#but even he has to admit he’s more than a little turned on

[corroded-hellfire]

I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.

Your wish is my command! 😘

Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.

“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.

“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”

A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.

“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.

“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.

You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in…God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.

Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.

“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.

The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.

“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.

“Night, pal,” Eddie says.

You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.

The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.

“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”

“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”

“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.

The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.

“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.

“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”

“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”

Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.

“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.

With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.

“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”

A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.

“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.

It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.

When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.

Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”

It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.

He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe….no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.

The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.

No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.

“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.

“Please.”

The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?

Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.

He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.

Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.

“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.

The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.

“Welcome home,” you say.

Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.

As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.

With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.

“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”

A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.

“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.

You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.

“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.

Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.

“I want to hear your noises, too.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.

A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.

Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.

“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.

“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.

Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.

Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.

“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”

A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.

“Ready for me, princess?”

Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.

“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.

Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.

The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I…oh, fuck.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.

Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension, suggestive, arguing

Matt shrugged casually, “Nothing. We just thought there was a delivery at the door.” his voice steady to make it seem convincing.

I felt relief wash over me, thankful for the cover, it would save me having to explain to everyone that my toxic ex just randomly appeared at their house. The calmness in Matt’s response seemed to diffuse the curiosity hanging in the air.

Chris nodded, his suspicion easing, though he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Oh I’m not expecting a delivery just yet anyway.”

Nick interrupted, gesturing toward Nate. “Hey, by the way, since we didn’t really get a chance last time, this is Nate.”

Nate stepped forward, extending a hand with an easy smile. “Nice to meet you, properly this time.”

I shook his hand in return, flashing a polite smile. “Yeah last time was a little rushed.”

“Oh that’s on me!” Nate admitted with a chuckle. “I was half out the door when we met. Hopefully, this time’s better.”

Nate had an effortless charm about him, different from Chris’s boisterous energy, Nick’s sharp wit and Matt’s cold nature.

The group started settling on the couch living room. Nick clapped his hands together, like he had a lightbulb moment. “You know what? We should do a games night tonight. Something fun before you two head off to Vegas. I’ll call Madi, she’s always up for a games night.”

I’d gotten to know Madi pretty well by now, it was a nice feeling to know I'd have another girl around, even if only for a little while. I told myself it could be a good tension breaker, especially with Nate staying under the same roof for the next few days.

“That sounds fun!” Nate chimed in, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Games are cool and all, but how about we make it interesting? A few drinks maybe?”

Nick grinned. “Now you’re talking!”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course, you’d suggest drinking.”

“I’ll go grab the party essentials.” I offered before the conversation could go too far off the rails. “Snacks, drinks, whatever we need. Might as well make myself useful.” I offered since I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, maybe a shopping trip would clear my head a bit.

Chris glanced over at me. “You sure? I can go with you if you want.”

I waved him off. “It’s fine don’t worry. You guys can stay here and have a catch up.”

“Alright” Matt muttered, his tone neutral but his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

As I grabbed my bag and slipped on my shoes as I ordered an Uber. This could be a fun night, I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity about how it would all play out.

Once I got to Walmart, I grabbed a shopping cart and started with the priority - spirits.

I picked up a variety of alcohol, vodka, rum, tequila, and even a bottle of apple sourz. I thought it would be a good idea to pick up a crate of beet too, better to have too much than not enough. Next, I searched for the snacks, tossing in bags of pretzels, 2 tubes of Pringles, chocolate, donuts, and a few other random items that caught my eye. 

I wandered into the games aisle, scanning the shelves for something fun but not too complicated. I grabbed 5 Second Rule and Twister and added them to the cart. I debated on picking up Monopoly, but I know Nick refuses to play it with Matt.

As I made my way to the checkout, I felt a little lighter. The morning had been intense, maybe tonight was exactly what I needed.

The day passed in a blur of light tasks and lingering thoughts. Madi arrived and her presence immediately shifted the energy in the house. She had this way of making everything feel easy, and it was a relief to have another girl around for a change.

We set up around the kitchen table, where I laid the drinks and snacks out. Nate slid into the chair next to me, his friendly and easy going demeanor making me feel comfortable despite everything that had happened in recent days. He was effortlessly charming, asking questions about working with Chris and making jokes that had me genuinely laughing.

Chris and Matt stood nearby, chatting quietly. Chris was his usual goofy self, but Matt's mood still felt frosty. He wasn’t ignoring me exactly, but his responses were clipped, his energy distant. So more or less, Matt was acting normal toward me. I tried not to let it bother me. They’d be leaving for Vegas tomorrow, and maybe some space would be good, for both of us.

“I’m keeping it light tonight” Chris said, pouring himself a splash of whiskey on the rocks. “Don’t wanna hit Vegas hungover.”

“Speak for yourself” Nate chimed in with a grin as he stood and walked to the counter, taking a shot of tequila. “This is a warm up for Hawaii.”

Matt chuckled as he shook his head watching Nate take the shot. “I’m good with a few. Got enough chaos waiting for us tomorrow.”

I couldn’t help but think of Chris and Matt navigating the madness of Vegas together. It suited Chris, but Matt? He didn’t seem like the Vegas type. Yet something about imagining him there, relaxed and out of this usual, guarded demeanor, was kinda intriguing.

“Guess that means more for us!” I said, raising my glass to Madi and Nick.

"Alright, enough standing around. Let’s play a game. How about 5 Second Rule? Haven’t played that in ages.” Chris stated, his energy already setting the tone for the night.

Madi cheered in agreement, while Nate gave a nod. "Sounds good, but I’m giving you all a warning, I’m competitive."

“Oh, we know” Chris teased, pulling the game box off the counter and setting it on the kitchen table. "'Mon, everyone grab a seat."

I settled into my chair next to Nate while Matt reluctantly took a spot across from me. Madi next to him with Chris and Nick at each end of the table.

“Alright, rules are simple” Nick said, shuffling the cards. “I’ll read a prompt, and you’ve got five seconds to name three things in the category. If you don’t you lose your turn.”

“Got it” we all replied, almost in unison.

Chris smirked. “Perfect. Let’s see who embarrasses themselves first. I’ll start it off.” He glanced at Madi as he picked up a card. “Name three pizza toppings. Go!”

Madi’s face lit up. “Pepperoni, mushrooms, pineapple!”

Nick slapped the timer just as the last word left her mouth. “Alright, she’s safe. Nate, your turn. Name three sports where you use a ball.”

Nate leaned back, his confidence showing. “Football, basketball, baseball. Easy.”

Nick rolled his eyes as the timer dinged. “Alright, you’re not impressing anyone. Your turn, Y/n.”

I straightened up, bracing myself as Nate read the card this time. “Name three things you’d find in a bathroom.”

“Toothpaste, shampoo, towels” I rattled off quickly, relieved as the timer buzzed right after. “But none of them are mine since I have to keep my things in my room.” I say playfully, my eyes boring into Matt, alluding to the whole bathroom fiasco. He turned away from me rolling his eyes in response.

Chris grinned mischievously as he shuffled the cards, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, how about we make up our own prompts, let’s make this interesting."

Madi raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Interesting how?"

"You’ll see.." Chris said, leaning forward as he glanced at Nate. "Alright, Nate, you’re up. Name three places you’ve made out in that aren’t a bedroom."

Nate chuckled, completely unfazed. "A car, a beach, a supply closet."

Madi gasped dramatically. "A supply closet?!"

"I mean I havent, not.. yet." Nate replied with a shrug as the timer dinged.

Chris cackled and turned to Madi. "Your turn. Name three things you wouldn’t want your parents to find in your room."

Madi’s cheeks flushed, but she grinned. "A vibrator, weed, and.. And uhhhh–" She paused as the timer buzzed, then groaned. "Fuck! That was tough."

"You were doing so well" Chris teased, shaking his head before turning to me.

"Alright, Y/n. Name three reasons someone might get kicked out of a party."

I hesitated for a second before rattling off, "Throwing up, starting a fight, hooking up with the host’s ex!"

Everyone burst into laughter as the timer buzzed.

Matt smirked across the table, his first sign of amusement all night. "Hooking up with the host’s ex? That sounded specific."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. "It’s just a hypothetical, alright? Your turn, Matt."

Chris scrunched his eyebrows as he thought of a prompt for Matt. "Oh, I’ve got one for you. Name three ways to flirt without talking. "

Matt raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "Eye contact, smirking, and-" He paused just long enough for the timer to buzz, then shrugged.

"Come on, you couldn’t think of a third one?" Nick said, laughing.

Matt’s eyes flicked toward me briefly, his smirk lingering. "Maybe I didn’t want to give away all my secrets."

The comment hung in the air for a second, and I quickly looked away, taking a sip of my drink.

"Alright, my turn to stir the pot" Madi announced, turning to look at Chris. "Name three things you’ve lied to a girl about."

Chris groaned but didn’t hesitate. "My age, my job, and.. uh, my feelings."

The table erupted in laughter, and Chris shrugged shamelessly. "What can I say? Gotta keep them guessing."

The game continued, each question more daring and ridiculous than the last, until the room was filled with laughter and empty glasses. It was chaotic, messy, and a little too revealing, but somehow, it was the most fun I’d had in ages.

The vodka lemonade in my hand felt heavier as I swirled it around aimlessly, trying to focus on the game instead of the slight tipsy feeling in my head. Nate was leaning back in his chair, clearly more drunk than anyone else, and grinned mischievously. "Alright, let’s make this more interesting. Truth or dare, spin the bottle style. If you refuse a dare you have to take a shot!"

Madi gasped, laughing as she reached for her drink. "Oh no, this is about to get messyyyyy."

"Messy’s the point" Nate laughed.

“Okayyyy this is my cue to go to bed!” Chris announces as he stands to push his chair in, disappearing downstairs to his room.

Nate rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain before he spun the bottle, it landing on Nick. “I’ll go with dare to kick this game off properly!” Nick laughed.

“Alright I dare you to down your drink and take a shot straight after, since you’re all for kicking this off the right way!” Nate laughs.

Nick groaned but complied, downing the remainder of his drink and wincing as he followed it with a shot of tequila. "You’re the worst, Nate" he said, coughing slightly, but the group fell in to laughter.

The bottle spun again, this time landing on Matt. His jaw tensed slightly, but he leaned back, looking relaxed. "Dare" he said, his voice calm.

Nick jumped at the opportunity. "I dare you to let someone send a risky text off your phone."

Matt’s eyes narrowed, and he hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Fine, whatever. Who’s doing it?"

Nick’s grin widened as he turned to me. "Y/n."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Me? Are you sure?"

"Oh absolutely" Nick said, sliding Matt’s phone across the table toward me. "You’ve got the perfect touch for this."

Matt gave me a pointed look, his lips twitching slightly in what might’ve been amusement or annoyance. "Don’t screw it up."

I picked up his phone, without a need to unlock it since he handed it over with no code needed. As I was scrolling through his contacts, a message popped up on the screen, from someone called Christina. "Can’t wait to see you again 😉"

I froze for a second, the words glaring at me. Without thinking, I read it out loud. "Oh, looks like you’ve got a message."

Matt’s head snapped up. "From who?"

I tilted the phone slightly, showing the message. "Christina?"

Nate leaned forward, a smirk playing on his lips. "Wait, is that the Christina you met in Vegas? The one from July?"

Matt shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression tightened ever so slightly. "Yeah, that’s her."

Nate let out a low whistle. "She’s gonna be there again this time, isn’t she?"

Matt nodded, his tone casual. "Probably."

I don’t know why, but a wave of jealousy hit me, sharp and unexpected. My grip on his phone tightened for a second before I forced myself to focus on the dare. "Should I send something to her?" I asked, my voice light but edged with something I hoped wasn’t obvious.

Matt raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "If you want to, go ahead."

The room felt suddenly smaller, the playful atmosphere shifting. I could feel Madi watching me, and Nate was clearly enjoying the tension. I hesitated for a moment, debating if I should actually send a message to this Christina or if I should pick someone else.

"Tick tock Y/n! You’ve got to make a move!" Nick teased. 

I forced a smirk, my fingers hovering over the screen.

I quickly typed out a message to Christina, my fingers working faster than my mind. "Hey me too, you might need to get an STD check this time though.'" I laughed to myself before pressing send.

The moment I handed the phone back to Matt, I tried to mask the sudden fluttering in my stomach. I didn’t meet his eyes, avoiding the tension that hung between us like a thick fog. I didn’t know what I was trying to prove or if I was even making sense, but it felt like something had shifted in the air, something I couldn’t undo now.

As I settled back into my seat, the bottle spun again, and everyone’s eyes fell on me. It stopped, right on me.

Nate grinned devilishly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, Y/n. Truth or dare?"

I groaned, taking a sip of my drink to avoid eye contact. "Dare" I muttered, already regretting it.

Nate leaned back, his grin widening. "Okay, I dare you to spend seven minutes in heaven with me."

I froze.

The room fell silent for a split second, and I could feel all eyes on me, the weight of their gazes too heavy to ignore. Nate’s smirk was a mixture of playfulness and something more serious, something that made my heart race in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I glanced over at Matt instinctively, only to see his eyes harden, his expression unreadable. A pit formed in my stomach as I quickly turned away, focusing back on Nate.

"Seven minutes?" I repeated, trying to make it sound casual, but my voice betrayed me, thick with uncertainty.

Nate’s eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Yeah, just a harmless bit of fun. No pressure, you can just take the shot."

I swallowed hard. Seven minutes. A small, stupid game. But something told me this wasn’t just about a silly dare. It felt like more, like I was walking on the edge of something I didn’t know if I was ready for.

But, I couldn’t back out now. Not with everyone watching. And definitely not with Matt’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.

"Okay" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Seven minutes, lets go."

Nate and I stood and awkwardly walked toward the tiny supply closet across from Matt’s room, gesturing for me to step inside. The space was cramped, with barely enough room to stand between the washing machine and the wall. I hesitated before following him in, increasingly aware of how quiet the hallway had become. Nick close over the door behind us “Okay I’m setting a timer for you seven minutes now!”

I pulled myself up to sit on the washing machine to try and allow more space. Nate stood in close proximity, leaning against the wall, his broad frame making the already tight space feel even smaller.

He noticed my hesitation immediately and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Y/n. I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want to do" he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

I nodded. "It’s not that. It’s just-”

Nate chuckled, his grin easy and comforting. "Yeah, I get it. We’re cramped in here like sardines. Not exactly romantic, huh? We can just mess with everyone’s heads when we get out. Pretend something wild happened.”

I appreciated his reassurance, but my mind wasn’t fully there. It kept circling back to that text from Christina, to the girl Matt had brought home just the other night. Why was I bothered by these things?

We went back and forth trying to mess with everyones heads for a few minutes, the tension easing with each playful exchange. Nate had this way of making me forget the discomfort of the situation, his charm and humor cutting through the awkwardness like a lifeline.

But as the seconds ticked by, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation creeping back in. Why had I felt so conflicted when Nate dared me? Why had I instinctively looked at Matt? Why was I holding back? Why was I constantly tiptoeing around Matt’s feelings when he barely seemed to care about mine? The way he acted so indifferent toward me, except for those rare moments of kindness that only confused me more. Maybe I was overthinking, but it felt like I was always waiting for some unspoken approval from him.

But why should I?

I turned back to Nate. His expression was calm, patient, and his smile had a boyish charm that was impossible to deny. He leaned casually against the wall, his hands tucked into his pockets like he wasn’t in a cramped laundry closet playing some silly game.

Maybe I needed to stop worrying so much about Matt, about what he thought or didn’t think. He wasn’t the one in front of me right now.

I took a breath, holding eye contact with Nate, my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. He raised an eyebrow in surprise but didn’t move, letting me take the lead.

As I tilted my head toward him, ready to close the distance, Nick’s voice rang out from the other side of the door, loud and teasing.

“Alright, lovebirds! Time’s up!”

I froze mid motion, my face heating up in embarrassment as Nate chuckled softly.

“We’ll I guess thats us!” He said playfully.

I leaned back, unable to meet his eyes as he opened the door. The sudden flood of light felt blinding, and the sound of laughter from the others only added to my growing embarrassment.

As we stepped out, I glanced toward the table and immediately caught Matt’s gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way his jaw tightened that sent a bit of confusion through me.

“Have fun in there?” Matt asked, his tone neutral but laced with something sharp beneath the surface.

I wanted to say something snarky, but the words got caught in my throat. Instead, I turned my attention to my drink, needing something to steady myself.

Nate slid back into his seat, clearly amused. “Best seven minutes of my life” he joked, earning a round of laughter from Nick and Madi.

But Matt didn’t laugh. And for some reason, that bothered me more than it should.

Nick suggested switching things up, his voice full of mischief. "How about we switch it up, what about Never have I ever?"

Madi immediately perked up, slapping her hands together. "Ooh, yes! That’s always fun!"

The group agreed, and Nick quickly grabbed a fresh round of drinks, refilling everyone’s glasses to ensure the game could properly escalate. I could already tell this was going to get messy.

We all sat in a circle, Nate to my right and Matt now to my left, the energy in the room buzzing with anticipation. Nate nudged me playfully. "Hope you’re ready to spill some secrets" he teased.

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink just to brace myself. "I’d watch out too if I were you!" I shot back.

Nick took charge of the first round. He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the power of starting the game. “Never have I ever.. kissed someone in this room."

I froze, feeling my face heat up. Nate raised an eyebrow, glancing at me with a smirk, we laughed into eachother knowing we wanted to fuck with everyones heads.

"Someone’s gotta shake things up." Nate laughed.

Madi took the next turn. Never have I ever... hooked up with someone I regretted."

A ripple of tension moved through the group. Nick and Madi both took a sip, Nate chuckling awkwardly.

To my surprise, Matt lifted his glass and drank, his gaze flicking toward me for the briefest second before looking away.

It made me feel strange, but I tried not to deep it, instead, taking another sip of my drink for no reason other than to keep myself occupied.

When it was my turn, I hesitated. Everyone was looking at me expectantly, the pressure to come up with something spicy almost overwhelming.

"Alright. Never have I ever.. led someone on."

The group fell into playful gasps and laughter, but my eyes stayed locked on Matt.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he picked up his glass and took a slow sip, holding my gaze the entire time. I couldn’t tell if it was a challenge or an admission, but it left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

The tension in the room was thick as ever when it got to Matt’s turn. His face full of mischief. 

"Never have I ever.." he paused for dramatic effect, letting the silence linger just a beat too long, "..had my ex appear at the house I’m staying in, causing a scene."

The words nearly knocked me out. My stomach sank as I stared at him, my drink frozen halfway to my lips. Why the fuck would he say that?

Nick shifted uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath about the game getting too real, but no one really paid him attention.

I felt every set of eyes in the room turn toward me, and heat crept up my neck, both from anger and embarrassment. I didn’t move, didn’t drink, but my hand tightened around the glass in my grip. I felt like everyone was slowly putting the pieces together from this morning.

"What’s the matter, Y/n?" Matt asked, his voice calm but condescending. "Not drinking?"

I finally lowered the glass to the table, meeting his gaze head on. "I’m sorry, are we airing everyone’s dirty laundry now? Or just mine?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Just playing the game."

Nate leaned forward, wanting to clear this question. "Alright, let’s not kill the vibe. It’s just a game, right?" He shot Matt a warning look, but Matt didn’t break eye contact with me.

"Right" I said, forcing a smile as I picked up my glass and took a sip. The alcohol burned going down, but it was nothing compared to the fire in my chest.

Madi cleared her throat, clearly trying to cut through the tension. "Okay, let’s move on!" she said, her voice overly chipper. "Um, my turn! Never have I ever.. gone skinny dipping!"

The room tried to recover, laughter breaking out as Nate and Nick both drank, but I barely registered it. My mind was spinning, replaying Matt’s words over and over. Why would he say that? Was he trying to embarrass me? To prove some kind of point? I swallowed the lump in my throat, determined not to let him get to me. If he wanted a reaction, he wasn’t going to get one.

It came back around to my turn, I knew I had an opportunity. I could feel the tension from Matt’s earlier comment still hanging in the air, and I wasn’t about to let him have the last word.  

“Never have I ever.. took a girl home and fucked her multiple times during the night knowing you have a guest in the house who can hear every single bit of it to try and make them feel uncomfortable.”

The room went dead silent.

Every single eye turned to me. Matt’s smirk faltered for the first time all night, his jaw tightening as my words sank in. But I wasn’t backing down. Not after the jab he threw earlier. My gaze stayed locked on Matt, challenging him.

Nick could clearly sense the charged atmosphere but unsure whether to step in. Nate, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head as his eyes wide with both amusement and disbelief.

Matt finally broke the silence, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and tilting his head slightly. "Well" he said, his voice smug as ever "if the guest didn’t want to hear anything, maybe they should’ve stayed in their own apartment instead of squatting in mine."

I felt my cheeks flush hot with both anger and embarrassment. "Squatting?" I snapped. "Wow, I didn’t realize letting someone crash because they didn’t have anywhere else to go counted as charity work for you."

Matt shrugged, his gaze burning into me. "Call it what you want. Just saying, the walls go both ways. If you don’t like what you hear, maybe you should get your own place."

"Or maybe" I shot back, "you could show a little respect for the fact that someone else is living here too. But clearly, that’s asking too much."

Nate looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. Madi awkwardly sipped her drink.

"Alright, alright" Nick finally cut in, his hands raised as if to physically push the tension down. "Maybe this game was a bad idea. Let’s just.. take a breather, yeah?"

But I wasn’t done. "No, it’s fine" I said as I stood up, my voice sharp. "Game’s over anyway. Matt’s clearly got all the answers."

I didn’t wait for anyone to respond. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, my heart pounding as I made my way upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear the muffled sounds of Nick giving out to Matt for how he spoke to me, Madi trying to diffuse the situation. But the only thing I could focus on was the sound of Matt’s voice replaying in my head, over and over again. If Matt wanted a war, he’d just gotten one.

A hot tear streamed down my face as I lay back on my bed. I wasn’t sure where things would take me now, where I could go, how I would get there, if this would affect working with Chris.

But one thing I was sure of was,

I hate Matt Sturniolo.

a/n: when they go low we go LOWER

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[oddyseye]

Dissecting every reason people call Eurylochus a hypocrite because I am sick and tired of defending this poor hungry man.

Eurylochus is not the easy villain or the perfect saint. He is the walking contradiction of the Odyssey and EPIC, and anyone who just calls him a hypocrite without understanding the nuances of his motivations really isn’t paying attention to the full picture. Let’s start with the infamous wind bag fiasco, which happens early enough for Eurylochus to show us his conflict. Yes, he doubts Odysseus’ judgment when it comes to the Wind God’s island, warning him about the risks. And let’s be real, Eurylochus is absolutely right. If you look at the situation, Odysseus is acting impulsively, relying on his wits and bravado, thinking he can control the outcome with the power of his charm. But this? It’s a god’s realm. The gods don’t work on your timetable. At this point, what does Odysseus’ confidence even mean? Eurylochus sees it as reckless, and I agree. Yes, Eurylochus is a bit wary of everything at this point (which might be annoying if you’re Odysseus), but it’s a valid concern. And Odysseus’ reply? It's a bit patronizing. He doesn’t respect Eurylochus’ caution. Instead of listening to his crew member, his second-in-command, Odysseus tells him to stand down and demands blind loyalty. Of course, this sets the stage for Eurylochus’ next crucial transformation. He’s now seen Odysseus as someone who doesn’t care about the real risks or the crew. People LOVE to bring up that line where Eurylochus says he opened the wind bag. Okay, okay, he messed up. But here’s the thing: he knows he messed up, and he admits it. In front of everyone. He’s not hiding it. He’s not making excuses. He’s owning up to it. And people still want to call him a hypocrite? He wasn’t the one who set the trap for the entire crew by opening that wind bag. Odysseus gave some instructions, but he knew the crew was starving and desperate. And then, on top of that, you have the winions stirring the pot, telling everyone there’s treasure in the bag? What did he think would happen? The crew wasn’t exactly in the best headspace to be taking orders from a guy who was clearly not as present as he should have been. You can’t put all the blame on Eurylochus when Odysseus didn’t exactly set them up for success. Everyone was already in a fragile place after the war, and Odysseus should have known better than to leave room for temptation. He was the leader; he should’ve anticipated how bad the temptation would be. Eurylochus gets a little too much flak for something that wasn’t entirely his fault. There’s enough blame to go around for everyone, not just one guy. All of the crew wanted to open the bag, Eurylochus was just the one who did. He represents the voice of the crew. His biggest focus becomes apparent in the Circe Saga, specifically during Puppeteer, when Eurylochus is forced into a brutal choice on Circe’s island. After the men are turned into pigs, Eurylochus has to come to terms with his decision. He’s a pragmatist. He doesn’t trust the island, doesn’t want to gamble their lives on a witch’s promises. So, when Odysseus sends him and the crew to investigate, Eurylochus doesn’t just go along for the ride, he stays behind and urges Odysseus to get out of there. But let’s remember, this moment is a turning point for Eurylochus. He’s scared, yes, but also rational. He was the one who saw the situation from a distance and thought, “This is too risky.” He’s the realist who wants to cut his losses, but it’s important to notice that his fear is the fear of losing more men, not necessarily cowardice. Unlike Odysseus, who acts out of hope, Eurylochus is practical. His attitude here reflects the trauma they’ve been through and how tired he is of losing people. That’s why his frustration boils over later when Odysseus sacrifices men — because Eurylochus has seen enough death.

Now, let’s talk about Scylla. Because this is the moment where everything Eurylochus has learned comes crashing down on him. Remember that vow Odysseus made to him earlier: “There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save”? Well, that sentiment sticks with Eurylochus. He takes that to heart. So when Odysseus makes the decision to sacrifice six men to Scylla, you can see why he snaps. It’s not just that Odysseus is willing to sacrifice them — it’s that he does it without warning, without giving them the choice. Eurylochus feels like Odysseus has abandoned everything he taught him about loyalty. That vow he made? Yeah, it means nothing now. Eurylochus is furious because Odysseus fails him here. He’s been teaching Eurylochus the value of every single life, yet when the time comes to uphold that belief, Odysseus throws it out the window to save himself and his pride. So, of course Eurylochus is mad. And it’s not about the six men dying (because, let’s be real, he’s no saint), it’s about the betrayal. He’s been made to believe in the cause, but now he sees Odysseus as a hypocrite. It stings, and it’s totally justified. This leads us to Mutiny. Eurylochus is right to be mad at Odysseus for sacrificing six men just to save his own skin. Don’t even try to justify that. Odysseus put his own desire to get home ahead of the lives of his crew. Eurylochus did not agree to be cannon fodder for Odysseus’ personal agenda. He wasn’t going to sit back and watch his brothers die without questioning what the heck was going on. So, when Odysseus goes full “sacrifice six for the greater good,” you bet Eurylochus was angry. He wasn’t just upset because they were going to die; he was upset because Odysseus made the decision to send them to their deaths without even consulting them. Eurylochus’ reaction is human, it’s justifiable, and it’s completely rational. He’s not a traitor, he’s someone who realizes that Odysseus’ quest for glory comes at the expense of the people he supposedly cares about. Then we get to the cattle of Helios because apparently everyone’s learnt nothing. Eurylochus has already checked out emotionally. He’s looked at the situation, and for him, the reality of their fate is clear: they’re not going to make it home. They’re already dead in a way, and the gods are just playing with them. So when faced with the opportunity to eat the cows, he sees it as a way to take some control over a situation where they’ve lost all control. His logic isn’t about doing what’s morally right in the eyes of the gods. At least if they’re going to die, they can do it on their own terms — full stomachs, no slow starvation or suffering. It’s a very bleak and cynical perspective, but it’s also realistic. And in a way, it shows a form of wisdom that Odysseus doesn’t have in this moment. Odysseus, of course, refuses to let go of hope. His entire journey is a testament to his stubbornness and unwillingness to give up. That’s his defining trait, and it’s what keeps him going, but it also blinds him to the obvious signs of doom around him. He refuses to accept that the gods are no longer in his favor, that they’ve been punished for their mistakes, and that he’s already sealed their fate. For Odysseus, admitting that they’ve lost would be admitting defeat, and that’s something he can’t stomach. So, instead of facing the reality of the situation, he doubles down on his hope and pride. Eurylochus isn’t the naive one here. He’s not playing the hero’s game. He’s real. He’s already accepted that their journey is doomed, but he refuses to be passive in that fate. He wants to take charge of how they go out. He’s not waiting for divine intervention anymore because, honestly, it hasn’t worked out so well for them so far. He’s out of options and out of faith.

But here’s the darker, more tragic implication: Eurylochus’ perspective is the voice of the crew. His attitude — “We’re never gonna make it home; we’re already doomed” — isn’t just his own individual despair; it’s shared by everyone else around him. The crew is no longer fighting for survival; they’ve been through too much. They’ve seen too many of their comrades die for a cause that seems meaningless at this point (how do you think Perimedes would feel when Elpenor died). They’ve been stranded for so long, constantly at the mercy of the gods, with no real agency over their fates. They’ve lost hope. The entire crew is in a suicidal state of mind, and Eurylochus’ willingness to eat the cows is just the worst tangible sign of that collective despair. He’s the one who finally gives voice to it, like always, but it’s a sentiment that’s been building throughout their journey. He���s come to terms with it in a way that Odysseus has not. In that sense, his desire to eat the cows is almost a form of passive suicide — an attempt to bring some meaning, some control to an already doomed situation. His actions signal a profound loss of the will to live. This attitude is contagious. When Eurylochus speaks, he’s speaking for a crew that’s also checked out, a crew that’s surrendered to the inevitable. They don’t believe in their survival anymore. They’re not thinking about glory or heroism. They’re thinking about getting something out of their final moments, about finding some form of solace in the face of certain death. They no longer care about the gods or their promises. They just want to eat, even if it means defying the divine laws. This is a crew that’s collectively suicidal, mentally exhausted, and emotionally broken. And Eurylochus, in choosing to act, becomes both the catalyst for their final downfall and the embodiment of their emotional exhaustion and surrender.

He doesn’t trust Odysseus anymore. Odysseus promised to bring them home, but where are they? They’re stranded, they’ve lost men, brothers, friends, and the gods keep throwing obstacles in their path. When Odysseus becomes a king in his eyes and no longer a brother, it’s clear: Eurylochus starts thinking about himself, and that definitely doesn’t make him a hypocrite. It makes him human. It makes him someone who’s had enough. So, when the storm hits, and Eurylochus says, “We’re going to die anyway,” it’s not just a defeatist attitude — it’s the voice of someone who’s been burned by his faith in Odysseus too many times. He finally does what Odysseus would have done if he weren’t so obsessed with getting home — he does what’s necessary for survival. It’s harsh, but it’s consistent with his struggle all along. Eurylochus isn’t a hypocrite because he speaks out against Odysseus — he’s just a man who wants to believe in loyalty, but realizes that Odysseus has never really been loyal to anyone but his wife, never his men. It’s a brutal realization, and it’s only when he lashes out in Mutiny that we see the full extent of his disillusionment.

So, before anyone calls Eurylochus a hypocrite, let’s remember that he was the one who had to deal with the consequences of Odysseus’ stubbornness and false promises. He wanted to be the loyal friend, the one who stuck by his leader. But Odysseus made it impossible. Now, he’s just a man broken by the very loyalty he once held dear.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know that Yuu is gender neutral in the game for many reasons so it makes me wonder if Yuu was a girl in Conan would that change the dialogues and the way the characters interact with her?

Like not a major change to the main story or turning the game into otome but some small ones like in some characters interaction with Leona when stepping on his tail he won't want to beat us (because of the respect woman thing lol) in book one or Deuce being shy in the beginning of their friendship.

Hmm... For the most part, I honestly don't really think so? Cater still calls Yuu cute, Azul is still pretty polite, etc. Rook still waxes poetic and creepily recites your sizes, etc. regardless of gender. At best, maybe some of those traits would be exaggerated a little more or expanded on to suit the scenario?? Like maybe Ace would initially tease fem!Yuu about being at an all-boys school or something, isn't she bothered by it? But I really doubt that anyone would be tripping over themselves to protect or befriend fem!Yuu or anything, especially when most at NRC are primarily concerned with their own interests. Most of the characters aren't noted to treat women particularly differently than other genders. We also don't get to see the NRC students interacting with girls around their age either, so it's hard to discern how they'd be with them. I think even the "Deuce being shy in the beginning of the friendship" headcanon comes from a perspective colored by writings in fandom; Deuce in canon doesn't really seem to demonstrate major issues interacting with girls, at least not that I can recall. At best, he expresses surprise when Grim mistakes Epel for a girl and fails to romance the Ghost Bride (he just freezes up). I think if we eliminated romantic interest altogether--because, to be clear, one girl in a cast of mainly guys is NOT always meant to be romantic or a harem--most of the cast would be their usual selves, if not maybe a little more polite due to how they’ve been socialized to see women as the “fairer” sex. For example, Riddle, Epel, and Jade underestimate Sally, though this isn’t clear if it’s gender-based or because they sympathize with her poor home life. They may also be instances of the guys not really knowing how to deal with girls? For example, Trey fails to help Sally up after she has fallen (which Sebek chastises him for); Trey later admits that he doesn't know many women beyond his mother and sister who is 4 years younger than him. Because of this, he says it may be that he was subconsciously nervous to interact with her.

The exception to this, many would point out, is Leona, who comes from a country in which women are respected. The strange thing is, whenever this point is mentioned, I always see people speaking about it in relation to Leona and Leona only, even though Ruggie and Rook also come from the Sunset Savanna (so technically those latter two would also theoretically be respectful to women). Now, there's a lot of discussion in the fandom about just how far Leona's "feminism" (a term used by fandom, never said in official materials) stretches. The most extreme of takes paint Leona as a misandrist who actively hates on or mistreats men while upholding women as superiors. And that... Well, I don't agree with this interpretation whatsoever. Yes, Leona no doubt respects women and is more likely to listen to them if they ask him to do something (for example, attending a party for a female painting in Cater's School Uniform vignette or taking a picture of himself in his robes for his sister-in-law in his own Ceremonial Robes vignettes). However, he won't just keel over and do whatever is asked of him simply because it is coming from a woman (think back to Ghost Marriage; he was still pretty pissed off when Eliza slapped him), and nor is he shown to disparage his own gender.

Rather than putting women on a pedestal, I think it would be more accurate to say that Leona doesn't underestimate women or think lesser of them because of their gender. (If you're interested my detailed breakdown of "feminist" Leona, check out this analysis.) For example, while his classmates worry for Sally's wellbeing in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Leona lauds Sally's cunning and ability to save herself. We also get a pretty good look of this in the Episode of Savanaclaw manga, which features a female Yuu. (And before anyone says, "Yuuka could be hiding the fact she's a girl!", take a look at these panels. She is clearly not making an effort to hide her chest and given her nonchalant personality + ability to physically defend herself, Yuuka has no in-universe reason to be hiding her gender. The other students probably don’t bring up that she’s a girl because she’s already been around at NRC for roughly a month at this point and have likely acclimated to her presence. Besides, people don’t normally bring up “well, that’s a girl” out of the blue in everyday conversations.)

Riddle seems to treat Yuuka the same as the gender-neutral Yuu in the game; he still adjusts her tie for her without any flourishes, flinching, etc.

If you read the Episode of Savanaclaw altogether, pretty much all of the characters treat Yuuka like another fellow student and not "oh, this is a woman and a woman has to be treated differently".

Leona stops Savanaclaw mobs from beating up Yuuka and co., but this isn't significant because he does the same for gender-neutral Yuu in the game. It's not "I stopped the guys from hurting a woman" behavior. And get this: Leona still challenges Yuuka and co. to a magift/spelldrive game and he STILL kicks their asses and expects them to get up for more. He doesn't give even Yuuka special treatment or leniency because she is a woman. He wants her to play him again, the same as the other students (who are all guys). It is Jack who has to intervene and stop his dorm leader from bullying Yuuka and co.—but again, this isn’t a change from the game, as Jack always steps in anyway.

Yuuka recognizes Leona as "the garden caretaker" from back when she accidentally stepped on his tail. Unfortunately, we don't get to see if Leona attempted to attack her from this instance. It could be that the manga excluded it because he didn't try or it could be that he did (if the magift/spelldrive demands were of any indication) and the manga just didn't have time to show it in full. Buuut we should also note that Leona makes exceptions to his own... "moral code" when it is convenient for him. For example, he tells his students to not pick on outsiders but then still wails on us through sport. When Yuu steps on his tail in the garden, he says, "Well, can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone so helpless," but then adds, "Still gonna do it, though."

My point is, this is the closest we'll get to "how would the boys treat a fem!Yuu", and that's what I'll leave you with.

[isawritesshit]

The Color Blue - Chapter 3

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest; borders created by @anitalenia

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, slightly ooc! (?) gojo, mostly fluff with a smidge of tension, cat :), small signs of past mental and physical abuse, violence, death, guns, knives, bit of blood, explosion cause by gojo’s technique, mentions of bruising and choking, brief threats, bits of trauma after an attack, healing myself a little after season 2, sharing a bed, gojo teasing, brief argument, reader says something about her not caring if she dies but doesn’t mean it, cursing, gojo has scars, cuddles and secret kisses :)

Author's Note: Hello everyone. This chapter has been a long time coming, and I apologize that I fell off the face of the earth. More of that will be explained later. However, I want to thank those that did message me and have been enjoying this story so far, but we know how life can get. I had a great time writing this during what little time I had, and it's also a little longer than my usual chapters. So, without further ado, here's chapter 3 !! Remember to catch up on The Color Blue if you haven't done so before reading !! For those of you who I may have forgotten to add in the taglist or would like to be added, comment below!

Word Count: ~8.8k

Apparently, even The Strongest got the jitters. Satoru didn't think it was possible, yet here he was, his leg bouncing as he sat in the back seat of the car as it pulled up to the long, winding driveway.

He would admit to himself that he was counting down the days, and then even the hours, until he got to see you again. It felt ridiculous at this point, the quickening heartbeat knowing you were getting closer by the second, the smile he tried to hide whenever you crossed his mind.

And the... other thoughts he had of you over his trip as well. He had those a little more than he was willing to admit in your absence.

The driver pulled up to the front entrance and Satoru retrieved his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He went up the steps, opened the door...

He frowned when you weren't on the other side. He thought that maybe you would greet him in the foyer. Oh well, just meant he would have to go looking for you. Satoru started with your shared kitchen, then the living room... maybe inside your bedroom?

He opened your door, calling your name. Immediately, as if startled, you jumped up from your bed, hands behind your back, the book in your lap clattering to the floor. Satoru's eyebrows raised at your sudden movement.

"W-welcome home, Satoru! How was your flight back?" you exclaimed. Something must be-

"Mmrreow..."

A cat's soft purr sounded in the air.

"Whatcha got there?"

"A book...?"

Satoru chuckled and smirked, his arms now resting at his sides. "I don't think that was a book..."

Your face scrunched up as your arms moved from behind your back. "Please don't be upset..."

You revealed a small ragdoll cat, probably only a few months old, it's singular eye scanning before it landed on Satoru. Satoru gasped and, like a child being presented with a new toy, threw his duffel bag aside and took the cat into his arms.

You've never heard a grown man squeal. That being said, your worried face softened into a grin.

"When did you get this little cutie?" Satoru laughed, turning the cat over in one arm to pet her little stomach.

"W-well... you told me before you left that... your money is my money, and I've always wanted a cat. I made sure I did my research, though! I bought her from a shelter, and made sure to get her the required vaccinations-"

"Does she have a name?" he exclaimed, handing the cat to you.

"I named her Sugar... if you don't like it, we can-"

"Sugar! Awww, that's the perfect name!!" he cooed, petting Sugar under her chin, her right and only eye squinting as she purred. "She already likes me too..."

Sugar moved out of his arms to lay on your bed as you strode to reach for a book on your dresser. A book for taking care of kittens, he realized. "You don't have to worry about taking care of her. I have her food ready for the next few months, the best kind I could find for her breed and age, and I already have her litter set up in the laundry room. I'm keeping her toys in my room as well," you explained, already paging through the book to support your points.

Satoru looked at you from where he started to kneel at the foot of your bed, getting up close and personal with the new feline friend. He admired your sudden commitment, but... "You don't want my help?" Satoru questioned, cocking his head.

"Well, I figured since I'm the one who bought her, I should take care of her. I don't want to inconvenience you," you answered, clasping your hands with the book in front of you.

"It's not really that much of an inconvenience. The only reason I never got one before was because I felt bad that I was almost never home. But now that you're here, it makes it a lot easier. It's not like you got a dog," he reasoned, now standing to full height while petting across the fur of Sugar's back. "If you really want to take full responsibility, that's fine, but I don't mind helping. I just can't promise I can or will want to change the litter."

You let out a small laugh. "I'm okay with that then..."

After a few moments of silence, you picked up your gaze from the floor, a soft smile on your face and a question on your tongue, only to see Satoru looking at you already.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had such sweet eyes, like blue cotton candy, and the way he looked at you with them was even sweeter. A small blush warmed your cheeks as you averted your eyes. What were you going to say again?

"Something wrong, pretty girl?"

"W-what? Oh, no, I was just... going to ask how your trip was?"

Satoru shrugged. "Meh, nothing out of the usual. Just a few grade ones here and there, but finding a special grade was a little interesting. I took care of that one too. Oh, and there was this one store-"

Satoru ended up ranting about all of the new stores and restaurants he tried out for an hour, even if you did remember some of these places briefly from your short, daily phone calls. He even paused to retrieve something from his bag at one point: a delicate antique comb with pearls in the handle. A gift, as well as something that reminded him of you.

You took it from him to arrange in your jewelry box. You found it quite absurd that Satoru was telling you more about his leisure time that he spent in Kyoto rather than the curses he fought. You couldn't tell if he was just trying to spare you the gruesome details, or he if really didn't feel like it was that important to talk about. Perhaps to him, these curses were like stones on his path to be kicked or flies he shooed away from his face, barely worth mentioning. At least, that's what it seemed like to you.

It scared you a bit.

"(Y/N)?" Your thoughts broke as he said your name, one of his hands resting on Sugar as he sat by her and the other resting on his knee while he looked at you. "You good?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine..."

"Really? You don't seem like it..." Satoru expressed, now rising from your bed to walk over to you. Since he had left, you had forgotten how much taller he was than you. "Is everything okay? I never got to ask how you were here without me..."

Your face shifted as he said that. "May I confess something?"

His eyebrows raised. "Yes, go ahead."

You held the book in your hands close to your chest. "When... when I first started to live here, I found your presence... unwanted and... a bit frightening. I got more accustomed to it and... as we became friends it had become normal. But when you left for this mission, I didn't realize how used to it I had gotten. So much so that... sometimes, when I found myself eating or going about the house or cleaning our living spaces, I would suddenly feel... I felt-"

"Is this your way of saying you missed me?" Satoru interrupted, a smug grin reaching the handsome planes of his face.

Your face flushed. "W-well, yes! But, what I was trying to get to is that-"

"I can't believe it. (Y/N) actually likes me! Maybe she won't move across the world from me after all, haha!!" Satoru gasped sarcastically before pumping his fist in triumph, to which you huffed. Satoru snickered, ruffling your hair. "Heeey, it's okay. You can admit that you missed your darling, awesome husband."

"Not just my husband. My friend," you returned, a grateful smile gracing your features. He mirrored that same smile, his hands on his hips. After a beat too long, you sauntered past him back to Sugar, who was now curled on your bed. "That being said, I think we should celebrate your return."

"Celebrate?" Satoru's eyes followed you as you walked, subtly taking the shape of your waist as you moved and shoving the ensuing thoughts deep down.

"Yes, as both a welcoming party for Sugar and for your return home," you replied, taking the slumbering kitten in your arms. "Also, mostly because I haven't had anyone to cook for this past week."

Satoru picked up his duffel bag and followed you out the door towards the stairs. "Surely that isn't the only reason you missed me?" he laughed.

"Well, nothing else is coming to mind," you joked right back, turning to him. Satoru looked back at you wide-eyed, an opened mouth grin forming on his face. Did you just... go along with one of his sarcastic gags? Telling by the little hidden smile you were giving him, you were.

This was new.

Satoru just huffed and shrugged, taking a step past you to open his bedroom door. "I think I'm rubbing off on you, pretty girl. Maybe I should've stayed away longer..."

You tried to hide your flush by avoiding eye contact, the sudden drop in octave in his voice causing you to go warm. He saw it anyway. Almost expected it at this point, given how predictable your reactions were. He stepped through his bedroom doorway, duffel bag on his shoulder once more, the epitome of smug satisfactory on his face.

Until you gripped his hand, looking up at him with eyes that could bring him to his knees. "I'm glad your home, Satoru."

It was the first time that you had ever initiated such contact. You knew it of course, and so did he. He clung to that unspoken fact, that knowing bit of trust and maybe something a bit more, as he engulfed your hand in his, giving it a small, warm squeeze.

"Me too..."

The two of you decided on a savory curry recipe for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but still delicious. Satoru chose to use the time as a way to try and test out that new found humor of yours, smiling to himself when he would get you to laugh or reply back with something witty. He'd been waiting to see this kind of side of you for a while, one that you had originally kept reserved, or maybe didn't even know that you had at all.

While eating, Satoru asked what you had been up to when he was away. "I was keeping up with my usual tasks. Nothing too special..." you said, looking down at your plate as you spooned some of the curry.

Satoru stared at you as you did, a small frown on his face. "So you didn't get out at all or do anything?" He also wanted to question why you couldn't seem to look at him right now, but he pushed the thought aside.

You shook your head, taking a bite. "Other than running errands or picking out Sugar, no."

"Well, maybe we should-"

Satoru paused.

You looked up at his sudden silence. "Satoru?"

He shushed you immediately, causing you to bite your tongue. He stared ahead, as if peering right through the wall ahead of him. He was peering right through the wall, using his Six Eyes. You could tell by the feint bits of cursed energy seeping into the room.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru peeled himself from his seat, his expression suddenly hard. The staff had gone home for the day already, Sugar was sleeping under your feet... What could he possibly be going to check?

"Stay here," he murmured, his voice low. His tone sent a shiver of fear down your spine, not just because of its command, but for whatever the reason could be to change his demeanor so suddenly.

"Satoru, what is it-" you began, your voice hushed and brow furrowed. "Stay here," he growled, his head snapping in your direction as you barely rose from your seat. You complied, inching back down. "I'll be right back."

And with that, he moved, keeping a brisk pace as he opened the door that led to the rest of the estate, and shut it behind him. Worry began to coil in your gut, the thought of what could be so wrong that Satoru would have to just get up and leave. A few seconds passed, then a minute, more minutes...

You couldn't take it. You had to know something. Even if Satoru instructed you to stay put... as long as you didn't leave your shared part of the house, it would be okay, right? You rose from your chair slowly, the wood scraping against the floor as you padded over to the door at a snail's pace, an anticipatory feeling curling in your gut. Fear, something you knew almost all too well. It didn't help that your inner thoughts at the moment were your father's voice, laying out possible consequences and outcomes-

And yet, you grabbed the handle and swung the wide oak door open. Nothing but the dark hall and the stairwell beyond it greeted you.

"Satoru?" You thought that maybe he was playing a thoughtless prank, trying to scare you all for nothing. You almost expected him to pop out from behind you for a moment. No response.

You sighed, turning to shut the door, just before Sugar slipped past you, running. Of course, after her nap her boundless energy would push her towards the one place you didn't want her to be. You lunged forward to grab her, but the kitten only ran further away, as if daring you to catch her in some sort of game. If Satoru saw her, he would know that you must have opened the door at some point!

"Sugar!" you called, running down the hall after her.

"Who wants to tell me how you found my home? First to speak up dies last."

None of the thirty armed men standing in the garden said anything, sticking to aiming their useless guns. Satoru stood before them, arms crossed, the only thing between them and the house. And you.

"Okay, how about an easier question. Who hired you and how did you get past the wards?"

Wards had been placed all around the estate centuries ago when it was first built. No one had ever gotten past them. Until now.

It was almost embarrassing, too. None of these fuckers had any cursed energy, yet he had sensed them creeping through the treeline during dinner. He would've paid it no mind, since the barrier created by the wards should have stopped them. But they had walked right on through, and the barrier probably tickled them with a shock at best. He'd have to check their integrity later. But for now...

"Do I have to treat you like my students and pick on one of you?" Satoru snickered, a hand on his hip. This was a waste of time. The sooner he could get past the easy part, the sooner he could continue dinner with you and figure out who had sent these idiots so he could pay them a surprise visit. He didn't appreciate unexpected guests, especially while in the company of his wife.

Satoru sighed. "Okay then, you." Satoru pointed to one of the men on his left, and the man's arm twisted and exploded in blood and bone, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream. The men replied with open fire, to which Satoru easily blocked with his infinity.

Some of them refrained for a moment, realizing that this was no ordinary target, and that he was no ordinary man. The men stopped firing altogether, bewildered, and watched as the bullets clattered to the soft grass in front of him as he dropped his infinity.

"Should I ask one more time?" Satoru seethed lowly, stalking towards the group. A few of the sensible ones backed away a few steps. One man began to shake.

Satoru turned his head in that man's direction, watching him. The man cried out, and fired off his automatic rifle in a fit of terror, the bullets catching some of his team. The others began to fire with reckless abandon.

Satoru began to take care of them quickly, trying not to waste too much energy as he moved between each target. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Each bit of blood he poured only hit the infinity barrier he kept up and blew off like rain on a windshield. But he needed to keep one alive-

There. One was running back through the trees; a coward then, someone likely to confess. He made quick work of the rest, before running after the escaping man not too far into the surrounding forest.

Satoru caught him by his shoulder, ripped his gun away, and flung him to the ground, putting his shoe to the man's chest. "Talk."

"I-I don't know-"

"Then know. Or you'll end up just like the rest."

"But I can't. I won't. He won't let me remember-"

Satoru's head inclined. "Who?"

The man beneath him let out a shaky breath, pointing back towards the house. Satoru's eyes widened, looking back and-

Someone was dragging you through the back garden doors. They had cursed energy.

Satoru teleported back in a heartbeat, right behind the person, bared hands going to wrap around their neck-

But they reacted too quickly. The person, a woman, whirled you in front of herself, holding you up by your neck as a shield. Your choking made Satoru see red.

"Not so fast, Limitless," she purred. "Step back, or I snap her neck."

It would be so easy to snap hers instead, but he didn't know her technique. He didn't know what she could do to you. He complied reluctantly, and the woman set you down and let you breathe before gently resting a jagged dagger against your throat.

The woman was clearly a cursed user of some kind. Tall, form fitting, her muscular body contrasting the elegance of her red kimono and feminine face. She flashed him a saccharine smile. Whoever she was, Satoru didn't recognize her.

"So nice to finally meet you," the woman careened. "Your wife and I have already gotten acquainted." She pressed the knife closer towards the soft expanse of your neck, the sharp edge tickling your skin. You winced.

"Satoru-"

"It's okay, (Y/N)," he breathed out. But it wasn't okay. He had been a damn fool, telling you stay in the house, unprotected. No, he was a fool for following that last attacker into the forest. He was only there to draw him out, so this woman could slip in undetected. "Why didn't you stay in put-"

"That was my doing, actually," the woman smiled, raising her other hand from your nape. Satoru tensed, but instead Sugar appeared from beside her. The woman moved her hand in a circular motion, and Sugar mimicked it, spinning at the same speed of her hand before walking off. "A little party trick. Mrs. Gojo seems rather fond of the animal, so I figured she would rush to protect it when it "decided" to run off." And lured you to the garden just so she could pluck you out.

So, mind control. That was her technique. Satoru huffed. "I will admit, I haven't seen that one before. But what do you want?"

The woman shrugged. "Why don't you guess?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, trying not to let his slight panic get to him as he saw tears begin to slip down your face. She would pay for that. "Well, lots of people have their reasons. There's always a price for my head, so it could be that, but you seem pretty smart. You know you can't kill me," the woman grinned, "so you went for her. And now I have to... give you something, I presume?"

"Perhaps." The woman began thrumming her fingers on your collarbone. "It is something that you have. Try thinking a little harder."

Satoru crossed his arms, making a show of trying to come up with an answer. "Well, I do have a lot of money, but with your talents you don't seem to need to get it from me. I have valuable information on a vast variety of top secret jujustu subject matters, but really, you don't have to go through me to get those, and, even if you did, I really don't remember anything important, I mean, c'mon look at me. Sooo... other than that I would assume you're trying tooooo get my attention? In which case then, oh, I'm flattered and you seem like a nice gal, but I'm a married man so... what do you want?"

"I want her, dumbass," the woman growled, clearly upset by Satoru's rambling. She pressed the knife point underneath your chin, your chest heaving as you groaned. "Do you know what people would do for Death Immunity? What anyone would-"

"Oh, well, you could've just said so," Satoru grumbled. "Anyway, she-"

A thousand blades lunged at light speed from the trees, all aimed for him, which he deflected without a thought. He turned his head to look at them once they had clattered against the concrete, the knives identical to the one the woman was holding against you. "Geez, did you do that? Where were you keeping all those?" He put a hand to his head, trying to peer into the direction they came from.

The woman's demeanor went from peeved to panic when her surprised attack failed, clutching you tighter in her grasp, her grip beginning to bruise along your collarbone.

"Well, as I was saying," Satoru continued, turning back to the assailant. His eyes briefly took in the woman's nails digging into your skin, his voice rumbling a shade darker. "She's already mine, so I'm afraid you've come here for no fucking reason, other than to get killed. So, without further ado-"

Satoru raised his arm with killer quickness, a blue flash from his hand near blinding you as he aimed and released it into the woman's face. Before the blast could fully take, he pulled you to his chest, turning and shielding you both with his infinity as the woman's head was detonated so fast that her vocal cords were incinerated before she could scream.

You let out a painful sob as he pulled you to his chest firmly, hunching over you with an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. Only when he felt the implosion recede and heard the woman's body thump to the ground did he stand fully and let you turn around. "Are you hurt-"

Your first reaction was to look behind him to where the woman's corpse was still smoking, or what was left of it. "No, no, don't look," he murmured, forcing your head back into his chest. You were a mess, breath heaving, sobs racking your throat, eyes puffy and still crying fat tears.

" 'M sorry! 'M so sorry-" you choked.

"Don't apologize, you're okay now. I've got you. You're safe," Satoru whispered, trying to ground you, rocking you side to side as he cupped your face firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. His hands were warm, so unlike that woman's. Thumbs wiping your tears, he stroked your cheek as if it was the only thing able to pull you back to reality. "You're safe. I've got you."

The investigation at the Gojo estate started within an hour of the attack and was still ongoing the next morning. Members of Jujustu High's Tokyo staff came to help with investigation and cleanup. After they debriefed you, Satoru asked Suguru if the two of you could crash at his apartment for a while, just until he was sure that the location of this estate and the others under the Gojo name were secure. Suguru agreed, leaving with you in tow so you could get some rest and to make sure you were well protected.

Now, those involved in the investigation met in the estate dining room. The chandelier light played off the ancient mahogany walls, overshadowed by the streams of golden sunlight bleeding through the skinny, arching windows and glinting against the many colored alcohol bottles sitting on the flight of shelves against the opposite wall.

Nobody reached for a glass though.

The first one to speak was Ijichi, having entered the room minutes after everyone else. "We have identified the female curse user," he said, passing off a matching folder to each person sitting at the table. "Her name was Kawate Kiko, a curse user who has been hired by many crime organizations and other private buyers for her skills, both in hunting humans and curses."

"And her cursed technique was mind control?" Yaga began.

"No."

All the heads turned to Satoru, sitting cross legged, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. He had switched out his t-shirt and sweats from earlier to his official uniform. "It wasn't mind control. She was able to manipulate knives telepathically at rapid speeds, at numbers probably close to 100."

Shoko set down the file. "Do we have any clue who may have hired her and these men? Or what their motive may have been? Perhaps she hired them to help her."

Yaga grumbled. "Well, if someone didn't blow her face off-"

"Sorry that I didn't give a fuck. Not when she was holding a knife to my wife's throat," Satoru said lowly and firmly. The room went quiet before he sighed and spoke again. "Things don't add up. The men, we know, were all ex-convicts and low lives of local Tokyo crime rigs, with little to no connection to one another or any part of the jujustu world. They would have had no reason to suddenly band together for a hunt like this, especially with someone of Kawate's caliber. Secondly, the man that I hunted down in the forest said he didn't know why he was there and that someone, a he, was preventing him from remembering. Not she. And with 30 non-curse users getting through the estate ward barrier with guns and armor they had no money to possess... there had to have been someone else here tonight with those assets and that technique. Someone with enough caliber to hire someone like Kawate to play along with them. Someone behind the scenes of everything."

"But I thought they were after (Y/N). Why the hell would the other guy not show himself after Kawate was killed?" Kusakabe grumbled.

"Cowardice? Maybe realizing that the entire operation was an impossible job and decided to flee?" Shoko proposed.

Yaga leaned back in his chair. "What doesn't make sense is that someone must have had access to these wards or known how to manipulate them. No one else has access, right?"

Satoru shook his head. "I'm the only person alive that should know how to work mine, but that doesn't mean someone somehow could have been taking the time to study them and learned to break them. But that would also require an insane amount of energy, not to mention the knowledge behind such ancient artifacts."

"But who would try that when they know you could detect them from miles away?" Kusakabe countered.

"I wasn't home this past week, and (Y/N) can't detect them," Satoru pointed. "They must have done it then."

"Do you know who was here, then?" Yaga questioned.

"(Y/N) never mentioned visitors. I could always ask her to see," Satoru replied. "Anyways, tell my students they have the next week off. Little impromptu study week. I'm going to find the clowns that started this," Satoru groaned, stretching as he pushed back his chair. "You guys can handle the rest here, yeah? I'm pooped."

"But this is your house-" Yaga protested, but didn't continue as Satoru meandered out the door.

Suguru let him in to his complex at 9:26am, riding up the elevator and walking down the hall to his place. Satoru always envied Suguru whenever he walked into this apartment, that he had a place to be truly his. Well, as much as Mimiko and Nanako, his adoptive daughters, would let him, with their free range on the decorating. Suguru had saved the two of them with Satoru's help from a village that meant to imprison and abuse them. Shortly after, Suguru had bought this place with what money he had amassed over the years, a home for him and the girls, one where they could heal and form a sense of new identity, Suguru included. And for him, that meant taking the two seven year olds under his wing.

Suguru said something about how had he had been going over the reports that Ijichi had dropped off before he arrived, and while Satoru was happy to catch him up, he just wanted to talk to you, see how you were holding up.

"I think she's still sleeping," Suguru informed, probably sensing his unease. "She didn't end up going to bed until early this morning. She wanted to go take a walk, but I convinced her tea would be better. That was at 4am, and I haven't heard her since."

Satoru thanked Suguru, and walked down the narrow hallway to the guest bedroom, one that he had grown accustomed to staying in when the estate felt too big and he felt too lonely. He pried open the door softly, peering through the crack to see your form under the blankets, and stepped inside. He made quiet work of changing out of his uniform, picking out a pair of pajama pants you had folded and neatly packed into his duffel bag before you left, and sat on the edge of the bed opposite of you, the bed creaking under his weight.

He observed how you were curled into a fetal position, your arms wrapped around a pillow (that he instantly grew envious of), and while the sight would have made him smile, he could see the other things too. Your hair looked unkempt and limp, you were still wearing the same clothes, and he couldn't smell your usual vanilla and lavender bath oil, meaning you probably didn't shower. Besides the wanting to take a walk, Suguru never mentioned you wanting to cook or read or maybe even clean, activities that Satoru had known you to do when restless or stressed. You probably only passed out from pure exhaustion.

He hated he couldn't have been here sooner. Hated that he told you to stay inside. Hated he didn't just deal with the problem as soon as possible before they could draw you out like that. Hated that he had just come home and now you both have these other problems to deal with.

He was going to have ask you more questions when you got up too, but for now... he needed sleep. Badly. Didn't even care how much he needed a shower right now or that he was about to sleep next to you in the same bed for the first time.

Satoru got under the blanket, the bed just big enough for there to be about a foot of room between the two of you. He turned on his side and stared at your back, wanting to close that distance so desperately, to pull you right into his chest, into his arms, and to feel your warmth and your breathing against him to remind him that he was next to you, and that you were safe. To feel your hair against his face and neck, your skin underneath his fingertips.

Instead he just stared. And then slept.

When Satoru awoke again, the sun was already setting. As soon as he arose to look for you, Suguru's girls were already dragging him down towards the living room floor to stick butterfly clips and extensions into his hair. It wasn't until he was able to turn in the direction of the kitchen that he saw you stirring something over the stove as Suguru stood next to you, a drink in his hand as he spoke softly. To his surprise, you replied to each thing he said with equal calmness.

Shortly after the two of you had married, Satoru did want to introduce Suguru to you, but after seeing how you reacted to being around just him, he didn't want to put you into a situation you might be uncomfortable with. However, it seems now that maybe Satoru didn't have to worry. You two appeared to have similar personalities anyway. He's surprised he didn't think of that to begin with.

Even as the girls stepped around him from where he sat, Satoru could barely make out the bruises from where Kawate had gripped you whenever you turned to face Suguru, who seemed to have gotten you onto the topic of whatever dinner you were making. Good. Getting your mind off the past 24 hours will help you to better process everything later, when Satoru would inevitably have to ask more questions.

It was odd. Normally, you would let him know you were having visitors coming over the second you knew. Unless since he was gone you decided to not tell him, or maybe they came over unexpectedly? Whoever they were, they would only be able to study the wards from the inside, so anyone who would have visited the estate is a potential suspect. His staff had all been questioned that morning and ruled out as well, so it had to have been anyone you had contact with from outside the estate wards.

And what was Death Immunity-

Satoru's thoughts were interrupted by the girls shoving a handheld mirror in his face for him to look at his new hairdo, the white tuffs of his hair being littered with colorful bits like confetti frosting. "Wow, you two, I'm gorgeous! What's next? My nails? My face?" Satoru exclaimed, touching up his hair and making faces that made the girls squeal in fits of giggles.

"How about dinner?" Suguru chimed in, arms crossed as he stood before the three of them with a smile. In the background, you were busy pouring whatever was in the pot into bowls for the five of you, adding ice cubes into the girls' portions.

Satoru stood, letting Nanako and Mimiko drag him into a chair between the two of theirs as you and Suguru sat across from them. Suguru helped you carry the bowls filled with a veggie and beef stew to the table with glasses of water to drink. The spirited conversation of the children kept the table from going completely silent, which Satoru was thankful for, but he kept his eyes on you throughout most of the meal, watching as you smiled sometimes and nodded but never really gave much input into anything. He knew you were still trying to work through everything that happened. In fact, given your reaction, maybe last night was the closest you've ever actually been to death. The jujustu community had become so desensitized to it that even he forgot to check in on how the view of a smoking corpse or the feeling of a blade to your skin may have affected you.

Soon enough the two of you were beginning to hand wash the dishes, Satoru giving Suguru a thankful nod as he guided Mimiko and Nanako to their rooms when they tried to pull Satoru back to their makeshift salon. You and him fell quickly into a rhythm, with you washing something before handing him it to dry, the light over the dining table behind both of you providing enough visibility.

"Geto is a nice man. Those girls seem to appreciate him as well," you murmured, taking Satoru a little by surprise. He didn't expect you to speak up.

"Yeah, he's a good guy," Satoru replied. "A great sorcerer too as much as he is a dad. I'm lucky he's my best friend."

You hummed and smiled to yourself. "That's good."

After a moment, Satoru snickered, "So, you think he's attractive?"

You furrowed your brow, holding the newly washed dish away from him as you turned your face in his direction. "Satoru, that's not funny."

"You're not denying iiiitt~" he sang, smiling wider and pointing at you with the towel.

"No, I don't think that. Why would you say that?" you muttered sharply, handing him the bowl you had in hand before reaching for the soap to scrub the pot. "Well, you two seemed to be chatting it up over here while you were making dinner," he teased, laughing to himself. He didn't even know why he was asking these things. He knew teasing you was normal, but why about this? Why now? Of course he wanted to take your mind off of things but-

"He was talking to me about you, Satoru," you replied, a slightly hardened look on your face. "I don't want you to think that-"

"Think what? That you might have feelings for someone? Shh, it's okay, I won't tell," he whispered with a laugh. You were talking about him? "Really, (Y/N), your secret-"

"Satoru, why are you asking me this?" you interrupted, handing him the last pot. "Why are you..." You shook your head before continuing, opting to walk to the bedroom you two were sharing. "Wait, (Y/N)-" Satoru set the pot into the sink with the towel, his large steps quickly catching up with you as the two of you stepped through the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." "I know," you murmured, gently sitting on the bed. "I know you're just... trying to take my mind off of things, which I appreciate. But-"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done it like that, I know. That was a kinda dick way to do it," Satoru said, scratching that back of his head. You grit your teeth, folding your hands in your lap. "It's okay... I understand." After a pause you added. "I've been worried for Sugar this whole time." "She's okay. We just want to be sure she's safe before we can have custody of her again. And don't worry, Shoko has cats of her own. She knows how to treat them good." Satoru made sure it was Shoko that got to examine Sugar and not someone that would cut her open and dissect her like some common animal. You nodded along to his words, staring at the wall ahead.

"I... the other sorcerers at Jujustu Tech. They wanted me to ask some things... if that's okay. If not we can wait till later-" he began. Maybe be shouldn't bring this up now. "Didn't they already ask me questions?" you muttered. "Yes, but..." Satoru kneeled in front of you were you sat, taking your hands in his. You almost had to stop yourself from letting out a laugh at the butterfly clips still in his hair. "(Y/N), it's imperative that you answer me honestly when I ask this."

Your eyes met his, your eyes narrowing in confusion. "Ask what? What more is there to ask?"

"Was there anyone that visited you during the time I was gone? Anyone that normally would not be at the house?"

Your mouth opened to speak, the answer clearly on the tip of your tongue. "W... why? Do you think they did this? How? Was it not somehow that woman that you-" "I don't know, (Y/N), but what I do know is that if there was anyone you would have known about being on our property that is otherwise not welcome, they may have had a hand in destabilizing our wards, and I want us to be safe so we can return." Satoru squeezed your hands once more. "Was there anyone?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. Once. Twice. You sighed. "My brother, Keisuke."

Your brother? "Why did he come?"

You shook your head. "No, Satoru, he would never do anything like this-"

"(Y/N), I'm not saying he did but I need to start somewhere so that I can ensure that you and our home is safe. You understand, right?" Why were you so defensive suddenly? What did your brother do there?

"It wasn't his fault. There was no way he would have had any involvement! He wouldn't want to-"

Satoru stood. "You were almost kidnapped! You could have died-"

"And so what if I did!"

A beat.

"What."

Your hands clasped over your mouth. You looked like you were about to apologize. Satoru stood. "(Y/N)." Your fists clenched. You were probably holding back tears. "(Y/N). Don't you ever, ever, say something like that about yourself." "I'm sorry-" "Don't apologize," he hushed, now moving to sit beside you, an arm around your shoulders. "Just... you don't have to." The two of you paused for minutes, not saying a word. He suddenly began to feel guilty, both for his teasing and for pressing you for details when the attack barely happened 24 hours ago. Hell, you could have died not too long ago, and now he was treating you like this. "We can talk about this later," Satoru murmured. "It was wrong of me to bring it up." "No... it's alright," you whispered, hands coming to fold in your lap. "I'm sorry for arguing with you and... for my outburst." "Don't sweat it." "Is this what's its like to have an argument? And to then forgive immediately after?" "Yeeeep." He added a little pop at the end. "It feels wrong. But civil. But... wrong." "Well, that's because most arguments just feel wrong. I like to think of them as passionate conversations, albeit sometimes with more hurtful comments or name calling." Satoru stood and started walking to the bathroom. "But we didn't call each other names..." you murmured. "We can right now if you want stinkybutt," he replied, turning to lean against the doorway while crossing his arms. He nodded in your direction. "Okay then... uhm... asswipe." "Woah, bringing out the big guns I see." Satoru placed a hand to his chest as if hurt, a playful grin on his face. "I didn't even know you knew how to curse, old lady!" You dropped your mouth in a playful shock. "Well, I'm just imitating the best potty mouth I know, pompous bitch!" He snickered before firing back. "You little asshole!" "Bastard!" "Fucker!" "Dick!" "Motherfucker!" "Dick for brains!" "Pretty girl..." Your next insult halted in your throat, his little purr of those two words forcing a red shade to your cheeks. Before you could react, he spun into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it with a click. "H-hey, that wasn't fair!" you protested, getting up from where you sat on the bed. "What?! Can't talk right now I'm taking a shit!" he yelled back, the shower turning on immediately afterward. You just shook your head, smiling as you sighed. You changed into your nightgown, figuring you might as well lay down and wait until he was done so you could brush your teeth. Was it really only a few minutes ago that the two of us were fighting? The conversation shifted so quickly. Did he do that on purpose? While almost any argument you had ever had ended quickly, it was almost never forgotten nor forgiven. Its reminders sometimes stayed on your body for days at a time. Either way, you were grateful. He was so good at distracting you from things, even things like near death experiences. Distractions. Was this what this was? You still went to bed feeling lonely each night, but the next day he made you forget that you ever did. Maybe that was all you needed, all that anyone ever needed. To go to bed lonely, wake up, interact, forget, and then remember. You spent so much of your days alone before all of this. Does this mean you've become something normal? Perhaps. But was it still normal to feel incomplete?

You were so busy contemplating and staring at the wall that you didn't notice Satoru beginning to sit on the other side of the bed beside you, hair free of butterfly clips. Your thoughts broke when you heard the bed creak, making you turn over to face him.

His shirtless body was backlit from the brightness of his phone screen as he sat on the edge of the mattress. As he scrolled, you quickly noticed the faint scars that were littered across the impressive expanse of his back. Were they from trainings, or from actual battles? Either way, you were surprised that he had any at all because of his technique. You assumed this whole time that his skin would be completely unblemished from any kind of visible injury. Not that you're thinking much about his skin...

Your thoughts were broken again when he plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and turned it off. Despite your panic, you didn't move from how you were laying.

Satoru didn't seem to mind. He stretched his arms above his head, shoulders and biceps flexing, as he turned and got underneath the covers. He snickered when he found you already looking at him. "See something you like?" Satoru muttered deeply, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

He didn't need a light to be on to be able to see the color on your cheeks, but he chuckled as you tried to turn away all flustered. "Hey now, I'm just joking. I'm sorry." Satoru placed a hand to your shoulder, motioning for you to face him again. The skin of your shoulder was surprisingly cold, but that didn't take away from its silken feel. You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek as you murmured an apology.

You'd never shared a bed with anyone in your life. It was odd, but with Satoru, you didn't feel too uncomfortable luckily. You've heard horror stories about other women sharing beds with their husbands. The snoring, the problems with space, being too hot or too cold, too many blankets and pillows or too little, the types of mattresses they preferred, etc. While you did share a bed with him last night, there was no telling if he had any of those issues since you were already asleep when he came to bed.

However, you did remember how he looked when he was still asleep after you woke up. It was... too peaceful of a look for a man that had just killed for you less than 24 hours before.

He had killed for you. And now you were sharing a bed with him.

Killed. Well, you knew way before marrying him that he had done such before. Why does this suddenly change your perception of him?

Yet despite that, you assumed he was a sound sleeper, which you could be thankful for even though you probably will not have to share a bed with him much in the future. It's quite interesting that an attack is what led to you both doing so for the first time. You'd like to wonder what would have had to happen for you to see him asleep like that without the current contexts.

What a weird thing to think about.

"Goodnight (Y/N), sweet dreams." "Goodnight Satoru."

Before long, you were realizing it was going to be very hard for you to fall asleep. You tried counting your breaths to focus on doing so, something that would usually have you out in no time.

You counted up to 256 before deciding to give up.

Your head turned to where Satoru was laying with his back to you, his breaths steady. Once again, your eyes caught the scars of his back that barely peaked over what the blanket covered.

You let out a heavy breath.

"Satoru." "Mmmm?" He's awake. "How did you get the scars on your back?" "Oh y'know," a yawn, "mostly sparring and whatnot. Maybe a curse here or there." "Oh." "Oh?"

You paused a little. "I thought... your technique prevented others from being able to touch you. I thought that..." "That I was indestructible?" He chuckled, his voice low. You shifted a little. "I'm sorry, I-" "No, it's fine. You don't have to apologize for asking." After a moment, Satoru added, "As you probably... have noticed, it's important for me to be able to defend myself without my technique to aid me, to prepare for any worse case scenario. Lot of these are curtesy of Suguru being too rough on me, heh. But... I was never always a full expert when it came to my technique, contrary to what most people believe. I had to become an expert. These just show part of the path to doing it."

You hummed in response.

"But don't worry, they don't call me The Strongest for nothing. I'm fully capable of protecting-" Satoru paused when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

Just before he could register it, you quickly moved them away, withdrawing your hand beneath the covers. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No," he murmured, shifting himself to face you now, his head propped up by a hand as he reached to grab your hand and place it right over his heart. You stared at where his palm held your fingers against the expanse of his chest, his skin warm and dare you say inviting.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, your open gaze locking onto his sincere one, "just because my technique prevents others from touching me doesn't mean I don't like to be touched."

Your mouth slightly agape, you took in the planes of his handsome face against the rays of a streetlight coming in from the window, hitting the blinds and creating stripes against his face in the dark. One of those stripes hit his eyes, which you took in first, and made your way down, observing the clean slope of his nose, his shaped lips, down the curve of his neck to your hand and back up.

The way Satoru looked at you then, he knew. He knew that you needed him, but not in some passionate or carnal way, but in a way that someone wants cream and sugar in their coffee, or a candle in their book nook on a rainy day. Something familiar, yet more. And even if he had just killed someone yesterday for you, to protect you, he was still the person that you found comfort in each day. That made you feel somewhat worth something more than a last name a potential asset.

"You look cold." The timbre of his voice could have probably warmed you from the inside out, but only for a moment.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then c'mere pretty girl."

Did Satoru expect last night to go the way it did? Definitely not. But when he felt you take the little extra initiative to barely touch his back, he knew he had to make it go that way.

He didn't anticipate or really want anything more than just the cuddling. It didn't take long for you to warm up and fall asleep, listening to the sound of his heart. He was surprised that you didn't ask why it was beating so fast, let alone fall asleep as swiftly as you did while having to hear it.

But he was right, your body did fit perfectly against his. Your head had rested against him sweetly, cushioned by that spot between his chest and shoulder. His arms had wrapped around you, his hands finding purchase on your back and waist. The position of his chin on your head gave him perfect access to kiss your forehead if he wanted to, but he didn't want to push the boundaries too far.

Okay, maybe he ended up giving you two anyway. He tried to hold out and lasted probably about 30 minutes. He just couldn't help it! Not to mention, you smelled so good-

He was half tempted to give you another one right now as you two lay here the next morning, with you still blissfully unconscious. On the nightstand behind you two, your phone began to buzz with a call. Whoever was trying to get you awake right now could go to hell. He didn't want this moment to end.

However, even after the person had called you another time, and then proceeded to leave four more texts, Satoru figured he would see what the fuss was about.

He strained to reach behind him, careful not to disturb your slumber, as he grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Turning it on, he smiled at the already established lock screen of Sugar before noticing the messages.

Keisuke Kamo

Hey, glad to hear you're alright. Just heard about the attack last night.

Keisuke Kamo

I know I had just visited recently, but we need to talk. In person, preferably.

Keisuke Kamo

Just call me back when you can so we can set something up. Please bring Gojo Satoru with you too.

Keisuke Kamo

Please (Y/N). This is serious...

Turns out Satoru wouldn't be able to enjoy your brief solace for much longer.

Tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby--vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox @tqd4455 @stxrrielle @rebirth-of-destruction @yoichiislovie @thesoftugly @gojonegs

thanks for being patient <3

[radioactiverats]

Curious question, (First, I love your mentor Starscream x seeker reader fics) what would it be like if Thundercracker and Skywarp were around? Because I keep imagining them as those weird uncles who decided to annoy Starscream by pulling reader into their shenanigans.

Hello, first of all thank you so much for reading! I absolutely love the idea of elite uncles. Starscream moaning that Skywarp has led you astray (shitty flying habits. Taking you out for your first drink of engex and trying to hide the fact that ur shitfaced before Starscream comes to skin you both. Oooh there's an idea). For now my brain vomited this out but thank u for the prompt I will prob return to it again!!

------

You’ve never formally met Starscream’s trine. The first reason being that he is fiercely protective of you, even if he’ll never admit it. Despite the bond he shares with his trine, he wants to keep outsider interference to a minimum - he gets one chance at keeping you safe, and if even one of Skywarp’s pranks go awry… in the privacy of his own processor, Starscream has never dared to finish that thought.

However, things have changed. As Megatron’s bloodthirstiness grows by the day, Starscream, like any good tactician, knows that the current strategy won’t work for much longer. With only him standing between you and Megatron’s idle and violent whims, he is regrettably forced to admit that he needs help to guarantee your survival. So what if a teensy part of him doesn’t want to share your attention? If you offline, he won’t have any of your attention at all.

As SIC, any overt moves will attract Megatron’s attention - so Starscream finds a tactical excuse. Your first group mission, he proposes under the guise of ‘training’ - to tag along with the Elite Trine.

Starscream is incredibly stiff when he informs you of the meeting - he’s usually forthcoming with details in your presence as he rants freely about something or other. But this time, he remains oddly tight-lipped, refusing to tell you who you’re about to see.

“As long as it’s not Megatron, I think it’ll be fine,” You finally mutter when you grow exasperated with his evasiveness. It seems to ease the mood a little because Starscream pauses, and you watch some of the tension bleed from his wings.

“It’s not,” He says at last. “Thank Primus for that.”

With that out of the way, you assure yourself it can't be that bad, beginning to grow curious as you follow Starscream to the open, grassy plain that has now become very familiar to you. Would it be someone you already knew? Or someone you’ve never met before?

Starscream stops when you reach the scuffed circle of earth that has more or less been forcibly converted into a landing pad. A sudden gust of wind ruffles the dry grass and Starscream nods curtly, although the expression on his faceplate seems slightly pinched. “Here they come.”

The distant roar of jet engines reach your audials and you squint as you spy to rapidly approaching blurs from the horizon. Blue and… was that… purple? There’s only two jets with this colour scheme that you know of. Your helm whips up to stare at Starscream in disbelief, but he stubbornly continues to stare straight ahead, optics tracking the approaching jets.

The clicking and whirring of transformation replaces the screech of fiery thrusters - with an impact that shakes the very earth, Skywarp and Thundercracker are standing before you. It's your first time being face to face with them - you're instantly struck by how similar they look to Starscream, all at once familiar and unfamiliar. It's uncanny, and you shrink back a little, choosing instead to study the freshly turned dirt circle around you. At least your landing pad is much bigger now.

“Screamer!”

“You call that a landing?” Screamer snaps. “I’ve seen sparklings do better than that.”

“Aw, lay off,” Thundercracker mutters. “It’s been ages since we last met.”

He turns to Skywarp. “But he’s right, you know.”

“Hey!”

The Elite Trine. To ordinary seekers, they were the stuff of legend - that aside though, you were busy drinking in this side of Starscream. Arms crossed, trading banter with Thundercracker - more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. Distracted, you don’t notice Skywarp sidling closer to you, and you yelp when his voice comes right next to your audial.

“This the ‘sparkling’?”

Starscream whips around so fast that you can’t help but flinch at the further damage done to your landing pad.

"Hello," you greet awkwardly. Should you be going for formality? You may have the privilege of being familiar with Starscream, but these are still your superiors, after all. Skywarp, however, has no such qualms, a smirk on his faceplate as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “So you’re the one Screamer won’t stop talking about, huh?” You blink, and the words are out before you can stop them. “He talks about me?”

You both look over at Starscream, who’s looking more and more constipated by the nanoklik, an undeniable flush of energon on his faceplate dampening the might of his scowl - you looking with an expression of puppy-eyed wonder and Skywarp with a shit-eating grin.

“Sure he does. He tells us tons of stuff - okay, okay - stop glaring at me like that. Does he talk about us? You know who I am?”

“Um,” You say. Of course you know who he is. But Starscream has… not talked about them, for reasons that he has deliberately kept from you. You’re not sure where you stand in this, but before you really begin to flounder, Thundercracker mercifully comes to your rescue.

“Let go, Skywarp,” He scolds. “You’re throttling the poor thing.” You gratefully stagger towards Starscream, who’d already taken a step forwards when Skywarp sulkily releases you - his enthusiasm had been rapidly turning into a very friendly headlock. Thundercracker sighs, finally turning to you.

“My designation is Thundercracker. We are a trine - you don’t need to worry about formalities. Your trust in Starscream can be extended to us, too.”

You know his designation as well, of course, but find yourself nodding along to the gentle cadence of his tone. It seemed that Thundercracker had a way of making others feel at ease. Even Starscream, whose wings had been twitchy all week in preparation to tell you of the meeting - was looking calm. Well, calmer. He’d nodded at you as Thundercracker spoke, looking relieved that someone more well-versed in emotions had translated his intentions into words before he had to do it himself.

Tentatively, you decide that you like them - independent of their relationship to Starscream. The more time you spend with them, the more distinct they're becoming, in personality, in the details of their frames and faceplates.

“What he said,” Skywarp added, serious for a nanoklik before promptly growing bored of the conversation. All three of you watch with trepidation as his expression grows mischievous.

“Hey, kid. You like me best, right?”

Starscream’s wings promptly flare, EM field prickly as the cacti in the Terran desert. This escapes absolutely nobody’s notice, and Skywarp cackles as Thundercracker buries his faceplate in a servo to emit a long-suffering sigh. You shuffle closer to Starscream as Thundercracker wearily goes to haul Skywarp up from where he’d collapsed in howling laughter on the ground.

“You’ll always be my favourite,” You mumble.

The pulse of his EM field reaches you even if he’s drawn it tightly against his plating.

“Yes, well,” He splutters, suddenly caught off guard. “I… I should hope so.”

Feelings are neither of your strong suits, but the silence that falls on you both is companionable and you allow yourself to enjoy Skywarp’s antics, Thundercracker’s exasperated attempts to get him to behave.

“Okay! Okay,” Skywarp wheezes. “I’m done. You should have seen the look on your faceplate, Screamer-”

“Why don’t we get down to business?” Thundercracker interrupts quickly.

“Thank you,” Starscream growls. He sighs dramatically, but his wings remain relaxed, hip cocked. You glance over at Thundercracker and Skywarp. Thundercracker shakes his head fondly, and Skywarp winks at you. There’s a strange sense of unity, a comfort in knowing that you’re all familiar enough with Starscream to know that the irritation is merely an act. Like you've been let in on a precious secret.

Starscream strides leisurely over to his trine, the three of them standing in front of you. It’s a takeoff formation - Starscream in the lead, flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp. It’s the most common flight formation for trines, but it seems that they’ve purposely left an open space towards the back. A flash of recognition overtakes your processor - you’d studied this one night in the academy, holed up in the library. Trine formations were designed to be flexible, and one of the adaptations allowed the inclusion of a fourth when necessary.

There’s a glint in Starscream’s optics as he addresses you, a hand on his cocked hip.

“Your mission,” He drawls, “Is to keep up.”

[sun-kissy]

sanctuary | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x reader — ★ — wc 1.1k

summary: bucky is worried about you when you’re overworking yourself

cw: fluff, reader is a newly recruited avenger, reader is exhausted, please don’t read too much into this — definitely not self indulgent!!

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you call back shakily, not slowing. Punch after punch after punch gets thrown at the poor bag hung from the ceiling.

Bucky observes quietly as he leans against the wall of the training room. You’re dripping in sweat, though it looks like some kind of elixir in the moonlight. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”

“So should you.”

He quirks a lip upward. You’re stubborn, just like him. “I don’t have to work a 9 to 5 tomorrow.”

You cast him a glaring glance. “Working a 9 to 5 has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh yeah?” he pushes himself off the wall, crossed arms falling to his sides as he steps towards you. “So staying up late and training, waking up in the wee hours of the morning to study — none of this has anything to do with the fact that you’re working eight hours tomorrow?”

You don’t reply.

Bucky was worried about you, though he hated to admit it.

He saw you even when you didn’t think he did. You’re gone all morning for school or work, and come back to training sessions with the Avengers. Then you spend whatever time you have left studying, exercising, or whatever else it is you’re doing with the lights in your room turned on all night. Not that he was checking.

Being a new recruit on the team did mean that you had to work hard, but Bucky was sure what you were doing had to have been way past the threshold of hard work; probably on the edge of burnout.

He keeps his gaze locked on you, watching the sweat flicking off with each fist you slam against the bag. It’s robotic, almost, except for how your punches get harsher with each passing second.

“You know you’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep at this?” Bucky tries again.

“I’m fine.” There’s a sharpness to your tone. It pinches his heart in all the wrong ways.

He comes closer until he’s right in front of you, until just a centimetre off would result in the punching bag slamming him in the guts. But he knows you wouldn’t do it.

“Y/n,” he starts again, softer.

Your punches start to slow. Less and less aggressive, till you’re glaring down at your gloves and the punching bag is left bobbing with the momentum.

“I said I’m fine.”

Bucky’s heart squeezes at how defeated you sound. Dead, almost.

He steps closer yet, and he can see it. The bags under your eyes, chapped lips and droopy eyelids. You’re exhausted. “You’re not fine, doll. You’re overworking yourself.”

Your eyebrows bunch up at his words. You continue to stare downwards, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He has to resist the urge to cup your cheek and gently pull it free. Instead, he settles on resting his hand on your arm.

“I…” you mutter, tensing up for a moment before relaxing into his touch. “I’m not overworking myself. I’m doing what I have to do.”

You hardly look like you believe it yourself. Bucky sighs.

“You’re doing much more than that, doll. You’re always working. Do you ever rest?”

You frown. “But I can handle it.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Look at yourself.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m ugly?”

Bucky snorts. “You’re far from ugly, you little minx. You know what I mean — you look dead tired, and I’m sure you feel it too.” He squeezes your elbow, not unkindly. “Do you even sleep?”

You shrug, and that’s all the response he needs.

Bucky exhales exasperatedly, moving his hand down to take your fingers in his. You make a noise of protest as he starts to drag you out the training room.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking me?”

He sighs when you claw your fingers into his arm, trying to gain friction and come to a stop.

“I —“ he wraps his metal arm around your waist, hoisting you up and ignoring your yelp, “— am taking you to bed; where you would’ve already been if you took proper care of yourself.”

You squawk, patting his back in a hopeless attempt to be released. “Put me down!”

“Nope.”

“Bucky!”

“Yes?”

“Put. Me. Down.”

“No. If you’re not going to rest, I’m going to make you.”

You groan.

His lips curve into a small smile when you finally stop protesting, your head coming down defeatedly to rest on his shoulder. He carries you up the stairs and into your room.

Bucky lays you down with all the gentility he can muster, which is surprisingly a lot. You mutter a begrudging thanks and instinctively crawl under the covers.

He immediately spots your phone on the nightstand. He takes it before you can, holding it up to your face to unlock it.

You grimace. “What are you doing?”

He squints at the tiny screen, fingers poking here and there. “Turning off all your alarms.”

“I have work tomorrow!”

“You also have off-days,” he mutters, waving you off and putting the device where you can’t reach.

You sigh for what must’ve been the hundredth time that day, rubbing your forehead frustratedly. Bucky softens.

He comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling at the petulant look you were giving him. Something in him stirred at the sight; you looked so childlike, so innocent. The need to protect you was strong.

“Listen,” he starts gently. “Like I said before, you need rest, okay? Just — try not to think about work, or school, or anything tonight. Relax.”

You exhale, some tension slowly leaving your features. You seem to be contemplating what to say, maybe whether to ask him if he could reschedule your shift for you, talk to your professors about your absence. Bucky was ready to say yes, yes I’ll do anything you want me to. Yes, I’ll do it because it’s you.

You look up at him nervously. “Am I gonna be okay?”

Bucky opens his mouth. He blinks and shuts it.

He rakes his fingers through his hair with a soft sigh and nods slowly. “Yeah, doll. Yeah, you’re gonna be okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You stay quiet for a moment before nodding, letting yourself sink fully into the mattress. He smiles at the sight.

“Goodnight.” Bucky stands up.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back. He watches as you tug the covers up to your chin, eyes fluttering shut.

He makes his way across the room.

“Bucky?”

He hums in response, turning back around.

“Thank you.”

He feels his heart do a little jump. He can’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. “You’re welcome, doll. Now get some sleep, yeah?”

You nod, already starting to drift off.

Bucky closes the door as he steps outside. The lights in your room are turned off for the first time in a long, long time.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Requested by: @idkwthgoitmww <3 thanks, hun! Words: 2,451 Pairing: Negan Smith x Fem!Reader Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and injuries, references to assault and possible attempted sexual violence (did not occur, no description or details) Summary: Negan has to figure out why you've collapsed and try to patch you up. Concern and banter ensues... A/N: I intended this to be the final part, but now I think maybe we need a little more closure with these two? Hmm... should I do one more part? Let me know in the reblogs or comments!

Previous part here!

“Shit, shit, shit,” Negan growled through his teeth. “Alright. Okay…” He scooped you into his arms the rest of the way and laid you down on the couch as gently as he could. Clearly, more had happened out there than you had admitted to him. He clasped your face one more time in an attempt to rouse you. “Hey, doll? Wake up,” he urged. But not even an eyelid twitched. You were out cold. Negan straightened up and rubbed a hand over his face. Obviously, there was a reason you were passed out, so he needed to figure out what it was and fix it. A flash of terror seemed to seize his heart in a tight, icy grip. Hopefully, he could fix it.

His eyes went to your head, propped on the throw pillow at one end of the couch. Head injury? He knelt beside you and cupped your head in his hands gently, turning it slightly this way and that, feeling for any bumps or injuries. He felt and saw nothing besides the injury to your ear which he’d already noticed, and that certainly wasn’t enough to warrant you passing out. His hands and his eyes traveled down to your neck. He unwrapped your scarf and slipped it off. There was the mark he’d seen right away, which was quickly darkening toward a bruise. A bruise and a scratch? Someone had had you by the neck? Just the idea of it made a hot flame of anger flare upwards in his chest.

His fingers went to the buttons of your coat and he loosed them. The wool fabric fell open and he didn’t have to search for an explanation any longer. “Oh, shit,” he cursed. Your white sweater was completely stained crimson on your left side. The material was soaked with blood and it was running toward your back and starting to seep into your coat. “Fuck me,” Negan swore, climbing hurriedly to his feet. He rushed over to the shelves and grabbed a couple clean towels before returning to your side. He let out a shaky breath.

Negan peeled your shirt up, completely unsure of what he would find underneath. At first, he was met only with the sight of a gauze bandage taped to your skin, also completely saturated with your blood. But when he peeled that up, there was a rather significant round hole in your side, about halfway between the flare of your hip and your ribs. A gunshot wound. It looked like you’d tried to stitch it yourself, but the stitches were clumsy and ineffective, probably due at least in part to the fact that you wouldn’t have been able to see it well. “Jesus, doll,” Negan murmured. He gently rolled you slightly toward the back of the couch and tucked one of the towels underneath you. The other he pressed to the wound while he tried to think about what to do. He didn’t have a ton of first aid supplies on hand. His hazel eyes landed on your pack and he dragged it closer, keeping pressure on the wound with the other hand as best he could.

The first thing he pulled out from inside your bag was another bloodstained shirt. He held it up and could see the actual bullet hole through the fabric. He tossed it down. He dug inside again and finally his hands closed around a plastic bag full of first aid supplies. He let out a breath of relief and started setting them out on the little table next to him.

He looked at you lying prone on the couch and realized the bleeding might slow if he rolled you onto your side. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s get you fixed up,” he said softly. He stood and slipped his hands underneath you again and gently tipped you toward the back of the couch, adjusting the pillow beneath your head. It was just then, perhaps jostled awake, when you started to stir.

The first thing you really remembered was the sensation of cold air on your side and the residual cloud of pain which seemed to be pulsing through your entire torso. “Fuck,” you muttered, dragging your eyelids open.

“Doll?” Negan sounded relieved and you felt his hand press down hard on your side, adding pressure to some wad of something soft.

“Ow!” you hissed, trying to sit up and push him off you.

“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy! You’re bleeding a lot here. We’ve gotta get this stitched up again,” Negan said.

“I already stitched it,” you argued, not thinking entirely clearly at the moment.

“Yeah, and you did a piss poor job, which is why you’re currently lying in a pool of your own blood,” he retorted, not letting up on the pressure to the wound.

You craned your neck to look over at Negan and your side, your brows tense in a wince. Your sweater was soaked crimson and pushed up so Negan could hold a towel over the wound. Your skin was smeared and stained. You felt suddenly tired and laid back down, trying to catch your breath. “Fine… okay,” you sighed. “Do whatever you need to.”

Negan let out a noise that was part laugh and part scoff. “I was planning on it. Hey—is the bullet still in there?”

You nodded, closing your eyes against another wave of pain. “Yeah…”

“Uh, shouldn’t we try to get that out? You could get an infection.”

You laughed grimly. “I was going to leave it in because going on a fishing expedition inside my body with dirty hands while I was laying in the woods didn’t seem like a good idea. Not to mention the fact that I can’t really see it. But please, by all means…”

Negan cleared his throat. “Alright. Hey—hold the towel on here a minute.” You placed your hand over his, sharply aware of even the glancing contact before he slipped away. You stared at the back of the worn couch, focusing on the little squares of woven stitches. You could hear him opening and closing cabinets in the next room.

“Take your time,” you said loudly. “Not like I’m slowly bleeding out over here...”

Negan came back in with a large glass bottle in his hand. Vodka.

You stared at him. “I’m more of a whiskey girl, myself,” you said dryly.

He let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. You were still cracking jokes with a bullet in your side. “Of course you are, doll. I’d have guessed that. But this is all I’ve got.” You finally noticed the long silver instrument in his other hand and any jest you had left in you slipped away. You gulped at the sight of the cold metal of the long tweezers.

“You better hand me that bottle,” you said.

“It’s for disinfect—”

“I don’t give a shit. I need a drink if you’re going to dig that thing into me,” you breathed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of your own breathing came first, steady but louder than normal, and then there was the comforting sound of a crackling fire in the background. Your eyes were a bit bleary as you opened them but cleared as you blinked a few times. Your side felt as if it was on fire.

You shifted on the couch and Negan straightened up in his chair, the grim expression on his face melting away. “Thank fuck you’re awake,” he said, leaning forward to study your face. “How ya feelin’?”

“Uhh—I think a little drunk actually,” you said, sitting up and putting a hand to your head. The room wobbled a little.

“I’m not surprised. You may have overdone it on the liquid courage. I barely had enough to do the job,” Negan said.

You pressed a hand over your side and could feel that he’d secured a bandage and gauze over the wound. The bandage wrapped all the way around you. “I passed out again?”

Negan nodded and then grabbed a little saucer off the table and held it out so you could see what was on it. “Fucker was in there pretty deep,” he said. The bullet made a sharp noise as it rolled on the ceramic. It was stained with a rusty coating of dried blood.

You nodded. “Right. Well, you got it. Don’t throw that out. I want it,” you said with a half-smile. “I’ll make a necklace or something with it.” Negan didn’t look amused. “It stitched up okay?”

Negan nodded again, discarding the plate on the table again and giving you a long, serious look. “Yeah, it was easy since I could actually see it.” He sighed as you avoided his hazel eyes. “Your ear. That’s a bullet graze.” It wasn’t a question.

You fiddled with the edge of blanket he’d tucked over you, but said nothing. Negan sighed heavily again and you were surprised to see him anxiously running both his hands over his face. You thought they looked a little shaky even. “I’m fine,” you said.

“Somebody almost blew your head off on the way here, but you’re fine?” he said. His voice was deep and gruff, and you could hear anger in it. Not at you, but at what had happened. It surprised you how much feeling was in his voice. “Tell me.”

You gulped and shrugged. “I—ran into some men on the way here. First, they demanded my gear but—that—wasn’t enough,” you said. You avoided his eyes again. “I don’t think they even wanted the gear...” you trailed off. There was a tense silence for a long moment before you hazarded a glance up at Negan and there was a shadow on his face and a violent rage behind his eyes. “They underestimated me. I fought them off but—the last guy had a gun I didn’t know about... But—I took care of it. I’m fine,” you said again, repeating it in the same tone you had every single time you’d already said it. Were you trying to convince yourself or him?

Negan leaned forward, his gaze still intense. “You were attacked by a group of men on the way here, shot in the side, and almost shot in the head which you barely survived, and you’re ‘fine’,” he said. His expression softened as he looked at you, the anger replaced with some mixture of worry and sorrow and regret. “Doll—”

You let out a humorless laugh. “I have to be fine! So, I am!” you said, perhaps a little more loudly than you needed to. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve been in almost the exact same situation since the world went to shit? Be glad you were born a man.”

His eyes flickered over your face, the worry on your behalf still pronounced. “Coming to see me would be a pretty fuckin’ stupid reason to die,” he said.

“I didn’t die, did I? I’m fine.”

He looked hesitant. “None of them got away? Because if they did, I will go out there right now and put them down myself. Just say the word.”

You shook your head. “None of them are left. I took care of it.”

His eyes flickered between yours and the feeling between you was intense and charged. His jaw tightened and he straightened up again in his seat. “For fuck��s sake, why the hell didn’t you just tell me what happened when you got here?”

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then, you finally said, “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Negan gave you a look. “You were shot. You almost died. It is a big fuckin’ deal. Besides, how’d that work out for you, hmm? Not making a big deal out of it? You passed out right in front of me and were suddenly soaked in blood.”

“I thought I’d taken care of it myself. I didn’t think—”

Negan crossed his arms, surveying you from his place at the table. “No, you just never want to have to rely on anyone else. Because you think that makes you vulnerable.”

You looked at him with a struck look of surprise and he knew he’d hit the mark. “What, were you a shrink in your last life?”

“No. A gym teacher,” he said with a small laugh.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you just after his. “Wow. Really? Sexy,” you said sarcastically.

His lips curved in a small smile. He was relieved you were cracking jokes again. Some of the tension in the air seemed to evaporate. “I’m glad you think so. You’re stuck here now for a few days, so get comfortable, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you think I’m going to let you, of all people, boss me around—”

Negan smiled more broadly. “I love when you try to argue with me. It’s good. I need a firm fucking hand. Speaking of jobs requiring a firm hand—”

“Negan—” you warned him, your tone dangerous.

“—I better go cut some more firewood before we run out,” he finished with a grin. You felt your cheeks flushing. “Jesus, where was your dirty little mind at?” he asked, climbing to his feet. “You relax and drink some water. I’ll be back in a few.”

You stared at his tall frame as he pulled his coat on and opened the door to step outside. “You said it that way on purpose!” you yelled after him.

He glanced back at you over his shoulder from the doorway with that same shit-eating grin. “What? I don’t get what you’re driving at. Maybe you could explain it to me?”

You flicked him off and shot him a glare. Negan only laughed. “Listen, don’t get your hopes up. You’ve got some healing up to do before we can—”

“Negan—” you growled.

“—walk back to Alexandria together. For fuck’s sake, what did you think I was about to say?” You gave him an unamused look and he laughed again. The sound warmed you. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got it from here. Just rest. You’ll be back kicking ass before you know it. And in the meantime, I am fuckin’ thrilled to have your company.”

[fangirl-rose1029]

Bookworm & the Prince

Pairing: Fiyero x neutral!Reader

A/N’s: After seeing Wicked. Fiyero aka Mr. Jonathan Bailey has been living rent free in my mind 🫠 This is my first time ever posting any of my writing on tumblr that is. I’ve written before on FanFiction but it’s been awhile. Please let me know what you think!

Summary: Reader enjoys spending their time in the library, Fiyero tries to make things more fun and interesting but it ends up backfiring on him.

Warnings: None really. Just fluff and a lot of flirting/teasing.

The Shiz University library was usually a quiet sanctuary for Y/N. It was their refuge from distractions, filled with books that demanded attention instead of loud voices and obnoxious flirting. Unfortunately, distractions had a way of finding you— particularly when they had a royal title and a smirk that refused to quit.

You needed one more book for your paper on ancient magic, but of course, the one she needed was on the highest shelf. You stood on your tiptoe, reaching as high as you could, but the book was just out of your grasp.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see none other than Prince Fiyero leaning casually against one of the bookshelves, watching you with an amused expression. His signature grin was already in place and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

You sighed and let your arm drop, not bothering to turn around. “I’m fine, Fiyero.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Fiyero said, appearing at your side. He glanced at the book you were trying to reach and grinned. “You know bookworm, you could just admit you need. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Because your ego isn’t inflated enough already?” You shot back, still refusing to look at him.

Fiyero chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Before you could protest, he reached up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. But instead of handing it to you, he brought it behind his back, leaning casually against the shelf with one hand holding the book out of sight.

You narrowed your eyes, turning to face him fully, “Really?”

“Really,” he said, his grin widening. “This is way more fun than just giving it to you.”

You stepped closer, reaching for the book, but Fiyero moved quickly. Using his free hand, he gently but firmly pressed his palm against her shoulder, holding her back just enough to stop her.

“Ah ah,” he teased, shaking his head. “That’s cheating.”

“You are insufferable,” you said, your voice flat, though the spark of amusement in your eyes betrayed your true feelings.

“I’ve been called worse,” he quipped.

You huffed and tried to dart around him, but Fiyero shifted, keeping the book firmly behind his back and blocking her with his body. His other hand lifted to stop her again, hovering near her arm.

“Fiyero,” you warned, stepping closer, “you’re going to regret this.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said smoothly, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want this.”

You paused, tilting her head and regarding him for a long moment. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you reached behind him, your fingers brushing his as you tried to snatch the book.

Fiyero laughed stepping back and raising the book high above his head, well out of your reach, “Nice try.”

“You’re such a child,” you said, glaring at him.

“Come on, bookworm, play along,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “You spend all your time buried in books. Don’t you want a little fun?”

You rolled your eyes, “What’s fun about this, Fiyero?”

“Everything,” he said with a wink.

You narrowed your eyes, then tilted your head slightly, a smile playing at your lips. “Oh, I see. You think you’ve got the upper hand, don’t you?”

“I know do,” he smugly.

Your smile widened, and you stepped closer, your voice dropping into something softer, more playful. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to convince you to give it to me.”

Fiyero blinked, caught off guard by the shift in demeanor. “Convince me, huh? I’d love to see you try.”

You moved even closer, until there was barely a breath of space between them. Her gaze locked on his, her voice low and teasing.

“Do you really want to play this game, Fiyero? Because I don’t think you’re ready for me.”

For the first time, his grin faltered, replace by a flicker of uncertainty. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he leaned down slightly, meeting her challenge. “Oh, I’m ready love.”

You smirked, your fingers brushing his arms as you leaned just enough to peek behind his back, pretending to make a grab for the book. “Are you sure about that? Because you seem a little distracted.”

Fiyero’s laugh was nervous but amused as he shifted the book to his other hand and lifted it high above his head. “Nice try.”

You laughed softly, your tone still playful. “I don’t know, Fiyero. You look like you’re struggling to keep up.”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” he said, lifting the book even higher,

You raised your eyebrow, stepping even closer, your hand trailing lightly up his arm. “You are so confident,” you murmured, your voice sweet. “But confidence can be dangerous, you know.”

Fiyero’s breath hitched slightly, and his eyes flickered to your hand before darting back to your face. “Dangerous, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your lips curving into a slow smile. “It makes you underestimate your opponent.”

Your hand brushed lightly against his wrist, and for a moment, he hesitated. You used that hesitation to slide your fingers towards the book, but he caught on at the last second, pulling it back with a triumphant laugh. “Not bad,” he admitted, stepping back, his grin returning. “But not good enough.”

You let out a mock sigh, tapping your chin as if in deep thought. Then you stepped closer again, her tone dropping to a whisper. “You know Fiyero, I could make this worth your while.”

His eyebrows shot up, his grin faltering again. “Worth my while?”

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “You did say you wanted to have fun, didn’t you? Maybe we could…negotiate.”

Fiyero blinked, clearly unsure if she was serious. “Negotiate?”

You nodded, stepping even closer until they were almost chest to chest. Your fingers brushed his other hand lightly, drawing his attention just long enough for you to dart your other hand toward the book. You grabbed it, but his grip tightened before you could pull it away.

“Oh no,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned down, his voice low. “You’re not getting it that easily.”

Your smirk widened, your fingers curling more tightly around the book. Your other hand placed on Fiyero’s chest as you leaned in, your faces now inches apart.

“Who said anything about easy?” You said, in a low teasing tone.

Fiyero’s gaze flicked to your lips for a fraction of a second, and in that moment, his grip slackened just enough. You yanked the book free, taking a quick step back with a triumphant laugh.

“Gotcha,” you said, holding the book up like a trophy.

Fiyero stared at you, stunned for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You shrugged, your smile innocent. “You’re the one who started it,”

He shook his head, a crooked grin on his face.

“Fine, you win this round. But don’t think I’m letting you off so easily next time.”

You turned, walking back to your table with the book in hand. “We’ll see about that, Prince Charming.”

As you sat down, Fiyero call after you, “Admit it, you had fun!”

You didn’t answer, but the sly smile on your face said everything he needed to know.

[moonlightdistractions]

I recently re-read a few runedgirl fics, just aglow in nostalgia and how she can really gut a person with *feelings*. I get emotionally compromised. There's one I hadn't read before and it's the only ao3 link; a post Carry On one with an absolutely wrecked Sam sporting a wild man bun!

So here you go, some runedgirl wincest with lots of delicious wanting.

123 Alice Grim Lane - livejournal, 51,700, NC-17, canon before pilot then AU.

Sam Winchester changed his name before he got to Stanford. Samuel Wesson is a rising star at a California law firm. He and Jess have a neon blue hybrid with a bike rack on top, and a cozy red stucco house. Sam Wesson has everything he ever wanted, except for the one thing he knew he shouldn’t. Dean is still a Winchester, still a hunter, still in love with Sam and determined not to admit it. Years of avoiding each other have left Sam and Dean strangers. But when Sam’s luck changes and tragedy finds him, he turns in desperation to the older brother he walked away from years ago, hoping that the bond forged between them in childhood will prove strong enough to bring them back together.

Their Bruises on the Inside - livejournal, 21200 words, NC17, multiple pairings, outsider pov

Sam and Dean through the eyes of the people they meet while Sam is at Stanford – strangers, friends, lovers – as they make their way back to each other. Outsider pov for most of the story.

The Ties that Bind - AO3, 26842 words, that sweet spot between 15x19 and 15x20 to after the Barn Scene and beyond.

"The story of Sam and Dean Winchester doesn’t end that day in the barn. Sam keeps his promise to keep fighting, but with a Winchester twist. He uses the resources left to him by Rowena to become a powerful witch, with one goal"

City of Brotherly Love livejournal, 21400 words, NC17, de-aging spell, first time

No one is more surprised than Sam and Dean Winchester that they’ve managed to survive long enough to settle down. Sort of. Sam is maybe a little more okay with the whole aging thing than Dean, so when Sam is hit with a spell that makes him younger and younger until he’s about 20, Dean doesn’t cope well. When the same spell turns Dean into a twenty-year-old, both of them have to cope with all those forbidden feelings about each other that they never acted on at that age. If the de-aging spell is going to keep going until they don’t exist, which could happen in a matter of days, what’s stopping them from acting on those feelings now – especially when they look like that?

and the one I've reread the most:

The Year of Letting Go livejournal, 37,500 words, NC17, this one keeps building and even gives us a bit of powers!Sam

A hunt gone wrong leaves Dean Winchester barely alive, and helpless for the first time in his life. Can Dean let go of his need to be the big brother and let Sam help him heal, or will the complicated feelings both brothers have been hiding from each other pull them further apart than ever? As Dean’s deal comes due, both Sam and Dean will have to let go of their fears, or face losing each other forever.

livejournal tip: if the chapter link opens a new tab + it won't scroll, edit the url by inserting ?format=light extension after the .html - no spaces

[interlagostrack]

my ranking of the 2025 f1 lineups

ferrari - hamilton/leclerc there isn't much to explain here: lewis is the best and most complete driver to ever compete in f1, and even if he is not at his best, he's still better than the rest of the grid and that's it. charles is exceptional and with a little bit of luck and a car he can trust, he can prove once and for all he is the best driver of his generation.

mclaren - norris/piastri as much as it pains me to admit it, right now, mclaren is the strongest team on the grid. i always liked oscar, i know he is an amazing driver and i think lando turned out better than i expected this year (he still needs to mature a bit). both lack consistency tho.

redbull - verstappen/lawson i put them in 3rd place because yeah, we know if max has a fast car he can (put the other drivers on the wall and) deliver some results. i'm curious how they'll be this year, since they lost some key players last year, especially newey. i don't think lawson will be too hot, he might be just the next driver to have his career ruined by rbr.

mercedes - russell/antonelli i honestly believe george is one of the fastest drivers on the grid and he's also a clean driver who's not afraid to take risks BUT i don't trust mercedes to develop a car that's consistently fast (especially without lewis' input). kimi is a prodigy but i fear toto is screwing up his career by making him skip f3 and not letting him do another year of f2. his 2024 was of highs and lows and he would probably benefit of more time, but oh well

williams - albon/sainz here we have two reasonably good drivers on a reasonably good team and that's it?. like, i don't mean to be offensive, but i look at this team and all i think of is "mid" (and that if williams manages to give them a decent car and they manage to not crash every couple of laps)

haas - ocon/bearman i really like this duo! esteban is one of my favorite drivers and i do hope he finally has an opportunity on a team that supports him and recognizes his talent. oli already proved he is talented enough with all the times he was called to replace a driver last year, and i think a midfield team will be better for his first full season than the pressure that will come antonelli's way.

sauber - hulkenberg/bortoleto as much as it pains me to admit, hulk had a pretty interesting season last year (in parts thanks to kmag, but i do admit he is a better driver this time around) and i like gabi, i think he has a lot of potential to develop on a midfield team, without so much pressure and he will benefit from a more experienced teammate (even if i think it will be a miracle if they manage to score points any time this year).

aston martin - alonso/stroll ok, so hear me out: i don't think lance is a disgrace to motorsports, as most fans like to make of him AND i don't think alonso is god's gift to f1 either. to me, lance is a pretty average driver, with some good moments, and alonso is an okay driver that got luck with his 2 titles and somewhow convinced the media he is a genius. at least lance seems like a nice guy. i don't think newey is enough to save this team btw and i don't care too much about them

racing bulls - tsunoda/hadjar i don't have much of an opinion on hadjar and i think yuki is too good for this team and he will crush another teammate. i also think we should give yuki a gun and let him alone with marko for 15 minutes.

alpine - gasly/doohan this will be a shit show, both are good drivers but i think there will be too much drama behind the scenes and not enough results on track because the car won't be good enough.

literally no one asked me, but i'd love to hear other opinions so my ask is open or whatever

[moon-buggg]

1 for the micro story!

don't go

You were... probably not doing the best of jobs hiding how sore your ankle was. But, you had refused to be carried, so for the sake of your ego you hobbled on, a not insignificant portion of your weight leaning on Moon as you two slowly but surely make your way through the winding back halls of the haunted house.

Moon is utterly silent, though you can feel the heavy weight of his unyielding stare as he no doubt searches for any trace of pain on your face. You're doing your best not to let him see any, but... it isn't exactly easy. The trek to the break room for ice is made twice as long by the slow pace Moon sets. He refuses to go any faster, not even acknowledging you when you try and hurry him up.

It's probably for the best. As much as you don't want to admit it, the sprain feels pretty bad.

You just hope Moon isn't feeling too guilty.

It wasn't his fault. But good luck trying to convince him that.

You hadn't been in your usual spot for his scene, the one where he grabs you and drags you out of the room. You couldn't have been. Not with how he knocked into you instead of grabbing you. Neither of the two animatronics had ever been off point like this before. You do not blame him.

It was an accident. One you've already forgiven, as you'd assured him many times over by now.

When you finally make it to the break room, you wave Moon away from helping you sit down and instead ask him to grab some ice from the fridge. He doesn't have to move much, the room is small, barely enough go contain his massive form. His long limbs make quick work of grabbing the ice and a ziploc to put it in with stilted, understated movements. Nothing at all like the Moon you know.

He hands you the bag, still as silent as he has been since he whispered a barely audible apology, and turns to leave.

"Hey, wait!" You say, dropping the ice in the process of reaching out for him. Moon jolts, his head nearly hitting the ceiling as he turns around to stare at you. You continue, "don't- don't go."

He doesn't move. The quiet hum of the fridge the only sound in the room. Your ankle aches.

You refuse to whither under his blank, smiling stare. After far too long, he finally responds. "...why?" He sounds genuinely confused, like he cannot possibly fathom you actually wanting him in the room.

"Because you're-" you hesitate for just a moment, easily written off as a stutter, "because you're my friend, Moon. Why would I want you to leave?" For as much as 'friend' feels woefully inaccurate, it's what you say.

He looks away from you at that, his faceplate shifting down towards the ground as he considers your words. Just when you're about to say something, he sags down into a low crouch. Making himself smaller in a room not built for his height.

"I hurt you," he says, like that was all the convincing you would need to realize your mistake and change your mind. You ignore the dull throbbing ache. The ice starts to melt on the break room floor.

"Moon, did you mean to hurt me?" You ask bluntly and get a nearly franktic shake of the head in return. "Then it was an accident. I'm not mad, my ankle will heal. It's ok."

He doesn't seem to believe you, remaining hunched over on the opposite side of the room from you. You sigh, glancing down at the ice you dropped. "Would you mind picking that up for me?" You ask, sounding more tired than you mean to.

It takes a minute, but slowly, hesitantly, Moon creeps towards you. You watch with a small smile that grows when he gingerly hands you the bag. You let your hand linger on his claws as you take it, offering soft 'thank you' as you do. His long arm snakes back away from you, but he seems a little less tense as you finally get the ice on your ankle.

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 22

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Gabby prepares for her first public date with Glen, nerves swirling as she finalizes her look and contemplates the potential fallout of their evening together. When Glen arrives, full of quiet admiration, he reassures her with a tender kiss, easing her anxieties. The chapter shifts to their intimate dinner at an upscale restaurant, where they share heartfelt conversation and laughter, diving deeper into their connection. Amid the flicker of candlelight and the hum of the world around them, Gabby finds herself feeling more seen and cherished than she ever has, beginning to truly embrace the idea of being with Glen, despite the uncertainties that come with being in the public eye.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: As always please let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs. I love seeing your thoughts on this story as it progresses!

Gabby stood in front of her bathroom mirror, the faint hum of the overhead light filling the quiet space as she curled the last section of her hair. Soft waves cascaded down her back, and she twisted a strand thoughtfully, pinning it in place to create a half-up, half-down style. It was simple but elegant, just enough to make her feel like she belonged in the dress Glen had insisted she wear tonight.

The memory of his words made her pause for a moment, her lips curving into a small smile. Me. Wear it for me. There was something about the way he’d said it—so certain, so sincere—that left her stomach fluttering. She took a breath, shaking off the nerves threatening to creep in, and turned her attention to her makeup.

The strokes of her brush were careful and deliberate as she swept warm tones across her eyelids, blending until they looked soft and natural. A flick of eyeliner followed, steady despite the slight tremble of her hand. Her cheeks flushed as she added a hint of color, but the glow wasn’t just from the makeup. She had to admit—even if only to herself—she was excited.

When the finishing touch, a swipe of lipstick, was in place, Gabby stepped back from the mirror and reached for the dress hanging behind her. The fabric felt luxurious beneath her fingers as she unzipped it and stepped into the gown. 

She pulled the dress on and her hands smoothed over the deep burgundy fabric that clung to her curves like liquid silk. The dress seemed to shimmer under the light of her vanity. It featured a low neckline that dipped into a soft, ruched bodice, accentuating her figure in all the right places. The thin spaghetti straps crisscrossed delicately over her shoulders, leaving her back entirely bare by the design.

She turned slightly, her eyes catching the fabric and looking at it as it fell from her hips, pooling elegantly at her feet.

Gabby bit her lip as she adjusted the dress, pulling it just a little higher at the bodice. She gave herself a once-over, tilting her head and watching the way the gown hugged her body in the mirror.

She barely recognized the reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back was poised, confident, and—dare she think it—beautiful. 

For a brief moment, doubt threatened to creep in. She wondered if it was too much–too bold, too revealing. But she reminded herself of Glen’s smile when he’d seen the dress earlier. He thinks I look good in this, she thought, turning slightly to take in the way the gown moved with her.

The sound of the doorbell pulled her from her thoughts. 

Gabby’s stomach fluttered as she made her way to the front door. The soft click of her heels against the floor seemed louder than usual in the quiet of her apartment, and she had to remind herself to breathe. It wasn’t her first time seeing Glen, not even close, but somehow tonight felt different. The idea of stepping out together in public, of being seen, was both thrilling and terrifying.

She paused in front of the door, her hand resting on the handle as she took a steadying breath. It’s just Glen, she told herself. This is nothing.

With that thought, she turned the handle and pulled the door open.

There he was.

Standing in the hallway, Glen looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine. His black suit was perfectly tailored, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a sharp, clean line. The crisp white shirt beneath it contrasted perfectly, the open collar giving him an effortlessly stylish edge. His hair was neatly styled, and that familiar, confident smile tugged at the corners of his lips—until his eyes met hers.

The smile faltered, his lips parting slightly as his gaze swept over her. Gabby felt the heat rise to her cheeks under his scrutiny, her hands instinctively smoothing the sides of her dress as she shifted on her feet. His silence stretched for a moment too long, and the fluttering in her stomach turned into full-blown nerves.

“Is it too much?” she blurted out, her voice wavering. “I mean, I—”

“Wow,” Glen interrupted softly, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her cheeks burned even hotter as she managed a nervous smile. “Is that a good wow?” she asked, her tone light but uncertain.

Glen’s lips curved into a slow, genuine smile, his eyes locking with hers. “It’s the best kind of wow,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You look... stunning, Gabby.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric of her dress again.

Before she could say more, Glen stepped closer, his hand gently reaching for hers. The warmth of his palm wrapped around hers as his other hand found her waist, drawing her toward him. Gabby barely had time to process the movement before his lips pressed softly against hers, the kiss tender and unhurried.

Her free hand instinctively rested against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the crisp fabric of his suit. For a moment, the world outside her apartment faded away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet hallway.

When Glen pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful, Gabby. Absolutely beautiful.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she felt her cheeks warm again. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she managed, a teasing smile breaking through her nervousness.

Glen chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against hers before he stepped back just enough to meet her gaze. “Ready to go?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with excitement.

Gabby hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into his, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “Ready,” she said, and for the first time all evening, she believed it.

As they walked toward Glen’s car, Gabby couldn’t help but feel like she was stepping into a dream. And judging by the way Glen kept stealing glances at her, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Glen stepped ahead of her as they approached the sleek black car, opening the passenger door and holding it wide. Gabby glanced at him, her heart fluttering at the small but thoughtful gesture. He reached out his hand to help her in, and she took it without hesitation, his grip warm and steady.

“You really do look amazing tonight,” Glen said softly as she slid into the seat, his voice still carrying that hint of awe.

Gabby glanced up at him, her smile small but genuine. “Thank you.”

The car purred to life, and Glen turned onto the road, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence. Gabby smoothed her dress over her lap, sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re quiet,” she said gently, breaking the silence.

Glen glanced at her, his lips curving into a small smile. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, his hand tightening briefly on the steering wheel. “About how lucky I am.”

The words caught her off guard, and she turned to face him more fully. “Lucky?”

His eyes flicked toward her before returning to the road. “To have you here with me. To be the one taking you out tonight.” His voice softened. “I know this probably isn’t easy for you…going out and having a lot of attention on you. I want you to know how much it means to me.”

Gabby felt a lump rise in her throat at his sincerity. She turned her gaze back to the window, letting his words settle over her. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to do this. I do,” she said after a moment. “It’s just… I don’t know. It feels different, I guess. Bigger.”

Glen nodded, as if he understood perfectly. “It is bigger,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be scary. If you want to change plans, just say the word. We can go back to your place or mine. This night is about you.”

His words were grounding, and Gabby found herself relaxing in her seat. “Thanks, Glen,” she said quietly.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady.

They drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the city lights beginning to glitter as they neared downtown. Gabby leaned her head slightly against the window, her nerves replaced by a quiet anticipation. Glen’s presence had a way of calming her, of making her feel like everything was going to be okay.

As the car turned onto a quieter street lined with trees and twinkling lights, Glen finally spoke again. “We’re almost there.”

Gabby sat up straighter, smoothing her dress once more as she glanced out the window. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, taking in the charming row of buildings ahead.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Glen said without missing a beat.

Gabby felt her cheeks heat, and she gave him a shy smile. “You’re going to try to spoil me tonight, aren’t you,” she teased lightly.

Glen glanced at her with a playful smirk. “That’s the plan.”

Glen pulled up in front of the restaurant, the warm glow of its windows spilling onto the sidewalk. The street was quieter than most of downtown, but it still carried the hum of life—cars passing, footsteps echoing, distant laughter. Gabby’s heart picked up speed as he parked the car and stepped out.

Through the tinted window, she watched as Glen walked around the car, his confident stride drawing her eyes. Just as he reached her side, another man—dressed in dark pants and a black polo shirt—opened her door. Gabby blinked, momentarily startled, but before she could think much about it, Glen’s familiar hand appeared, extended toward her.

She took it, her palm fitting perfectly against his, and allowed him to help her out of the car. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement as she stood, and she adjusted the skirt of her dress. Glen didn’t let go. Instead, he shifted his hold, intertwining their fingers effortlessly.

Gabby’s eyes swept the area, taking in the subtle movement of a few men lingering nearby. She glanced up at Glen, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. 

“Glen…” she murmured, her voice low.

He leaned in, his lips near her ear, his voice soft and reassuring. “They’re with me. Security. Just to make sure you’re safe.”

Gabby’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though her heart still raced. She nodded, trusting his words, and let him guide her forward.

There was a crowd, though small, already gathering near the restaurant’s entrance. It didn’t surprise her. This was a busy part of Los Angeles with a lot of shops and restaurants that celebrities frequented. The crowd was a mix of curious fans holding their phones up and a couple of paparazzi with cameras poised had her instinctively lowering her gaze. She kept her head down, focusing on the sound of Glen’s calm voice.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered as they crossed the sidewalk. “Just a few more steps.”

Gabby felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the steady strength of his presence keeping her grounded. The flashing of a camera caught her attention for a brief second, and she bit her lip, willing herself to stay calm.

Glen squeezed her hand gently. “Almost there,” he said again, his voice soothing, like an anchor pulling her back to him.

Before she knew it, they were stepping through the doors of the restaurant, the noise and chaos of the street fading behind them. The dim lighting and quiet elegance of the space enveloped them like a warm embrace. Gabby let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and Glen’s thumb brushed reassuringly over the back of her hand.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, managing a small smile. “I think so.”

Glen gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing it, his arm moving to rest lightly on the small of her back. 

“Good,” he said, his voice low but filled with warmth.

The host greeted them with a polished smile, his posture perfectly poised. “Good evening, Mr. Powell. Miss,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Your table is ready.”

Glen nodded in acknowledgment, his hand remaining on the small of Gabby’s back as the host led them through the softly lit restaurant. The space exuded quiet elegance, with dark wood accents, warm lighting, and just enough murmured conversation to feel intimate but not invasive.

Gabby’s heels clicked lightly against the hardwood floors as they followed the host, her nerves still settling after the brief encounter outside. She glanced around, taking in the luxurious atmosphere, but her attention snapped back as they passed through a discreet doorway into a smaller, private dining room.

Her breath caught. The room was stunning in its simplicity. A single table sat in the middle, draped with an ivory linen cloth. Soft candlelight flickered, casting a golden glow over the crystal glasses and polished silverware. It felt intimate, like the world had melted away, leaving only the two of them.

“This way,” the host said, gesturing toward the table.

Glen stepped forward, pulling Gabby’s chair out for her without hesitation. “After you,” he said softly, his voice low and warm.

Gabby eased herself into the chair, smoothing her dress as she sat. As soon as she was settled, Glen stepped behind her, gently pushing the chair in until she was perfectly positioned at the table. The gesture was simple but thoughtful, and it made her heart flutter.

“Thank you,” she said softly, glancing up at him.

As Glen settled into the chair across from her, Gabby found herself studying him. The suit, the confidence in his posture, the way his eyes seemed to take her in as if she were the only thing that mattered in the room—it was overwhelming in the best way.

“This is…” Gabby began, her voice faltering as she tried to find the right words as she looks around the room.

Glen’s smile deepened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Perfect?” he offered, teasing lightly.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “A lot,” she admitted. “In a good way, though.”

He tilted his head, his gaze softening. “I wanted tonight to be special. For you,” he said simply.

Gabby glanced down at the leather-bound menu in front of her, her fingers tracing the embossed gold lettering as she opened it. Her eyes scanned the neatly printed options, her stomach growling slightly at the descriptions of seared scallops, herb-crusted lamb, and lobster risotto. Everything sounded amazing, but as her gaze drifted to the prices listed beside each dish, her stomach tightened in a different way.

She bit her lip, flicking her eyes up to see Glen, who was casually perusing the menu, his posture relaxed. She quickly dropped her gaze back to her own menu, trying to focus. Maybe she could get an appetizer as an entrée. Something smaller and less expensive. After all, she wasn’t that hungry—she could make it work.

Her mind began running numbers, trying to figure out how she’d adjust her weekly budget to accommodate this meal. She could skip her morning coffee runs before class and just make it at home. She could maybe even bring lunch to campus with her instead of grabbing something from the café.

But before she could spiral further, Glen’s voice cut through her thoughts, calm and direct. “Gabby,” he said, looking up at her with an amused smile.

She blinked, startled. “Yeah?”

His smile softened as he leaned slightly closer. “Stop overthinking and order whatever you want.”

“I’m not—” she began, but the way his brow lifted slightly told her he wasn’t buying it.

“Gabby,” he said again, his tone more tender this time. “This is my treat, okay? Get whatever you’d like.”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. She felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed that he could read her so easily. “I just don’t want to—”

“To what?” Glen interrupted gently, his hazel eyes locking with hers. “Let me do something nice for you? Because that’s all this is, Gabby. Something nice. For you. So please, order what you want. No guilt. Deal?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded, her heart warming at how sincere he sounded.

“Good,” he said with a grin, his confidence radiating. He looked back down at his menu and added casually, “The filet mignon here is incredible, by the way. So is the salmon if you’re in the mood for seafood.”

“You’ve been here before?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she relaxed a little.

Glen shrugged, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “A few times. Mostly for work meetings.”

Gabby raised a brow, her confusion evident. “Work? What kind of work meetings happen here?”

He chuckled softly, setting his menu down. “Discussions about projects. Reviewing scripts. Talking about  roles. That kind of thing.”

Gabby leaned back in her chair, processing his words. Every now and then, moments like this would catch her off guard—reminders of the Hollywood side of Glen that didn’t quite fit with the down-to-earth guy she spent her nights in with, eating takeout and watching Netflix.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Glen asked, his voice quieter now.

Gabby hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. “I just forget sometimes. That you’re this big actor. That part of you feels so far removed from the you I know.”

His expression softened, and he reached across the table to take her hand in his. “It’s all me, Gabby. But the part you know? That’s the side I care about most.”

Her cheeks flushed again, and she squeezed his hand. 

“Now,” Glen said, his smile returning as he leaned back, “what sounds good? Because I’m definitely getting the filet.”

As the waiter returned to take their orders, Gabby decided to follow Glen's suggestion and ordered the salmon with a side of roasted vegetables. Glen, true to his word, went with the filet mignon, adding a side of garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus. Once the waiter collected the menus and left, Gabby felt the weight of Glen’s gaze on her.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and laced with concern.

Gabby nodded, taking a sip of water to steady herself. “Yeah, I am. This is just... different.”

“Different good?” Glen pressed, tilting his head slightly, his hazel eyes studying her carefully.

She smiled shyly. “Yeah, different good. It’s just been a while since I’ve done something like this. You know, dressed up, gone to a nice restaurant. It feels… special.”

“That’s because you are,” Glen replied easily, his tone so genuine that it made her heart skip a beat.

Gabby looked down at the table, feeling her cheeks warm for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “You’re really good at this, you know,” she teased, glancing up at him through her lashes.

“At what?”

“At saying things that make me blush,” she admitted with a small laugh.

Glen leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “I just tell the truth,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering.

Gabby didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just smiled and reached for her water again.

As they waited for their food, their conversation shifted to lighter topics. Glen told her a funny story about a co-star who had accidentally spilled coffee on a director during a table read in this very restaurant. 

Their laughter came easily, the earlier tension and nerves melting away. Gabby found herself relaxing more with each passing minute, her worries about the public nature of the date fading into the background.

When their meals arrived, Gabby’s plate was beautifully arranged, the salmon perfectly seared and the vegetables vibrant and fragrant. Glen’s filet looked just as impressive, and he wasted no time cutting into it.

“Good?” Gabby asked as he took his first bite.

“Perfect,” Glen said, his expression one of pure satisfaction. “What about yours?”

Gabby took a small bite of her salmon, her eyes widening as the flavors hit her tongue. “Oh wow,” she murmured, nodding. “This is amazing.”

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Glen spoke again. “So, tell me something,” he said, setting his fork down and leaning back slightly.

“Okay,” Gabby said cautiously, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “What do you want to know?”

“What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance to?” he asked, his tone curious.

Gabby thought for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. “Hmm… I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” she admitted. “You know, see Rome, Florence, Venice. Eat my weight in pasta and gelato.”

Glen smiled. “Italy, huh? That’s a good one. Why haven’t you gone yet?”

Gabby shrugged. “Life, I guess. Work, bills, responsibilities. It’s just never felt like the right time.”

“What if we made it the right time?” Glen suggested, his voice casual but his expression serious.

Gabby blinked, her fork hovering over her plate. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we planned a trip? Just you and me. No work, no distractions. We could go sometime,” he said, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

Gabby’s heart raced at the thought. “Glen, that’s… that’s huge. I don’t even know if I could-”

“Then let’s figure it out,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I want to do this with you, Gabby. I want to experience things like that with you.”

Her breath caught at his words, and she felt a lump form in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say something so... big, so meaningful.

“Let’s think about it,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Glen set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Okay if you had to pick something smaller, something not as big, what would it be?”

Gabby tilted her head, considering his question. “Hmm. I’ve always wanted to go to Napa Valley,” she admitted. “You know, wine country. Touring vineyards, doing tastings, that sort of thing. It’s been on my list for a while.”

Glen’s face lit up. “Napa. I like that. Why don’t we make it happen?”

Gabby blinked at him, her fork pausing midair. “What do you mean, make it happen?”

“I mean, let’s plan a trip. We could go soon. Like, really soon. Maybe next month when I’m done filming and before I go to London?” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Glen, you can’t just... take me to Napa.”

“Why not?” he countered, his tone playful but sincere.

“Because people don’t just go to Napa on a whim,” Gabby said, giving him an incredulous look.

“Sure, they do,” Glen replied with a smirk. “Seriously, Gabby. If you want to go, let’s do it. We’ll make it a weekend trip. Fly out Friday, come back Sunday. Easy.”

Gabby leaned back in her chair, staring at him. “You have too much money and way too much time on your hands,” she teased, trying to deflect how overwhelmed she felt by his casual offer.

“I’d argue I don’t have enough time on my hands.” Glen chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “But it’s not about that. I just want to make you happy.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, and she found herself momentarily speechless. There was no smirk now, no playful banter. Just Glen, looking at her like she was the most important thing in the world.

“Glen…” she started, unsure of how to respond.

He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. “I mean it, Gabby. If it’s something you want, I’ll do everything I can to make it happen. Whether it’s Napa next month or Italy next summer—or both—I want to experience those things with you.”

She swallowed hard, her heart swelling at his words. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

“Okay?” he repeated, his lips curving into a slow, satisfied smile.

Gabby nodded, finally letting herself relax. “Okay. Let’s start with Napa. But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Name it,” he said, his tone serious.

“No over-the-top, extravagant plans,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not flying on a private jet or staying in a ten-bedroom mansion.”

Glen chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I can agree to no mansions.”

“Good,” Gabby said, crossing her arms, feeling like she’d won. “And no private jets?”

“Only as a last resort. Promise. But,” Glen added with a smirk, “how do you feel about light aircraft?”

Her brow furrowed, suspicious of his tone. “What does that even mean?”

“Small planes,” he explained casually. “You know, two- to four-seaters. Not as fancy as a jet, but they get the job done.”

Gabby groaned, covering her face with her hands. “That might actually be worse, Glen. Aren’t those the planes that are always on the news for emergency landings?”

He laughed, clearly amused by her reaction. “Not always. Besides, it’s safer than you think. Especially if the pilot knows what they’re doing.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “And I’m supposed to trust some random pilot to get us there?”

“Well,” Glen said, his smirk growing, “if it makes you feel better, I’m not random.”

Gabby froze, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process what he’d just said. “Wait. What? You’re a… pilot?”

“Yup,” he said, leaning forward slightly, clearly enjoying her disbelief. “I got my license a few years ago. It’s kind of a hobby. So technically, I can fly you anywhere you want.”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean to tell me that not only do you act, but you also fly planes in your free time?”

“Pretty much,” Glen said with a shrug, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Gabby groaned again, shaking her head. “This is worse. Now I have to worry about you flying planes too!”

“I’m an excellent pilot,” he assured her, his tone teasing. “I haven’t crashed yet.”

“Yet?” she repeated, glaring at him.

He laughed, reaching for her hand across the table. “Relax, Gabby. I promise, you’re in good hands. But we can stick to commercial flights for Napa, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does,” she said firmly, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Fair enough,” Glen said with a grin. “But one day, I’m going to take you up there. You’ll see—it’s actually pretty incredible.”

“We’ll see,” Gabby said, shaking her head, though she couldn’t help but feel a little impressed by him.

The waiter arrived to clear their plates, and as Glen reached for the bill, Gabby leaned back in her chair, feeling both exasperated and strangely charmed. Glen always found a way to surprise her, and she had a feeling that was something she’d never grow tired of.

The waiter returned with the check, setting it down with a polite smile. Glen slid it closer without hesitation, pulling a pen from his jacket pocket. Gabby watched as he signed the receipt, his movements smooth and confident.

Once he was done, Glen stood and turned toward her, extending his hand. “Ready?”

Gabby smiled and placed her hand in his. “Always,” she said softly as she rose from her seat.

The moment she stood, Glen’s other arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His warmth enveloped her, and before she could say anything, he tilted his head down and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips.

When he pulled back, his hazel eyes locked onto hers, a soft smile curving his lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

Gabby let out a small laugh, her cheeks heating as she looked away. “You’ve already said that tonight.”

Glen chuckled and leaned in again, brushing another kiss to her lips, this one softer but just as meaningful. “And I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it,” he whispered against her mouth.

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she couldn’t stop the smile that broke across her face. “You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head slightly, though the affection in her voice betrayed her.

“Impossible in all the best ways,” Glen teased, his smirk widening. He slid his arm more securely around her, guiding her toward the exit of the private dining room.

Glen’s hand slid from Gabby’s waist as they exited the private dining room, but it found hers almost immediately. His grip was warm and steady, a silent reassurance as he led her through the restaurant. Gabby followed close behind, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

As they neared the exit, the hum of voices from outside grew louder, and Gabby noticed Glen’s security team already in position. Beyond them, a small crowd had formed—fans, curious onlookers, and a few photographers with cameras poised.

Glen glanced back at her, his expression softening. He let go of her hand, his touch shifting to her back as they approached the door. The cooler evening air seeped in through the edges of the entryway, and Gabby instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly.

Without missing a beat, Glen shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric and the faint scent of his cologne instantly comforted her.

Gabby looked up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured softly.

Glen gave her a small smile and leaned closer, his voice low and intimate. “I’m right here,” he whispered.

One of the security guards opened the door, and the cool air rushed in fully. Gabby took a deep breath, steeling herself as Glen’s arm returned to her waist. Together, they stepped outside.

The flash of cameras was almost immediate, and voices from the crowd rose in excitement. “Glen! Over here!” someone called out, while others greeted him warmly.

Glen offered a few polite hellos and friendly smiles, his practiced ease making it clear this wasn’t his first time seeing fans or paparazzi on the street. Yet, even as he navigated the crowd, his attention kept drifting back to Gabby. He glanced down at her every few moments, his expression protective, ensuring she was okay.

Gabby stayed close to him, her hands clutching the edges of his jacket as if it were a shield. The noise and attention were overwhelming, but Glen’s presence anchored her.

As they made their way to the car, Glen’s security team created a clear path. He moved smoothly through the crowd, his grip on Gabby firm but gentle, leading her with confidence. When they finally reached the car, Glen opened the door himself, helping her inside with a steady hand.

Once she was settled, he leaned down briefly, his voice soft. “You did great,” he said, his gaze warm and reassuring.

Gabby managed a small smile, her nerves easing slightly. Glen closed the door and moved around to the driver’s side, sliding in beside her. For the first time since stepping into the crowd, she let out a quiet breath, grateful to have him by her side.

As Glen eased the car away from the restaurant, the city lights reflecting off the windshield, he glanced over at Gabby, who was still wrapped in his jacket. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the fabric as she stared out at the passing streets.

“So,” Glen started, his voice warm and teasing, “what do you want to do next?”

Gabby turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “What do you have planned?”

He smirked, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Well, I was thinking I could take you home… if that’s what you wanted.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “And if it’s not?”

His smirk softened, and he glanced at the dashboard clock. “Then… I’ve got about four hours left in California before I have to leave.”

Gabby blinked, sitting up straighter. “You’re leaving tonight?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise. “I thought you had one more night?”

Glen’s face fell, the lightness in his expression replaced by a deep sigh. His hands tightened briefly on the steering wheel before relaxing. 

“I did,” he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “But they moved up the call time for tomorrow, so I have to head out tonight to make it to set.”

Gabby nodded slowly, processing his words. She understood—this was Glen’s life, his career. But she couldn’t help the pang of disappointment that settled in her chest. She’d been silently hoping to fall asleep in his arms, to have just one more night with him before the distance inevitably returned.

“I’m sorry,” Glen said after a moment, his voice softer. He glanced over at her, the guilt evident in his eyes. “I wanted tonight to be special for you. I wanted us to have more time.”

She gave him a small smile, her fingers still playing with the edge of his jacket. “It’s okay,” she said, even though her heart ached a little. “I get it. This is your job.”

He exhaled, his gaze flicking back to the road. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured. Then, after a pause, he asked hesitantly, “Do you want to come over? For the last few hours we have?”

Gabby looked at him, the corners of her lips tugging upward. “Yeah,” she said softly, her smile growing.

Relief washed over Glen’s face, and he reached over, his hand finding her knee. His touch was warm, grounding. “Okay,” he said, giving her knee a light squeeze. “Let’s make the most of it.”

Gabby placed her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze in return. As Glen steered the car toward his place, she felt a bittersweet warmth settle in her chest. Their time was fleeting, but she knew she’d cherish every second of it.

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 7/9

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

PART SEVEN

                He doesn’t know what he was expecting exactly, but later, after he’s made out with Bradley, gotten naked and let himself discover all the little imperfections that get airbrushed out of photos, has generously let Bradley give him a blowjob when he asked, then returned it. Things had sort of devolved into unspoken actions, Bradley shuffling him toward what Jake can only assume is his bedroom, now that he’s looking around. There’s a sofa and a TV and an ensuite and the entire room is pretty much the size of Jake’s entire base accommodation. It’s obscene.

                The bed is definitely better and he shifts, waits for Bradley to slide back into the bed, handing him a bottle of water which he didn’t even ask for but dutifully drinks half of anyway. Then Bradley is lying down, facing him, head rested on hand while his other hand absent-mindedly strokes Jake’s hand where he has it resting on the bed between them, his own pose mirroring Bradley’s.

                “How was your day yesterday anyway? You said you didn’t have any plans… Sounds like bliss to be honest.”

                Jake shakes his head, because with comments like that he’s pretty sure Bradley hates his job.

                “Yeah. It was good for the most part. Got a little weird in the middle, but I’m kind of getting used to that…”

                “Weird how?”

                “My CO turned up just before lunch and was just… weird. Weirder than usual.”

                Bradley has stiffened and Jake wonders what the fuck that’s about, reaches for his fingers and laces them together, brings their joined hands to his lips so he can press kisses to each of Bradley’s knuckles.

                “What did he do?” Bradley asks, and Jake frowns some more, because Bradley sounds… off. If Bradley has an issue with him having a commanding officer, then they’ve got issues before they’ve started. Oh shit. Maybe it’s the privacy thing. Well, he didn’t tell Maverick anything, and he can reassure Bradley of that.

                “Do? Nothing really. More what he said. Was asking me all sorts of questions. About alcohol, then drugs, and then whether I’d been to any parties…”

                “Was he now…” Bradley says, and for some reason he seems annoyed, or maybe even angry and Jake pulls back to look at him properly, because this sounds personal. But he’ll cover his bases anyway.

                “It’s okay, I didn’t tell him anything. I mean. There was nothing to tell him about most of that stuff anyway. But then he started talking about his godson, and wanting to set me up with him… so fucking random. I mean… I kind of told him I wasn’t available,” Jake admits, and he’s pretty sure that that’s an okay thing to admit to given their last few hours together and what Bradley said about wanting to try being with him. Whenever he’s wanted something Jake has got it, and he wants this to work. For as long as Bradley wants him.

                “He was vetting you.”

                Jake’s brain is off on a different path and he forces it to circle back.

                “What? Who was?”

                “Maverick. He was vetting you. I’m his godson. I’m going to fucking kill him…”

                Jake blinks.

                “What?”

                “He probably thought he was being funny. He’s married to Slider by the way. Ron Kerner that is. My head of security that you just met? He’s an ex-aviator. It’s where he and Mav met…”

                “Holy shit. That’s why you know all that shit about the Navy and planes…”

                “Yeah. My dad was Maverick’s RIO.”

                “Fuck… and here I was worried you wouldn’t… understand my lifestyle.”

                “Ha! More like you don’t understand mine…”

                “I… want to understand… but uh… what do you mean vetting me? Is he… Maverick…”

                “He’s my godfather. He’s uh… a little protective. He was making sure you’re not a drug addict, or secret alcoholic, or just going to blurt out who I am to the first person who came along…”

                “Huh. Well… I mean. That beats the alternative.”

                “What’s that?”

                “That he’s losing his marbles.”

                “You’re assuming he had any to begin with. You okay with… that?”

                “What?”

                “Maverick. My relationship to Maverick.”

                “Oh. Uh. You said you were going to kill him…”

                “Not seriously. Yell at him. Sulk about it and complain to Slider about him. Slider will just go and drink whiskey with Ice and commiserate…”

                “Ice?”

                “Iceman. Tom Kazansky.”

                “Oh fuck me…”

                He fully expects Bradley to make some quip about yes, I’d love to, but instead he’s just looking worried.

                “Too much?”

                “No! Shit. Maybe… it’s fine. Just… it’s a bit to get my head around. You’re fucking surrounded by flyboys huh?”

                “Well, hoping to add one more to the collection if he doesn’t run away scared…” Bradley says, letting his fingers walk up the flank of his thigh and Jake scoffs.

                “I’m not scared…”

                “Good…”

                He opens his mouth and snaps it shut, realizing he just got played and the fact that Bradley seems to know him so well already is both a little disturbing but also kind of reassuring. He leans forward for a kiss which Bradley meets with a grin, sliding his body against Jake’s and he’s gorgeous, better than any picture or movie he’s ever seen.

                “I’ve gotta ask… Do you even… like it?” Jake says, wondering if he’s overstepping. He doesn’t understand Bradley’s life, not really. Not yet. But he wants to. “I… you just… uh. Why do you do it if you don’t like it?”

                “Huh?”

                “Be in Hollywood? Why do it if you don’t like it?”

                “But I do like it…”

                “Uh. Okay. Sure.”

                “Oh. I love the acting. And the people for the most part are really fucking cool. But also I’m a bit of a whiner. Neil and Callie and Ron will all tell you. They’ll hear me whine constantly about you being deployed. Doesn’t mean I want to change anything…”

                “Ah. You just like… bitching about something huh?”

                “Yep. Got to have something to moan about. But if something really does bother me I do take steps to fix it. I didn’t like living so centrally in LA… plus Ron and Mav never said anything but I know they appreciated it when I moved here.”

                “Fuck. That’s why you live out here, away from Hollywood. So Ron and Maverick are closer to one another?”

                “Well, that, and people have to make a little more effort if they want to come and see me. Being here makes it a little more difficult. I’m not as available.”

                “Smart.”

                “You know it…”

…            …            …

                He can’t remember the last time he felt quite this joyful. It’s not just the sex, but Jake’s whole attitude toward him. He’s lavished Bradley with attention, however none of it has centered around his fame, or his looks. Well. That’s a lie, Jake seems to plenty appreciate the way he looks and his body plenty, but he’s insisted on finding every little scar and licking over it, hasn’t held back poking fun at little things. Doesn’t seem to think Bradley is worth any type of deferential treatment. Other than seeming a little in awe of the sheer size of the house has taken everything in stride. Right now he’s letting Bradley fix them sandwiches, something easy and portable which they can take to the movie room and watch something while curled up on the large sectional.

                “You know, I have two VIP tickets to ComicCon. I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me… Before.”

                “Before? Why just before? Why not now? I’d love to go with you.”

                “Uh… okay. Bradley, you know you’re like, one of the actual celebrities on, like, panels and shit right?”

                “I can still go with you. Just has to be incognito. Cosplay is great for that.”

                “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

                “Yeah. Of course. I’ve gone before in full disguise. It’s great.”

                “Oh my god, Fanboy is going to love you…”

                Bradley grins, because obviously Fanboy is another aviator, but he’s kind of hoping the one in front will love him first.

[were-all-idjits-here]

Sam Winchester Crushing On You Headcanons

Pairing: Sam Winchester x gender neutral reader Warnings: some light angst, mention of canon-typical violence (nothing described) A/N: Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

*

Sam is always in-tune with himself and his emotions and can’t deny the instant chemistry and attraction after he first meets you. This results in a lot of immediate little awkward smiles, laughs, and looking down at his shoes.

He’s very gentle with the way he approaches and talks to you right out of the gate. He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass, but still tries to make himself as approachable and welcoming as possible.

Especially if you’re already another hunter, he’s impressed with your skills, intelligence, and determination—and watching you expertly figure out a piece of the puzzle or gank a monster is a huge turn-on for him.

He’s silently very attentive and protective. He never gets in your way or makes you feel incapable, but he’s always sticking close by you and hovering in the background to be there the instant you need backup. If you’re sick, injured, or struggling with something emotionally, he’s always gently checking in on you, offering to listen to anything you need to talk out, taking expert care of you, and making sure you’re eating healthy and drinking enough water.

If you enjoy exercising—especially running—and show interest in working out with him, he’s ecstatic. Although he didn’t account for trying not to drool over you in your workout clothes. Eventually, this might turn into a habit of hiking dates, where you two always try to find the best trail wherever you are after a hunt is done and he really treasures those memories.

Although he can be a little bit awkward and obvious about liking you, it takes him a looooong time to outright admit it, because 1) we all know he has a complex about getting his significant others killed, and 2) even if he suspects you like him back, he’ll always gaslight himself into thinking you really don’t and are just being nice. So he just continues to do nice things for you and give you longing glances that drives Dean nuts.

He tries to hide any jealousy issues he might have, but isn’t very good at it. Although you might not notice because Phase One involves him trying to distance himself from you the second someone flirts with you, he gets very cranky, irritable, and absolutely shit-talks the person interested in you to Dean while glaring a hole in the back of this person’s head. If he thinks this person might be sleazy or dangerous, eventually (Phase Two), he’ll try to interrupt and get you to come “help” him with something or go back to the motel with them, explaining to you later that he just didn’t trust this person. But if it’s just another regular person that you also seem interested in, he’ll do his best to hold himself back. Then in Phase Three, if you and the other person are really clicking and actually are making a good pair, he’ll get a bit sulky and convince himself that you deserve better than him (aka this other person) and the roller coaster of emotions has Dean wanting to bury his head in the wall.

When other people inevitably hit on Sam during hunts, he’s just as oblivious to how irritated you now are. Sometimes, especially if you seem interested in someone else, he’ll try to go for this other person, but eventually cuts it off because of how unsatisfying it was that it wasn’t you.

If you share any of his interests, especially reading, he’s so excited to do it with you—even if it’s just reading different books in the same room. You two are constantly swapping recommendations and sometimes even reading the same book and discussing it later.

He obviously thinks you’re gorgeous and stares at you with the most love-drunk look on his face constantly (and only fails to look away before you look at him half the time).

Once you field horrendous injuries and death enough times, Sam starts to get a little more confident that you aren’t an easy target to kill. He still doesn’t reveal his feelings for you, but is willing to open up a bit more about how everyone he’s ever been with is dead if the subject comes up naturally, and explains how he feels like a curse. He’s very touched at all the comfort you give him to assure him he’s anything but and it only makes him fall for you harder.

If he’s the one who’s ever sick or injured, he’s always surprised by how much your guard falls to show that you care and are worried about him, dropping everything to take care of/pamper him (he really does deserve some pampering). Of course, he does the exact same for you and those are always the moments you two come the closest to confessing and get the most touchy-feely.

I think at some point, once he’s gotten more comfortable with you and realizes just how formidable you are, he’d be willing to dip his toe in to test the waters a bit more: not trying as hard to urgently look away before you meet his gaze, sharing little touches here and there, being a bit more free with his compliments, etc, and is elated when you return them.

I could definitely see him being the type to just lean into this more and go one of two ways: either you finally confess your feelings and cue a long conversation about how being with him won’t be the cause of your death but he also can’t sideline you if you’re another hunter; or some big event happens that either makes him feel the need to confess his feelings, or if he feels you got injured/almost died because of him, he starts pulling back and distancing himself again until you finally get frustrated enough and lecture him.

He longs for the simple, domestic things with you and you’re one of the few people who makes him feel “normal” with all your little moments of bonding over shared interests, laughing, and just doing normal activities.

If the opportunity ever presented itself to leave the hunting life and go live an “apple pie” life with you and you agreed, he would do it in a heartbeat. Even before you get together, he’s regularly imagining what it would be like to have a house, kids, a dog, marriage, the whole nine yards with you (but then he usually gets sad because he assumes that’s not in the cards for him). Sam is always in tune with himself and his emotions and can’t deny the instant chemistry and attraction after he first meets you. This results in a lot of immediate little awkward smiles, laughs, and looking down at his shoes.

He’s very gentle with the way he approaches and talks to you right out of the gate. He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass, but still tries to make himself as approachable and welcoming as possible.

Especially if you’re already another hunter, he’s impressed with your skills, intelligence, and determination—and watching you expertly figure out a piece of the puzzle or gank a monster is a huge turn-on for him.

He’s silently very attentive and protective. He never gets in your way or makes you feel incapable, but he’s always sticking close by and hovering in the background to be there the instant you need backup. If you’re sick, injured, or struggling with something emotionally, he’s always gently checking in on you, offering to listen to anything you need to talk out, taking expert care of you, and making sure you’re eating healthy and drinking enough water.

If you enjoy exercising—especially running—and show interest in working out with him, he’s ecstatic. Although he didn’t account for trying not to drool over you in your workout clothes. Eventually, this might turn into a habit of hiking dates, where you two always try to find the best trail wherever you are after a hunt is done and he really treasures those memories.

Although he can be a little bit awkward and obvious about liking you, it takes him a looooong time to outright admit it, because 1) we all know he has a complex about getting his significant others killed, and 2) even if he suspects you like him back, he’ll always gaslight himself into thinking you really don’t and are just being nice. So he just continues to do nice things for you and give you longing glances that drive Dean nuts.

He tries to hide any jealousy issues he might have, but isn’t very good at it. Although you might not notice because Phase One involves him trying to distance himself from you the second someone flirts with you, he gets very cranky, irritable, and absolutely shit-talks the person interested in you to Dean while glaring a hole in the back of this person’s head. If he thinks this person might be sleazy or dangerous, eventually (Phase Two) he’ll try to interrupt and get you to come “help” him with something or go back to the motel with them, explaining to you later that he just didn’t trust this person. But if it’s just another regular person that you also seem interested in, he’ll do his best to hold himself back. Then in Phase Three, if you and the other person are really clicking and actually are making a good pair, he’ll get a bit sulky and convince himself that you deserve better than him (aka this other person) and the roller coaster of emotions has Dean wanting to bury his head in the wall.

When other people inevitably hit on Sam during hunts, he’s just as oblivious to how irritated you now are. Sometimes, especially if you seem interested in someone else, he’ll try to go for this other person, but eventually cuts it off because of how unsatisfying it was that it wasn’t you.

If you share any of his interests, especially reading, he’s so excited to do it with you—even if it’s just reading different books in the same room. You two are constantly swapping recommendations and sometimes even reading the same book and discussing it later.

He obviously thinks you’re gorgeous and stares at you with the most love-drunk look on his face constantly (and only fails to look away before you look at him half the time).

Once you field horrendous injuries and death enough times, Sam starts to get a little more confident that you aren’t an easy target to kill. He still doesn’t reveal his feelings for you, but is willing to open up a bit more about how everyone he’s ever been with is dead if the subject comes up naturally, and explains how he feels like a curse. He’s very touched at all the comfort you give him to assure him he’s anything but and it only makes him fall for you harder.

If he’s the one who’s ever sick or injured, he’s always surprised by how much your guard falls to show that you care and are worried about him, dropping everything to take care of/pamper him (he really does deserve some pampering). Of course, he does the exact same for you and those are always the moments you two come the closest to confessing and get the most touchy-feely.

I think at some point, once he’s gotten more comfortable with you and realizes just how formidable you are, he’d be willing to dip his toe in to test the waters a bit more: not trying as hard to urgently look away before you meet his gaze, sharing little touches here and there, being a bit freer with his compliments, etc, and is elated when you return them.

I could definitely see him being the type to just lean into this more and go one of two ways: either you finally confess your feelings and cue a long conversation about how being with him won’t be the cause of your death but he also can’t sideline you if you’re another hunter; or some big event happens that either makes him feel the need to confess his feelings, or if he feels you got injured/almost died because of him, he starts pulling back and distancing himself again until you finally get frustrated enough and lecture him.

He longs for the simple, domestic things with you and you’re one of the few people who makes him feel “normal” with all your little moments of bonding over shared interests, laughing, and just doing normal activities.

If the opportunity ever presented itself to leave the hunting life and go live an “apple pie” life with you and you agreed, he would do it in a heartbeat. Even before you get together, he’s regularly imagining what it would be like to have a house, kids, a dog, marriage, the whole nine yards with you (but then he usually gets sad because he assumes that’s not in the cards for him).

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The Kestrel and the monkey

Shanks x reader

*****

Sabu is worried about (name). 

He can’t tell her, clearly, nor, he is ashamed to admit, can do much to improve her mood, apart from sitting on her lap to let her cuddle him, remain completely still as she brushes him -an activity she seems to find soothing, since Sabu can hear her sing softly to herself as she does it- and play with the little doll she has personally sewn for him - a present he appreciated, even though he has started losing interest in the toy he’s had it for a full year, even though (name) still smiles proudly to herself every time she she sees it play with it.

Sabu loves (name) more than anything else in the world, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make her happy, even tolerating how she sometimes pulls his hair when the brush’s teeth find a knot or keeping her company while she works in the fields outside the village -not the only job she could have gotten, but she likes it better than being a salesperson at the local bakery- even if it means spending the morning under a sweltering sun.

He’d endure those troubles every day, all day, sleep on the floor rather than on an expressly-reserved corner of (name)’s bed and eat nothing but snails and lizards -yuck!- rather than the treats she buys for him; unfortunately, despite his motivation and desire to make her smile again, there’s little he can do to help.

Apart from him, Sabu doubts someone else has noticed (name)’s discomfort, since he spends far more time with her than anyone else and (name) is usually good at hiding it when she’s worried or unhappy. It’s something she has done since she was small, almost as small as him, in part because she didn’t want her parents to worry and in part out of pride, because she didn’t want to admit something or someone had upset her. After all she’s a well-known pirate, the second most fearsome combatant of her old crew, with a more than respectable bounty on her head, and even now that her life has radically changed, (name) feels she has a reputation to uphold.

Even three years ago, when her old captain died, as the whole crew cried desperately as they observed the small dinghy with his body depart from the ship, (name) didn’t shed a tear. Even Sabu himself cried, already missing the brave, jovial man who had liked scratching his chin and never complained even though there was something in his fur that made the captain sneeze endlessly, but (name) didn’t, in her role as first mate focused on the flame-tipped arrow she had just notched onto her bow, ready to set the dinghy aflame. 

She had loved the captain, who had been like a second father for her for more than a decade, more than anyone else in the world, and she considered most of the crewmates trusted and dear friends, but she didn’t dare to cry in their presence. Only later, on what turned out to be their last night on the ship before the crew disbanded and each pirate who had proudly belonged to the crew of Balthazar “The Sea-Lion” Dustin went their separate way, she allowed herself to mourn, her night spent softly weeping into her pillow while Sabu clutched to her side and did his best to comfort her. The sea, a place none of his kind had ever frequented before but which he had quickly gotten used to, had never felt so cold, so lonely and forbidding, like that night. 

They spent months wandering, moving from town to town, taking work where they -well, she; but Sabu accompanied (name) wherever she went, keeping her company and bringing her a water bottle or an handkerchief when she was thirsty or sweaty and making himself useful as much as he could, which meant he did his part, didn’t he?- could find, to keep herself occupied as much as to earn her living, and (name) seemed, if not sad, like a helpless ship in the middle of a stormy sea - directionless, no longer in control of her own life, lonely but unable or unwilling to find people or things to make her existence worthy of being lived. 

Arriving in Foosha felt like a blessing from above -this is something (name) says when something particularly fortunate happens; Sabu has never really understood what it means. Who, or what, is above? Does the blessing come from the clouds, or the sky?- for both of them. The village is similar to many others they have seen before, but it is quiet, peaceful, the people kind and friendly, and there is plenty of work for a woman willingly to toil in the fields or spend her evenings washing the dishes behind the Partys counter. Since their arrival, (name) has learnt to smile again; she has met new friends, found a way to make herself useful, and come to consider Foosha her new home.

Sabu was happy (name) had found some sort of serenity in her new life, but he knew it wouldn’t last, and it hasn’t. (name) is a woman of action, a pirate who has spent more than half of her life at sea, among treasures to find, enemies to vanquish, and adventures to live; she’s experienced enough to lead her own crew, and there is more than a Marine officer who rues the day their paths crossed. Sabu has lived those adventures with her, clutching to (name)’s back as she ran pursuing the pirates who had kidnapped one of her friends or taking advantage of his diminutive size to steal a cell key from the sleeping warden’s belt; it was a good life, a life (name) loved and felt hers. How could she feel happiness, or even just contentment, in a tiny, peaceful place like Foosha, where nothing new ever happens and one can walk from one side of the village to the other in less than ten minutes?

“It’s not that I don’t like this place anymore, you understand?” (name) tells him one night as they enjoy the evening’s cool air sitting on the porch of their home on the outskirts of the village -which is barely larger than her old cabin on the ship; fortunately Sabu at least takes up very little space!- she sitting on a chair and him on her lap, his tail wrapped around (name)’s leg as he allows her to use the hand free from her tea cup to scratch his head “It’s a lovely place, and I feel I could be content remaining here for the rest of my life. It’s just that…”

She finds it boring, Sabu bets against himself.

“... it’s so boring!” she continues “So small, and nothing exciting ever happens… As a pirate I was used to danger and adventure, to wake up to a different dawn every day; in three years I have gotten to know the village and the area surrounding it so well I could walk around blindfolded. I’ll be sorry to leave this place, and the people living in it, but I need a change, to do something different, but what? We have spent months wandering around in search of a new place to call home, and I didn’t enjoy it - at all.” Sabu didn’t either; they often had to sleep on the ground, sharing a single bedroll, snails were the only readily available food and another hungry traveller once tried to kidnap him to roast him on the fire.

“If only there was a way… I’d like to depart already knowing what to do and where to go, not leave for the sake of leaving. Does it make sense?” she asks him, and herself, as she sips her tea, her gaze raised towards the stars, the same that they have admired every night for three years “I know I am still young, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this tiny corner of the world, or wandering the world searching for I don’t even know what. I feel like I am meant for more than this, or at least for something else, and yet…”

… and yet I don’t know how, or where, to look for it. Sabu knows it without having to hear her say it; he’s sorry for (name), and would like nothing better than to help her, but how? He knows nothing of the world beyond what he has seen with her, and while most people in the village are friendly and treat him well -and why shouldn’t they? He’s adorable!- the language barrier means that he can’t ask for the help of the friends he and (name) have made in Foosha; he is completely helpless. 

While not unhappy, because she is grateful for her life in Foosha and the friendship of its people, (name) grows more and more restless and unsatisfied. She still works hard in the fields, helps Makino at the Partys and carries out whatever task she has been asked to help with, but Sabu can see how frustrated she looks, as if she were thinking about the years spent with her crew and her captain, living her life to the fullest as a pirate, which, she told Sabu once, had been her sole dream since she was six. She sits cross-legged on her bed, or at the little table in the kitchen, tracing with the tip of her fingers the outline of the tattoo on her right forearm - the Sea-Lion’s jolly rogers, that all her crewmates carried on their skin.

In those moments, which can last several minutes, (name) looks more despondent than ever, a sadness that goes beyond tears filling her eyes. Sabu knows there’s nothing he, or anyone else, can do to comfort (name) when she’s deep in her thoughts like that, surrounded by the ghosts of the friends she has lost and the dreams she had to abandon; so he climbs on her lap and embraces her, resting his face against the softness of her chest, and tells her, without the need for words, that she’s not alone and she’ll never be. 

It doesn’t help, not fully, but she understands it, and that’s something.

Days pass; weeks do as well, and finally something happens, something that makes Sabu snap to attention as he sits on Makino’s lap, content to let her pet and scratch him, and (name) serves the tea she has just brewed.

“A pirate ship has arrived at the dock this morning; they call themselves the Red-Haired pirates. Their captain is a man named Shanks. Have you ever met them, (name)?” 

She mumbles something in the negative, looking suddenly uncomfortable in her own home, and in the company of the first friend she’s made in the village. Makino, who maybe has also noticed how melancholic (name) has looked recently, proposes she could meet the pirates and make friends with them, since they seem like nice people and the captain told her they plan on staying a while, but (name) refuses, gently but firmly.

“My relationship with the world of piracy has ended more than three years ago.” she explains “I was a pirate, and proud of it, part of the best crew I could wish for, under the command of a captain Gold Roger himself would have been proud to call friend. I have lost them forever, and I have to accept this; meeting others like them would only serve to make the sense of loss even more vivid inside me. Thank you for telling me, Makino, I know you meant well; but the less I think about pirates and piracy the better I will be.”

Makino accepts (name)’s decision, apologising for having inadvertently upset her, and the two of them move on to talk about something else as they sip their tea; Sabu, on his part, is excited, and full of hope. A crew of pirates, good people, just like (name)’s old friends and beloved captain once were… concepts like destiny, and prayers answered, have no meaning for him, but Sabu immediately understands that this might be the chance he was waiting for. 

Of course, the pirates recently arrived at the village can’t help (name) if they don’t meet her, and she them. On the next day, after a morning spent working in the fields Sabu excitedly waits for (name) to leave for the village as she does almost every day in the afternoon, to enjoy a drink at the Partys and take care of other errands, but she doesn’t. Sabu sees her glance out of the window in the direction of the dock, uncertainty clear on her face, and then sigh, retrieve a book from the small shelf above the mantelpiece, and sit to read. 

She spends the rest of the day like that, and the day after, and the next one as well. She does leave the house, to enjoy a walk in the woods or to visit an older neighbour who might need help after a recent illness, but she seems to have forgotten a small but lively village, inhabited by people who for the most part she can call friends, lies only a short walk away. On the third day, when they realise the pantry is empty and they need to buy some groceries if they want to avoid starving, (name) makes a list of everything they need, gives it to the grandson who came visiting her neighbour together with some money, and asks him to take care of the matter for her, promising he can keep the change as payment.

Sabu doesn’t know what to think; he knows sometimes people are banished from home after they have committed some heinous crime, but (name) has done nothing wrong, not to mention she seems to have decided to exile herself, rather than being ordered to. He’s known her longer than anyone else, so long that he can barely remember a time when the two of them weren’t together, him clinging to her back or side, or riding on her shoulder to look ahead. They’ve always been close, in harmony to the point they could perceive each other’s mood and feelings despite the partial language barrier; now, not only Sabu really can’t understand the reasons for (name)’s decision, but he can see she’s worried, and unhappy, about something, and he has no way of helping her, no matter how dearly he wishes he could. 

Maybe he can find the truth by himself. Sabu spends the majority of his time by (name)’s side, and truth to be told he’s a little anxious about wandering around on his own, even in a place he knows well, but he can find his courage for (name)’s sake. On the next day, he waits for her to be busy working, focused on the movement of the shovel in her hands, and then silently departs. 

Reaching Foosha on his own takes a long time, not to mention his little legs hurt after walking for so long, but in the end Sabu gets to his destination. He enters the Partys hoping Makino will offer him the necessary refreshments, and she immediately does, pouring water in a bowl and peeling an apple as soon as she notices how exhausted he looks. 

“It’s the first time I see you here by yourself, Sabu; is (name) alright?” Makino asks, and fortunately she has come to know him well enough that Sabu is able to reassure her that he hasn’t come asking for help because (name) is sick in bed. He only plans on resting on the counter for a few minutes before starting his investigation around the village, but Sabu’s attention is attracted by a large group of men who have occupied most of the bar’s tables, not to mention what must be a large portion of its beer supply.

They must be the pirates Makino mentioned on her last visit; Sabu has never seen any of them before but he recognises their kind from the years he and (name) spent as part of the Sea-Lion’s crew; strong, rowdy men, the camaraderie among them, the scent of salt and danger their skin exude. Sabu knows (name) wouldn’t want him to approach them, like she always insisted he remained by her side every time their crew met with another unless they were allies or trusted friends, but (name) is not there to chastise him, is she?

So Sabu gets down from the counter, the slice of apple he’s munching in his hand, and approaches the pirates’ table, and as expected -again, he is adorable!- they are immediately interested, and amused, especially when Sabu grabs a tankard of beer from the table and starts drinking from it. The pirates laugh, already captivated.

“Who is this little guy?” a man asks as he approaches the table, probably back from the privy given the way he’s fixing his trousers; he has red hair, brighter than any Sabu has ever seen, and a friendly smile.

“We don’t know, captain; he just approached and started playing with us.”

“Well, wild monkeys are rarely this friendly.” the man judges, and then retrieves some nuts from a nearby plate to give him. As a rule, offering him food is the surest way to become friends with Sabu, and there’s something in the red-haired pirate he can’t help but like. So he’s the captain; Sabu wonders if he’s strong, trusted and respected by his men like the Sea-Lion was. There seem to be no women in his crew, which might be a problem, should it be a deliberate choice rather than a coincidence; some captains, (name) once told him, believe women to be cause of misfortune on ships, and since (name) is undoubtedly a woman, the red-haired man might not want her to join his crew.

That’s just because he hasn’t met her yet, Sabu thinks as he quickly climbs on the man’s shoulder. (name) is not only a powerful pirate; she’s also an experienced sailor, brave, resilient, and loyal, ready to risk her life to help her crewmates. Any captain would be lucky to have her. 

“Makino, do you know this guy?” the pirate asks as he turns towards the counter.

“His name is Sabu, captain; he belongs to a woman who lives here in the village.” she explains as she does the washing up behind the counter; then, with a smile, she clarifies: “Even though she’d say they’re more like two friends who live together than a pet and his owner.”

It’s absolutely true. Sabu also hopes Makino will mention that (name) is a former pirate, which might intrigue the red-haired man and make him decide he wants to meet her, but he has no luck. 

The captain, he soon learns, is named Shanks; (name) has always been all he needed to feel happy and safe, but Sabu had missed the company of pirates, and so he remains with them for the rest of the afternoon, when both his empty stomach and the setting sun out of the bar’s windows inform him it’s almost dinnertime.

“Come to visit us again, alright?” Shanks tells him when he and the others realise Sabu is taking his leave; he can’t answer - at least, not in any way the pirate would understand, but he pulls the pirate’s ear, which is his way to reassure and calm (name) down when she’s agitated. The pirate laughs and says Sabu is the funniest of his kind he’s ever met.

Sabu can say the same.

The grandson on his way to visit (name)’s neighbour gives Sabu a lift on his shoulders on the way back; when he arrives home, he finds (name) beside herself with fear, calling his name as she wanders around the house.

“Where have you been?! I was so worried, I thought something had happened to you!” she cries in relief when she sees him. Sabu is sorry to have worried her, especially when he realises her eyes have filled with tears; after all it’s the first time in the many years they have spent together that he had wandered farther away from her than the length of a ship’s bridge, he should have known that she’d wonder where he was and get upset!

He tries asking for her forgiveness in the usual ways -gentle bites on her fingers, an apple taken from the pantry and brought to her so that they can eat it together- but (name) remains in a bad mood for the rest of the night, at least until, over dinner, she asks him where he has been, and in response Sabu walks to the nearby bedroom to retrieve a headscarf Makino has gifted (name) on her birthday, last year.

“You’ve been at the Partys? Were you hungry?“

No, Sabu explains in gestures.

“Bored, then?”

Yes.

(name) sighs. “I’m sorry.” she murmurs as she takes him in her arms “I know it’s been a long time since we’ve done anything fun; it’s just… well, let’s say there are people in town I’d like to avoid meeting.”

Sabo has no idea who she’s talking about. There’s no one in Foosha she openly dislikes, and he can’t wait to introduce her to his new friends, Shanks and the others; he’s sure that as soon as they meet, the captain will ask her to join his crew, and she’ll be able to return to the sole life she could be happy in. 

“Still, I can’t keep avoiding the village forever, like I’m some kind of hermit or a leper.” (name) reasons, talking to herself as well as to Sabu, like she often does “The captain did use to say one has to face scary things rather than avoiding them, so… tomorrow we are going to say hi to Makino and buy some more groceries, alright? And then we can stop at the bakery and see if they have those little cupcakes we bought last month.”

Sabu approves, both since it means seeing (name) abandoning her self-imposed exile and because those cupcakes are delicious. He can’t wait for her and Shanks to meet!

They leave for the village soon after lunch, and (name) and Makino embrace as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. They talk happily while (name) enjoys her drink, and Sabu eats some nuts, waiting anxiously for the pirates to arrive.

They don’t, unfortunately, at least not until (name) prepares to leave, telling Makino she and Sabu have a few errands to run before returning home; as soon as they are in the open, Sabu sees Shanks and his men approaching down the road, peacefully talking about themselves.

(name) sees them too; a small gasp escapes her lips, and before Sabu can do something to attract the red-haired man’s attention, she had dived behind a nearby cart, hiding them both. 

“Ssh! Stay here, and keep your mouth shut!” she hisses, forced to restrain Sabu and keep him from blowing their cover. 

Peeking through the cart’s wooden planks, they observe the pirates walking past, Shanks leading the others. Sabu can see (name)’s eyes linger on him, but she remains hidden until the Partys door has closed behind them “That was close…”

So it's them she is trying to avoid meeting, not another villager she has had a disagreement with. Sabu reflects on the matter as he accompanies (name) to buy groceries and at the bakery and in the end he comes to believe that she, a woman who has risked her life so many times she has lost count and didn't let anyone, not even the fiercest enemies, intimidate her, is afraid. 

Afraid of being happy again. Of entrusting another crew, and another captain, with her loyalty, her friendship and trust, and having her heart broken again should she lose them. She had been so proud of being part of the Sea-Lion’s crew; and she had told Sabu more than once, as they shared the small space of her bunk, that she wanted that state of things to go on forever: the open sea in front of her, her dearest friend perched on her shoulder, and her captain teaching her to be the best version of herself possible. 

She didn't care about the danger, or the fatigue; she had found the way to live her life that made her the happiest, and she had been happy, while it lasted. The thought of experiencing that joy again, with someone else, must be… scary, in a way; she probably feels guilty just hoping it might happen. Should she actually find a new crew and a new captain to feel at home with, she would probably consider it a betrayal of the memory of the Sea-Lion and his men; and should she not, the disappointment would break her heart. 

(name) misses being a pirate, Sabo knows it well; even if they hadn’t spent so many years together, one only has to notice the fervent look in her eyes when (name)’s gaze falls on the boats moored at the village’s little dock to realise that no matter how pleasant her life in Foosha is, she can’t help wishing for more.

And Sabu wants to give it to her; at least, to give her the opportunity to regain control of her life, and to be happy again. If only he could find a way to make her and the pirates meet…

Over the next weeks Sabu bides his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. 

(name) has, to his great relief, abandoned her self-imposed exile, going back to frequenting the village as often and freely as she did before, even though Sabu has noticed she takes pain to avoid meeting the pirates; she stays away from the dock, and only visits the Partys in the morning, since Makino has informed her Shanks and his men usually come in the afternoon. It’s obvious that staying away from any member of a thirty-strong crew would be impossible in a village as small as Foosha, but (name) does her best; she hides, turning and pretending to look at something or walking quickly away with her eyes downcast, every time she notices Shanks’ red hair appear ahead, but Sabu can see her stealing a glance once the pirate has passed her by, her eyes lingering on his figure.

Sabu has also started visiting the bar, and the pirates, without (name). The last thing he wants is for her to worry something might have happened to him, so one afternoon she’s busy -not in the fields this time, but helping her older neighbour do the cleaning in her house, since that slacker grandson of mine didn’t show up- he climbs down her shoulder while they’re outside and points insistently in the direction of the village.

(name) seems vaguely surprised, but not disappointed, he wants to go to Foosha by himself. “Alright; just take care of yourself, and come back before sundown.” she recommends, and lets him go.

Those solitary excursions take place every three or four days; Sabu can’t always find someone to give him a lift and walking to Foosha on his own is exhausting, but he soldiers on, aware that he’s doing it for (name)’s sake, and that Shanks always offers him some nuts or another treat every time they meet. The pirates quickly grow fond of him, even carrying him with them around the village or on their ship, which Sabu considers to be as large and powerful as the Sea-Lion’s was. 

“Are you sure it’s alright for you to come here on your own? I don’t want your master -sorry, your friend- to worry that something has happened to you.” Shanks considers one day, sitting at the Partys counter with Sabu -who is sitting on it- near him. 

“Oh, you needn’t worry; she knows.” Makino, as usual busy preparing drinks, informs him “I told her a few days back, and she assured me it’s fine, since Sabu knows his way home.”

The pirate smiles, reassured. “Have I seen this lady here? I’d like to meet her.”

Makino smiles softly; Sabu could bet -well, he couldn’t, since he owns no money, but the principle is the same- she remembers their conversation over tea, and knows (name) is scheduling her visits to the bar, and to the village, specifically to avoid meeting the pirates. “No, I don’t think you’ve ever met her.” she answers innocently; then, after a brief pause: “You would like her, though; she was a pirate as well, once.”

Sabu could cry tears of joy, especially when he notices that last information has caught the attention of the entire crew. “Really?” Shanks asks, openly intrigued “That’s interesting. What ship was she on?”

Makino admits she can’t remember, since (name) rarely talks about her life before her and Sabu’s arrival in Foosha. “She was looking for a place to stay, and found it here. She told me once her crew disbanded after the death of her captain.” 

Shanks smiles softly; Sabu can see melancholy has filled his eyes. “I see.” he murmurs, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Later, as he and his crewmates leave the bar, Sabu tries to invite Shanks to follow him home, so that the pirate can meet (name), but the red-haired man seems not to understand - or maybe he prefers to decline the invitation, whatever the reason might be. 

“You better go now; (name) is probably looking for you.” he says gently, and Sabu can only obey, hurrying towards home, where (name) is waiting for him, exhausted after her day spent working in the fields and assisting her neighbour but satisfied for a job well done.

“I got paid today; next time we go to town we can treat ourselves to something special.” she tells him later as she prepares dinner “What about you? Where have you been?”

Sabu avoids answering; he’s in a bad mood -an uncommon occurrence, given his usually sunny and cheerful attitude- even though he does his best to hide it in order not to worry (name). The more he thinks about it, the more he is sure she and Shanks would immediately hit it off; he would ask her to join his crew, she would accept, and then she would be back where she belongs, at sea, on the bridge of a pirate ship with the wind in her hair. Yes, that’d be amazing… if only they had the chance to meet.

Unfortunately, (name) seems determined to avoid running into the pirates who by now have been in Foosha for a few months, and especially their red-haired captain, even though one day she does shyly asks Makino about him, and on another she reaches the dock to observe their ship, hiding behind an upturned fishing boat. 

“It’s beautiful.” Sabu hears her say admiringly as she observes the imposing vessel with its white sails and dragon figurehead, but when they see a few of the pirates approach she quickly turns to leave carrying Sabu with her, deaf to his protests. 

He has to do something; but what? Since Shanks can’t understand him Sabu has no way to ask him to visit (name) at their home, and (name) seems determined to run in the opposite direction every time she catches a glimpse of red hair under a straw hat, no matter how distant. Sabu is racking his brain searching for a solution, when unexpectedly, the perfect occasion presents itself without him having to do anything to orchestrate it.

(name)’s old neighbour is in relatively good health, but there are a few medicines she needs to take every day. One afternoon, when (name) and Sabu are visiting her to ask whether she needs help with odd jobs or errands -Sabu is quite fond of the old woman, especially since she gifted him a particularly soft pillow on which he likes to nap near the kitchen window, the sun’s rays warming his fur- the neighbour does ask for a favour: her nephew went to the village’s tiny pharmacy for her that morning, but he forgot to take one of the medicines she needs. Could (name) take care of it for her? There’s no rush, since it’s barely early afternoon and the doctor instructed her to take the medicine right before going to bed, but she does need it today, since she took the last of the jar old yesterday. 

(name) is tired after spending most of the day cleaning around the house, not to mention that judging from the dark clouds gathering in the sky it’s going to rain soon, but how could she refuse? “Of course; I’ll go straight away.”

And so they set off, Sabu riding on (name)’s shoulder; rain catches them when they’re halfway to Foosha, and despite the heavy hooded cape (name) has put on by the time they reach their destination they’re both soaking wet. Fortunately the inside of the pharmacy is warm and dry, and (name) gets in line with the other clients.

“Don’t wander away, alright? I don’t want to search for you around the village under this deluge.” she warns Sabo as she gets him down on the floor, and he does his best to look as innocent and obedient as he can. He pretends to looks at the boxes and jars lined on the shelves -most medicines look edible, but he has learnt the hard way they aren’t, since that time he ate a dozen headache pills thinking they were candies and then only (name)’s quick action in calling the ship doctor saved his life- and then, as soon as (name) turns the other way to talk to someone, he scuttles away. 

The Partys is, luckily for him, not far from the pharmacy; it’s the middle of the afternoon and he’s almost sure he’ll find the pirates at their usual table, and they are - save for Shanks, Sabu notices, his heart sinking. A dozen of the men whose names and faces he has learnt to recognise over the last few weeks talk animatedly as they enjoy their drinks, but the captain’s chair is empty. Where is he? Is he busy somewhere else, or simply decided to remain on the ship, whatever the reason? Sabu knows his way to the dock, but the distance would make his plan impossible to implement.

It’s not the end of the world, but Sabu is not sure another occasion like this will ever happen. It’s now or never, but without Shanks there’s nothing he can do; what if the captain hasn’t simply decided to spend the afternoon somewhere else? What if he has left, even if just for a few days, to take care of some errand? The rest of the crew is here and Sabu, who knows more about sailing than any of his kind, doubts even the best pirate can steer a ship by himself, but he might have borrowed a horse, or simply walked to another village…

“Here you are, little one! Are you hungry?”

Relief fills Sabu as he turns and sees Shanks walk to him, a large tankard of beer he must have just taken from the counter in his hands. “Look at you, all wet.” the red-haired pirate murmurs; he places the tankard on the table, and having picked Sabu up he begins rubbing his fur with the end of his cape “On a day like this I’d assumed you would remain at home.”

Due to the rain, Sabu is unpleasantly cold, but his mission takes precedence; he waits until Shanks is distracted in conversation with one of his men, then he quickly climbs on the man’s shoulder, snatches his straw hat, and bolts out of the room.

“Hey, you…!”

Running on his hind legs as his front ones clutch the hat’s hem is not easy, but Shanks’ surprise gives Sabu a few precious seconds advantage, that he uses to cross the street outside the Partys in the direction of what is probably the tallest building in the village, excluding the windmills: the town-hall, that he and (name) visited just once soon after their arrival in Foosha. 

By the time Shanks finds him, Sabu has climbed the red brick wall and is now comfortably perched on the roof, the straw hat safe by his side.

The hat is precious to Shanks; he told Sabu once he had tried playing with it. It’s a gift from a person who is no more, and who I loved very much, the pirate explained. Sabu feels guilty for having stolen his treasure, even though he does intend to give it back; but it’s for Shanks own good, and for (name)’s. 

Because if neither takes the initiative to go meet the other, he will force them.

Soon, Shanks and several of his crewmates, not to mention a few passers-by, have gathered in front of the building, most of them looking up from under their umbrellas. Most people seem amused, but there is growing panic -through not rage- on Shanks’ face as the pirate begs to have his hat returned.

“Sabu, please… give it back, alright? Let’s make a deal; you give me my hat, I’ll buy you nuts! You like nuts, don’t you? And it’s raining! Why don’t you come down, so we can all return inside?”

He even tries climbing the wall himself, but unlike Sabu’s his legs and nails can’t support his weight for the ascent; he remains, helpless, sounding more and more desperate, begging him to return his treasure. Sabu ignores him, but when a seagull comes to perch on the roof near him, and tries pecking on the hat to check its edibleness, Sabu shoos the bird away. 

Finally, someone remembers to have seen (name) at the pharmacy, and goes to get her; a minute later, she is approaching, walking briskly in the direction many fingers point her towards.

“What is happening? Has Saru gotten hurt?” she asks anxiously, and when she finds herself face to face with Shanks she gasps. 

“Hello. You must be (name).” he says, friendly despite the annoyance he must probably feel “I’m sorry to bother you, but your friend has taken something that belongs to me.”

“W-what?”

“Up there. That hat is very precious to me, and he doesn’t want to give it back. Can you please do something?”

Even from the height, Sabu can see the embarrassment colour (name)’s face. “Of course.” she quickly answers, before raising her eyes to meet his “”Sabu! Come down this instant! What in the world are you doing? Return his hat to the captain!”

Sabu does, nimbly climbing down the wall and jumping into (name)’s arms; he sticks the hat on her head, and (name), openly embarrassed, takes it off to offer it to Shanks.

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh, no, please… I’m so sorry for this… I don’t know why he did it, I taught him not to steal…”

Shanks shakes his head as he puts his hat back on. He smiles at (name), who shily reciprocates; she has turned red in the face, no doubt, Sabu thinks, out of embarrassment. “I’m sure he just wanted to play. He’s a very clever little guy.”

“Oh, I know; he can’t speak, but I know he understands every word we say. I’m truly sorry; I should send you to bed without dinner.” (name) adds, lowering her gaze to meet Sabu’s, who grins irreverently in return, well aware that she has never punished him and never will. 

“Oh, no; please, there’s no need to punish him.” Shanks insists “I am Shanks, by the way; they call me Red-hair.” 

“I can see why. I am (name), but this you know already.”

“I do; Makino told me about you.” he smiles “Wait, I think I know you; I saw your wanted poster once. You’re the pirate who stole that classified dossier from a Marine base in the West Blue. You were known as The Kestrel, right?”

The episode happened four years ago; Sabu was the one who stole the key from the base commander’s office, but (name) took care of the half-platoon of Marines who tried to stop her from escaping all on herself. She was pretty proud of her success, almost as proud as she looks now.

“It was me, yes.”

“As I thought; I never forget a pretty face, especially on a wanted poster. And…”

He takes her hand -gently, even though Sabu feels (name) jump at the touch- to turn her arm, exposing the tattoo. “This is the Jolly Roger of Balthazar Dustin.” he readily recognises “The Sea-Lion. You were a member of his crew?”

“Since I was ten, yes; and until he died, three years ago.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss; I know what it feels like.”

“You… lost your captain too?”

“I did; I never met Dustin, but many spoke well of him.”

(name) smiles; hearing the name of her old captain usually makes her sad, but this time is different - Shanks is different, even though Sabu can’t understand why (name) is looking at him as if she had never seen a man before. 

With the emergency over, the crowd has started dispersing; the rain keeps pouring. Neither (name) or Shanks seems to notice.

“You could join my crew if you want.”

“... excuse me?”

“You know, if you missed being at sea; this is a nice place, but after so many years as a pirate I don’t think I could ever feel at ease living on land.” Shanks explains; he smiles, but the conviction in his eyes shows how completely serious he is “I know I can’t replace your old captain; but we’re a good crew, you’d like being one of us.”

(name) bites her lip; she looks vaguely afraid but tempted - hopeful, even, more than Sabu has seen her in the last three years. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you are a capable pirate; and I like to think I’m a good judge of character.”

“Listen, if you’re simply… trying to sleep with me, I am flattered but…”

“As tempting as it may be, I am not.” Shanks reassures her, which confuses Sabu; why would they want to go to sleep now, in the middle of the afternoon? And there’s no space for another person in (name)’s bed “And of course, your little friend would be welcome as well.”

(name) points out that Sabu knows how to pull his own weight on a ship, as well as around the house; he always has, since eight-year-old her found him in the woods, shivering and scared after he had gotten separated from his family, and brought him back home to nurse him back to health, share her food with him and make him sleep on her pillow. 

“At times I feel he’s a better pirate than I am.” she concludes with a sigh; she’s still smiling. “Let me think about it for a bit, alright?”

“Of course; looks like we’re staying here in Foosha for a while, so you have all the time.”

Shanks grins; even Sabu, who understands nothing about people’s mating affairs, can see the way he is looking at (name), and the way he clearly likes what he sees.

“So… flattered, eh?”

“Oh, shut it…”

They talk for a couple minutes more before setting off towards the bar, walking side by side. Sabu leans towards Shanks and the pirate obligingly scratches his chin. 

“I think he likes me.”

(name) smiles; both she and Sabu know that when one of them grows fond of someone, soon the other does as well. “Do you want to hold him?”

Shanks nods; Sabu accepts the arm the pirate is offering him to comfortably sit down on his shoulder. 

(I personally imagine Sabu as a Panamanian white-faced capuchin monkey, but anyone is free to choose the species they prefer!)