieve an family heirloom from my old home. Captain Gepard was merely accompanying me at that time,” you explained. “We intended to be in and out in less than half an hour,”

The man across from you scribbled down a few notes. “Were you aware that it was a dangerous area at the time?”

“I was not. We had been told it was largely safe,” you responded. “Threats that severe shouldn’t have been lurking there, as far as we knew,”

Lieutenant Hawthorne tutted, which rubbed you the wrong way. Just his presence made you want to itch. “Where or from whom did you receive this information?”

“No one in particular. I’d just heard word on the street,”

“Any particular people that come to mind?”

“No, sorry,” you shook your head. You’d seen far too many people on your way to recall accurately who had told you what.

“Okay. And why was Captain Gepard accompanying you at that time?”

“I was visiting Natasha, and she had said that it might be best if someone came with me, because it might not be particularly safe,”

“Ah… that Natasha,” The man mused. “Wildfire’s leader,” he said, flipping the page over. You pursed your lips at him as something twisted in your gut. You didn’t trust this man as far as you could throw him and his stupid gigantic shield.

Don’t you dare say her name like that, you hissed.

“The captain himself volunteered to go,” you jumped in quickly. “That’s just the way he—,”

You froze, realizing you’d given away more than you’d intended to. Your emotions had gotten the better of you.

Hawthorne’s gaze was unwavering through his silver visor. “Interesting… on the other hand, what is Miss Natasha like?”

This time, you thought through your words carefully. “She’s— she’s a kind woman and one of the hardest working people in the underworld. She takes care of people at every possible opportunity,”

“What’s her relationship to you?” He inquired.

“She’s the local doctor. Everyone knows her,” you said bluntly.

“Does she have any strong opinions about the Guards that you know of?” The lieutenant asked.

“Not that I’m aware,” you shook your head. “She’s never refused their help or spoken badly of them,” you explained. “She has the best intentions for everyone, no matter their background,”

Unlike you, you slimy bastard, you whispered internally.

Lieutenant Hawthorne asked you a few more questions, mostly about the automaton and the rescue, such as what color it was, if there were any discernible features, etc., before asking completely out of the blue,

“Are you romantically involved with Captain Gepard?”

“No??” You shot a look loaded with incredulity at him. “With all due respect, where did that come from, sir?”

“He’s never mentioned you before,” Hawthorne stated. His voice was like unbending steel. “An affair is unlikely, but not impossible,”

Who in their right mind would arrange a secret rendezvous in RIVET TOWN?? You snorted. This officer wasn’t worth a lukewarm bottle of rye bread soda.

“Then what is your relationship with him?”

Hah. As if I knew, you scoffed. You tried to formulate an answer as best you could.

“We’re friends. And I assume that, like most people, Gepard likes to keep his work and his life separate. That is all,” you said, your tone as flat as a sheet of paper.

“I can tell from your tone that you did not particularly enjoy those last few questions,” the man said, resting his hands on the table. “But this incident was incredibly serious. The guards may suspect some sort of foul play,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You clenched your fists at your sides so hard your knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry for asking something so intrusive. But, a word of advice, (Y/N)—,” the lieutenant said, motioning towards you. “I suggest you keep your distance from the captain for the time being. As a witness of such an alarming incident, you wouldn’t want to draw attention to yourself,”

I know that, you gritted your teeth. I’m not stupid,

“Especially considering how he was outside of his usual territory. Some might think you lured him there on purpose,”

You bit back tears, pinching the bridge of your nose to hide your quivering jaw. “Sure. I’ll keep your advice in mind, thanks,”

Turning away so that he couldn’t see your expression, you pushed aside the tent flaps with barely controlled anger.

You knew he was right. All you ever did was get Gepard into odd situations that he wasn’t equipped to deal with.

Guilt crashed over you in waves. You were a bad influence, dragging him everywhere without a spare thought for his job or reputation. And he was probably too kind to turn you down otherwise.

Did he even really like you?

You knew this thought was ridiculous, but maybe, just maybe, you had deluded yourself into believing it. It sent sharp jabs of pain through your chest that wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you tried to think around it.

You walked in circles around camp in an attempt to calm yourself down. But it didn’t work. Finally, you ran across the same soldier that had given you tea earlier, and pestered him politely enough that he finally revealed Gepard’s location to you.

You had to get word from the man himself, or you’d never find peace.

After a few minutes of walking around, you spotted a tent that had a few more soldiers milling about it than usual.

Not knowing whether or not their eyes were on you, you approached it cautiously. You crept in even though your mind wasn’t sure if you really deserved to be there.

The medical tent was dark— you had to scrunch your eyes up a fair bit to adjust to the lighting. But, using the small sliver of light filtering in from the inside, you could faintly make out the shape of Gepard lying motionlessly on a cot.

You quietly pulled a metal bin up next to his right side to serve as a shoddy chair. It was then that you realized the true extent of the damage you had done.

The captain’s head was wrapped in bandages that partially covered his left eye. A pad of gauze with adhesive tape on each side was stuck to his chin, and there was a pillow on each side of his head to keep his neck in place, along with one under him to keep him supported. Most of his armor, such as the metal breastplate and his medals, had been removed and set aside, save for the metal arm armor he wore. You wondered if someone had forgotten to remove it.

You noticed his cape hanging torn from a metal rack, and stared at it with a plaintive expression for a few. You didn’t think there was anything you were capable of doing to make this situation any better.

Sighing, you rested an elbow on your knee while tracing the outline of his hand with your free arm. He was resting so peacefully— albeit his eyebrows were a bit furrowed— maybe it would be best if you let him rest for now and came back later?

You rose to your feet quietly like a mouse. But even with a severe head injury, the captain’s perception hadn’t dampened a bit. He began to stir.

“Mmm… Franz? What is it?” He croaked weakly, his brows furrowing the slightest bit. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Franz, is that you?” The captain asked again, a little bit stronger this time. You flinched as he wined in pain. He was definitely feeling the hit he’d taken. You returned to your seat on the frosty metal bin.

“No, sorry,” you said softly. Your stomach churned like butter just looking at him. “…it’s me,”

You patted his hand gingerly, willing your tears to go away.

“(Y/N)…”

Gepard opened his eyes to get a better look in the dim lighting of the tent. You leaned over the cot, your eyes filled to the brim with guilt and ash covering your cheekbones.

“I’m… glad that you’re safe,” he rasped. The captain cleared his throat painfully.

“That’s my line, dummy,” you smiled at him, slightly relieved. But your voice was loaded with pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked. “There was a lot of… blood… as they were carrying you out,”

“I received a fairly bad cut right above my left eye,” he said. “They gave me a few stitches for it. I did hit my head pretty badly, but it’s nothing life threatening, thankfully,”

“Thanks the architects,” you sighed. “Your armor looks pretty beat up too. Are you gonna get it fixed?”

“It did its job,” Gepard replied. Lantern light hit its surface and it glinted, as if it was agreeing. “My rib cage could have cracked otherwise,”

He patted one of his ribs with his gloved hand to hammer the point home. You felt another twinge of guilt in your chest.

“R-right. Is there anything you need? Like water, y’know,” you murmured.

“I’m satisfied for now. Franz got me everything I needed earlier,” he cut you off.

“Okay,” you chewed on your lip in silence. Your hands fidgeted with nothing, as if searching for something to do.

You could tell Gepard’s eyes were trained on you, but you kept your own focused on the ground. A few chunks of dirt surrounded your feet where they had broken off from your boots that drew your attention.

Tears kept threatening to well up in your lower eyelids, but Preservation be damned— you were not going to cry right in front of him.

You rubbed your face with your sleeve, which unfortunately still smelled like bile, and feigned a cough to make the action less conspicuous.

“Y’know… I wanted to thank you for saving me back there,” you paused, staring off into the distance. “I got off with nothing but a few scratches because you kept me safe,”

Gepard hummed in acknowledgment, for he was unable to nod with his head and neck incapacitated. What you couldn’t hear, however, was how the inside of his head had whispered to him that if you had gotten injured, he would never have forgiven himself. The captain couldn’t say it outright— but he hoped that the way he gazed at you so longingly would get the message across.

With your nerves ticking at the fact he hadn’t said anything, you added, “They asked me like, a million questions before they let me go,” you chuckled lightly. It felt misplaced, but it was the best you could do to cheer him up.

Gepard didn’t seem to find the humor in it, though. His eyes stared back up at the ceiling. “Is that so?”

“Y-yeah,” you twiddled your thumbs slightly. “Some guy named Hawthorne— he sat me down for an hour or two earlier. He seemed kinda shady,”

“Oh, Lieutenant Hawthorne?” Gepard pondered. “I know of him. He may come off as a bit cunning, but he means well. Hawthorne lost his brother during the quarantine of the underworld. He just wants to keep the guards safe from any threat, so that no one has to go through the same experience he did,”

“Really?” You gasped in shock. “I guess I owe the guy an apology then,” you said, resting your head in your hands as your chest twinged with embarrassment.

“…I really jumped the gun on that one, huh?” You sighed.

“I don’t blame you,” Gepard replied. “Trusting your gut is important. And you would have more than enough reason to harbor some animosity, given the way the guards treated you all here previously,”

Something about his voice— although it wasn’t outright comforting— soothed your nerves a bit. Only someone so level-headed could reassure you so well, you laughed inwardly. Which was impressive— considering he was lying exhausted and halfway dead in front of you.

Maybe you didn’t have the right to be scared, because this was just the nature of his job (you know, the one he did every day for a living). But he was supposed to fight valiantly for Belobog’s people,

Not a single, worthless vagrant like yourself.

You kept inhaling a preparatory breath to speak, but each time the words would vanish right as they were about to exit your lips.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to spit it out.

“Gepard… I have a question to ask you,” you paused. “It’s kind of weird— but is that okay?”

The young noble’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Surely it wasn’t— no, it didn’t look like it.

That wasn’t the face of someone who was about to confess. He scolded himself mentally. This wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking about it. Instead, every hill and valley of your expression was laden with worry and pain. He wished he could sit up and take you into his arms, so he could whisk all of that pain away.

“It’s fine with me,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s just—,” oh Aeons, this is so embarrassing, “Why is it that you hang around someone like me? If I’m being honest, I really don’t understand,”

Gepard’s mouth went dry.

“Someone like you? What might you mean by that?” He inhaled sharply.

“I’m just a troublemaker,” you replied, smiling sadly at him. “And you’re a guard. We’re as different as winter and spring,” you were taken aback almost disbelievingly.

“You’re hardly a troublemaker,” Gepard retorted. “At least, not in Serval’s sense, where she deliberately makes things harder for me,”

Okay, well, maybe not deliberately.

You grimaced. “That may be true. But, I cause you problems in other ways. Like, that time at the cafe tables. You’re a public figure, for Qlipoth’s sake! What was I thinking, pulling you up there in broad daylight?”

You clamped your mouth shut before you ran entirely out of breath. “My presence also puts a strain on your reputation. I’m from the underworld. We’re supposed to be lazy and dishonest, y’know,” you scolded. “I hear old ladies whispering about it all the time,”

You kept yammering, “Hawthorne even asked me if you were off horsing around with me because I brought you out there today,” you groaned frustratedly. “All I do is get you into weird situations,”

You were a centimeter away from pulling all your hair out.

“That’s not entirely true. I get into plenty of weird situations myself,” Gepard protested. “For instance, Serval—,”

“Stop throwing your sister under the bus!” You barked, proceeding to pinch him in the thigh.

“Agh—!” He flinched with a yelp. “As I was saying— that isn’t true in the slightest. Yes, we may have ended up in a few strange situations. But those are a rare minority of the times we spend together,” he shot back.

Gepard reached out and rested his gloved hand on your knee reassuringly, a new look coming across his face. Your heart twirled in your chest.

“Did you know that before we met, my days were largely routine… just like clockwork?” He asked.

“But you brought excitement into my life,” he declared. “Being friends with someone unaffiliated with the guards has been incredibly beneficial in terms of my own personal happi—,”

The captain cleared his throat before he gave away anything more. His cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “A-anyways,” he sputtered. “The benefits of being your companion far outweigh any drawbacks you think you might have,”

A noise of surprise escaped from your throat as you felt your face begin to heat. Wow, he sure had a way with words. But you weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“I— well, what are the guards going to think about you nearly getting killed over a stupid piece of junk?!?” You blurted out, your voice breaking. The phonograph in your bag bumped against the cot at the sudden outburst.

Gepard searched your eyes in vain for what you might be feeling, but he came up completely empty. His chest fell at your distressed face.

“It’s true that the guards are tasked with many important duties,” he began, enunciating each and every word slowly. “Such as defending the union, serving the people, and enforcing the orders of the Supreme Guardian… I believe my help today would fall under the ‘serving the people’ category,”

You tilted your head at him as if to beckon him to explain further.

“We get called to track down lost pets or put up posters quite frequently, in fact. It may not be the most exciting job, but it is an honor to help the citizens of Belobog in any way, shape, or form,” he said stubbornly. “And you are one of the people, are you not?”

He defiantly exhaled through his nose. You were left looking at him, slack-jawed. He’d left you almost no room to argue.

“But— I’m not a technically a citizen of Belobog. I’m just a random vagrant from the mines!” You argued. It was a dumber point than you wanted to push, but you knew no other way to fight back.

“Belobogian creed dictates that we treat the people with respect, no matter where they should live,” the captain said without a hint of doubt. “It’s true that the previous Supreme Guardian sanctioned efforts to close off the underworld, but it was framed in the light that it would ensure the safety of the people on the surface. But it was wrong,”

Gepard sighed, feeling the weight of your words squeezing his chest. “It was my understanding that we were all just trying to survive the Eternal Freeze… but in any case, it would have been disrespectful to ignore Miss Natasha’s request to accompany you—,”

Okay, now that’s stretching it a bit, you blanched.

“—and let you go by yourself. In fact, Article 4, Section 5, Line 2 of the Silvermane Guard handbook states that—,” he blathered on. It honestly impressed you. You were helpless to do anything besides stare in disbelief as words poured from his mouth like a waterfall.

“But wh-what about the higher ups and the old folk? Won’t they get angry at you if they find out you’re hanging out with someone of my standing?” You jumped in the moment he stopped to take a breath.

“If people want to trouble themselves with our relationship, which is in fact, none of their business, I say we let them,” Gepard responded. “It is of no concern to me unless it affects you negatively. In which case, I would step in,”

He tightened his grasp on your leg. “I did not reach the station I am at by trying to please those types of meddling figures. Your background has never once concerned me, not even for a second,”

The captain locked eyes with you in such a way that you thought you’d evaporate if you averted your gaze, it was so intense.

“You are not some kind of vermin,” he proclaimed. “It pains me to see you talk about yourself like this. You are one of the Eversummer Florist’s most capable workers, and first and foremost— you are my friend,”

He finally clamped his mouth shut. Aeons, the man in front of you had no clue how much those words meant to you. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“I promise you, (Y/N). What people think will not come between us in the slightest. I will be your iron wall, whenever or wherever you may need me,” he vowed with every fiber in his body.

And that’s when tears came pouring down your face.

They streamed down your cheeks and soaked into the collar of your coat. Your body shook with sobs, your shoulders shuddering every time you drew in a breath.

It happened so fast that Gepard was completely at a loss. He stammered out a few words, horrified that he might have caused something, but all that came out were a mess of vowels.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Short cries escaped your throat that you tried to stifle with your hand, and you gripped your knees tightly, trying to still your shaking body. But it wouldn’t stop. Your chest felt tight, so tight.

“(Y/N),” Gepard said gently from his position on the cot. “(Y/N),” he called again.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered. “I’m here for you,”

All of those feelings flowed out of you like a dam had broken. He wove his thumb in circles around the fabric of your pants in a comforting gesture, easing your aching soul.

You grasped his hands suddenly with both of your own and held it to your cheek, letting the warmth of his skin through his glove calm you down. You nuzzled into the palm of his hand mournfully, tears continuing to trickle down your face, until they finally slowed to a stop, your cheeks and eyes still wet.

After the crying had subsided, leaving only the occasional hiccup, Gepard pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pant pocket and handed it to you. You blew into it loudly, giving him a congested apology afterwards.

You threw your head back to look up at the tent ceiling while blinking away any remaining tears. Willfully scrunching up your face, you let out a calming breath and returned to looking at the captain. He had a relieved look on his face.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I’m okay now. Thank you, Gepard,”

“It was the least I could do,” he said, placing his hand back down on the cot.

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “But it was more than enough,” you mustered up the best smile you could in order to reassure him.

“Um, about what you were saying earlier—,” you brought up. “If— if you say so. But the higher ups, would they withhold a promotion from you or because you were hanging out with me?”

He smiled gently at you, capturing your soul effortlessly with that simple motion. “I’m quite satisfied with being the captain of the Silvermane Guards, thank you. My deeds as a soldier stand as a testament to that,”

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your coat jacket. “Hah, I guess I was worried for nothing then,” you said with a hint of frustration. “How silly of me,”

Gepard reached up and patted your head reassuringly, causing your eyes to widen. “The fault isn’t all yours. I appreciate you being so considerate, but it’s not your job to protect me,”

He put such meaning into every word he said. Such an admirable way of life.

You swatted his hand away lightheartedly. “Yeah? Well, it’s not your job to protect me, then,” you sniffed. You stuck your tongue out at him as far as it would go, which elicited a short laugh from Gepard.

Aeons, that smiling face was priceless. You could just lean over and kiss him right on that cot.

The smile faded from your face, replaced with something else now. You reached over him and wiped some stray hairs from his face using your single clean glove, watching them fall back into place with a satisfied look.

As you were retracting your arm— much to your surprise— he gently lifted one of his hands and placed it to yours, palm-to-palm. His fingers were slightly bent, so they wrapped around to the back of your hand. A smile danced on your lips; your face and neck much warmer than previously.

You clasped your hand entirely around his, admiring his soft smile. It was so warm and dreamy, a rare ember in a world as cold and hard as Jarilo-VI— a planet so unlike its namesake.

Just when you were stroking the side of his hand with your thumb, you heard a deep rumble (or maybe it was more like a growl?) from your companion’s stomach region.

Gepard went as red as a tomato.

“Captain… I thought you said you didn’t need anything?” You squinted your eyes at him accusingly at the realization.

Gepard internally cursed himself.

Sighing, he said,

“…maybe some porridge will do, thank you,”

BONUS:

“Ugh,” you grunted. “C-captain, you’re heavy! Franz, can you help me get him up real quick?”

Lieutenant Hawthorne, who was walking by the tent at the time, heard shuffling and something that sounded like a grunt of protest from the captain.

“Truly, (Y/N). I can sit up by myse—,”

“NO,” exclaimed both your and Franz’s voices loudly. Hawthorne stopped in his tracks.

“May I at least hold the spoon?” Gepard pleaded. Hawthorne could see your silhouettes from the lantern light cast upon the tent’s walls. You had your hands on your hips as Franz held a bowl and a tray behind you.

You snorted. “In your dreams. I got you all banged up, so it’s my job to take care of you. If I leave you be, you’ll just overwork yourself until you pass out again!”

“May I remind you, that was but a singular instance when—,”

“Lalalalala!” You sang obnoxiously. “I can’t hear you!”

“(Y/N), I beg of you. I must maintain my dignity,” he implored one last time.

“Here comes the Astral Express!” Hawthorne heard you shout, completely overshadowing the captain.

The tent went silent for a moment.

“It’s good, right?” You asked after a short pause.

“…yes,”

Th lieutenant chuckled to himself and continued on his way.

BONUS 2: Belobog Central Hospital

“…and as long as you take care of yourself, you should be good to go in about two weeks,” said the head nurse to Gepard, who was just finishing up giving him the synopsis of his condition. “We’ll be monitoring your condition for the time being, okay? Head injuries are nothing to joke about,”

He agreed. The captain lay in a hospital bed with a neck brace and one leg elevated with a foam wedge, which, frankly, he thought was overkill, considering he was able to walk to the camp.

A vase of fake flowers lay on the bedside table. Gepard smiled to himself. You’d mutter under your breath and call it a waste of a good vase.

After half an hour, the pain medications they had given him finally kicked in, and he’d drifted off to sleep.

He dreamt about making you a rye bread soda iceberg, your eyes lighting up as he placed it in front of you. Maybe once winter came around, he’d make you a pie, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He snoozed softly, when suddenly he was awoken in the middle of the night by a scratching sound at the hospital window.

Gepard lifted his body as much as he could to get a better look, when he spotted the tops of two blonde heads along with a purple-haired one.

The tufted ears on Lynx’s hat wobbled. Serval’s blue eyes peered above the windowsill and they narrowed into crescents as she grinned. Meanwhile, Pela was looking around frantically, making sure no one spotted them.

His elder sister reached up with the multi-tool you had bought her, and fiddled with the lock. The latch came open with a clean pop. And true to her name, Serval slunk in gracefully, her heels clacking on the laminated floor.

“Hi, little bro,” she smirked. “Are visiting hours over?”

He looked at her incredulously. “I think you know the answer to that. Why else would you be breaking in?”

“Breaking in is a stretch,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Like I said, we’re visiting— just outside of the intended time!”

Gepard sighed. “I cannot believe you managed to drag the other two into this. What if you get caught?”

“Actually, it’s three,” your voice piped up. It came from somewhere under Pela. You spoke again. “And we won’t, I promise,”

The captain’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

That’s right. He was on the second floor.

Lynx hoisted herself up, and Pela began to follow suit.

“H-how?” He blurted. “How did you get in here?”

“There’s a dumpster out back that we used to elevate ourselves,” Pela said, not wavering in the slightest. “It could only hold about two people, so (Y/N) is currently holding me up,”

She hoisted herself entirely into the room and beckoned the others to come hoist you up. Gepard spotted one mitten, then the other. And then the rest of you came into view. And you were holding a basket with a blue silk ribbon tied to it.

“We brought you a gift basket!” You whisper yelled. Gepard’s face lit up like a spotlight at the sight of you.

You hopped over to his side and leaned over him with a smile, showing him the contents of the basket. “We’ve got flowers, and cookies, and— hey! Are those fake flowers?” You snapped your head towards the flowerpot indignantly.

You put the basket down and scoffed. “That’s a waste of a good damn vase if I’ve ever seen one,”

Whisking yourself towards the sin against botany, you yanked the faux flowers out and tossed them aside. Then you replaced them with a few stems of white tulips from your basket and filled the vase with water from the nearby sink.

Gepard smiled. You’d said it all almost word-for-word.

And so you stayed a while, talking well into the night. And you were all so tired that no one showed up to their jobs the next day.

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

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