#guess what I just watched about thirty three times hm?

[littleragondin]

"Could you state your name for the camera?"

"... Justin Bieber."

[swarvey]

screaming over paper rings. stardew and taylor swift?? PEAK ‼️ so, in a similar vein, i have a lil request

could you possibly write a one-shot with any taylor swift song of your choosing? i'd like for it to be x sebastian but i know he's not one of your favorites, so if that's uncomfortable i'd be down with haley. either is fine, i would just love to see what you'd come up with! your writing is wonderful, and i can't wait to see what else you write <3

- 🪩

when you've moved on | sebastian x gn!reader | part one

summary -> you're with alex now, but is he really the one you want? warnings -> none! seb smokes a cig and there's some swearing, that's ab it. just angst. heh. word count -> 1817

a/n: ahhh ty disco anon!! i'm glad you're liking the taylor/stardew crossover as much as i do <3 decided to do my take on the trope where they watch you move on with someone else in town, enjoy!!

part two -> elliott (tolerate it)

the way i loved you ->"but i miss screaming and crying and kissing in the rain."

"seb."

"hm?"

"see that?" you point up to the stars, eyes wide and bright. "that's orion's belt. if you look close enough, you can see his whole body."

raising a brow, sebastian squints up at the sky, noticing the three, shining stars all in a row next to each other.

"huh. guess you're right," he says, smiling lightly at your excitement at the stars.

you'd been ecstatic when he offered to take you stargazing, riding out to the spot where he'd kissed you for the first time. the picnic blanket beneath the two of you is soft, and although the evening spring wind is chilly, seb feels warm enough to fall asleep with your head resting on his shoulder.

"we should do this more often," you sigh happily, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him closer to your side.

he kisses the top of your head gently, closing his eyes. "whatever you want, sweetheart."

"seb?"

"yeah?" he responds, keeping his eyes closed.

"seb!"

"what?"

"sebastian, wake up!"

sebastian wakes with a start at the sound of his mother shouting, groaning as he sits up reluctantly.

scratching his head and yawning, he asks, "what time is it?"

"nearly eight-thirty, seb, you said you'd be up by eight," robin chides. "come on, we're going to be late for the festival."

he scowls. he's tempted to lay back down and cover his head with his blankets again, but he would rather not deal with more of his mom's antics.

"fine. i'll be up in a minute." as she heads back upstairs, sebastian groggily pulls on some warm clothing, trying to ignore the stinging in his heart. why, why was he still dreaming about you? he knows you've moved on, so why has he been cursed to see you every night? sometimes, he wakes up and forgets you're not his anymore, forgets about the fight you two had, forgets the sharp, hurtful words that came out of his mouth he didn't mean at all.

he'll never forget, though, the words you said back to him, an unforgiving amount of hurt and anger in your eyes as rain poured down on the two of you.

"i'm done with this, seb," you'd said, voice shaking and weak from arguing with him. "i've given you enough chances to prove me wrong, to show you actually care about me, but i guess i was wrong. i can't do whatever this is any longer."

then, you'd walked away, leaving him alone in the downpour in front of his house.

how could he have been so stupid? no one in his life has ever known him better than you did, and he still let you slip from his grasp. what an idiot, he thinks, scoffing at himself as he makes his way upstairs and joins his family.

though, as they enter the festival of ice, seb immediately regrets not staying in bed.

you laugh as alex pulls your winter hat over your face, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at him in retaliation. haley rolls her eyes as she stands to the side, annoyed as she pulls out her phone and begins absentmindedly scrolling. meanwhile, alex starts to chase you, grabbing you from behind and hugging you tightly before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

seb looks away. he thinks he might gag.

"hey, seb! you made it!" his blond-haired friend runs up to him like an excited kid, snow already scattered in his hair. "geez, did you just wake up or something? you look kinda rough, buddy."

"thanks," he replies flatly.

sam scratches the back of his neck, flashing an apologetic smile. "sorry, didn't mean to tick you off. come on, abby's waiting over there!"

sebastian keeps his gaze on the trees as he follows his friend, trying his best to tune out the sound of your laughter he once craved to hear. how did you end up with a douche like alex, anyway? he never understands why sam speaks so highly of him, and now you go off and date him?

"helloooo," abigail sings, waving a hand in front of his face.

"oh, hey," he greets, blinking out of his thoughts. "sorry, i'm still waking up."

she raises a brow, studying his face. "right. had another nightmare?"

"i guess you could call it that."

abby shakes her head, crossing her arms. "i'm telling you, sebastian, if you would just listen to me and move on, life will start to be much nicer to you."

"i have moved on," he snaps, though quickly sighs when he sees the knowing look she gives sam. "i'm sorry, really, but i'm fine. i promise."

"if you say so," she says, her tone unbelieving. he can't blame her for being worried — abby was the one who was most concerned about him after the two of you broke up, knowing how much he'd cared for you.

or, more accurately, how much he still cares for you.

"how about we go check on vincent?" sam suggests, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "the little guy was super excited for today."

as the three make their way over to find sam's younger brother, seb finds his eyes wandering over to you once again, unable to keep himself from checking on you. to his surprise, your eyes meet his for a split second, only for you to jump slightly and turn back to alex and haley.

did you miss him, too?

after the festival ends, sebastian finds himself lingering around a little longer, telling his friends and family that he'll catch up with them later. he walks over to the river, listening to the comforting sound of running water as he pulls out a cigarette and his lighter.

"i thought you quit?"

he whips his head around at the sound of your voice, nearly dropping the items in his hand into the water.

"i did," he replies after a moment, continuing to light the cigarette. "just felt like i needed one right now."

you wordlessly walk closer and stand beside him. he can feel your eyes burning into his face.

"well, how have you been?" you ask, rubbing your arm. "i heard you . . . haven't been sleeping well."

he huffs. "what, did alex tell you?" i told sam to keep his mouth shut.

"does it matter?" he doesn't have to look at you to know you're frowning. "it's been nearly a year, you can't let this keep dragging you down, seb."

he ignores the painful twinge in his chest at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. seb. sure, almost everyone tends to use that nickname for him, but it just sounds so right coming from you. it used to make his heart warm every time he heard it, no matter the place or time; while doing chores, eating dinner, in bed.

even now, when you aren't his anymore, a part of him is glad to hear you still say it with the same tone.

"as i've been telling everyone else," he says after blowing smoke out from his lips, "i'm fine. there's no need for you to worry about me anymore, anyways — you got mr. pro over there to care for now."

"don't talk about him," you snap, a sudden defensiveness coming over your voice. "you don't get to bring him up."

seb scoffs, finally turning to look at you. god, you look just as breathtaking as he left you, snowflakes glittering on top of your hair and eyelashes. there's a certain glint in your eye he doesn't recognize, though, and he decides to test it.

"why?" he questions carelessly. "are you scared i'll be too honest with you?"

"what? i—"

"well that's too bad, sweetheart," he interrupts, his old nickname for you filled with an unfamiliar venom. "i'll be truthful with you, just like i always have been. i wasn't perfect with you, not at all — i ignored you and hurt you, over and over until you got sick of it and left, so i know i could've treated you better."

he sees your eyes begin to water, and for a moment, guilt overcomes him, but he goes on anyway.

"but there's one other thing i know," he continues, taking a step closer to you. he points behind him in the direction of the town. "you and him? you'll never love each other like we did. sure, we had our fuck-ups and arguments, but i have never loved someone like i did with you, and i know you feel the same."

"you don't know anything," you whisper, though the confidence you had before has vanished.

he huffs a sarcastic laugh. "really? you sure about that? tell me, does he know you always sleep in every saturday, since you're in the mines until late on fridays? or how you always go to the saloon, just to play your favorite song on the jukebox?" he pauses. "i bet he doesn't know anything about the stars, does he? have you even asked him to look at them with you?"

"stop!" you demand, fists clenched tightly as you give him the same look you had when you left him. "this is different, okay? alex and i are taking our time, so neither of us ends up making stupid mistakes like we did."

"as stupid as they were, that's what i liked about us," seb says, his voice a level gentler than it was before. "we weren't perfect, but we didn't pretend to be. it's what made us so real." he shakes his head, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. "but if you want to go live your high school daydream, then by all means, go ahead."

you scowl. "you know, i came here to check in on you, but i see now that you're as helpless as you were when i broke up with you."

he winces slightly at your harsh words, but remains stoic nonetheless. "go ahead and think whatever you want, sweetheart, but i think one of us is clearly more helpless than the other."

"fuck off, seb. get over yourself."

as you start to walk away, he turns to look at you once more, watching as you hesitate.

"i wanted us to work," you say quietly, void of any hostility. "i tried so hard, but you made it impossible."

"would you do it again?"

the question is slipping out of his mouth before he even realizes it, but he can't take it back now. he expects you to turn around, to storm at him and laugh at how he can even think that.

instead, you leave him with no response, hugging yourself with your arms as you head back towards your farm.

interesting. he throws his cigarette down into the dirt beneath him, putting it out with the heel of his shoe. he wonders why you didn't say anything.

that night, for the first time in weeks, sebastian doesn't dream.

[esamastation]

Part thirty-seven of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six

-

Though they've fought and slain what now feels like countless monsters, they've made little progress in their actual mission - which was to find a group of Foulanders that had appeared near the military camp. Though they'd seen some hints of them, the monsters themselves are nowhere to be seen, instead they've fought - and inspected - just about every other thing the forest has to offer.

Angeal feels strange even thinking about it, but… Sephiroth is holding the mission back. Not because he isn't willing or capable, he's more than! More than half of the kills are by him, and done with ease! But… he keeps stopping and stalling to make observations, examining the monsters, the terrain, particularly interesting plants, the trees - once he even stops to take in the scenery when they encounter a little hilltop. All which, while weirdly endearing in the strangest way, is not what Sephiroth usually does on missions.

No, usually Sephiroth just bulldozes through his opponents, finishes the mission in record time and then does whatever he wants after… which usually means taking on and completing the next nearest mission to his location. Rinse and repeat.

Now it's getting late, and they're nowhere near finishing their first one for the day.

"Alright, I guess we're camping here tonight," Angeal muses while Sephiroth examines a local fruit tree interestingly.

"Alright," Sephiroth agrees, picking a fruit and taking a curious sniff. "Aww, it's not ripe," he mutters. "Maybe higher up in the tree…"

Angeal watches as the most famous SOLDIER in history goes fruit-picking and then shakes his head, going about setting a camp. They have no actual camping gear, he honestly hadn't thought to bring any with the complete expectation that not only would the mission not take long but they'd probably finish a few more while at it before heading back. Apparently not!

Whatever made Sephiroth so obsessive about completing missions before has gone the same way a lot of other motivations he had for his previous habits went.

Setting up a fire in Wutai forest isn't the best idea, so Angeal picks what looks like the most comfortable spot to sleep and sits down to check the Buster Sword. He'd mostly used his fists, as per usual, but he'd tried his hand using his sword too. It was… still pretty difficult.

Sephiroth joins him with an armful of fruit. "Want some fruit?" he offers.

Angeal gives them a look. "Are you sure that's edible?" he asks dubiously.

"Sure it is. It's hawthorn," Sephiroth agrees. "Pity we don't have the stuff to prepare them - I bet these would make great tanghulu."

"... Which is?"

"Fruits coated in rock sugar," Sephiroth shrugs and sits down on a protruding knot of a tree root. "Here, try some."

Angeal accepts a fruit from him. Sephiroth doesn't remember monster names or what they even are, but he remembers random sweets and apparently how to make them. Meanwhile Angeal didn't even know he liked sweets. For them to be the things that really stuck around while he forgot so many other things…

Angeal tries the little red fruit. It's not bad. A bit tart.

"So, no… tent or anything?" Sephiroth asks after finishing a handful of fruit.

"What, can't handle sleeping under the stars?" Angeal asks, turning his attention back to his sword.

"Hm," Sephiroth hums, tugging at his sleeve cuffs with a strange expression before looking around, taking in the forest around them. "I suppose we need to take watches."

"Yep," Angeal agrees. "I can take the first one."

"It's fine, I'll handle it. I want to get some practice in anyway," Sephiroth says, setting the rest of the fruit aside. "Unless that will bring more monsters to us."

"They don't usually attack you when you're still - just when you're moving through their territories," Angeal assures him. "So it should be fine. But better be on guard anyway."

Sephiroth smirks a little at that and then stands up with a stretch and takes Masamune in hand. "Well then…"

"Are you going to do your… energy alignment thing?" Angeal asks worriedly

"Not here, that's just asking for a Qi-deviation," Sephiroth mutters. "Just some forms."

"You'd think you'd gotten enough practice down for the day already," Angeal points out, though more curiously than anything. "All we've done is fight this whole day. One would think you'd be looking forward to winding down a little." Angeal knows he is.

Sephiroth looks at him thoughtfully. "This is how my body winds down," he says and holds Masamune up in a guard pose. "Call it sword meditation. Besides, today wasn't exactly good exercise."

"... Sephiroth, I lost track of how many fights we had," Angeal points out flatly.

Sephiroth snorts. "A few basic sword forms per fight - that's nothing. And I didn't see you using anything more elaborate than an uppercut or a high kick."

"Well, they worked, did they?"

"Yes, but what did you learn from them? Did you progress at all in your combat abilities?" Sephiroth asks pointedly and makes a delicate swing with his sword. "Did you grow at all?"

Angeal leans back a little, weirdly insulted. "I got a whole bunch of EXP?"

Sephiroth blinks and looks at him, his sword lowering slightly. "Did you really?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah," Angeal shrugs. "Not enough to level up, but still a bunch."

Sephiroth states at him blankly for a moment. Then he lowers his sword completely. "Wait, EXP is a real thing?!"

"Um. Yes? You don't… remember?" Angeal asks worriedly, standing up. "Didn't you get any?"

"How does that even - no, I do remember, and I read about it in the tutorials, but I didn't think it was real! But it is. You actually get experience points from the things you kill," Sephiroth says, sounding baffled. "That's a - really?"

"It's, uh," Angeal tries to reframe the whole concept of EXP in his head. "I guess it does sound kind of strange. Uh, EXP is just the acronym Shinra came up with. It's not actually experience. It's just, you know… energy."

"Energy," Sephiroth repeats.

"Yeah," Angeal says. "You absorb the energy from things you kill. You… really didn't notice?"

"Um," Sephiroth says. "No, I didn't - how would I know? What does it feel like, how can you tell?"

Angeal clears his throat. "I just - do? There is actual equipment to measure it, but when you do the kind of work we do, after a while you can just tell. After a fight you just feel a bit… more, I guess?"

Sephiroth frowns, putting a hand on his stomach.

"You really didn't notice it at all?" Angeal asks, concerned. "You are higher level than me - I guess, at your level enemies like we've been fighting wouldn't really yield a noticeable amount of EXP." Which is weird, because Angeal got a lot.

"No, I think… I've been blocking it," Sephiroth says thoughtfully.

That's - what? "You've been - how? The only thing I know that can block EXP gain is a Curse - wait," Angeal says and takes a closer look at him. "Do you have a Cursed Ring on you, or something?"

"There are curses now?!" Sephiroth asks, exasperated.

"Not curses - a Curse, it halts your growth," Angeal explains and checks him over, baffled. Sephiroth isn't wearing any accessories. Huh. "You don't feel like you have a Curse?"

"Well, that's good to know!" Sephiroth says and shakes his head, stepping back. He's thoughtfully quiet for a moment, still with his hand on his stomach and then he shrugs, far too careless and casual. "Ah, never mind, Angeal, I'll figure it out," Sephiroth says and grips Masamune's hilt again. "Whatever. I'm going to practise now."

He definitely knows what the issue is. "Sephiroth -"

Ignoring him, Sephiroth starts swinging his sword, working through his forms with a sort of stubborn ferocity that clearly states the discussion is over.

After a moment Angeal lets out a sigh, fighting back that feeling of uneasy tension building up again. "Okay, okay, fine," he says, holding up his hands in surrender. "Can I practise with you?"

Sephiroth glances at him and then arches a brow. "I don't know," he says and smirks. "Can you?"

[mediumgayitalian]

previous chapter

———

The sunlight disorients him.

Usually, he wakes to a blaring alarm. If he has no alarm set, nothing planned for the day, he wakes when he cannot physically stand the taste of his own breath anymore, stumbling out of bed and ambling like a zombie for the nearest toothbrush. (On rare, rare occasions, he wakes to humming – low, drawling, lilting, floating around his darkened room, brightening it. He dreams about those mornings.)

He cannot remember the last time he woke to gentle sun.

Stretching, he takes a minute to catalogue the space as he wakes up, noticing the light curtains over wide windows, small TV tucked in between two double beds, and a desk, larger than he would have expected, taking up the far right corner.

Will is nowhere to be found.

“Jogging, mebbe,” Nico mumbles to himself; tiny, forgotten accent slipping out before he can stop it. Gingerly, he peels off the blankets and pads to the bathroom. Will’s blue-capped toothbrush sits next to the sink, quelling Nico’s ridiculous anxiety that Will, actually, has never been here at all, and Nico dreamed this whole thing up. He smiles slightly at the dorky stickers plastered all over the handle, colour mostly worn away, and the watch forgotten next to the soap dispenser. 

He hears a heavy door open and shut, pausing to make out quiet footsteps over the running water. Quickly rinsing the suds off his face, he towels off and steps back out into the hotel room, watching his friend.

Will has his back turned, hunched over the desk. He wears a hoodie, blue with big white clouds all over it – his favourite – and, of course, horrible cargo shorts. Nico counts seven pockets, and that’s just what he can see from the back. There is a book shoved in two of them, keys hanging out of a third, and an apple bulging from the pocket near his hip.

“Morning.”

Will jumps, whirling around. 

“You scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry,” Nico says, not sorry. He’s grinning. “Were you out for a run?”

“I was out for a run hours ago, yes. It’s, like, ten-thirty, dude. You’ve been sleeping for eight hundred years.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They’ve had this argument more times than he can physically count, he refuses to have it again when he doesn’t have the upper hand. He’ll bring it up again when Will’s sleepy again at nine o’clock. “Where were you?”

Will steps to the side, revealing three separate heaping plates of food on the desk, piled high with eggs, toast, a muffin, bacon, and, of course, an entire plate devoted to fruit. Nico descends upon it like a swarm of seagulls upon a terrorized child’s ice cream cone – with fury, insatiable hunger, and endless hubris. He makes sure to ignore the fruit.

Five minutes later, he’s satiated enough to turn a percentage of his attention away from the food. He spins the desk chair halfway to face Will, instead, curled up on the bed with one knee pulled to his chest, watching him fondly.

“How many times did you almost drop this on the way up?” he asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Will’s smile drops, eyes narrowing. “Shut up.”

“Four floors, and there’s a good chance you took the stairs to keep the elevators for ‘someone who needs them more’, so –”

“I hate you.”

“– I’m guessing one time per flight of stairs? Oh, wait, there are three plates, definitely more –”

“I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again.”

“– and you have a new band-aid on your knee, so you definitely tripped and dropped it at least once.” He pops the last of the bacon in his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Twice? Three times? If you don’t tell me I’m going to assume six and move on.”

Will’s glare intensifies. He mumbles something.

“Hm?”

He mumbles again. Nico doesn’t even pretend not to be delighted. He knows the smile on his face is wide enough to make him look deranged, he simply doesn’t care. Opportunities to press Will’s buttons this beautiful do not show up every day. He must treasure them.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Hadtogoback.”

“Gonna have to speak up, bud.”

“I had to go back!” Will explodes, hands thrown in the air. “I fuckin’ – I dropped the stupid plates, the first time, so I had to fuckin’ – clean it up and – two stupid trips, you jerk, you better appreciate this –”

Nico almost bites through his lip. “You dropped it?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Will says defensively. “I was concentrating really hard but –”

Nico loses it.

“– my shoe got caught on the last step and I didn’t have any hands to catch myself.” He scowls. “Three people saw.”

He can’t breathe. There are genuine, actual tears streaming down his face, burn in his eyes almost as bad as the burn in his lungs, the ache in his belly. He wraps his shaking arms around himself in an attempt to hold himself together, laughing so hard he feels like his muscles might actually rip themselves off his bones. Every time he tries to calm down, he pictures Will, in his dorky flip-flops, egg in his hair, half a muffin crushed on his cheek, bright red, sprawled on the ground, food everywhere. If he could think of literally anything else, he’d be worried about his heart straight-up failing. 

“I hate you. Actually.”

“I’m – oh my God,” he wheezes. He manages, finally, to get an actual breath in, desperately trying to think of literally anything else to calm down. Fucking – bumper to bumper traffic. Bedbugs. His father’s frowning face. That always works. “Holy shit, Will.”

“I should’ve just woken your ungrateful ass up.”

“Probably.” He flicks a grape at him, smiling. Will catches it in his mouth, rolling his eyes but smiling back. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Whatever.”

Nico finishes the rest of his breakfast in relative peace, managing to turn away if his mouth threatens to betray the tentative truce they’ve negotiated. He even eats one entire peach when Will starts pelting him with tiny hotel soap bottles and listing side effects of cholesterol-induced heart disease.

The second he finishes the last bite, Will orders him to clear off the desk. Nico mutters about bossiness and how Will is most definitely not in charge of him, doing as he asks. When he comes back – took him a hot second to shove the paper plates into a small enough ball to fit in the garbage can – Will has dragged the desk over to the bed, sitting criss-cross next to it, examining one of the many papers he has covering it.

“So,” he says, gesturing next to him. Nico dutifully sits, peering at the various maps and markings. “We gotta plan part two.”

“Didn’t we already do this?” Nico asks. “Back at Dunkin’s?”

“Not this far. I wanted to Preserve the Spontaneous Road Trip Spirit.” Nico can hear the capitalization.

“So, planning, then.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Nico smiles. “Brief me, captain.”

Will jumps right in, pointing and gesturing and every once and a while catching Nico’s eye to ask, right? Sound good?

Nico just watches him. 

The midday sun shines directly in his face, catching and reflecting on his pale eyelashes, making his eyes go squinty. His excitement is obvious, in his chattering, his waving hands, his bouncing curls; every part of him moving. Even his stupid cargo shorts look endearing, every other pocket bulging, filled absentmindedly with slips of paper or pens or bandaids or granola bars. Nico watches him and feels he might burst.

“You’re not listening,” Will accuses.

Nico jumps back into focus. “Yes I am.”

“What’d I just say?”

“‘You’re not listening’.”

WIll cracks a smile. “You’re not funny.”

“Run over that again,” Nico answers, and grins devilishly when Will does. Not funny his ass.

He listens, though, through Will’s second explanation. It’s not too hard – Will’s always been organised. The wide penciled circle around their location in Atlanta, outlining the area they can drive before their next fuel stop, is pretty wide. But the options are limited, in Nico’s opinion – while he’s sure there is indeed something to do in South Carolina, there’s nothing to do for him, specifically. He’s cool with skipping it.

“There is one place we can go,” Will says. His voice has gone oddly quiet, and after at minute he glances over at Nico, like he’s waiting for his permission.

“Your road trip, dude,” he murmurs, nudging their shoulders together. “I’ll even go to South Carolina if you want to, but no promises that I won’t complain about it.”

That, thankfully, draws a huff out of him, some of the tenseness fading from his frame. 

“South Carolina is beautiful, you know.”

“Says the boy who is currently visiting his third state ever.”

“...Touché.” He taps his pencil on the map, pink eraser thunking somewhere in the Bermuda triangle. “I was thinking – we could try Nashville? Music Row, or Broadway?”

Nico groans. “Oh, of course you wanna go hang out with all the goddamn hillbillies, you fuckin’ country boy –”

“It’s good music!”

Nico groans louder. Secretly, though, he watches his friend out of the corner of his eye, watches as his shoulders slump, relieved, and he knows he’ll spend as long as he needs in lasso-slingin’ Tennessee, following Will in and out of – barns and ranches and cowboy boot shops, probably. Are saloons still a thing?

He has a feeling that there is more to Will’s hesitance than a fear about being judged for his Marty Robbins obsession. If Tennessee is where he’s gonna get answers – well. He’ll brave the goddamn sea of cowboy hats.

A knock at the door startles them both. A voice calls hesitantly through the door: “Mr. di Angelo?”

“Wrong door, probably,” Will whispers after a moment. He looks to Nico. “Right?”

There’s another knock. “Mr. di Angelo?” 

“Yeah.” Nico rolls of the bed, landing on the floor with a grunt. “Another room with a Mr. di Angelo.”

He creeps towards the door, keeping low as if whoever’s outside can see him. After a moment, the bed creaks, and Will’s quiet footsteps pad behind him. 

“You think it’s room service?” Will whispers, plastered to the opposite side of the door. Even ducking, his hair brushes the edge of the peephole. 

Nico shoves his head down, pinching him when he squawks. “Be quiet, tall person, I need to see.”

“Get a stepstool then, jerk! Stop using my neck as a lever!”

“What part of be quiet are you missing! God!”

“Mr. di Angelo, please open the door.”

The voice on the other side of the door sounds amused. Face flaming, Nico shoves Will somewhere behind him, still bitching, and swings open the door. 

“Good afternoon,” says the man in the hallway. He’s dressed very smartly in a tailored black suit, nametag reading Eric. “Are you Mr. di Angelo?”

Nico clears his throat, trying to stand taller. “That’s me.”

“Good. I’m with Hotel Administration. We received a fax for you this morning?” He hands Nico a manilla folder. “First page says confidential, so we put it in the envelope. We tried to call this morning but didn’t get any response.”

Vaguely, Nico remembers a ringing phone. He also remembers yanking the plug out of the wall in sleep-deprived rage.

Oops.

Ignoring Will’s snickering, Nico thanks the man, closing the door and sitting on the nearest bed. Will scooches over to make room for him, tossing and catching a pillow. Nico leans back against the headboard, crossing his leg over Will’s.

“What’s in the envelope?”

“Checking now.”

The envelope is the cheap kind you get in a box of fifty; speckled brown, thin, machine-cut. It’s not sealed and so Nico flips it open easily, sliding out a small stack of papers. The first is a huge CONFIDENTIAL, printed diagonally across otherwise blank paper. The second is a bank statement. 

Nico shoots upright.

“What? Nico, what’s –”

“Mr. di Angelo, we regret to lose your business,’” Nico recites in a shaking voice, “‘but appreciate your time with us and wish you all the best with your future banking.’”

Frantically, he scans the document again. Successful cancellation. Expedited closure date. Transferred affairs to –

– parent account. 

“–co? Nico? Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

The air pushes out of Nico’s lungs like a crushed balloon. “Fuck.”

“Nico.” Warm hands press on his bloodless cheeks, fingers sliding in his hair. “Nico, look at me.”

He gasps. Will squeezes gently, eyes dark and stern and kind, thumbs callus-rough and dragging across his cheekbones.

“Good. Again. There you go, you got it.” 

Nico grabs his wrists when he tries to pull away. Will takes the hint, sliding his hands under Nico’s free one and knocking their shoulders together.

“What’s wrong, Nico?” 

Instead of answering, Nico sets the papers on the bed between them. Will squints, and for a second Nico prays that he’s wrong, that he’s mixed up the words. That it doesn’t say what it knows it does.

Then Will inhales, quick and sharp, and the hope is dashed.

“Your card…”

“Next page,” Nico says softly.

Niccolò,

The papers rustle as Will flips them, and this one he takes much longer to read. 

Vorrei sapere che ho fermato un caso di frode alla radice.

After a minute, he holds it out, shaking his head.

Un criminale ha rubato la tua carta di credito, e l’ha usata per comprare una stanza d’albergo in Georgia. Qualche spacciatore, non ci sono dubbi.

“It’s a little formal, I can’t –”

Ho disattivato la carta, naturalmente. Ti darò quella nuova appena ti vedrò.

Nico takes the scanned letter. Vaguely, he registers Will’s hands brushing up his arms as they move two wrap around his face again, this time forcing his jaw to unclench.

“Power play,” Nico snarls. His clenched fingers wrinkle the pulpy paper.  “He knows exactly where I am. If he wanted to drag me home, he could drag me by the fucking –”

“But instead he’s forcing you to call him,” Will says softly. “Oh, Nico, I’m so sorry.”

The hands drop from his face again. It knocks the cloudiness right out of Nico’s head, and he snaps up, frowning at Will’s crooking fingers, the bitten lips. He won’t meet Nico’s eyes.

“Why are you sorry my father’s being a haughty jackass who suddenly cares what I do with my time?”

“And his money.” Will picks up the bank statement, reading over it again, and again, like it might change. Like Nico’s credit card will magically become un-cancelled, like they will suddenly become un-stranded. “This whole stupid thing is my fault. I never should have dragged you into it, Neeks, I’m so –”

“If you apologise again I’m going to push you off the bed.”

“– sorry.” 

“Will.” Nico snatches back the statement, shaking his head. He waits until blue eyes meet his then smiles, as reassuringly as he can with such a pit in his stomach. “My father is –” He sighs. “It’s not about the money. You know he doesn’t care about the money.”

Will shrugs. It’s true – Nico has made dumber purchases. When he was twelve, he bought a trampoline, just to see if his father would say anything. Fifteen, marble statue. Sixteen, a car.

Then he stopped trying.

“How far can we go, on the gas we have? How many miles?”

Will shrugs. “Three and a half hours? Four, if we push it?”

“And on a full tank of gas?”

“Almost six.”

“And then we’re stuck.”

“And then we’re stuck, yeah. Unless you got Greyhound money hidden somewhere.”

Nico sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s what he wants, Will. He doesn’t care about the – about the stupid money. He wants me. He wants me to ask, rather, to pick up a phone and beg him to come get us ‘cause we have no other options. He wants me to admit I need his help.”

The first time he ran away, he’d had to avoid every cop car. He knew he was being looked for, he saw his own face plastered on news screens. It had only been a matter of time. The second attempt was – easier. Much easier. He’d hardly even had to hide his face. By the third time, he’d waited a week, waited almost a month, before he was cold and hungry and walked to the nearest social services building himself. The car ride home, the humiliation so potent he could taste the bitterness of it, had made the cold, rainy nights with nothing but the same ratty hoodie he’d worn when he left worth it. He swore he’d never subject himself to that again. 

And yet here he is. 

Out of options. 

“You know what? No.” In a swift, unstoppable movement, Will snatches the stack of papers, ripping them into four pieces faster than Nico can reach an arm out to stop him. “We’re not doing this.”

“Will – what –”

He throws himself off the bed, stomping over to his backpack. A folded pair of socks goes flying over his shoulder, a book hits the ground with a heavy thunk. His muttering grows louder, cursing interspersed between every word.

“What are you –”

“We are not dealing with this right now.” With a frustrated finally, Will yanks a bag of something out of his backpack, stomping back towards the bed. He throws a Ziploc bag onto the duvet, and it bounces once, twice, three times before splitting open and spilling quarters everywhere.

“What the hell is –”

“You already payed for the room, right?”

Nico snaps his jaw shut. “Yes.”

“And it’s Saturday.”

“I – it is, yeah.”

“Not a business day.”

“No.”

“Well.” Will nods. “Bank’s closed. Hotel can’t process anything, and they have no reason to suspect your card, which worked just fine last night, is gonna bounce. We’ve got a day of breathing room, at least, and I don’t want to think about it.”

He holds up a hand when Nico starts to argue, grim set to his mouth giving way to something a little sharper, a little more dangerous. 

“We might not be old enough to gamble, but when you’re in Atlanta, you do as the Atlantians do.” He meets Nico’s eye, grinning. “You still any good Street Fighters?”

———

next chapter

[storms-corner]

“Sweetheart, are you sure, hm?” Eve asked softly, rubbing Oksana’s belly over the blanket. “You’re more than welcome to sleep in the big bed with mommy.”

Oksana sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, crossing her arms around herself. She nods shyly. “Big girl,” she says. “Please?”

Eve chuckles. “Okay, my love,” she says. If Oksana tells Eve that there is something she wants to try, something she feels brave enough to do, who is Eve to tell her no? Letting her little one sleep alone in her room, which is literally wall-to-wall with Eve’s, is not dangerous by any means.

Besides, Eve already knows that in a few hours, her little girl will sneak right into Eve’s bed and demand cuddles. She only figures it’s good for Oksana’s confidence that she gets to try; she must know that Eve believes in her.

“Do you want a book before bedtime?”

Oksana nods eagerly. “How much I love you!”

“Ah, what a surprise,” Eve teases as she reaches for the book.

She grabs it carefully, and cringes at the crackle the dearly beloved book makes when she gently opens it. The Guess How Much I Love You book is so worn and cherished that the pages are soon to fall out. Eve has read it at least three times a week for two whole years now. Tonight, she reads it once more and watches the little one’s eyes begin to droop. How precious, thinks Eve, to be in your thirties and get to experience this soothing over and over. It’s different to watch Oksana fall asleep while sat at her bedside, compared to feeling it as she nurses down. Eve admires each and every twitch and flutter, and she smiles so warmly when Oksana’s tired, droopy eyes look up at her once the book is over.

“Mkay, sweetheart,” she murmurs as she puts the book away. “Paci?”

Oksana nods. Eve reaches for Oksana’s pacifier, white with a moon on the centre, clipped to the girl’s pyjamas. Oksana takes to suckling in an instant, the pacifier bobbing at a calm, sleepy rhythm. Eve coos and leans in to kiss Oksana’s forehead.

“Goodnight, baby, I love you,” she says softly.

***

When Eve opens her eyes a few hours later, it’s nearly two in the morning. Because her brain has seemingly built a radar for Oksana, she’d woken just before she heard the first creak in the floorboards. Soft, shuffling little footsteps come closer and closer before Oksana appears in the door, hand clutching Kis-Kis tightly.

“Mommy,” she whispers, padding into the room. “Mommy.”

Eve grunts sleepily, holding her arm out. “C’mere, ‘ksana.”

Oksana runs on her tiptoes and crawls clumsily into bed, wriggling under the blanket as Eve holds it up. She was so very wrong about being a big girl tonight. Sleeping in her own bed is silly — there’s no Eve there! She worms her way into Eve’s embrace, where the older woman greets her with a warm hug.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Eve whispers into her ear. “You okay, hm?”

Oksana nods. Her hand places itself against the soft swell of Eve’s breast almost by instinct; Eve has learned that this particular touch is comfort seeking. “Just wanted mommy.”

“Oh, you’re such a mommy’s girl, aren’t you?” she laughs warmly, sleep clinging to her voice. “You’re mommy’s ittiest, bittiest little girl.”

Oksana giggles bashfully. “Noo,” she protests.

“No?” Eve chuckles.

“Mommy’s baby,” Oksana insists in a determined voice.

Eve goes from laughing to cooing, holding Oksana close, suddenly overwhelmed with love. “Mm, that’s right,” she whispers, kissing her head sweetly. “Mommy’s baby. You’re mommy’s baby.”

Oksana yawns wide, and Eve remembers that it’s two in the morning. She rubs at her own eyes. “Let’s give sleeping another try, mkay?” she whispers.

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // thirty-one

| @keibea | @rollingsim

next / previous / beginning

SARAYN: I’ll start a fire. ÅSE: I can start own fire! SARAYN: Suit yourself. I’ll take first watch. ÅSE: What mean you? I am not trusting to keep watch! I will keep all watch. SARAYN: And if I don’t trust you? ÅSE: Hmph. SARAYN: Then I suppose we’ll sit here all night. ÅSE: Maybe I make own camp. Somewhere else. Over there! SARAYN: Now you’re just being ridiculous. ÅSE: groaning Then I am stuck all night with you! If you are not going to sleep, at least tell story. SARAYN: Tell a story? ÅSE: Yes, go on, tell. Then I will tell one. Mine will be better, of course, but I give you fair chance. SARAYN: That might be the first courteous thing you’ve said to me. ÅSE: If story is good, I will be more courteous. Go on! SARAYN: Very well. Near the Everfel forest, was the village of Elburne. Legend had it that the forest was cursed, and those that dwelled too near would become… afflicted. Years ago, a young family moved into a house at the edge of the wood. A mother, father, and their three children. They were fair, with silken hair and eyes of crystal blue. The villagers warned them not to stay, but the couple were proud and steadfast in their decision. SARAYN: Three months would pass in peace, but then… their young son went missing. The mother and father begged the villagers to help them search the forest, but no one would come. The family searched alone, day in and day out, to no avail. The boy was never found. Time pressed on, and before long, ten years had passed. The people of Elburne had moved forward, and nothing out of the ordinary had happened since. That was… until the mother of the missing boy came into the village. She looked strange and disheveled. Pale, and with a cold sweat upon her skin; Her once lovely blue gaze dark and distant. She could be seen is the square repeating the same words over… and over again. ÅSE: What said she? SARAYN: She said… “He is coming”. SARAYN: Days passed, and the house aside the wood went quiet. No one had seen the family for some time, and finally, a curious neighbor went to check on them. He knocked twice , but there came no answer. He went away and came back in the noontime, but again, there was no answer. Finally, he searched the house; letting himself in through an open back window. ÅSE: What did he find? SARAYN: Nothing. The house was empty. There were scratch marks upon the walls, and broken glass about the floor. But there was nothing. No trace of that fair family that once lived aside the wood… nothing… but a single blue eye, sat upon a pool of scarlet blood. ÅSE: BAH! Who says to you tell ghost stories in the night! SARAYN: You did. ÅSE: Wahahaha! Very right you are, Deathling! I should expect no less from you, hm? That is not so bad! Where did you hear story like that? SARAYN: There are no shortage of ghost stories in Vrenfal. Books full of them. ÅSE: Your city’s full of ghosts and mine of drunks! Haha! Good thing I do not scare easily, I might stay up all night in fear! SARAYN: So, you enjoyed it, then? ÅSE: Mm. Good story is worth weight in gold. SARAYN: Even spoken by me? ÅSE: For now, I will think not about your foul magic. Tonight, we can be homebound warriors under stars. I would ask bowl for two pint, but it does not like to give ale. Very inconvenient! SARAYN: Hm. I guess now it’s your turn. ÅSE: Ah? Ah! Tell story, yes! And night is young! If we are very lucky, we can tell many stories before morning. Indeed, it will be good night after all.

[duologies]

very short ling tiehua + huang yuanfei piece with a focus on tiehua! only 707 words, rest is under the cut (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b

A crunch as metal met flesh and bone. Then a slick rasp as weapons withdrew from wounds.

“That’s eight,” Ling Tiehua counted triumphantly.

“I have ten,” responded Huang Yuanfei leisurely. 

Ling Tiehua rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Before Huang Yuanfei could make a smug remark, the wall to their left exploded, leaving behind a gaping hole. Another wave of snake spirits burst forth, poised to attack. Huang Yuanfei lazily lifted Ruihan up to point it at their opponents, as if he couldn’t be bothered to give them the time of day. Ling Tiehua immediately resumed a proper fighting stance, metal fans at the ready. Then, both sides lunged forward.

 Ling Tiehua slashed with both fans, slicing open the jugulars of two snake spirits at once. Nearby, Huang Yuanfei had neatly decapitated another snake spirit. There were already several other disembodied heads strewn about–how was Huang Yuanfei so fast? Ling Tiehua picked up the pace; two more slashes and one thrown knife later, she felled three more enemies.

“Thirteen!” she called.

“Twenty,” Huang Yuanfei replied, almost bored. “Do try to keep up.”

Ling Tiehua grit her teeth in frustration before swinging one fan upward, sending forth a gust of razor-sharp wind. This gust simultaneously caught five snake spirits, ripping them apart mercilessly. Ling Tiehua heard something behind her move; she pivoted and threw a knife straight into another snake spirit’s heart. Then another hiss to her left–this time she took a dagger and drove it deep into their neck.

“Twenty now!”

Huang Yuanfei clicked his tongue. If he was annoyed, he did not show it. “Twenty-four. Not bad.” 

Ling Tiehua smiled, a little smug. “About time you admitted it, old hag. I’ll catch up to you soon enough, so you better watch out.”

Huang Yuanfei scoffed. “Keep dreaming, you little brat. There is still quite some distance between us.”

Just then, another wave of enemies arrived. Huang Yuanfei sighed, took out his own fan, and snapped it open.

“How persistent. At our current rate, it would take us decades to clear out this viper’s nest. Let’s speed things up, shall we?”

With a flick of his wrist, Huang Yuanfei summoned a powerful wave of fire. Screams erupted around the den, accompanied by the sound of sizzling flesh. Huang Yuanfei winked at Ling Tiehua.

“That’s ten more.”

“Oh yeah? Watch this.”

Ling Tiehua kept her fans low, then swung upward, unleashing a relentless current. The snake spirits that had not been caught by the initial firewall bore the brunt of this next attack. A cacophony of yelps arose, only to be abruptly cut off as bodies slammed against the den’s walls with a final, decisive crunch. Ling Tiehua silently counted twelve fallen enemies. Grinning, she turned to Huang Yuanfei.

“Thirty-two. What’s your count?”

Huang Yuanfei smiled back in his signature falsely sweet style. “Thirty-four. Still ahead, Xiao Hu.”

“Lao Feng, don’t be so smug. You’ve only got two more than me.”

Huang Yuanfei was about to reply when two more snake spirits emerged. Before either the snake spirits or Huang Yuanfei could act, Ling Tiehua hurled two throwing knives. Each knife struck its target with pinpoint accuracy. The targets fell with a dull thud. There was a beat of silence. Then, Ling Tiehua spoke up.

“Guess that’s the last of them.”

Shock briefly flickered over Huang Yuanfei’s face before he quickly replaced it with a look of mild interest. “I suppose that’s it, then.”

“We’re tied. Still think there’s a lot of distance between us?”

“Hm. This proves nothing. So what if we tied this time? It is merely a little game.” He paused briefly, then continued, “But you did well. I admit that you are a formidable fighter.”

Ling Tiehua smiled and rolled her eyes. “You’re such a sore loser. But I’ll count your compliment as a win.”

Huang Yuanfei sheathed Ruihan. “I shall pretend that I did not hear you call me a sore loser. Let us return home.”

A cloud formed before Huang Yuanfei’s feet, and he stepped on. Ling Tiehua quickly followed suit. Before taking off, Huang Yuanfei put his arm around Ling Tiehua’s shoulders to keep her from falling. Then they rose up before shooting into the distance, like an arrow loosed from a bow.

[najaemism]

heart can’t lose [33]

PAIRING. lee haechan x fem!oc

WARNINGS. language

WORD COUNT. 0.5k

SUMMARY. fourth year pre-med student and neo university student council president, haechan lee does not have the time for relationships. instead, he focuses his attention on his studies and extracurriculars, so as not to disappoint his parents. that is until hera seo came along—and everyone starts to wonder if the university’s golden boy would finally let his heart lose.

“SORRY YOU DIDN’T get to talk to Haeun,” Hera said, glancing at Haechan, who was walking beside her towards the parking lot of the campus, where her family had been waiting for her. “Johnny came by before you arrived and didn’t want to wake her ‘til we got to the restaurant later,” she added.

“It’s fine,” Haechan told her. “At least, I still managed to get to talk to you.”

God, why do you say shit like that? She wanted to ask, but decided against it.

“I underestimated how well-known you are here,” she suddenly brought up. “I mean, I know you’re the president of the student body, but still. I’ve seen the amount of tweets people have made about you—even ones that mentioned me.”

He let out a chuckle, lightly shaking his head. “Sorry about that,” he said, “the tweets that were talking about you. I guess, they're not used to seeing me with people other than the ones I’m usually with.”

“It’s alright—it’s amusing, actually. Someone was wondering if someone had managed to make you date already.”

He glanced at her raising a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah, people really think you’re not into the dating thing—and, I mean, you did say that once, right?”

“Hm?”

“I mean—that one time we talked in the park," she recalled. "You said you’re too busy for relationships.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

The two were quiet after that, both walking slowly as if neither of them wanted to reach their destination yet, wanting to prolong this small moment together, despite knowing that there were still some students watching their every move.

It didn’t really matter to Haechan, having people look at them—not when his eyes were occasionally looking at the girl walking beside him.

“I’ve been in one relationship,” he suddenly said, making her stop for a moment to look at him. He stopped a few steps away from her, turning around to face her. “In high school, I dated someone, but I was always too focused on my studies and my extracurriculars, so she eventually just… broke it off. Told me I never really cared for anything else—that I prioritize that over people around me.”

He put his hands inside the pocket of his hoodie and shrugged. “I mean, of course, I knew that. I was aware, so... I didn’t ask her to stay, or to try again, because I knew that I’d end up doing it again.

A soundless “oh” left Hera’s lips, while Haechan smiled.

“That’s why I don’t do relationships right now. I have way too much on my plate, I sometimes disappear when I’m too busy, and I take too long before replying to people.”

Not to me, she thought.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked instead.

“No one deserves that, Hera.”

“What?”

He only smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “Nothing,” he said, chuckling as she let out a whine after he had slightly messed up her hair. “Come on, your family’s waiting for you,” he added, nodding his head to the direction of the parking lot not too far away.

He was first to walk ahead of her, and she let out a deep sigh as she watched him from behind.

“I think I’d be fine even if you were like that, though,” she muttered under her breath. Upon realizing what she had just implied, she quickly shook her head as if it would get the thought out of her mind, glad that the boy didn't hear her. She let out a deep sigh before following after him.

bonus;

THIRTY THREE. | prev / masterlist / next

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[hintofelation99]

The Justice League Hangs out with Duke

Bruce: Duke, it's time we had the talk.

Duke: Uh... nope. No thank you. I'm not getting the sex talk from Batman.

Bruce: What? No! The Robin talk.

Duke: But, I'm- I'm the Signal now? Isn't it a bit late for a Robin talk?

Bruce: Son, it's never too late, not for this.

Duke: Um. Ok.

Bruce: When Dick, Jason, and Tim first started as Robins they created a tradition. A tradition that continued with Stephanie, Damian, and now you.

Duke: And that tradition is?

Bruce: Taking down the Justice League. By being annoying and slightly terrifying.

Duke: OHHHHHH. Is that why no one from the Justice League talks to me?

Bruce: Yes, yes it is. But don't worry. I made an arrangement that will allow you time alone with league members to continue the tradition. You have a week to prepare.

——————

Duke: Cass, what do I do?

Cass raises an eyebrow at Duke.

Duke: For the Robin tradition thing. I have to take down the entire Justice League in a night using creative, outlandish, and original methods. But it's already been done by Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph. So what do I do? How can I be better than all of them.

Cass smirks: Take them down too.

Duke looking at Cass like she's crazy: What?

Cass: Take. Them. Down.

Duke: Holy shit, you are terrifying.

Cass just smiles and leaves.

-> One Week Later <-

Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph gather in the Watchtower.

Duke: Hey guys, Batman just wanted to go through some training exercises with everyone. He'll be a little late. Harley and Ivy escaped Arkham and are trying to grow penis shaped shrubs in all the public parks. But, don't worry he asked me to go ahead and start with out him.

Green Lantern: Why are you leading this meeting?

Duke: Batman is running late and he wants me to practice leading meetings.

Green Lantern, glaring suspiciously at Duke: Are you about to do that stupid Robin tradition where you torture all of us?

Duke: What Robin tradition? Also, I'm not even a Robin? I'm the Signal.

Green Lantern continues to glare at him.

Superman: Calm down Green Lantern, the Robins never do this in front of each other.

Every League member seems to relax at this.

Duke acting confused: Uhhh, yeah. Ok, we have a few housekeeping things to do according to the list Batman left. So, I'll have everyone pair up for sparring while I handle these individually.

------

Everyone is in the training room working out or sparring. Duke approaches Tim.

Duke: Hey Tim, Bruce wanted you to look in to that Bludhaven case. Is that ok with you?

Tim: Yeah, why wouldn't it be?

Duke: Oh, I just thought it might be difficult considering what Dick did.

Tim: ...What did he do?

Duke: Wait, you haven't noticed? Oh no, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything.

Tim: Duke. Tell me what he did.

Duke: Well, Jason said that he replaced all your coffee with decaf.

Tim: THAT BASTARD. No wonder I've been feeling so tired! I'm going to kill him!

Duke: Wait, just stop! I heard that he hid all of it in Green Lantern's room.

Tim: Wait, why there?

Duke: Something about you being afraid of him.

Tim: WHAT?! I'm not afraid of the Green Nightlight! I'm gonna find that coffee then make Dick pay.

Duke: Oh, well cool, good luck!

------

Green Lantern: Um, what are you doing in my room?

Tim: Where is it?

Green Lantern: Where's what?

Tim: You know what I want. Give up now or face the consequences.

Green Lantern: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Tim: Fine. Consequences.

------

Steph, sparring with Duke: So, what's it like being the first meta bat?

Duke: Not too bad, but I could do with out the whole 'predict the future' thing.

Steph, laughing: What? You can not see the future.

Duke: I bet you $50 I can

Steph: Your on.

Duke, makes everything around him light up and uses a weird voice: In the next thirty minutes Green Lantern will flee the Watchtower in fear. Soon after Dick will be attacked by Tim.

Steph, snorts in obvious disbelief.

Steph: That was so fake-

Green Lantern runs out of the tower looking terrified.

Steph: No way.

Tim tackles Dick and they start fighting like three year old's on the floor.

Steph, handing Duke $50: Holy shit Magic Man.

Duke makes things light up and does the voice again: Oh my god.

Steph, looking excited: What?!

Duke: The- the sushi. The sushi you brought today, it's made from-

Duke pretends to choke back a sob.

Duke: It's made from the fish who was the maid of honor at Aquaman's wedding.

Steph: HOLY SHIT.

------

Steph and Aquaman sit beside each other for lunch, she pulls out her sushi and looks at Aquaman sadly.

Steph: I am so, so sorry for your loss. But just know that her sacrifice is not in vain.

Aquaman, looks confused for a second then sees the sushi: NOPE. Not this again! I'm leaving.

Steph: Wait! I'm sorry!

Aquaman leaves as Steph tries to chase him down.

------

Jason is laughing and filming as Dick and Tim fight.

Duke, whistles: Man, imagine if that video went on YouTube.

Jason, looking confused: What?

Duke: I'm just saying if the video of Red Robin and Nightwing fighting like kids ever got on YouTube, it'd go viral. Oh and they would be so pissed!

Jason, laughs: Too bad B would kill me if I uploaded this.

Duke: Yeah, I guess so. And you can't upload it here because then Superman would get in trouble.

Jason: Why would the boy scout get in trouble?

Duke: Cause he always uses his YouTube account on the Justice League computer. So it'd look like he uploaded it and B would find out that Superman watches cat videos while he's on monitor duty.

Jason, smirking: Huh, so you're saying if I upload this on the League computer I'd piss off Bruce, Tim, and Dick and get Supes in trouble?

Duke, acting innocent: Huh, I guess so.

-> A Few Minutes Later <-

A call from Bruce comes up on the main computer.

Superman: Hey Batman, what can I do for you?

Bruce: You, Red Hood, cave now.

Jason: What? Why me?

Bruce: Because I saw that little home video you uploaded of your brothers.

Jason: What, that wasn't me!

Bruce: I could hear you laughing while you filmed.

Jason: Dammit.

Jason and Clark leave for the cave pouting like kids.

------

Duke: Hey, Black Canary?

Black Canary: Yes Duke?

Duke: I'm sorry to do this on such short notice, but I'm very worried about Dick and Tim.

Black Canary: Why?

Duke: Well, Tim keeps claiming that Dick is out to get him. Something about Dick messing with his coffee? And Dick feels like he's just being attacked for no reason and is worried about Tim's health. Is there anyway you could intervene?

Black Canary, looking sighing and looking exhausted: Usually I have three days of preparation before dealing with bats.

Duke: I know it's just-

Duke gestures to Tim and Dick rolling on the floor fighting.

Duke: They really need help.

Black Canary: Alright, I'll see what I can do.

Black Canary attempts to intervene only to get pulled into the fight. Now the three of them are tangled in a huge, confusing fight, that's filled with yelling and hair pulling.

------

Duke: Damian! Quick!

Damian: What is it Thomas.

Duke: I think somethings wrong with Dick and Tim and maybe even Black Canary. They're all fighting and won't stop! Can you help me contain them so that we can figure out what's going on?

Damian: Fine. I shall help.

Duke: Ok, just try to herd them into this containment cell.

Damian joins the fight managing to get everyone, including himself, into the containment cell. As Damian is trying to leave Duke closes the cell. Damian angrily yells and bangs on the sound proof walls.

Duke: What? Sorry, can't hear you! My hand slipped!

------

Wonder Woman: Very well done Signal.

Duke, acting innocent: Hm?

Wonder Woman: You tricked Red Robin into scaring Green Lantern away, then into fighting Nightwing. Once that fight broke out you tricked Red Hood into uploading a video to the internet using the Superman's credentials. By uploading that video he caused both himself and Superman to face Batman's wrath. You also used the fight to trick Stephanie into annoying Aquaman to the point of leaving. Then you involved Black Canary in the fight, which was her downfall. And, as a final touch, you managed to get Robin into the fight and trapped all in a containment cell. You successfully eliminated 9 foes with one trick.

Duke: You mean 11.

Wonder Woman: What?

Duke: 11. You see, I didn't trick Red Robin, I tricked Nightwing. I had a week to prepare. In that week I convinced Dick that Tim needed to cut back on the caffeine and that Dick should help by switching all of Tim's coffee with decaf. I also convinced him to hide that coffee in the watchtower, in Green Lantern's room. So that was all true.

Wonder Woman: But, that still does not make 11?

Duke: It does. Because This morning I moved the coffee. I replaced the Flashes decaf with Tim's ultra caffeinated coffee. You see Tim has it specially manufactured to increase the caffeine levels. And, while Flash doesn't usually drink his coffee in the morning, he's always running late and forgets, he does drink coffee during training breaks. Which is now. So in about five minutes we will have an incredibly caffeinated speedster in the Watchtower. And since you're the only one around right now with a chance of catching him, that's your problem.

Right as Duke finishes Flash runs by, majorly hyped up on caffeine.

Duke: Checkmate.

------

Martian Manhunter: It appears that I am the last remaining League member.

Duke: Yeah, I don't really understand this tradition but apparently every Robin ends it by picking a favorite league member.

Martian Manhunter: Out of all the League members, why have you chosen me?

Duke: Your smart and have a lot of cool powers. Also, I dunno, I hear you sometimes feel like an outsider with the league. Cause, the whole martian thing. And I know it's not the same but, sometimes I feel like an outsider with the bats, being the only meta and all.

Martian Manhunter: You have chosen me so that we may bond over our lack of connections?

Duke: Uhhhh, yeah?

Martian Manhunter: Hm. Very well, I assume that this is your “Robin Weakness”. Apparently every Robin has one.

---------------------------------------------------

<- Previous |

[luimagines]

Maybe you caring for the chain? Like doing small things like helping tend to their wounds or brushing their hair. Love the blog btw!

Masterlist

A little TLC?

A little Fluff?

That's my JAM! You got it hun!

It's gonna be in bullet point list because I can.

Content under the cut!

Time

Can you imagine this guy?

It's late at night and you wake up unexpectantly.

It was supposed to be your shift but it's way past that

It's even past the shift after yours

Time is still by the fire pit

Awake

You get up

You walk over to him

Place a hand on his shoulder

He looks up at you, tired as hell

He knows he's been caught.

"It's past your bed time Old Man"

"I just wanted to give everyone a little break."

And like?!

You push him aside gently and he lets you sit next to him.

You pull him towards you and you place his head on your lap

"What am I going to do with you?"

"It's not your job to take care of me."

"Someone has to. Malon will have our heads if you come back home any less than how you left."

You start running your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes in bliss.

It's quiet and neither of you say anything.

Time quickly falls asleep from your touch and you stay up to take your watch.

You take the next watch after as well.

Soon enough the sun rises.

And you let Time sleep in.

Twilight

What about Twilight?

Twilight was mid battle, fighting multiple bokoblins at once.

At some point he had lost his sword.

This boy hunkers down and starts swinging.

It's a one on five boxing match.

Twilight, to say the least, is not unharmed by the end of it.

You notice that he's not stable on his feet and has a few bloodied patches on his clothes, not to mention the (hopefully) small cut on his forehead.

It's more blood than you'd like to see.

You're quick to help and let him lean into your side.

You bring to the side of the fire, quickly taking out your personal med pack and begin to clean his face.

He's not seeing straight so he starts to speak nonsense.

"Twilight honey, please, don't." You try not to laugh.

"Have you seen them though?"

He's talking about you.

"They're so amazing. Did you know that? They're so cool. They know so much about history and animals and plants."

"Twilight please, I can't reach the cut. I need to disinfect it."

"And animals and Epona and Epona likes them so much. I want to show them my home and my family. Colin would love them. And I think they and Illia would be best friends."

You're blushing but it's soft and you're smiling because Twilight is smiling and he looks so happy at the thought.

You wave away Hyrule when he comes to check on The Rancher, letting him know that you've got it covered.

It's sweet.

Wild

His is a little more obvious

"Wild, what on earth?"

He comes back from an afternoon adventure.

He's absolutely filthy.

There's at least three sticks in his hair.

At least those are the ones that you can count because they're sticking out.

Multiple leaves.

You think you see something move.

"What?"

He doesn't care.

You sigh and stalk up to him.

You grab his arm.

"You're my prisoner now"

Wild tries to fight you but you're determined.

You sit him and take out a brush, taking his pony tail down.

It's a long battle.

But after at least thirty minutes of fighting the branches and leaves and what might have been a tiny mouse like creature.

The mouse thingy just ran away.

You're trying to be as gentle as you can but Wild has a hard time sitting still.

Some leaves leave easier than others and there were actually seven separate branches in his hair that you take out one by one.

But when you get past the battle and clear the foliage, Wild relaxes.

Soon you're only brushing his hair.

He needs to wash it.

But you're not anywhere near any body of water so it'll have to wait.

Wild hums every time you pass the brush pleasantly through his hair.

Within moments his hair is soft and tangle free.

You look around him to look at his face.

He's calm and blissful.

You smile and go back to brushing his hair.

It's a calm afternoon from then on out.

Warrior

Warrior isn't one to accept TLC in public but-

It's after a battle.

And you look over to Warrior who's taking off his armor at a painstakingly slow pace.

It takes him a while.

He grimaces in pain and begins to rub his neck and shoulder.

You bit your lip and sigh.

You make your way over to him.

"Need a hand, soldier boy?"

"What?"

He's confused.

"If you got pain, I can help with that."

You don't want to make it a big deal or weird.

"How?"

"I want your permission first. I'd have to touch you."

"Sure. Why not? Do it."

You nod and get behind him.

Soon enough you start kneading his shoulders and lower neck.

He grunts at the pressure you put on it but otherwise lets you continue.

He's stiff as a brick.

So you're there for a while.

But when you get tired or when he's better off than how you started (whichever comes first) you let him go.

He rubs absentmindedly where your hands just were and smiles in relief.

"Thanks."

You grin.

"Any time."

Sky

Now Sky is a bit different

He's not shy about TLC

He's frequently the one to take care of the others

You however notice something off one day

His hand was always in a fist and you pulled him aside.

"You ok? What happened?"

Sky sighs, and opens up his palm

A large cut down the middle

It cut through his leather and gloves and was bleeding through the cloth Sky was holding.

You gasp and begin to help him out then and there.

"How did this happen?"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"It's your hand!" You take off the gloves as gently as you can and bring out your med pack. "You kind of need that."

You sit him down and clean it off.

He's quiet as you work, watching you tend to his wound.

He flinches slightly at the disinfectant and hisses.

You begin to wrap his hand with a clean bandage.

You're meticulous in wrapping it up completely.

It's slow and you're losing progress in travel time but neither of you care.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to. You can't stop me."

"I'm pretty I could if I did."

"Yeah, probably."

More silence.

You take moment to study your work and gently turn his hand over.

You give it back to him.

"How did you even manage that? You're usually so much better at this."

"It's... embarrassing..."

"Do I even want to know?"

"...No... Thank you... For helping."

"Of course."

Legend

"Legend, sweetheart, what are you doing?"

He's the kind to avoid public soft and gentle actions

Even if he's the kind to desperately want them

He'll push people away and fail to satisfy himself by yearning from a distance.

One day, you have enough.

He's trying to sit next to you and he's fidgeting, internally fighting himself over something but it's too close to you to not notice.

You sigh and pull him close to you, wrapping both of your arms around him even as he tries to fight you off.

He's trying to struggle out of it but you just snuggle into his shoulder.

He doesn't fight you for long.

Legend borderline melts into your embrace and he hugs your arm in return.

"You've got a weird sense of pride, you know that?"

You start to run your hands through his hair.

Legend scoffs

"You're the one being weird."

"Mh-hm."

"You are."

"Just say you want a hug."

"....No."

"Well I guess I have to hug you more often then."

"........No."

"Yes."

"Ok."

Hyrule

Now, you're pretty sure that The Traveler's love language is touch, so he's not shy about keeping his hands to himself.

There's always a hand on your shoulder, a comfortable hug when your sad, gentle fingers to wipe away your tears and he's doesn't mind when one (or three) members fall asleep on him.

"Oh my- Hyrule" You drop your defensive stance from being startled and stare at him.

He's bleeding from at least three different areas.

"Hyrule, sugar, sit down!" You rush over to him and help him get into a sturdy position.

You're quick to pull out a potion and help him drink it.

His hand makes its way onto your shoulder as he settles himself down.

You push his hair out of his face with frantic but gentle fingers.

"Hellllllloooo." Hyrule attempts to smile but his head swoops to the side, too heavy for him to keep it up.

"Oh, what happened?" You push up his sleeve and begin to treat the nasty scrape on his forearm.

You know the potion will eventually take care of the injuries

But you're impatient.

"I... Got caught up in a cave."

"Why did you go alone?" You stress as you begin to clean the blood off.

"...Couldn't find Wild."

"Oh my goodness, take me with you next time." You nearly shake him. "Don't go alone."

Hyrule nods and sighs in relief, as the potion begin to effect.

"That sounds like fun."

"Can you not get hurt, for just like... five minutes..."

"I can't make that promise."

"Promise me, you'll at least tell someone that you'll be going somewhere."

"I can do that."

Wind

Wind is down for anything.

He's not afraid of any sort of TLC.

You're sitting next to each other one day for dinner

You both eat until you're full and lean up against each other.

The warmth of the fire heats both of you like a comfortable blanket.

Wind leans up against you and sighs.

You smile and wrap one of your arms around him.

Wind then snuggles closer and hums happily.

You set your plate aside and begin running your fingers through his hair.

Within moments Wind starts to fall asleep against you and he lets himself fall even more against you.

"Sleep hon, I got you."

" 'mkay." Wind adjusts himself one more time and lets his breath even out.

You let him sleep against you for a while until you also decided to hit the hay.

One of the others sets up his bed roll and you pick up Wind.

You begin to make your way over and set him down but your resident pirate holds onto your arm

"-Don't." Wind whines.

You hide your snickers and try to get him to let you go.

He doesn't.

Welp...

You bite the bullet and ask Hyrule to bring over your own bed roll.

With the help of some of the other boys, you get it set up as close as you can get it.

Adjusting your grip, you lay on your side and pull Wind close.

It's bedtime.

So you fall asleep next to him.

Four

Four is actually little more like Legend in terms of initiating contact than he cares to admit.

He's not going to push anyone away if they come to him.

Even if he wants something as simple as a hug, he won't be the one to go and hug someone.

Someone will have to hug him.

But this boy yearns.

And he's bad at hiding it.

You take it upon yourself when he's being a little off to talk to him

Brush his hair

Hold his hand

Hold him close with your arm over his shoulders, a side hug when your both walking.

He lets you.

He leans in closer and tilts his head in your direction.

A silent request for pats.

If you've been playing with his hair for long enough, he'll let you braid it.

You take the time to keep it out of his eyes and occasionally put flowers in it when there's more down time.

Four won't say it but it's one of his favorite times

He wears his flower braids with pride

It's not something that he would do for himself but he wouldn't change it for the world.

It makes him feel special.

[kuroopaisen]

brat || gojou satoru

➵ gojou wants you to pay attention to him. and no, he doesn’t care about how annoying he’s being. 

wc: 2k

warnings: gn!reader, gojou is Annoying, mild spoilers i guess? 

a/n: hi welcome to my gojou brainrot i would like to escape and yet i cannot,,, will i deliver more mindless fanfic? who knows! 

You sigh, turning the page of your book with an exhausted kind of resignation. Had you even comprehended what’s in the last paragraph? Or had you just let your eyes gloss over it, admiring the shape of the letters without actually taking any of them in?

Reading a book isn’t so difficult under normal circumstances; sure, you’ve got your own concentration to wrestle with, but that’s an (occasionally) tameable beast.

The man sprawled on the couch next to you, however, is not.

“Are you done yet?” Gojou hums, sticking his legs straight up in the air.

“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up,” you mumble, starting from the top of the page for what feels like the thirty-second time in the past five minutes.

Gojou’s not handling the boredom well. He’s spent the past five minutes cycling between humming Danse Macabre in an octave too high to be comfortable while swinging his legs in circles and poking your cheek as he crouches next to you on his knees.

“You’re the one who said I could come over,” he chirps, completely unfazed by your words.

“I never said that,” you mumble.

It’s not a lie. Earlier today, Gojou’d asked if you were going out tonight. You’d said no. He’d decided to take that as permission to crash at your place.

Although the onus is at least a little on you; he has a habit of doing things like this. You’ve got to be one step ahead of him if you want to win against him on a petty debate like that.

A head of white hair wriggles its way onto your lap.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” he hums.

That much is obvious. But you know it’s not that simple; he’s bored, yes, but more importantly, he wants your attention. Even your chest flutters at that.

“You’re a grown man,” you smile. “Entertain yourself.”

A well-worn coquettish smile plays on his lips. “I can’t tell if you’re being lewd or not.”

You slap his chest.

“Ow!” He gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you’d be so cruel to me!”

“Then stop being annoying.”

“I’d like to think I’m ‘charmingly playful’.”

“Do you take constructive criticism?” You tilt your head at him, biting back a smile.

“I would,” he muses, “if I weren’t already perfect.”

“That ego of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day,” you grin, flicking his forehead gently.

He lets you, grinning back. “Ah, but you see, my dear,” he hums, grabbing your hand before you draw it away and lacing your fingers with his. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, but you don’t mind.

“I’m simply stating the truth.”

“Well, the truth hurts,” you mutter, “so it’s no surprise no-one wants to hear you gassing yourself up.”

Gojou laughs. His hair tickles your inner thighs and you’re almost convinced to give in. But it wouldn’t be good form to feed his ego after chiding him for it.

You’re well-aware his ego’s already gotten him in trouble – many times, in fact. But Gojou seems to have a way of wheedling his way out of anything.

And, of course, you know that his ego doesn’t come from nowhere.

Doesn’t stop it from being annoying, though. The fact it’s at least partially well-founded makes it worse.

You take a deep breath, turning your attention back to this blasted book. Gojou will just have to wait.

“Why are you even reading that brick?” He muses, tapping the bottom of the book’s spine with one long finger. “You look bored out of your mind. And, you’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”

“You know,” you tilt your head to the side, a sour look on your face. “‘Adult stuff.’ Upskilling and all that.”

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “Career work.”

“Mhm,” you sigh. “And some of us can’t just learn on the job.”

Although, you ponder, the thought blurred with gentle melancholy, some of us aren’t constantly risking our lives.

Gojou always tells you not to worry; he’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, after all. But even that’s not enough to lull you into an uneasy sleep, to bring you warmth when your bed is cold.

You’re never truly at ease until you feel him slip into your bed in the early hours of the morning, his arms slinking around your waist and pulling you towards him. It’s like clockwork how he buries his head in your shoulder as every muscle in his body relaxes. He always thinks you’re asleep – and honestly, it’s easier to let him keep believing that.

What you’ve got isn’t exactly a ‘relationship’. At least, not in the most traditional sense of the word. Gojou’s never pretended to offer you that. But it’s not so simple as a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement.

Gojou Satoru doesn’t suit the domestic. But he relishes in it, the same way a child might enjoy playing at high tea with little plastic teacups and cupcakes made of playdough. Some might find this frustrating – the idea of existing in this grey, a dark, nebulous unknown stippled with moments of affection and vulnerability.

But there’s still comfort in it; a sense of understanding, a place to let loose and relax. Being part of this world is hard. It’s so cruel – sending children out to fight things they barely comprehend, letting them suffer and even die. And what do they have to show for it? A future of doing the same thing while also having to navigate just how shit the world of sorcerers truly is?

Why aren’t more of your colleagues angry about this? One counsellor isn’t enough to maintain the wellbeing of these children. Do the higher-ups even care? Well, you know the answer to that question – it’s enough to make you want to throttle each and every one of them—

“Hey.”

You clatter back to earth, met by a pair of electric blue eyes. It’s easy to forget just how striking they are; it’s like they can stare right into your very core, laying out secrets you never even knew you had.

“Hm?” You blink at him. You can’t risk him knowing you’re worried. He doesn’t stand for that sort of thing; he’ll just tease you for being concerned about him. Though, you’re well-aware that he enjoys being doted on.

“You’re spacing out,” he smiles. “Again.”

Sure, he sounds like he’s joking. But even he can’t disguise that little flash in his eyes, the slight tension in his face. It’s the same expression he has when he talks about that new student of his.

Gojou understands you better than you’d like. Every little tell, every tiny hint towards what you’re actually thinking. It’s near impossible to hide anything from him; it’s irritating, really.

But, at least he’s got the decency to leave the direction of the conversation in your hands.

You weigh it for a moment, deciding how exactly to respond. Should you play it off and throw his brattiness back in his face? Or should you pry open that conversation like the doors of an old temple?

Today’s not the day. Neither of you are ready for that.

You stick your tongue out at him. Perhaps it’s not how an adult should behave, but you don’t care. Neither does Gojou.

“I think,” he sighs, plucking the book out of your hands and tossing it across the room, “it’s time you took a break.”

You yelp a moment too late, watching your book slap against the wall and flop to the floor. It’s only a paperback – thank God – but you’re not ready to fix another dent in the wall caused by the force of mayhem known as Gojou Satoru.

“And I have been waiting long enough,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your neck and launching forward.

“Satoru—”

It’s too late. He’s got you pinned beneath him – and not in a sexy way. All six feet and three inches of him is laid flat on top of you, your face smothered by his chest.

You punch his side weakly.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he laughs.

“Fine,” you try to say. All you get is a mouthful of Gojou’s shirt. You slip your hands up said shirt and tickle his sides.

“Hey, hey, hey—” He splutters, grabbing at your wrists.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You smirk, continuing your assault.

Gojou whines, propping himself up by his palms and arching his back like a cat in an attempt to shake you off.

“Get back here,” you grin, lifting your torso in response.

His arms are immediately wrapped around you, pinning your own arms to your sides. You yelp in surprise, finding yourself laid gently against the couch with your face pressed against his neck.

“Much better,” Gojou chuckles, still on top of you as he nestles his head into your shoulder.

It’s not the most comfortable position, but that’s rarely a priority when it comes to Gojou. You wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t just his way of goading you into relocating to your bed for ease of cuddling (although you have your doubts that it’s the only thing on his mind).

“You want attention that bad, huh?” You chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

“Mhm,” he smirks, bringing his head up to get a proper look at you. “I’m a busy man, you know. I don’t think you’re appreciating my free time enough.”

“And yet, you never seem to leave my damn house,” you muse. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually have a job.”

Gojou laughs, leaning down and kissing you properly.

“That’s not an answer,” you say against his lips.

He ignores you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You sigh, conceding. His lips are so soft yet so persistent, somehow both desperate and playful. He’s aggravatingly good at this sort of thing – before Gojou, you didn’t really understand what it meant to be a ‘good kisser’. But of course, he manages to excel at this, too. And annoyingly enough, he’d been right to brag about it.  

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and moves another down to your waist. It’s a surprisingly chaste move for him, but you don’t mind. You tangle your own hands in his hair, resisting the urge to tug it. If you do that, you’ll officially lose any chance of getting more reading done tonight. Although your ability to focus on anything other than him is waning quickly.

When Gojou pulls back, he’s got that look in his eyes. The one that always makes your cheeks flush, makes your heart feel a little lighter. The one that almost makes you say something stupid.

Thank God you always have your wits about you.

“You get five minutes,” you sigh. “And then you’ve got to let me finish the chapter I’m on, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

Gojou’s grin blossoms with delight.

He slots himself beneath your chin and rests his cheek against your chest. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You smile, propping your chin on the top of his head and wrapping your arms around him.

Despite all his big talk, his irksome demeanour, even his obnoxious height, Gojou Satoru loves to be held.

You always oblige. He never asks – that’s too close to admitting weakness.

But you understand. He needs this. Sometimes he just wants to be tended to.

Being let in like this is an honour. He’s letting you be part of his life, despite his grand plans. Plans that, when he’d told you them, shifted your whole understanding of him.

Gojou represents change.

You have to have faith in him. You have to believe he’ll make good on his promises and turn the sorcerer world on its head. It’s no easy burden; and despite what he claims, even he falters in the face of something so monumental.

But despite all that, he’s still him. He hasn’t let the weight of his goals crush him; at least, not entirely. He finds the little joys, indulges in mundane delights, sees the humour in things.

Gojou Satoru wants to change the world, but he still lets himself be a part of it.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so easy to love him.

Even if he can’t offer the stability and promise of a stable relationship.

Even if he’s a little brat.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 2) - Baseball Caps & Stroller Naps

Summary: The reader gets into the swing of things around the Ackles household and starts having more one on one time with Jensen. He even offers to set her up with a friend of his. When he invites her to a family outing as a friend though, she gets another glimpse that he might not be as put together as he appears...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Daddy!Jensen

Word Count: 5,900ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Things are starting to happen! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

“Good morning,” you said the next day as Jensen walked into the kitchen covered in sweaty workout clothes.

“Morning,” he said, going to the fridge to grab a drink. “Get the kids to school okay?”

“Yup,” you said, Jensen sniffing the air and humming as he walked over to where a loaf of banana bread was cooling in the rack. “Ah, it’s still too hot. Wait another half hour.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It smells amazing by the way. I don’t think anything’s been baked in this house in six months.”

“I’ve always enjoyed it,” you said, Jensen taking a seat on top of the counter. He chugged down the cold bottle of water, some of it dripping down the corners of his mouth. “Enjoy sleeping in today?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I feel amazing.”

“You look rested for the first time since I’ve met you,” you said. “You should sleep in on the weekends more too. The kids don’t need to be up at dawn.”

“No, they don’t,” he said. “I do love sleep too. You do okay with getting the three of them going on your own today?”

“Yeah. JJ’s old enough to get herself dressed and make her bed and do a few things on her own. The twins are a balancing act but the trick is to give yourself double the amount of time you think you need and you’ll never be late.”

“Not a bad tip,” he said as you finished wiping off a glass and picked up a pad and pen. “Whatcha working on?”

“Ideas for crafts and that sort of thing. You guys have a lot of supplies already so I was thinking of some ideas to do this week,” you said.

“You know...you can stick them in front of a TV too. They have their shows they like. We aren’t big on tracking screen time,” he said. “As long as they play and do some kind of creative thing everyday they can watch TV for a few hours in a row if they want. Our parents didn’t worry about that shit when we were kids, you know?”

“No, they didn’t do that,” you said. He lifted up the bottom of his muscle tank and wiped off his face, your eyes going straight down to the pad so you wouldn’t risk staring. “Any work scheduled for today?”

“I gotta wash up, head to the brewery for a few to check on things. I have some voice acting work I’m doing right now so I go to a place downtown and record that. That’ll be my afternoon. I can handle making dinner tonight. I should be back around four thirty, maybe a hair after,” he said. 

“Alright,” you said. “Anything you need at the store today?”

“Nah, we got plenty here,” he said. He wiped off his face with his shirt again, using his collar this time. You handed him a dish towel and he smiled, rubbing it over his neck and head. “Sorry. I’m dripping aren’t I.”

“A little. Do you work out a lot?” you asked. 

“No more than the average person. Try to do thirty minutes in the morning most days of the week. It’s sort of been my only alone time lately,” he said.

“Are you a runner?”

“God no. I’m not built for that. I like boxing and HIIT, weights, that sort of stuff. Part of my job is to look a certain way so if I’m gonna be the tough guy…”

“You gotta look like a tough guy?” you asked. He smiled and you looked him up and down. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a strong guy, that’s pretty obvious. But you’re not a tough guy.”

“Oh I’m not?” he asked but there was a lightness to his voice.

“Tough guys tend to be assholes. You’re too nice for that,” you said. 

“I suppose you have a point,” he said, sliding off the counter. He stepped over to the banana bread and picked up the knife nearby, slicing off a piece for himself and popping it in his mouth. “Hot. Hot.”

“I told you so,” you said with a small laugh.

“Tastes delicious though,” he said with his mouth full. You shook your head as he ate another piece and turned to go upstairs.

“Jensen,” you said, pointing at the sweaty dish towel. 

“Ugh, yes mom,” he said, swiping it away with a smile. 

“Thank you,” you said, tapping on your notepad. You felt his presence beside you, not to mention the smell, and turned your head up, Jensen smiling back. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you due for a break?” he asked.

“You don’t really get how this nanny thing works yet, do you.”

“Yeah well...I’m not a shitty boss so I guess you’ll have to get used to that too. Take a break Y/N. Have some coffee on the balcony. It’s a sunny January day. Enjoy it,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he pointed at the back door before he headed upstairs. You bit your bottom lip and glanced at the clock. You had been going for over three hours non-stop and one of those had been spent trying to convince a four year old he had to wear pants to daycare.

You turned to leave the kitchen when you heard a tsk. You jumped and slipped on the rug in front of the sink, falling backwards straight down to the hardwood floor.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he said as he rushed over. “I’m always tripping over that thing.”

“I’m fine,” you said as you sat up with his help. Your ass hurt but you knew you’d be alright. “Maybe we move the rug from the very trippable area?”

He swallowed and stared at you for a long moment before you smiled.

“How about we put it outside your office?” you asked softly. He nodded and you picked up one end of the long strip of fabric. He went to the other end and picked it up, backing up as you walked it over to the other side of the house. You laid it out in front of his closed door, smiling as you straightened it up. “There we go. Safe and sound.”

You headed back to the kitchen, Jensen lingering behind you.

“I was...gonna say you can make...you can use my coffee machine,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Stuff is stuff. This isn’t a museum. It’s a home. It’s gonna change over time.”

“I know. It’s just that rug...it is so damn ugly and I hate it,” he said with a smile. “I wanted to get rid of it the day she brought it home.”

“Wives have a way of getting the last word in,” you said. He chuckled and you got out a mug for yourself. “Tell me to shove it if this is too personal but are you sure you want to get back out into the dating world? It’s rough out there.”

“It is. Until it isn’t,” he said.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you.”

“Guilty as charged.” He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed for a brief moment.

“Women like hopeless romantics,” you said. “Just don’t get taken advantage of for that. There’s some not so nice women out there too.”

“Afraid I’ll fall for some ditz?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think you’d do that. But someone might hurt you and you’ve been through enough. Maybe just...don’t fall in love at first sight or something like that,” you said. “Alright?”

“Never was much good at that,” he said to himself while you grabbed your coffee mug. “You believe in that sort of thing?”

“I’d like to. But you’re more of the expert on falling in love than I am,” you said.

“Maybe it’s not first sight but within a few days, a week, yeah I knew I was in love,” he said.

“Well if that happens again let me know and I’ll make sure this chick is good for you,” you said.

“I didn’t know my nanny came with bodyguard services,” he chuckled.

“That was under special skills on my resume,” you said as you headed over to the door to the balcony. “You should wash up. Don’t want to be late.”

“No I better not be,” he said. He turned to head upstairs, pausing on the first step. “You know, no one’s an expert at falling in love. Even those of us who were once married.”

“Oh don’t be a hopeless romantic for me getting my shit together too. We’ll be here for years,” you laughed. 

“Just sayin’...maybe we’ll both find somebody. Not that we need anyone to be happy but...you know what I mean,” he said. 

“Men don’t really talk about love like that you know.”

“I do,” he said. You smiled and he returned it. 

“That’s why all the good men get taken early, the ones that talk like that,” you said.

“I was older than you when I got married. Maybe I’ll get married again someday. We’re out there. I promise.”

“Go shower,” you said, waving him off. You slipped outside, closing the door behind you. You leaned over the railing with your mug and let out a sigh. “You have to a be a fucking hopeless romantic too don’t you. Fucking perfect at everything.”

You lowered your head and took a deep breath. 

“It’s a crush, it’s a crush,” you said, closing your eyes. “Just a crush. He’s your boss and a widow and he bought a birthday cake for me.”

You opened your eyes and glanced into the mug, taking another deep breath.

“He’s just nice. That’s it. Even if he’s…” you trailed off. You took a long sip of the hot liquid, not caring you were burning your tongue. Jensen was simply a nice person and that was that. You had a crush on the attractive single dad you were nannying for. There was nothing wrong with that and you knew for a fact it’d be gone by the end of the week tops.

“Ow,” you groaned a few days later. You opened your eyes and heard a knock at the door to your suite. “Yeah?”

“You okay in there? I thought I heard a crash,” said Jensen. 

“I’m fine,” you said, sitting up with a grunt, leaning back against your bed. “Shit.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again.

“No,” you said with a sigh. “The door’s open.”

You peaked through your open door down the hall, Jensen opening the one to the suite and offering a friendly smile. You nodded and he walked inside, frowning at your cut up knee. 

“I got blood on the rug,” you said. “Do we have bleach?”

“I thought we agreed earlier this week a rug is just a rug,” he said, squatting down and looking at your knee. He looked up and saw your overturned garbage can in your closet where you’d been trying to reorganize a few clothes. “Next time use the step stool in the garage?”

“Yeah,” you said, your face hot. “I’m fine really. Just want to clean up the blood before it sets in.”

“It’s a few drops,” he said, helping you stand with a wince. “You got any first aid stuff?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen crossing his arms. “No.”

“Come on,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders and walking you down the hall. “Scraped up knees are my specialty.”

“Jensen,” you said, stopping at the kitchenette island and bending your leg a few times. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He left and you hopped over to the couch, stretching your leg out. The bleeding had stopped, just a thin cut on your knee cap where you’d hit it, but you knew you were in for a nasty bruise. He returned with a bottle and cotton ball in one hand, a bandage and ice pack in the other. 

“Sorry,” you said, Jensen setting the items down on the coffee table.

“Why would you apologize for getting hurt?” he said.

“I should have my own first aid supplies,” you said. 

“Ah. So you’re as stubborn as I am when you’re not feeling great,” he said. You looked down at your lap and took a deep breath.

“Am I fired?” you asked. 

“No? Why the fuck would I fire you?” he said. 

“I don’t know,” you said, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Have you been fired for getting hurt before?” he asked, watching you hold the cotton ball against the open bottle top and tip it over, soaking the liquid in. You pretended to not hear him and put the bottle back, wiping the ball over the cut, a deep red mark already on your skin. “Y/N.”

“Yes, I have,” you said. You set the ball on the table and picked up the bandage, trying to angle it over your knee. He rolled his eyes and took it out of your hand, bending down and turning it around, pressing it gently over your skin. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” he said as he looked up at you.

“Do I look like I have an HR department I can go to? They were dicks anyways,” you said.

“If you’re ever hurt, big or small, just tell me,” he said. He rested the ice pack over your knee and you sat back, throwing it up on the couch for you to lay there. “Promise I won’t fire you for it.”

“Well if I can’t do my job I’m not much use to you,” you said.

“Are all wealthy people assholes that act like that?” he asked. You shook your head and smiled. “Good.”

“I’ve nannied for eight different families, nine counting yours. Some were very good people,” you said.

“But you were just the help to them, even the good ones,” he said.

“I am the help. That’s the whole point of me being there,” you said. 

“Do me a favor? Don’t assume just because you’re someone’s employee that they think of you as just the help,” he said, picking up the first aid supplies.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize for…” he said, muttering to himself as you looked down. “If I ever make you feel like that, smack me in the head, alright?”

“Alright,” you said quietly. He nodded and left with the items, returning a moment later with some cleaning spray, ducking into your room for only a moment before exiting.

“It’s all clean,” he said. He lingered at the door and put a hand on it. “Leave that ice pack on for fifteen minutes and pop it back in the freezer. Put it back on for a bit before bed.”

“Thanks,” you said. 

“It’s no problem,” he said. He still lingered and you took a deep breath.

“You should call someone, talk to them,” you said. He looked over his shoulder and you smiled. “You seem like you want to talk to somebody tonight is all.”

“I think I’m gonna go for a drive, maybe stop at a friend’s. The kids are all in bed,” he said. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah go take a second for yourself,” you said. “I got everything here.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jensen.”

One Week Later

“Y/N,” said Jensen as you washed your car in the driveway on a Saturday morning. You dropped the soapy sponge in the bucket and straightened yourself out. “Got plans today?”

“Uh, I was gonna run to the grocery store in a minute but other than that, no. Need me to watch the kids?”

“No. We were going out to lunch and then going to a little car show was all and we were wondering if you’d like to join us. Totally up to you. My treat.”

“You don’t want me to watch the kids?” you asked. He laughed and crossed his arms at you. “I’m confused.”

“Do you want to hang out with us today? For fun?” he asked.

“Oh,” you said. “That’s okay. You enjoy your time with the kids.”

“How do I make this clearer,” he said, walking over to you and looking down. “I want you to come with us, as a friend, to do something fun, like friends do. This is not work. Come if you want to.”

“You sure you want me to come?” you asked. He rolled his eyes and plopped his baseball cap on your head as he walked away.

“Yes. And wear sunscreen,” he said. “We’re leaving at eleven thirty.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you guys then.”

“There’s something about a burger that’s been cooked in a greasy pop up kitchen that just adds to the flavor,” you said as you took a bite of your cheese burger at the car show.

“It’s probably the grease,” he said, walking one hand on his burger, the other holding Arrow’s hand. She wiped her own little hand on his leg and he sighed as he looked down. “Arrow. I got napkins in my pocket.”

“Oh,” she said, wiping her face against him.

“No one mentions this part,” he chuckled. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulders once he was done with his food, humming as he pushed the stroller with a sleeping Zeppelin inside. 

“Dad, I gotta go to the bathroom,” said JJ. 

“I’ll take her and we can catch up with you guys?” you said. He mouthed a thank you to you as you headed over to the women’s room. You used the bathroom as well, finishing before her and waiting outside for her. “All set?”

“Yeah. Can we get fried dough?” she asked.

“Sure,” you said. You let her lead the way in line and got a plate for the two of you, taking a seat at a picnic table so she could dig in. “Taste yummy?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Dad likes fried dough a lot too.”

“Everybody does,” you said, taking a piece off the corner.

“Y/N, you don’t have a mom either right?” she said. “That’s what dad said.”

“Well that’s a funny question. I got a mom and so do you. They just aren’t around anymore is all,” you said. “What’s up?”

“I’m happy you stay with us I guess is all. I know you’re not mom and you work for dad but you kinda are and I like it when dad’s happy again,” she said.

“Me too. You doing okay, kiddo?” you asked. “It’s okay if you still miss your mom.”

“I do but I’m not sad anymore. Dad says when I get real old I can see her again so that’s cool,” she said, taking a big bite.

“It definitely is cool,” you said. “Maybe our mom’s are hanging out right now.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Maybe. I bet they get up to some fun stuff up there,” you said. 

“Me too,” she said. “Dad’s really happy you came with us. He’s been cranky lately.”

“Your dad’s gonna be just fine,” you said as she finished off her food. “So do you like having a nanny? I know that’s kinda new and funny, huh.”

“Yeah but I really like you being home. Dad gets flustered sometimes.”

“Flustered?” you asked with a little laugh.

“He works on a lot of stuff and he didn’t pick me up on time from school and stuff a few weeks ago. Too many chickens in a basket,” she said.

“Too many eggs in one basket,” you said.

“Isn’t an egg gonna be a chicken though?”

“I...never thought of it that way,” you said. You nearly jumped when you felt some hands on your shoulders but JJ was smiling as Arrow climbed up next to you.

“Ah. I see you ladies found the fried dough. Twins you want some?” asked Jensen.

“Yes please,” they said and he chuckled as he went off to buy some more.

“Look at her,” said Jensen twenty minutes later, pausing at a deep blue Impala, the twins both conked out in their stroller. 

“Isn’t that the same car you have?” you asked, lifting up the brim of your baseball cap to get a better look.

“Mine’s a 67. That’s a 63. I love that color though,” he said. “Blue’s my favorite but it looks good on that car.”

“I think it looks good in black,” you said, walking again when you saw JJ a few cars ahead of the two of you. “Where’d you get your car?”

“Work,” he said with a quick smile, hiding behind his sunglasses and hat. 

“Aren’t you an actor?” you asked.

“You have very obviously never seen an episode of my show,” he chuckled. “Which is totally cool by the way. I drove that car in the show for well over a decade. She’s one of my true loves.”

“Ah, gotcha,” you said. “So you’re a car guy.”

“Kinda. I don’t know everything but I enjoy them. What about you, you like-JJ! Stay closer,” he called out when she kept walking ahead. “So do you like cars?”

“I guess so. This is kinda neat, walking around and looking at the old ones. They had more style back then,” you said, walking past a pair of guys your age, one of them looking you up and down as you went by. “Did that guy-”

“Yup,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, throwing his arm over yours for a few moments. “Looks like he got the message.”

“Jensen,” you laughed. “I wasn’t offended. It’s not like he was gonna come up and ask for my number.”

“I don’t like the look of him,” he said.

“Neither did I,” you chuckled, Jensen dropping his arm from around you. “You’re that guy friend girls have that will do shit like pretend to be a boyfriend and all that stuff, aren’t you.”

“At your service,” he said with a mini curtesy. You giggled and he straightened up, JJ rushing over.

“Dad can I get an ice cream?” she asked.

“How about some apple slices,” he said, reaching under the stroller and grabbing a cooler. He pulled out a little baggie and handed it to her, JJ shrugging and walking ahead of the stroller again. “Shit, that probably means I can’t get ice cream now too.”

“We can always get some on the way home for later,” you said. “I won’t tell on you.”

“I’m putting this on your performance review,” he said. You shot him a side glance and he smirked. “I’m joking. I don’t want to do that as much as you don’t.”

“Thank you for that,” you said, stopping and looking at a red challenger for a moment.

“You like that one?” he asked.

“It’s nice,” you said before you started walking again. You fixed your hat and caught back up with him, Jensen slowing down as JJ took her time ahead of you. “So I should probably know this but what show were you in where you were driving around a muscle car?”

“You really haven’t looked me up online yet?” he chuckled. You shrugged and he laughed to himself.

“I may have peeked at your IMDB page but that was it. Was it that show you were on a long time? Super something?”

“Supernatural,” he said, a big smile on his face. “Yeah, I drove it for that.”

“Oh yeah, that was the really scary show, wasn’t it,” you said. 

“You’re too sweet,” he said, chuckling to himself. “It’s not that scary. I promise. Give it a try sometime. You might like it.”

“I’m sure someday I will. If I’m brave enough.”

“I think you are,” he said, JJ running up ahead again before he called for her to hang back. He sighed and threw his head back. “It never ends, does it?”

“I’m sure someday when she’s older you won’t have to worry so much.”

“I’m gonna worry about that kid when she’s forty years old,” he said.

“That’s cause you’re a good dad,” you said. 

“You haven’t known me that long,” he said.

“Do you love her? Worry about her?” you asked and he nodded. “Well any dad that does that and tells his kid that someday they’ll get to see their mom again to help her grieve when he well and truly doesn’t know the answer to that...you get the picture Ackles?”

“I could be better,” he said.

“Everyone could be better. They don’t need the best dad ever. They just need the best dad for them and you seem like you’re doing a good job of that from what I’ve seen so far,” you said. “You’re gonna screw up but so does everyone. Try to just enjoy it and not be too hard on yourself.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time with kids haven’t you,” he said.

“I’ve been in the mom role more than once as a nanny,” you said. You kicked at the dirt and shrugged. “It’s how I know the difference Jensen. You don’t need me or want me to be their mother. You just need help sometimes. That’s an important difference. Asking for help, especially when you don’t want it but need it, that’s a good dad move.”

He was quiet as he walked, stopping at a yellow mustang. He stared for a moment and swallowed. 

“Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot. Really.”

“Come on dad,” you said, walking away and up towards where JJ was. “Let’s go see if we can find one this one’s gonna be asking for on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Those three are finally down and out for the count,” said Jensen as he walked downstairs to catch you in the kitchen wiping up the pan from dinner. “Thanks for eating with us tonight.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said, putting the pan away. He looked out the back window and bit his bottom lip. “Everything alright?”

“You’re not like, hanging out with us cause you think you have to right?” he asked.

“Trust me. If I didn’t want to, I’d be down in my room,” you said. “Besides, I’ve thought about it and you know what, why don’t you set me up with that friend of yours.”

“Really?” he asked, a little alarmed.

“Why not? The age thing doesn’t bother me at all. Unless you think it’d be a problem for him?”

“No, he doesn’t really care about that sort of thing. I think he’d prefer it’s just someone he clicked with, had a connection, you know?” he said.

“Perfect. Why don’t you set us up for next Saturday night then?” you asked.

“I need you to watch the kids next Saturday night. I have-”

“The gala. Sorry, I forgot. Um, just, I’m free whenever. You know my schedule so you can set something up and just let me know?” you said. He smiled and nodded. As you were starting to leave he grunted. “Yeah?”

“I have some friends coming over for a drink in a bit. Small backyard fire. Whiskey and smores. You’re welcome to join.”

“Jensen. You’re not asking because you feel like you have to right?”

“No, not at all. I like hanging out with you. I’m sure whatever you’re binging on TV will be there if we bore you too much,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll be out in half an hour or so. Just wanted to freshen up from the show earlier,” you said. You ducked back to your room, taking a quick shower and changing into some leggings and a flannel. By the time you were out you could hear a slight mumbling and walked downstairs, catching Jensen with some guys on the patio pouring some drinks.

“Hey,” said Jensen when you stepped out of the slider door. “Guys this is Y/N.”

“Ah we get to meet the world’s best nanny,” said the tallest one. “I’m Jared.”

“Rich.”

“Rob.”

“Hi!” said a redhead that slipped out of the door behind you. “I’m Ruth.”

“Y/N. Your hair is kinda amazing by the way,” you said.

“This is what happens when you invite the girls,” said Rich.

“Normally we just talk about Jared’s hair,” chuckled Jensen. You grabbed a chair and helped gather up some snacks to bring over to his firepit, Ruth hanging back to help you.

“Jensen said you live here with him and the munchkins?”

“Yeah. He works so much it makes things easier on him. Are you an actress?” you asked.

“We all are. Only Jared lives close by. The rest of us haven’t been down here since…” she said and you nodded. “I really am happy you’re here. It’s nice to see a smile on our boys face again.”

“He’s a great boss. He’s very kind. We’re becoming friends,” you said. “He’s trying to set me up with his friend actually.”

“Oh which one?”

“Dunno. He just said he’s 42, an actor and is single. Age stuff doesn’t bother me.”

“Rob is a bit older than myself. It really doesn’t matter in the slightest, especially when you’re a little older,” she said. “Jensen says you’re great with the kids.”

“They’re pretty easy going. Normally the parents are the hard part of my job but he’s been great. He really loves his kids,” you said.

“Yes he certainly does,” she said.

By the end of the night you found yourself really enjoying Jensen’s friends. It was clear they cared for him at more than a surface level, especially Jared. You’d heard Jensen speak to him on the phone a few times and call him his brother but it really was apparent they had a special bond that went beyond a typical friendship.

“I’ll catch you guys for brunch before you head home,” said Jensen, waving night to them all as you helped pick up. You were just about finished and heading back for your room when Jensen caught you in the kitchen. “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. Your friends are great,” you said, a small pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. You both turned and saw Zeppelin there with tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Jensen as he walked over and squatted down.

“I had a bad dream and I want mommy but she’s gone,” he whined. Jensen instantly scooped him up and held onto him tight, kissing his head. “I want mommy.”

“I want mommy too, baby,” said Jensen quietly. You mouthed go and he nodded, taking Zeppelin upstairs while you finished cleaning up. 

You got up early the next morning and made a big batch of chocolate chip pancakes, plenty leftover for breakfast the next morning. Jensen padded over from the hall where you knew the home gym was, sweaty and tired but a smile came onto his face when he saw you.

“What’s all this,” he asked, getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Chocolate chip pancakes make everything better,” you said. He put a few on a plate for himself and sat down at the counter as you made up some more, stealing a few for yourself.

“These are delicious,” he said. You stored away some for when the kids got up, making up your own plate before you dug in. “Sorry about last night. I feel like I ruined the fun.”

“Not at all. He’s a toddler. I literally can’t imagine being in your position. I’d have fallen apart instantly,” you said.

“No you wouldn’t. You care about those kids,” he said. “You push on for them.”

“I know it’s not really my place to say so but-”

“Y/N. I’d prefer if you just talk to me like a friend, really,” he said.

“You made it sound like you were ready to try dating again. Last night you seemed kind of...maybe not so ready.”

“I’m ready. I will always miss her. I’ll always love her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love anyone else ever again like that too, you know? I don’t believe there is a limit on how much love a person can give,” he said.

“Your wife was a very lucky woman,” you said.

“I was lucky. She was patient with me,” he chuckled. “You guys would have gotten along really well.”

“Can I offer a bit of advice?” you asked.

“What’s that?”

“Keep telling your kids about her, all throughout their lives. They’ll still get to know her that way, you know?” you said. “Tell your future girlfriend too. That’s how you’ll know if they’re a good one for you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“You’re a kind soul. I would expect your partner would be as well,” you said.

“I hope so. Mine kinda has a permanent handle with care warning label on it,” he chuckled.

“I don’t think so. Just need somebody that understands, not try to fix you. There’s nothing wrong with you in the first place,” you said, taking a bite of your pancake.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he said.

“You’re not that much older, bucko,” you chuckled.

“Nah, I’m keeping kiddo,” he laughed. “You good to watch the kids for a few hours around eleven?”

“Sounds good. Go have a mimosa with your friends for me,” you said.

“Will do, Y/N. Will do.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[hyuukais]

Hey, Lifeguard!

Juyeon loves his job. It’s the entire reason he was introduced to the attractive resident surfer, Y/n. And as a beach lifeguard he’s got to know swim safely, right?

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Juyeon x Reader, lifeguard! juyeon, surfer! reader, slight fluff

Warnings: mentions of blood, drowning, and the ocean, juyeon kinda almost drowns

Author: My contribution to ficscafe au pairing event ! took far longer for me to finish than it should have 💀 also thank you so much @taecup-fics for beta reading this !!

It’s a useless morning for Juyeon already. The stretch of beach he's meant to watch was almost entirely empty, with most of the people he’d seen merely runners or bikers passing by. So, it seemed, the early breeze was left to the two or three surfers out in the waves. The vacant seas, probably perfect conditions to move however they wish. Riding any good wave they can get without having to worry about running into regular beach goers. He watches them from his lifeguard tower, one specific surfer catching his eye.

Y/n floats about thirty meters out from shore, waiting. After being out here for about 30 minutes, that’s all they’ve really done. Wade and duck under when a new wave comes. That’s just a part of their routine, as Juyeon’s come to know. Having met them three years ago when he first took up this summer job, the two quickly became somewhat acquainted. Y/n was a common face amongst the waves who became a lot more known to Juyeon after the first two or three times he’d had to run out to help them. Realizing both were attending the same school in September, a stronger friendship bloomed. The two would talk often on days the beach was calm or empty, such as this one. And by the time his first summer here came to end, Juyeon found his feelings slowly growing for the surfer.

As the water once again begins to recede, he notices a flash upon their face. A smile. Y/n paddles frantically, racing against the rushing current. The water pulls up. Suddenly, it’s breaking, just seconds behind their scramble. The crash sends the board forward and Y/n pushes up. Beamed against the early morning sun, they swerve and sway amongst the white. Juyeon had seen them ride before. Each time more enraptured than the next, watching their grace atop the water. He could always tell they knew exactly what they were doing, but this time it looks like a struggle. The wave moves much faster than anticipated, soon overtaking the board. He stands in alarm as Y/n’s forced beneath the surface; instinct kicks in and he prepares to run—but not before their head pops up. Despite the wipeout, they seemed more annoyed than anything, and swam to the abandoned board. The new waves pushed them towards shore.

Sand flies behind Y/n’s feet as they’re running to a towel piled with their stuff. It sat only a few feet away from Juyeon, and it gives him a better view of their mopped hair.

“You all good?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, a bit out of focus, I guess. Though, I think my leg got caught on a shell or coral of some sort.” They twisted their hips to display a gash running across their calf. Blood pooled from it, causing Juyeon to suck in a breath.

“Hold on,” he turned to rummage through his guard bag and pulled out an antiseptic wipe and bandage. The sand collapsed under his knee as Juyeon knelt down to their leg.

“Oh, how chivalrous of you, but at least take me on a date first.”

He laughs, beginning to apply the towelette and rid their skin of red. “I’m just doing my job. I bet you would like it if I did take you out though, wouldn’t you?”

“Who says no to free food?”

“Who said anything about food?”

“Well then, what kind of date are you thinking of?”

“Oh, a lot of things, but I guess you may never know.”

Y/n says nothing in return as he stands, their leg now plastered with a rainbow band-aid. Looking at them, he notices the flush of embarrassment fallen over them.

“There, all fixed up. Now be careful going back out. Don’t wanna use up all my nice band-aids.” They chuckle, making him smile before continuing. “But, I wanted to ask if I will be seeing you at the end-of-year beach thing this Friday?”

“What?”

“The boys, and I, I guess, are throwing this hybrid beach-frat party for the end of the year. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“Oh? Are you actually asking me on a date?” They jokingly bring up the topic from earlier, not respecting the response he gave

“Maybe. So, will I see you there?”

Y/n’s eyes visibly widen at the implication, “Oh, um, yeah. Sounds like a date!”

“Great! I shall see you on Friday then.”

Loud shouts echo in the dark. Students laugh and mingle, chattering amongst friend groups. A huge, sweltering bonfire rose from the sand. People danced and sang around it, some chasing each other dangerously close to the flames. There were even a select few wading in the sea. A party was in full swing and Juyeon was trapped in the middle. Strangers were crowded into his side, limiting his ability to move away from the mass of party-goers. He tried his best to squeeze around the crowd. Though he made sure to look around as he did so, eyes peeled for a glimpse of Y/n somewhere at this party. Finally, he made it out of the more packed area around the fire. With fewer people loitering around, he took the chance to sit. From a farther vantage point, there was still no sign of Y/n, yet he didn’t doubt that they’d arrive shortly. Instead, he opted to turn his attention towards the night. Far from the brightest streetlights, stars twinkled clear in the sky. Some remain dimmer under the illumination of the blaze, but are nonetheless visible. Waves fall in ambient noise cruelly contrasted with the pumping bass. Enough sounds clashing that Juyeon barely hears the shift of someone making their way to his side.

“Hey, lifeguard!” Y/n’s shoulder knocks against his as they plop on the beach, scaring him a little.

“Jesus, you scared me!”

“Haha, sorry. I saw you sitting alone so I came over.”

“Ah. Yeah, the crowd’s a bit much for me; The stars are really nice, though.”

“Mm,” they hum, looking upwards. Juyeon took the chance to take in their features. Light reflects against the color in their irises. It dances across the white and black, blending with the fire's orange tinge, like an entire galaxy held within just their sight. “The moon as well.”

“Mhm.” Red flares against his ears as they turn to face him. “So, um, do you wanna go for a swim?”

“Hm? I dunno, isn’t it a bit too dark for that?”

“Well, why don’t I go out and check and you can make sure nothing bad happens to me.” He winks, turning towards the shore and stripping himself of his shirt.

“Ha! Don’t die!”

Waves rack against Juyeon’s body. The current pulls stronger than usual, but he turns around to make his point.

“Y’know, it’s not too bad!” Though, he’s silenced as another wave smacks the back of his head, eliciting a laugh from Y/n. He continues on moving further and further out, eliciting a laugh from Y/n. They watch as he tries to continue moving out. It gets harder to see, the ocean mirroring the night’s pitch black and the tide significantly rougher. Regret settled in his chest, but he was unable to make the decision to turn back. A new wave rose ahead, smacking down ferociously. Juyeon was knocked under. Swept up in the rush, his head was unable to come back up. Ice ran atop his skin. Darkness completely prevailed in an attempt to shut out the burning salt. He felt trapped, jerked, rolling along with the rush of water, unable to fight. Everything happened so suddenly, nothing had kicked in to tell him to move. To push upwards. To strain for a breath as oxygen ran thin. Shock-stunned, his mind couldn’t register the tight grip squeeze around the stomach. As air hit his face, realization set in. Juyeon had been out quite far, yet now found himself tumbled into shallower tide, Y/n’s panicked face falling close above his. Their hands held tight upon his shoulders. Lips trembling inches from his cheek.

“Oh god, I,” They scrambled away, panic now presenting itself in their voice. “Are you okay? I, just, I saw you go under and you weren’t coming back up so I panicked and went out to try and help and oh god, are you hurt, did something cut you or-”

“No, no, no, no, I’m okay! I’m okay,” he latches on their flailing hands, trying to calm them, if only a little. From here, he began to take it in. Their drenched clothes, shaking hands, wide eyes. Finally, he sits up with them but does not let go of their hands.

“Are-are you sure?”

“Yes, and Y/n, thank you for trying to save me.”

“I mean, your job requires you too but, I know you’d do the same for me.”

“Eh…”

They smack his arm, laughing in unison.

“Oh shut up! Just know you owe me now.”

“Oh do I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then what exactly do I owe you?”

Y/n stands, sand and cloth clinging like a second skin. Their hands fall down to Juyeon’s in a silent offer to pull him up. “How about a date where you don’t almost drown? I mean, when you said something other than food, I definitely did not think you meant this.”

He grabs on, raising up, just as sandy, hands not leaving even when fully standing. “How about we start now? I do have some better ideas, I promise.”

“First,” Palms found purchase upon his cheeks, Y/n pushing up towards him. And in one swift motion, their lips landed atop his, moving softly almost cautious despite how headfirst they jumped into the position. Juyeon melted. His arms fell to their waist without much thought. Warmth spreading down, it filled each vein and hole, swelled in his heart and across his skin. As the kiss broke, their hands shakily pulled away, obviously just as flushed.

“So, uh, yeah, let’s get on to that date.”

[just-my-fandom]

Rocky Road P1 (JJ Maybank x Routeledge! Reader)

This is a test chapter. If it gets the attention I want it to, we’ll continue. If not, this will be the only chapter, mainly because of the time each chapter takes since each episode ranges between 40 to 50 minutes.

Chapter 1

Word count: 3,538

Summary; After a hurricane, John B, Y/N, JJ, Pope, and Kiara plunge headlong into danger and adventure when they find a mysterious sunken wreck.

Pairing(s); John B Routledge x Twin Sister! Reader, JJ Maybank x Girlfriend! Reader, Pope and Kiara x Best Friend! Reader

Tag list; Currently None.

“We’re the Pogues, and our misson this summer is to have a good time, all the time,”

“That’s what, a three-story fall to the deck?” The dark male at the bottom of the house, Pope Heyward, looks up at the brunette boy balancing on the roof before him, “I give you a one-in-three chance of survival,”

John B hums in thought, licking his finger before raising it to the sky, allowing the wind to hit said finger, “Should I do it?”

“Yeah,” A girl with (hair/color) locks and warm, (skin/tone) skin dangles her legs from the roof next to her twin brother, body leant up against the blonde male beside her, “You should definitely jump,”

“I’ll shoot you on the way down,” Pope promises, raising the staple gun in his hand so John B raised his eyebrows, pointing two fingers in a gun motion,

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towe warmers,” A female with dark hair and dark skin climbs out of the unfinished home, looking up at her group of friends, “This used to be a turtle habitat, but, who cares about the turtles, I guess?”

“I care about the turtles, Kiara,” You fake a small pout to your best friend, reaching a hand over the railing to grab her fingers and squeeze,

“Can you please not kill yourself?” Kiara looks up and squints at your brother,

“Don’t spill that beer!” JJ calls up, one arm draped at your shoulders as the other raises his can to his lips, “I’m not giving you another one,”

On cue, John B lets out a curse as the beer can slips from his fingers, dropping and clashing onto the porch of the unfinished home beneath him,

“Smooth,” Kiara mumbles, looking over at a distant shout,

“Hey, uh, security’s here,” Pope states, and you clap your hands, sliding beneath the railing to jump down next to Kiara, JJs hand tapping your back thigh in a motion for you to start running,

“Boys are early today,” John B hops down, feet taking off into a sprint,

Your lips pull into a grin as you follow after your twin brother, pushing past shelves and jumping over paint cans through the constructed house,

“Hey, Gary!” You call, skidding past the older, bigger man, “No hugs for you today!”

You giggle as JJs hands lift your hips to raise you above the gate, his body dropping next to you before his hand takes yours and squeezes, allowing you to hop into the van before he follows after you, laughing,

“Hey, there’s Gary!” Pope calls, JJ leaning out the vans door to hold out a beer can to Gary’s running figure,

“You’re so close! You can do it, there you go!” With a toss, JJ watches the can hit Gary upside the head, “They don’t pay you enough, bro,”

“Okay, that’s enough,” You snort, tugging JJ into the van so the door shut, JJs body dropping next to yours with an excited breath of rushed adrenaline.

“The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth. It’s the sort of place you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island,”

“Alright, this is Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So guess where we don’t live. And then this is the South Side, or the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living busing tables, natural habit of, drumroll please,”

“The Pogues,”

You lift up the hook to the HMS Pogue, turning to shield the sun from your eyes with your hand. Moving across the boat, you move into where the steering wheel took place, JJ looking at you past his sunglasses and sliding a hand to your bare back,

“That’s Y/N,” John B introduces, “My twin sister and my pain in the ass. Or, blue bird as our father used to call her. Y/N is our mom of the group, somehow keeps us stable and in check from getting arrested three or four times a day,”

“And that’s JJ. My best friend since the third grade. He’s about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best surfer I know. Just, don’t tell him I said that,”

You yelp as your body drops into the water, awaiting for the wave above you to settle before rising above the surface. You snort, JJ stepping off his board playfully so he landed beside you with a hard splash,

“Together they’re known as Outer Banks’ OTP, as Kiara puts it. Been together since seventh grade and still going strong. Of course even with JJ as my best friend, I still gotta hand his ass to himself sometimes,”

“Don’t even get me started on micro plastic,” Sitting at the bonfire, Kiara is quick to shove John B away from the choke hold he puts her in,

“And that’s Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. When she’s not saving turtles or getting a dolphin tattoo with Y/N, she hangs out with us. I’m not really sure why, though. Pope thinks she’s secretly madly in love with my sister and uses us to get to her, but, I can’t see Y/N leaving JJ for even Chris Hemsworth, and that’s saying something,”

“And that’s Pope, the brains of the operation, finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship, and the smartest person I know. His fathers this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you,”

“So, that’s my crew,”

“John, Y/N, it’s come to our attention that you both are unemancipated minors living on your own,” The social worker in front of you at her desk sighs,

“No,” You and John B instantly respond, sharing glances before you grimace, “No,”

“I need honesty to help you,” The woman responds, eyebrow raised, “That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” You nod, shrugging, “But we’re being honest,”

“Okay,” The woman leans back, “When was the last time either of you spoke to your uncle,”

You look at your wrist- with no watch- glancing at John B who shifts in his seat, “Uh, thirty-four minutes ago,”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

John B looks at you this time. “Two hours and,” You pause, “Fourty-three minutes ago?”

“Kids, we’re gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle,” The worker sighs, again, “If he’s not there, we’re gonna move forward with foster care,”

You exhale a sharp breath, hand running down your face.

“Keep an eye for Hurricane Agatha. She’s coming hard and heavy tonight,”

“No phone service?” John B groans as he raises to his feet, body heavy with sleep. His finger flicks the light switch. Nothing. “No power?”

John B exits his bedroom to depart to the living area. On the pull out couch, laid his sister and best friend. While you laid on your back, breaths even, JJ laid on his stomach, arm draped across your tank-top covered chest with his head beside yours,

“Yo, JJ,” John B calls, hand smacking JJs upper back so JJs head snapped up, his movement startling you to lift your own head, “You been outside?”

“I have polio, bro,” JJ mumbles, lips pressed to your shoulder, “I can’t walk,”

You heave a laugh, turning to curl into JJ so his arm slid around your hip and pulled you closer. You finally heave a breath, pulling away from JJ so he moaned in protest, your grin tired as you grab his hand and pull him up with you,

“Agatha did some work, huh?” JJ calls out to John B in the front yard, leaning against the open screen door with a found beer in his hand, and looking at the time, you choose not to scold him for his choice of drink as soon as he woke up,

“Yeah she did,” John B hums, tossing a branch off the boat that was brought out to shore.

“C’mon,” You call, pulling your tank top off so you were left in the bikini you fell asleep in, “Gods telling us to fish,”

“What do we have here?” You lift a hand to shield your eyes, watching Pope turn to look at you from his deck,

“We have a safety meeting,” John B calls, hand at his shoulder in a fake walkie-talkie, “Attendance mandatory,”

“Cant, Pops got me on lockdown,” Pope frowns, JJ scoffing,

“Your dads a pussy, over,”

“Oh I heard that, you little bastard,” Heyward snaps, and you raise your chin with a smile,

“We need your son,”

“And hurricane days a free day,” JJ reminds,

“Who the hell made that up?” Heyward questions, and you furrow your brows in pretend thought,

“Pentagon, I think,” You grin, “We have security clearance,”

“You think I’m stupid?” Heyward questions, stepping forward when Pope drops the hose in his hand and lunges off the porch, landing on the HMS boat with a stumble so your arm wrapped around his shoulders, laughing,

“When you get back, you gonna clean your dirty ass room!” Heyward demands, as you wave, “And I don’t like your friends!”

“Hello, princess,” You lean on the edge of the boat, smiling dreamily at Kiara as she moves to the edge of her boat deck. You extend a hand, helping her step down before turning to look at JJ,

“One day, she’s going to take you from me, I know it,” JJ pouts, and you smirk, leaning sideways so your lips pecked his,

“Nah, I like blondes more,” You grin against his mouth, JJs hand coming up to cup the back of your neck,

“Take your beer before I barf,” Kiara cuts, shoving two beer bottles between you so you leaned back and took one, narrowing your eyes,

“Okay, okay,” JJ stands up, popping the top to his bottle and moving to stand on the edge, “I got this,”

“No, you tried this six thousand times and you failed every time,” You remind, leaning back so the beer that missed his mouth flew past you, John B groaning in disgust.

You reach up to tug at JJs shorts in an attempt to pull him back down, the sudden jerk of the boat forcing JJ off the ledge, your body lurching forward so you hit the edge of the boat- hard- groaning at the pain in your muscles,

“Pope, what the hell?” John B calls, as you lift you head, watching JJ resurface from the water,

“J, you okay?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,”

Pope snorts, stepping up, face dropping as he looks down into the water, “Guys,”

“What?” You finally sit up, following your gaze so you cursed, “Holy shit, there’s a boat,”

“No way,” Kiara moves next to you, “Holy shit,” She repeats, “There is,”

John B tugs off his shirt, your legs leading you off the edge so you dropped into the water beside JJ, hand over your nose.

Sure as shit, a boat. An expensive one, that is. Rising for air, you watch your friends talk all at once in hysterics for your finding,

“Did you see that?” JJ calls to everyone, Kiara nodding with a short, “Yeah, I did,”

“That’s a Grady White,” JJ swims up to the HMS boat, heaving himself up before twisting and taking your hand, “A new one of those is like five hundred Gs, easy,”

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge,” John B states, as you twist the water out of your hair, “Maybe it hit the jetty or something,”

“You surfed the surge?” Kiara asks, roughly, and you squint your eyes with a grin

“You didn’t?”

“Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asks, heaving a breath of air from how long he held it underwater,

“No, but we’re about to find out,” John B picks up the anchor, saluting you before he jumps back off the boat, allowing the weight of the anchor to pull him down.

He comes back up in short time, hand raising to show you the yellow key in his hand, “I found this motel key,”

“A key,” Your smile drops into irritation, pushing away from the edge to sit down, the adrenaline quick to leave your system,

“Yes, a key, Y/N,” John B lifts himself up,

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard,” Kiara states, as the boat begins to speed off, “Maybe we’ll get a finders fee,”

“Yeah and not work all summer,” You hum, letting the wind blow dry your hair, “Maybe we should just go find out ourselves. Go to this motel, does it have a name?”

You reach out, taking the key from John B and reading the name before handing it back, “Let’s go lady and gents,”

A sharp whistle, and you look up at the damaged motel, “I thought the Chateau looked bad,” You raise to stand up, waiting for the boat to stop on the edge of the grass before hopping off, “Kie, Pope, keep a lookout,”

“Shouldn’t you stay here?” Kiara asks, eyes glancing to JJ jumping beside you,

“Are you kidding?” You grin, JJs arm sliding around your shoulders before he points up to the motel,

“Let me take you on a tour, sweetheart,” He teases, pulling you towards the steps with John B quick behind you,

“Just be so careful, John B,” JJ turns to grab John Bs jaw, mocking Kiaras demand to your twin brother,

“God, you’re so weird,” John B shoved him away, JJ scoffing as he looks at you,

“What was that about?” He asks your brother,

“I don’t know, maybe she wants us to be careful,” John B protests, and you roll your eyes,

“Or maybe Kiara loves you,” You tease, sliding your own arm around JJs torso as you walked in sync, “Come on, big brother, Kiara totally likes you,”

“If Kiara likes anyone it’s you, babe,” JJ states, “C’mon, we all know she’s secretly gay for you,”

“Maybe,” You hum, grinning as he removes his arm to send a light knock to the door on the key,

“Housekeeping,” He speaks in a high-pitch voice, receiving no answer,

John B unlocks the door, and you pear over JJs shoulder, body slumping in disappointment at the empty, boring hotel room,

“Check the bag,” John B orders, JJ unzipping it, “See if there’s a name on there somewhere,”

“Nope,” You lift the jacket on the stool, “No name,”

John B kneels down, your eyes watching as he pressed random buttons on the safe, “John, try this,” You hold out the sticky note with numbers, and he hums in thanks,

The safe opens with a short hiss, John B cheering out a small “yay” as he pulls it wide,

“Whoa,” You mutter, watching John B pull out a wad of cash and a small hand gun, “Holy shit,”

“What?” JJ steps up, instantly taking the gun and grinning,

“Put the gun back,” John B hisses, raising to his feet, “JJ, seriously!”

“This is a fucking spend gatt, man. Just... bam! Bam!” JJ pretends to shoot, your eyes snapping to the door upon hearing keys,

“Guys- cops!” You hiss, JJ looking at you before following John B to the window,

“Get it open,” John B presses, and the window opens wide, “Go,” You move out and onto the small roof under the window. JJ is quick to follow after, body pressing you against the side of the motel beside the window,

“Can they see us?” You whisper yell, JJs head barely shaking as he turns his head, silently staring at John B on the other side of the window,

A moments pause, JJs hand suddenly dropping the gun in his grip so it clattered off the roof and into the grass. Your jaw clenched as JJ presses himself harder against you, arms tight around your waist so you were nearly invisible to the window,

“You should have forgotten the stupid gun,” You hiss, lowly, JJ shushing you as his eyes flick between yours, then tilts his head to look at John B again. Your head leans forward into JJs chest, eyes watching in terror as Chief Shoupe peered out the window, then leaned away back into the motel room,

Your eyes flutter shut in relief, JJs hands loosening at your hips as your head leans back against the wall, looking back up to meet his gaze, “You’re an idiot,”

“Well that was fun,” JJ comments fifteen minutes later, your body laid across the front of the HMS Pogue, “Could have warned us sooner though,”

“We would have, except Pope was on the math team,” Kiara comments, showing Pope had failed to throw a rock at the window to alarm you,

“You were on the math team?” You glance at Pope, who rolls his eyes,

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene,” John B speaks up,

“Did you guys find anything?” Pope questions, JJ raising his head before his hands, showing off the gun and the wad of cash,

“Dude, why take that from a crime scene?” Kiara hisses, and your eyes squint as Pope begins to panic about losing his scholarship,

“So it turns out, Scooter is the Grady White owner,” Pope shows up at the Chateau an hour later, pacing in front of you curled in the corner chair, JJ in the recline beside you, “We need to have total and complete amnesia,”

“For once, Popes right,” JJ speaks up, hand leaving your thigh to stand up, “See, I agree with you sometimes, deny, deny, deny,”

“Guys, we can’t keep that money,” Kiara speaks, and you lift your head off your hand,

“I agree with Kiara,” You nod, “We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs,”

“I agree,” John B echoes, and you raise your eyebrows at your twin brother, “This dude has never had more than forty bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden he has a Grady White?” John B raises his hands, stepping into the house, “Just sayin’,”

Keggers. A party that brings Tourons, Pogues, and Kooks all together, somehow. They always seem to end with a fight, though. The one thing you looked forward to.

Except when it’s your own idiots who start the fight.

“Did I offer this to you?” JJ raises his eyebrows along with the red solo cup, blue eyes harsh on Topper, the Kook princess’ boyfriend, “Didn’t think so, run along,”

In swift motions, Topper has smacked the beer into JJs face, JJ has lunged at Topper, and within seconds, Topper is drowning John B in the ocean and JJ is shooting a gun into the air.

“That’s enough!” Your shout silences the group. Huh. Okay. “Kooks, onto your side, Pogues!” You jab a finger towards Pope pulling John B up, “Let’s fucking go,”

“Youre not still mad at me, are you?”

Your eyes shift over to the blonde next to you. Hair blowing in the wind, your mind runs over last night events. Today’s event- John B searching the Grady White using stolen scuba gear,

“You brought out a gun, at a party,” You remind, head tilted to look at him,

“Okay, I was saving your brothers ass, just so you know,” JJ leans back, and your eyes run over his face, wide,

“My brother wouldn’t have almost been drowned if you weren’t arguing with Topper,” You protest, voice snipping, “So don’t bring this around on him,”

“Guys,” Kiara cuts, your eyes narrowing in irritation as you look at her, “Someone’s following us,”

“There’s two of them,” Pope squints, staring at the two figures on the boat behind, “And one of thems got a gun- holy shit!”

JJ is quick to grab your arm and tug you into him, free hand grabbing the edge of the boat as you drop onto the floor of said boat, your eyes wide in alert,

“Holy shit guys!” Kiara panics, your eyes pinching shut as JJs hand slid up to your head, his own lifting to look over at the two men shooting constant bullets,

“Damn it, move,” Kiara steps over Pope, picking up the fishing next piled at your feet,

“Kiara, get down!” You squeak, eyes tearing as she threw the net, cutting the second boats engine so John B is able to steer away,

“Oh my god,” You panic, sitting up as JJ follows, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hip to check for any injuries,

“Okay okay okay. Can you please open the bag? We almost died over this shit,”

You kneel down in front of John B opening the bag, pulling out a container that held a compass,

“Great,” Pope steps back, shaking his head, “We found a compass,”

Your brows furrow as you take the compass, flicking it open so your eyes widened and looked up at John B,

“Dude, what?” JJ asks, “It’s not worth anything,”

“This was dads,” You exhale, throat suddenly tight as JJs face fell and his eyes searched your face, “This- this is dads compass, John B,”

John Bs eyes raise to yours, then up to the group behind you.

Could Big John still be alive?

[fatefulfaerie]

Enshrined

A happy August birthday to @livthefangorl !! I hope you like it!

When Link pulled back on the reins of his chocolate-brown horse, he already knew Zelda was asleep behind him, her chest rising and falling gently against his back, her arms loosely around his waist, and her breaths cooing alongside the crickets and cicadas that languished in the night time.

“Zelda,” he prompted, looking over his shoulder. “We’re here.”

He would have let her sleep if he hadn’t promised to wake her when they arrived.

“Zelda,” he repeated. Evidently he would need to do more than a verbal prompt.

Holding her drooped shoulders up with his arm, he slowly and carefully turned around on the horse, so that he sat on the saddle facing Zelda. Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he placed another on her cheek.

“Zelda.”

“Hm,” she sported a soft smile.

“We’re here, we made it.”

Emerald pierced through the fog, eyelids flitting like the wings of a hummingbird.

“So soon?”

Link’s smile was genuine and so were his nods, the former knight chuckling.

“You must have really been out because it definitely was not a quick trip.”

“Sorry you had to manage it alone,” Zelda said. “I didn’t think I would sleep that much.”

“You’re still catching up from holding the calamity for a hundred years.” Link said before pecking her lips. “And I wasn’t alone. You kept my heart warm, like you always do.”

Zelda blushed and averted her gaze. The sun beamed in the night.

At least, that’s how Link saw Zelda’s smile.

They held hands after climbing up the ruined and moss-covered bricks of stone, soon strolling through the forgotten temple and not even batting an eye at the decayed guardians.

After Link and Zelda defeated Calamity Ganon in the burnt grass of Hyrule field, none of the Guardians reactivated, none shone with the cursed magenta light that made Zelda hate the color pink. The decayed guardians were now truly decayed.

The peace that the resulting silence brought with that truth was the most romantic thing in the land.

Zelda hugged Link’s arm and their stroll slowed slightly, her head leaning on his shoulder.

“It must be hard to believe,” Zelda said. “This being the last shrine and all. You’ve done so many.”

Zelda could feel Link’s shrug.

“It’s all kind of a blur, scouring the land for the shrines, but...it does feel strange not having shrines out there I have yet to do.”     

“A good strange?” Zelda asked. Link smiled.

“Yeah,” he replied. “A good strange.”

The curling orange lights could be seen from a mile away. It was nothing new to either Zelda nor Link, as the latter had done a hundred and nineteen of these, thirty of which with his most beloved companion at his side.

He found that the ones he did with Zelda were the most enjoyable of all.

Zelda still had a giddy excitement when they neared the shrine, dislodging herself from the way she held Link and chasing the shrine as if it were going somewhere.

Of course it didn’t. It was planted firmly in the ancient stones of the forgotten temple, with the largest statue of the goddess Hylia they had ever seen gazing down upon them with a smile that anyone else would describe and lifelike and kind. Link had gotten in the habit of biting his tongue whenever someone talked about their strong faith in the goddess Hylia and how she was the most benevolent of all, no matter how much he wanted to say that their “benevolent” goddess let hundreds of people die before finding the time to award Princess Zelda with her long-deserved sealing power. Sometimes Link thought Zelda was the goddess Hylia, and sometimes he thought that goddess Hylia had abandoned them long ago, if she had even existed existed in the first place.

“Link?”

He hadn’t even realized he was staring up at the gargantuan statue, the way it loomed, the way it mocked their life of doom, still and always laughing.

Perhaps Link was being a bit harsh.

“Coming,” he said, dislodging the Sheikah Slate from the belt on his hip. Link and Zelda could afford to forget about the past, the goddess that betrayed them, the calamity that divided them, the kingdom that doubted them. They had each other in the here and now and nothing was more precious.

Link tapped the slate to the pedestal and, just like normal, the chime chimed and the blue light lighted, changing from a sunset glow to a cloud-free sky in the blink of an eye.

The shrine entrance opened, unfolded before them and soon, welcomed them in to descend into the last depth of untouched technology.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they emerged from the shrine, Zelda had a Great Flameblade strapped to her back and Link had the very last spirit orb in his soul. It was an agreement between them that they would switch off who gets what when it comes to opening chests. This time it was Zelda’s turn, but Link looked concerned, and it didn’t get past Zelda.

“You’re gonna set a forest on fire,” he said before Zelda could ask. She put her hands on her hips. 

“If I do, it would be accidental.” She said haughtily. “We both know that I’m not the one who commits arson on purpose.”

“It’s called collateral damage,” Link said. “Sometimes when you blow up a Bokoblin camp, things get a little heated. Besides, we put out the fire before it reached the stable. No one got hurt.”

“Will you be introducing me as ‘no one’ to other people now?”

“What?”

“Yes, this here is my girlfriend,” Zelda said mockingly, imitating Link’s voice poorly. She only deepened it a tad and her royal accent of a hundred years prior seemed unerasable. “She has pretty green eyes and short, blonde hair and her name is No One.”

“Where did you get hurt?”

“I burnt my arm.”

“You did not.”

“Yeah huh.” She rolled up her blue and white sleeve and pointed at her right forearm. “Right here.”

Link’s expression dulled.

“That’s a sunburn, Zelda,” he said dryly. But she knew that.

“Still a burn,” she said with a smirk, big pleading eyes asking for sympathy from Link. He tried to hold his smile, but it broke through in twitches. He finally chuckled as he bowed his head, looking back up with bright, blue eyes completely enamored with the woman in front of him.

Link took Zelda’s hand and brought her now exposed forearm to his lips, pressing a soft, prolonged kiss to the small of her wrist. Not once did he dare break eye contact.

“Better?” Link asked.

“Immensely,” Zelda said weakly. Two months since he rescued her from the calamity and small, unexpected romantic gestures like that still swept her off her feet.

But it wasn’t long before they walked around the shrine, finding the “gift” the last monk had talked about, it apparently taking the form of three different chests.

“I guess we take turns,” Link suggested. 

He walked forward to the right-most chest, soon pulling out a simple green tunic that would expose his shoulders if not worn with the dark tan undershirt that accompanied it, the sleeves of which stopping just below the elbows.

Link didn’t even notice that Zelda was opening the left-most chest as he tried his new tunic on for size, only focusing on the fit that turned out to be oddly perfect.

“Link,” Zelda said.

He turned his head as he picked up the blue champions tunic he had tossed to the floor.

Zelda kept her silence as she ran her thumb up and a down a piece of green cloth, her gaze downward and contemplative.

“This is no ordinary treasure,” she said, almost to herself.

“What do you mean?” Link said with a couple steps forward.

“The past heroes,” she started. “The illustrations in the books...they used to dress like this. The green tunic, the pointed cap...”

She paused for a moment before looking over, offering the cloth to Link.

“All of this is meant for you,” she continued. “I...I don’t know how...I mean we’ve both voiced our doubts in the goddess but maybe...”

Zelda was surprised when Link shook his head.

“Then I can’t accept it,” he said. “I can’t accept such a superficial gift from her when she refused for so long to give you what you deserved. It’s not right.”

Zelda pursed her lips and nodded slowly, lowering the arm that offered the pointed cap. 

Link watched in silence as she went to the last chest. She let out a soft chuckle, picking up brown shorts.

“As much as I want to see your legs in these, I understand,” she said, folding the cap and the shorts together. “Perhaps these belong here, enshrined with the rest of the past.”

Link agreed by nodding silently, before changing back into the blue champions tunic that felt so much more comfortable, so much more settling, so much more right.

He took Zelda’s hand afterwards, ready to leave the legends behind them.

“Let’s go home.”

[thedistantdusk]

Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.