#guess who is now working on the next part?

[yuckyyuna]

ANNOYING

baby x f!huntrix reader

warnings : annoying baby, mentions of other huntrix & saja boys, flirty baby, not proofread

yuckyyuna : idk what this is ngl, but if yall want a pt2 then maybee, it's gonna be suggestive tho

"and the award for artist of the month goes to... huntrix!" the announcer’s voice echoed through the stadium as you and your members walked up to receive your flowers and trophy.

rumi stood center stage, holding the mic with both hands as she thanked the fans for their endless support.

you and mira exchanged a glance, then turned to glare at the saja boys who clapped politely from their seats.

they were ruining everything. the honmoon, what you had all worked so hard to build. and just when you were finally close to turning it golden... they showed up.

"i hate them. can’t wait to get rid of them," mira whispered, her eyes locked on abby and romance.

you nudged her shoulder gently, signaling her to stay calm, then turned back to the crowd with a practiced smile for the cameras.

all you needed was the right moment. a time when the fans weren’t watching.

as soon as the ceremony ended, you all slipped out of your seats and followed the boys before they had a chance to disappear.

you found them waiting in a narrow alley behind the venue.

"stop following us," abby muttered, hands buried in his pockets.

"don’t be so rude to the ladies," romance added with a smirk.

you held out your weapons, but the boys simply shook their heads and glanced up toward a blinking red light of a security camera.

"what would the world think if their favorite band was caught hurting the next rising stars?" jinu said, his head tilted slightly.

as rumi stepped forward, ready to attack, zoey quickly grabbed her shoulder, holding her back.

"not now," she whispered, her voice low as she frowned and shook her head. "this’ll only make things harder for us."

while the others argued, your eyes drifted to the saja boys. and then you saw him.

baby.

the one who irritated you more than anyone else.

his innocent act in front of the fans, the soft smile, the heart hands, the love for pastel colors. everything about him screamed fake, and yet everyone bought it. the fans adored him, ate up every moment like it was real.

it only made you want to get rid of them more.

he had his hands over his ears now, pretending to be scared under the watchful eye of a nearby security camera.

you glared at him, seething.

as if sensing it, he turned to meet your stare.

and for a second, the act dropped.

his expression shifted, eyes narrowing as a slow smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. he scanned you slowly, head to toe, like he already knew just how much he got under your skin.

your fists clenched.

you were this close to knocking that smug look off his face.

"let's go, y/n," zoey gently called, her voice snapping you out of it.

baby quickly dropped the smirk, returning to his perfect little persona like nothing ever happened.

only you had seen it.

mystery gave a lazy wave as the four of you turned to leave, the tension still thick in the air.

you glanced over your shoulder one last time, eyes locked on baby.

he was already looking away.

today, both groups were invited to play a few games together as part of a joint promotion. bobby had insisted the four of you go since the saja boys were stealing too many fans, and you can't fall now. not when you're all so close

you sat in the studio, the two groups lined up on opposite sides of the room. after a quick greeting, the saja boys did the same.

"today, we’ve got huntrix and the saja boys!" the mc announced, voice full of excitement. "they’ll be playing a round of ‘who handles the most spice!’ who do you think is going to win?"

fans screamed out their guesses, names echoing through the studio.

you waved toward the crowd and smiled as the cheers only got louder.

a staff member handed each of you a bottle of hot sauce. you glanced at the others.

"we are so not losing," mira said, gripping her bottle tightly.

rumi gave a firm nod, already unscrewing the cap.

"3... 2... 1!" zoey shouted, and the game began.

you all started drinking, the heat hitting instantly. one by one, members from both sides tapped out.

rumi’s ears turned a furious shade of red. abby passed out in his chair. mystery put his bottle down with and shook his head.

you kept going, chugging what you could, your face burning from the inside out.

baby, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed. sitting calmly, not even breaking a sweat.

"it's between baby saja and y/n from huntrix!" the mc announced, pointing dramatically at both of you.

you shut your eyes, determined not to lose. but after one final sip, your hand faltered. you had to put the bottle down.

your eyes opened just in time to see baby tip his bottle back and finish the last drop like it was water.

he set it down gently.

your jaw tightened.

baby waved sweetly at the fans, flashing that signature smile. then, with a casual shrug, he winked and the fans went wild.

you forced a thin, polite smile, doing your best to keep your composure.

he sat comfortably, legs spread, soaking in the attention. then he glanced your way, smiling again.

another wink.

your eye twitched in annoyance.

the games finally came to an end, and fans slowly began filing out of the studio, their cheers fading into background noise. rumi, mira, and zoey were gathered near the exit, deep in conversation with bobby.

you excused yourself quietly, saying you needed the bathroom.

your boots echoed softly against the studio floor as you walked backstage, weaving through clusters of staff moving equipment and wrapping up the shoot. you mumbled a few apologies as you slipped past them.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it...bright blue cotton candy hair.

baby.

he moved effortlessly through the crowd, murmuring 'polite' "excuse me"s before turning a corner and slipping into a room, closing the door behind him.

you paused.

where was he going alone?

curiosity tugged at you. maybe... just maybe this was your chance. to figure out what the saja boys were really planning. to understand how they were tearing apart everything you'd worked for, the honmoon.

you followed quietly, pushing the door open with a soft creak. stepping inside, you closed it gently behind you and flicked on the light.

the room glowed softly, sterile and quiet.

"following a demon into a room all alone? not the brightest idea, y/n."

his voice came from near the mirror. he stood there, fluffing his bright hair with a smug grin, eyes meeting yours through the reflection.

you immediately pulled for your weapon and pointed it at him, taking a step closer.

"drop the act," you said sharply. "why are you really here? and why the hell are you demons pretending to play nice?"

his gaze flickered briefly as the faint outline of glowing purple marks shimmered around his neck, then disappeared.

he turned to face you fully, giving your weapon a slow glance.

"how are we supposed to talk when you're already waving that toy in my face?" he said, crossing his arms casually.

you scoffed, tightening your grip. "toy?" you snapped, raising it higher.

you moved to strike but he vanished in a soft puff of pink smoke, only to reappear behind you.

you spun around instantly, ready for anything.

he held up both hands in mock surrender.

"okay, okay," he said, a lazy grin playing on his lips. "calm down. that could actually hurt."

you rolled your eyes, annoyed beyond belief.

he was infuriating.

and somehow, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

"put that away, then we can talk, huh?" he said, nodding toward your weapon before his eyes flicked back to yours.

you held your glare a moment longer, then slowly lowered your hand, though your grip didn’t loosen.

"i swear, if you try anything, i will—"

"i know, i know," he interrupted, casually waving you off. "i’ve seen you kill demons before."

he shrugged like it meant nothing and stepped closer.

"gwi-ma isn’t too happy about that, by the way," he added, tone almost teasing.

you scoffed under your breath.

"i couldn’t care less," you muttered, standing your ground as he moved in, now only a breath away.

he tilted his head slightly, studying you.

"mmm, i know," he said softly, his voice dropping just a little. his blue hair fell gently across his forehead, catching the light.

you felt his eyes scan your face, lingering.

"you waste a lot of energy glaring at me," he said with a small smirk.

your eyes narrowed immediately.

"not enough clearly," you said, your voice sharp.

his smirk only deepened.

"it’s cute," he said, voice low and amused. "mystery pointed it out, actually. how much you glare at me."

he tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction.

"nowadays, annoying you feels more satisfying than destroying the honmoon."

you didn’t say anything, but your eyes locked on the faint shimmer of purple marks flashing across his neck before they vanished again.

your grip around your weapon tightened but before you could lift it, he disappeared in another puff of soft pink smoke.

he sighed from behind you.

"you’re really ruining the moment by trying to kill me, you know?" he said, casually.

you didn’t bother turning around.

you could see him perfectly through the mirror in front of you, standing there behind you like this was just another conversation.

he stepped closer, eyes locked with yours through the reflection.

"this look you wear when you hate me..." he said, eyes trailing over your expression. "i gotta admit..." he shrugged, lips tugging into a crooked grin. "it’s attractive."

"and your innocent act is disgusting," you snapped, your tone sharp.

he smiled, unfazed.

"not to your fans."

he moved in even closer. you felt his fingers rest lightly on your waist, and yet you didn’t move.

you should have.

but you didn’t.

his reflection watched you carefully.

"thought i would’ve been stabbed by now," he said, raising an eyebrow.

you clenched your jaw, saying nothing.

"guess you don’t hate me as much as you say you do then."

you finally turned to face him.

his purple marks were now fully visible across his neck, and yet you didn’t flinch. he just tilted his head, watching you with that same unreadable expression.

"you tell anyone i was here," you said, your voice low and cold, "and i’ll kill you myself."

you raised your weapon, the blade resting just beneath his chin.

he didn’t move.

instead, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

"whatever you say, miss hunter."

[lovelynim]

On his nerves

Love and Deepspace - Sylus & Zayne

A/N: I really hope you like this, Mia ( @ticklygiggles ) :blushy:. I wanted to make something to make it up for missing your bday and for thanking you for all the time we spent together this past months, but it was really hard figuring something "new" out

So... maybe you favs fighting might do the trick? Heheh. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Summary: You leave Sylus and Zayne unattended to go buy some groceries... surely they would get along, right?

Word count: 1368 words

[Also on Ao3]

The door had barely closed and the smile on both men’s faces had already faded without a single trace left. There was no need to put up the act if you weren’t around, anyway.

Sylus sighed lazily, laying back into your couch and kicking his feet up. With one ankle crossed over the other and his legs resting on top of the armrest, Sylus closed his eyes behind his shade glasses - there was nothing else worth of his attention left in your place, anyway, so he might as well use this time to get some rest.

“Tsk, unbelievable,” Zayne muttered under his breath, but loud enough to let Sylus hear it from the small distance between them.

It wasn’t like he was happy about the company you left him with, but Sylus thought this one would have the decency to keep his mouth from running. “Anything wrong, doctor?”

How you managed to get them to meet each other was still a mystery - to you and to them as well. From growing up next to Zayne and Caleb, to working with Xavier and Rafayel and meeting Sylus during a mission… Some could say it was fate, but would fate really let you in such a tangled mess?

While they seemed to live each on their own world, you couldn’t help but grow close to them as time went by - especially to Sylus and Zayne, in this matter. Part of you wish they, too, would get along with each other. It would be much easier if they did, honestly. But, at the same time, another part of you couldn’t help but feel a little… happy to see how they would bicker and have little fights over you.

Now, since one shouldn’t really encourage violence or fights - and since neither Zayne nor Sylus had officially made their move - why not try to get along, you thought? And, then, against all the odds, here they were.

Akso Hospital’s most renowned doctor and Onychidus’ boss, both in your living room, waiting for you to come back from a trip to the nearby store to buy some snacks.

“I’m just contemplating,” Zayne snapped, trying to keep himself as the bigger person and not let his feelings get the best of him. “Trying to figure something out.”

“Oh? My mistake, then,” Sylus hummed with a chuckle, folding an arm behind his head while using his other hand to gesticulate, “I didn’t take you for the kind that speaks by yourself and thought it was related to me.”

Zayne felt like a vein in his temple would burst at any moment now. “Surprisingly, you’re not half-wrong this time,” he retorted, the passive-aggressiveness in his tone growing worse by the second, “it does concern you, to some degree.”

Sylus sighed out loud, highlighting his lack of interest for whatever was about to come his way. This was going to be a long afternoon, he thought. “Is that so?�� He groaned softly, his shades tilting to the tip of his nose as he looked over to Zayne’s direction, “and why?”

“I just can’t help but wonder what she sees in you,” Zayne smirked slightly, trying to mask his annoyance. “The more I think, the more I assume that, at this point, you could only impress me, Sylus.”

“Hah,” Sylus scoffed, coiling his long legs before turning around, sitting up as he faced Zayne with a defiant look, “I must occupy quite the space in that handsome head of yours. Flattering, I do say.”

Their eyes locked, the tension enough to stop time itself. If this wasn’t your place, if they weren’t waiting for you, who could guess how bad it would go?

“A difficult personality, to say the least, terrible history and don’t even let me get started with your field of ‘work’, Sylus,” Zayne shook his head, showing the full glory of his contempt. He wouldn’t let this side of him out anywhere near you, but Sylus? That was a different story. “You’re a menace, to her and to society, if you ask me.”

Still, the more words Zayne threw at him, the large Sylus’ grin seemed to grow. “What else, doctor? Are you going to say I don’t look good enough for her, too? I think I’m going to cry,” he chuckled.

Zayne knew it was no use to keep talking, that it wouldn’t do him any good to play Sylus’ games and that it could even backfire - but the thought of that guy hanging around you made him sick, feeling like his blood was boiling inside his body. “You-”

“Now, if you ask me,” Sylus started, looking at his hands, “maybe she looked for someone like me because you’re lacking.”

!!!

“You are always frowning and nagging at her, don’t you think she is ge-”

“Enough!” Zayne hissed, clenching his hand and swinging the back of his fist towards Sylus’ face.

“Careful there, doctor,” Sylus hummed, holding Zayne’s wrist as he blocked the hit, “you might get yourself another patient at this rate. You need to relax.”

“L-let go, you ruffian- agh!” Zayne groaned, unable to stop Sylus from pulling him off his seat and into the couch, next to him. Charging at someone who was, clearly, physically stronger and more experienced in fights was a mistake. “U-unhand me, you- aghahaha!”

“So you do know how to smile, huh?” Sylus teased, holding Zayne’s hand out of his way while tickling his now exposed side. His fingers pressed and tweaked at the doctor’s stomach and lower ribs, making annoyed giggles spill from Zayne’s lip one after the other. “You’d be much more charming if you smiled like this more often, for starts.”

That man was quickly becoming one of the worst things that happened in his life, Zayne’s thought. As much as he wanted to hiss and roar with annoyance, all he could do was flash Sylus a crooked smile, baring his gritted teeth. “S-shuhut it!! I dohon’t neeheed to hehear it frohohom you!”

“Do you have any other option right now?” Sylus mocked, letting out a quiet smile when Zayne’s back arched as soon as he moved his hand up to tickle his ribs, “might as well make the best of this situation and learn a thing or two, doctor.”

“S-StoHOhohop it, yohohou bahahastaha- AHAhah!”

“That wasn’t very nice, now, was it?” Sylus shook his head, clicking his lips as if he was reprimanding a child, “ask me nicely and I might stop before you embarrass yourself.”

Zayne felt his face burning, the bloodrush making his cheeks warm up quickly. He used his free hand to paw and swat at Sylus’, trying to stop it from tickling him, from climbing his body any higher. “A-as ihihif! I d-dohohon’t make deheheals with peheople lik- aHAHAha, l-lihike yohohou!”

“Suit yourself,” Sylus shrugged, making Zayne interrupt himself with his own laughter as he managed to sneak his fingers under the doctor’s arm, prodding at that sensitive spot. “Maybe this way I can teach you who is the boss around her-”

Click.

Despite the mess the two had themselves into, the sound of the door’s lock opening echoed through the living room loud and clear. Sylus and Zayne looked at each other, both suddenly squirming to push the other away.

“Sorry for the delay,” you hummed, holding the groceries’ bag in your other hand as you closed the door behind you, “the store was packed and my phone died on my wa…”

You stared at the scene, Sylus and Zayne sitting at each of the couch’s edges, their backs turned to one another. Zayne’s face was red and his hair disheveled while Sylus’ clothes were all wrinkled up. 

“What were you guys doing?” You asked, suspicious, slowly walking inside your home.

“Nothing,” Sylus hummed, looking at Zayne with the corner of his eyes while hiding his shit-eating grin behind his hand, “right, doctor?”

“...Yes,” Zayne huffed, furrowing his brows as he focused on ignoring that annoying, insufferable man, “nothing at all.”

“Sure,” you sighed, deciding that it would be better to not pry into it, even if you didn’t buy that half-assed explanation, “I will get the snacks ready and then we can start our movie, alright? Wait for me ~”

[noxemma]

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

--- Whew! I finished this part (finally 😅) Sorry it took so long. In addition to life stuff, I wasn't sure if I actually liked where it was going, but I've come to the (annoying) conclusion that I will never post again if I keep trying to beat it into submission lol. That being said, I know some of it is far-fetched/wonky but let's all collectively ignore that please 🫠 ---

Dean knows something is wrong when he hears the soft thump of the phone slipping out of Cas’ hands.

“Fuck, what is it?” He asks as he scrambled over the comforter so he can see Cas’ face.

“Jack,” Cas gasps, his eyes are wild and unfocused. “Jack said he’d see me soon.”

Dean pulls his phone out to call Sam, but the screen stays dark.

“Son of a bitch! Cas, hey. I forgot to charge my phone,” Dean spits out, fumbling for Cas’ cord and cursing himself again for choosing to leave his bag in the car.

“Hey while that charges, why don’t I try calling Sam off your phone? Hmm? Or do you want to try Jack?”

Cas just blinks at him, emotion leeched from his face in a way that scares Dean more than if he'd started having another panic attack.

He slides to the ground to scoop up Cas' phone, settling on his knees in front of Cas and holding it out for him. An odd combination of an offering and a proposal. "Passcode," Dean prompts when Cas doesn't take it. After several seconds he gives up and manually presses the shell-shocked man's finger to the sensor.

He opens the contacts and thumbs over to favorites, correctly assuming it will be the fastest way to get Jack's number.

Dean pauses for just a second to hit the contact as he sees his name listed there along with Jack and Gabriel's.

Not now, Dean. Focus on Jack. Cas needs you right now.

The phone rings and rings and goes to voicemail. Dean punches in Sam's number and hits call, but Sam doesn't pick up either.

"Fuck." Dean grabs for his phone, thankful that it's powered back on. He opens it and guilt slams him as missed messages from Sam pop up. He hits the first voicemail.

"Hey, Dean. Just checking in. I took Jack to that stupid diner you like and you'll never guess what he ordered. Yup, double bacon cheeseburger with the works, hold the onion, and a side of fries with vinegar and pie for dessert. I guess what I'm asking is are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me," Sam chuckles before continuing, "Anyway, we're headed to the library and ... dang it! I think I got something stuck to my shoe. I'm gonna check and call you back."

"Dammit!" Dean growls as he punches the next voicemail. "Hey Dean, sorry about that. Definitely stepped in something sticky. There's not much litter around here so it's weird that happened. What can I say though, it's a pretty funky town. We're ditching the library. Call me when you get this."

Dean hits the last message. "I don't care who you say you're working for, I'm not letting you take Jack anywhere. His father entrusted him to me for the weekend, so you want him, you're taking me t-"

Before Dean can properly panic at Sam's use of their old codewords, The Candy Man begins playing from Cas' phone.

Dean answers it when Cas makes no move to. "Gabe, it's Dean. Listen we just got a bunch of really weird messages from Jack and my brother. I think something-" "I know, Dean. That's why I was trying to get a hold of Cas. Is he there or-"

"He's here, but, uh, he's not doing so hot," Dean answers, "Wait, here, let me put you on speaker phone." Dean smacks the button with too much force and Gabe's voice rings out, scattering the silence like shadows from light.

"Cas, our parents apparently decided they needed to meet Jack and, I quote, assess his well-being, after brunch. I'm at the airport now, since I couldn't get a hold of you. I think I can convince their cronies to let me bring them to the hotel but-" "Bring them?" Cas asks slowly, as if he's having a hard time processing.

"Uh, yeah, them. Apparently, your brother, Dean, refused to leave Jack. Oh, wait, here they are. Give me a minute." Gabe goes silent and Dean guesses that he put them on mute while he negotiated with whoever he needed to. "Damn! That's got to hurt," Gabe says, though his voice is a bit muffled like he wasn't speaking to them but to someone else.

"Gabe, you have exactly three seconds to tell us what's going on!" Dean practically roars, the few minutes he and Cas had been sitting in absolute silence feeling eternally long and Gabe's chipper voice grating on Dean's already fried nerves. "Cool your jets, Dean-o, I was just admiring," Gabriel pauses and Dean can hear a murmur. "Sam's handiwork. Looks like he gave one of the guys quite the shiner." "Sam? Gabe let me-" "I'm here, Dean, and Jack's with me, Cas. We're okay," Sam cuts him off, reassuring and stopping Dean's spiral of worry before it can really get going. "What the fuck happened? Why are you coming here?" "A lawyer and some goons showed up while we were headed to the library. Threatened, and this is actually kind of funny now, to press charges for kidnapping if we didn't board a private jet and come to Las Vegas. Threatened to submit a petition for emergency custody if we didn't agree," Sam explains, voice a little more hushed as if he didn't want someone else, probably Jack, hearing.

"And the guy with the black eye?" Dean hears Gabriel ask, mischief in his voice. "Oh, uh," Sam sounds embarrassed now, "Whenever they cornered us, they tried to pull me away from Jack and, well, those self-defense defense classes you made us take kicked in, Dean, and I just kind of clocked the guy. I don't know who was more surprised that I actually landed a hit." Dean can hear Gabe laughing hysterically in the background. "He was like a superhero! And the plane ride was really cool, except they took my phone," Jack pipes up, clearly having gotten a hold of Gabe's phone. "It was really weird, and they were kind of mean, but I'm glad Sam was there. Am I really going to meet Grandma and Grandpa, Dad?" Cas doesn't answer, just stares at the phone between them. Dean nudges him with his elbow when the silence goes on a bit too long. Cas looks up at him but still doesn't speak. Dean's heart fractures a little at the pain and horror and failure that are so evident in his face, in the way his mouth hangs open, the way his eyes are wide, the way moisture pools and strains to free itself from the crease of his eyelid. "Better Sam was with you than me. I hate flying and I probably would have been clawing the seat to shreds," Dean fills the silence as he transfers the phone to his other hand and sits on the bed next to Cas, bringing him into a side hug of sorts, rubbing his free hand on his back. He hits mute for a moment. "Hey, he's okay. He's safe with Gabe and Sam. But he's probably more freaked out than he's letting on right now and he needs you to tell him that everything is okay, even if it isn't, even if you feel like nothing is ever going to be okay again. Just talk to him." His short speech is half pep talk and half plea. He knows what this scenario feels like from both sides, knows how many times he'd told the same lie to Sam when he'd been a kid. He knows how many times he'd wished their own father had lied to him instead of putting the burden of the truth on shoulders that hadn't been big enough yet to carry it.

Cas' trembling hand hits the button to turn mute off. "I suppose you are going to meet them, though I would have preferred a different way." Cas says, the first few words robotic and forced before they smooth. "I'm glad Sam was there too. I suppose I now owe you a favor, Sam." "I wouldn't say no to a cushy room in a Vegas hotel," Sam jokes, but Dean goes rigid.

Sam doesn't know that Gabe is the one footing the bill. "Sam! I thought I raised you better than that. I'm sure Cas meant like, an extension on a paper or something," Dean barks, suddenly and selfishly wishing that Cas was still a little out of it and not looking at him so intensely. Like a coward, Dean closes his eyes to escape the look. "Sam, I-" Dean hears Cas start before Gabe interrupts him. "Already done. I just booked a room one floor below you," Gabe announces happily. "How?" Is all Dean can manage to get out. "Oh, I have a backup phone for work. It really is a must, especially after one accidentally drops one into a vat of boiling water," Gabe sighs. Sam must say something that Dean can't pick up because the next thing he hears is Gabe howling with laughter before wheezing, "No! Although, perhaps in another life I'd be a great bond villain. I own Trickster Treats. One might say I was a little too obsessed with a certain set of fake wizard twins and was very disappointed when I found out their candies were as fictional as they were. So, when close-up magic proved not to be lucrative, I took it upon myself to make my own."

"Trickster Treats!" Sam screeches so loudly that Dean nearly drops the phone. "Dean almost killed me after I tricked him into eating a ghoul gusher right before parent-teacher conferences. His teeth were green for a full day, no matter how many times he brushed his teeth." "Why did you want to turn Mr. Dean's teeth green?" Jack asks with honest curiosity. "He'd been flirting with my teacher at the last one and I really didn't like her," Sam explains and Dean can't hold back his groan. He'd never told Sam that he'd only been flirting with her to get her to stop sending updates and information to John, who by that point wasn't even Sam's legal guardian anymore. "But you like my dad, so you won't turn Mr. Dean's teeth green this time, right?" Dean groans again, feeling his cheeks heat and knowing that they were turning red. "Okay! Well, Gabe, we'll let you go. My phone was dead earlier, but it's charged now so call or text either of us when you get here. Cas, you got anything to add?" Dean finally looks back at Cas, wincing to find him still staring at him, gaze still penetrating and searing. "Jack, I'll meet you in the lobby. Stay close to Sam and Gabe. I'm really glad you're okay. I was, I got very worried when I read your message," Cas admits. "Pinky promise, Dad. See you soon!" Jack chirps happily before his voice gets faint again, "Uncle Gabe, do you have any of those candies from before? The ones with the fluffy stuff in them?" "The nougat ones? Hmmm. Let me see, no none in my pockets, let me check- Oh! You silly boy, there was one in your ear this whole time!" Jack's pleased giggle rings across the speaker along with a car door slamming and Gabe's voice comes back louder and more serious than before. "Cas, I, I'm not sure what are parents are planning, but you and I both know that it will be nothing good. And they are going to be furious that I intercepted Jack and Sam, so don't be surprised if-" Gabe doesn't even get the chance to finish as several thunderous knocks sound from the hotel door. Dean feels Cas' spine go rigid beneath his palm and he grits his teeth in anger at the type of parents Chuck and Naomi must have been to illicit this knee-jerk reaction out of Cas. "Gabe, we have to go. Have Sam text me 'Jim Rockford' whenever you guys get here, he'll know what it means," Dean rushed before ending the call. He stands to open the door, just knowing that the longer they keep the Shurley's waiting, the worse it will go for Cas.

Cas' hand darting out to wrap desperately around his yanks him to a stop. "Please..." Cas whimpers, eyes even larger than they were before, moisture finally breaking through the dam to trickle down his cheeks. "Cas, hey. I'm gonna be right here, alright. I'm not gonna leave you. I promised, remember?" Dean murmurs softly, kneeling before Cas, cupping his face in his hands, and wiping the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm going to go let them in, why don't you mess up the bed a little more, hmm. Really get them thinking about what we might have been doing for the last couple hours, huh?" Cas lets out a watery laugh and nods. Dean can't help himself, doesn't want to, needing the fortification as much as giving it. He leans forward and presses a light kiss to Cas' lips, just barely tasting the salt that has pooled in the corner of his mouth before pulling away.

The walk to the door feels like marching himself to the gallows, impossibly long and yet startlingly short. He pauses to muss up his hair, whip the belt from his pants, unbutton them, and turn his shirt inside out and backwards. The costume is less about keeping up the relationship ruse and more about throwing off the couple, he confirms through the peephole, that are standing on the other side of the door. He tries not to think too deeply about how he'd learned the art of psychological warfare from John, allows himself one last deep breath before he flips the deadlock and opens the door. "Oh, hey, you're not room service. Although I probably should have guessed. I don't think room service would be rude enough to bang on the door like that," Dean offers, casual smirk pasted on his face and his eyes lidded. "Sorry, to keep you waiting, I, uh, had to get presentable." It's worth it to see Naomi's face pinch, looking for all the world like she'd just been waterboarded with lemon juice. Chuck, annoyingly, stays stoic and it grates at Dean. "Hey, Cas. Your parents are here to ..." Dean shouts backward into the room before he purposely trails off and turns a questioning gaze at the people he's holding at bay on the threshold of the room. "Talk," Chuck growls. "Talk. You decent?" Dean smirks as he calls back.

"I am. You can let them in," Cas calls back, pride and warmth blooming in Dean's chest as Cas' voice rings out strong and clear. Dean steps away from the door, subtly kicking his discarded belt behind him as the couple barge past rudely when they're finally allowed admittance. Dean's pride only grows when he follows and sees Cas making a show of straightening the comforter, his own hair mussed and undershirt untucked and wrinkled. The warm feeling turns molten when Cas' gaze slips over his parents to seek Dean out first, a soft smile easing some tightness in his eyes when he observes Dean's wardrobe alteration. Dean pushes past the gaping man and woman to join Cas by the bed, tucking an arm around him as they sit together on the end of it, leaving Chuck and Naomi to stand or pull up their own seats. "So, what did ya wanna talk about? I somehow doubt it's going to be an apology for this morning. Afternoon?" Dean says, bravado not so false when Cas' hand lands warm on his thigh.

"We have a ... proposition, for the two of you," Naomi says disdainfully as she pulls the desk chair over, while Chuck elects to stand. Cas doesn't rush to say anything so neither does Dean, content to play it cool and make them sweat. "Right, well. Abagail is having second thoughts about the wedding after this morning," Chuck admits, glaring at Dean with such heat that Dean is sure the man would smite him if he could. "But we already have the wedding planned and prepared for and-" "And Gabriel was right, you need the publicity from this wedding. Now more than ever if the merger with Roman Enterprises isn't going through," Cas finishes, a venom to his words that makes Dean wonder if this isn't the first time they've tried to use him to further their business. "In short, yes. And, it would be a terrible shame to waste the opportunity." "Get to the point," Dean says coldly, tired of the runabout and trying to get them gone before Gabe gets back. "We want you to take Michael's place," Naomi starts, matching Dean's iciness. "You and Dean, of course," Chuck interjects, apparently reading something on Cas' face that Dean can't see. "And why the hell would Cas and I do that for you, especially after you basically kidnapped my brother and Jack?" Dean blurts angrily, barely resisting pumping his fist in victory when Naomi flinches the tiniest bit. "Yes, well, I admit that could have been handled with more ... decorum and, that part was arranged before Michael's wedding began falling apart." "Yeah, well, sorry doesn't sweeten the pot, so, why should we do something that only seems to benefit you?" Dean volleys. "Marrying our son wouldn't benefit you?" Naomi snaps back. "Marrying me here, this weekend, without the majority of his family or friends in attendance, only a few days after he proposed, probably doesn't hold the appeal you imagine it to," Cas says calmly, squeezing Dean's leg. Dean looks to him and Cas returns his gaze with a small, apologetic smile as if to say don't worry, I won't let them force this burden on you. I've survived facing them alone before and I will do it again after this whole farce is over. Dean's chest tightens. It's crazy, but he doesn't want Cas to have to face this alone, can't turn a blind eye to Cas' struggle now that he knows the man. I can't just walk away. I care about him too much. "Well, there must be some sort of agreement we can come to. We'll-" Naomi appears to flounder, staring up at her husband.

"We'll give you the contents of your trust fund in full. No stipulations." "You think money is going to win Cas over? Jeez, it really is sad how little you know your own son. And, while I'm sure it would be nice for Cas not to have to worry about money, that doesn't really do anything to convince me. So, you wanna make this happen, you sign over any custodial right to Jack. You show me a notarized and binding legal document agreeing to that, I'll carry Cas down the aisle myself, smile for pictures, eat with the right spoon, whatever you want." "Dean!" Cas exclaims, gripping him so tightly that Dean can't help but break his death stare at Naomi to look at him. "I can't possibly ask you to do that for me." Cas states each word and Dean reads the meaning behind them, but he just shrugs and smiles back at Cas. "Look, I know it's sooner than we were thinking, but, well. Your whole family is here, Sam is here, Jack is here. We have matching suits. We can always have another ceremony later with the rest of the people we care about. Besides, it's worth it if you, if we, don't have to worry about Jack being taken away," Dean whispers earnestly, placing his hand on Cas' and squeezing, hoping the man remembers the last time they'd done this in Baby, "Like I said, you've got me and I'll help you in any way I can."

Cas blinks at him, confusion and hope and disbelief warring for dominance on his face. It is almost physically painful to tear his gaze away, but Dean manages it. He feels his phone vibrate and he sees Sam's text. Dean pins the other whispering pair in the room with his gaze, waiting until they feel the heat of it and turn to him. "Right, well. I'm sure you two need to discuss, try to counter-offer or something. We need dinner, since room service apparently forgot about us. So, let us know by, shall we say, eight? Yeah, eight. What decision you come to," Dean says, standing and crowding Chuck and Naomi until they have no choice but to retreat from the room, hushed bickering audible even before Dean closes the door behind them.

He locks the door after them, switching both the regular one and the deadbolt, before making his way back to Cas. "Dean. I understand that you want to help, and I'm honored, truly, but I can't let you force yourself to marry me," Cas croaks, voice thick with emotion and eyes frantically searching his. "You say that like it's a death sentence, Cas," Dean teases, chuckle falling flat when Cas doesn't waver. "Look, you're kind and handsome and funny and smart and, well, I could think of about a hundred people it would be worse to marry. Besides, it's a Vegas wedding. If you really can't stand the thought of being married to me, we can always get divorced or get an annulment." The words taste bitter as he says them, but he knows he has to, knows he has to mean them too. "Dean, it's not that-" Cas says, pain lacing every syllable.

"Great, so, let's do it then. You'll get custody of Jack, I'll feel like I did something good with my life for once. It's a win-win." "Dean, we don't even know if they'll agree to that," Cas breathes. It's not a no, Dean thinks, heart pounding hopefully. "They will. I saw the looks in their eyes, they're desperate. So, when they agree, will you do it? Will you marry me, Cas?"

---

Tag List (hopefully I got everyone since it's been a hot minute):

@colorlessjay @destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm @planterflush @t0asssty @dead-sirens @hate-babe-27 @profanitybasedfun @azriel-rodas @ghost-in-the-light @kwazle96 @icarus-falling-down @beingbluee @sassa-v @demons-i-get @greeneyedgrasshopperandhisangel @hereswhatimyellingabouttoday @sesquipedalianisms

[chara-cat5]

lads isekai au ch 14

reader is gender neutral, warning: swearing, mdni

masterlist

first 1

previous 13

next 15

(q/a for any confused readers!!)

caleb had to go back to skyhaven once the week was through. you hummed softly as he and mia hugged, standing just to the side. the train station was rather empty, still in a asscrack of dawn. it was sleepy and quiet, a few coughs here and there from somewhere. you didn't realize you were spacing out till caleb's large hand landed on the top of your head, directing your gaze back to him.

"gonna miss you too, poppy."

you smiled warmly, wrapping your arms tight around his shoulders. he squeezed you right back, his mouth by your ear.

"take care of mia for me. but know, when i come back, we'll figure out truth about those two questions i asked."

you felt your blood run cold, watching as he pulled away and easily pulled a smile to his face, ruffling your hair like he said nothing.

"make sure you keep her out of trouble. we both know how much of a handful she is."

mia let out a squawk stepping next to you to swatting his hand off you.

"i am not! if your gonna talk shit, you can just go!"

he chuckled softly, but while they laughed and teased, you felt cold and distant.

'i guess me and caleb aren't as cool as i thought...'

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you panted as you forced your sore body to run through drills. right, left, stab, stab, down. right, left, stab, stab, down. right, left, stab, stab, down. sylus was on to you. caleb was on to you. rafayel might even be on to you. who knows abouit zayne... all these dangerous men- men who have and will kill in the name of mia- believing you are a threat... how could you even hope to surive in this world if that what you're up against? right, left, stab, stab, down. right, left, stab, stab, down. right, left, stab, stab, down.

"you're over doing it."

you yelped at the sudden noise, sending a weak shot of vines toward the sound. xavier didn't even move, blinking at you and the weak attack. you clenched your jaw, turning back toward the wall that you had been facing.

"i didn't ask."

right, left, stab, stab, down- clink.

"you need to stop. you're going to hurt yourself."

you scrunched your face, glaring into those blue eyes. his sword had caught your spear again, but this time, you weren't going to take it.

"i'm fine..."

"you're not."

you launched into a series of attacks, going out of order to throw him off. it barely worked, his well rested body able to parry and knock back each swing you made. this did not help your temper. you swung harder, each time his sword caught your attack, the ricocheting force shot up your sore arms. when he had enough, he caught the stick part with his hand, stepping into your space. his gaze was soft, nonthreatening as he searched your own agitated ones.

"please. rest."

you let him slip the spear from your grip, bitting the inside of your cheek as he set it down. he was slow moving, patient as he sat you down criss cross on the ground.

"take a deep breath and slowly let it out. in... out."

he did the exercise with you, grounding you to here and now. it's only after your heart rate returns to normal that he takes your hands in his.

"if you need to talk about it, i can listen. or mia can. i know how much she cares about you."

you looked away, chewing your lip.

"it's-... it's not something i can just talk about... it would change everything. ruin everything. i should- i should just leave. make it easier for everyone else..."

leaving would at least save your life right?

"it won't."

you met xavier's eyes as he squeezed your hands.

"if you leave, you'll only hurt mia and everyone else that cares about you."

he huffed, a conflicted look passing over his face.

"are you... in danger? if someone is threatening you, i can help."

you shook your head out of habit, not wanting to be a bother but... you were kind of being threatened. you felt like you were in danger. hell, thats why you were forcing yourself to train, right? he watched you shift through expressions, squeezing your hands to draw your attention back to him.

"come with me."

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when xavier told you to follow him, you hadn't expected him to lead you to jeramiah's flower shop. the little bell over the door rang, the scent of flowers wrapping itself around you. maybe it was your evol, but you instantly felt comforted, taking in a deep breath.

"the owner is out of town on business, but you can come here as much as you want. people rarely come here and any customers know it's temporarily closed with the owner out."

you glanced at xavier, blinking at him.

"it's safe here, is what i mean."

you chewed your lip, looking away. with your diverted gaze, you spotted a drooping lily of the valley. bending down, you focused a little of your energy into it, despite already feeling so drained.

"... i'm not from this world."

a long beat passed, only the sound of a water feature filling the void of silence.

"i'm not either."

you looked to him at that, seeing the way he lowered himself next to you. he gently tugged your hand away from the plant, replacing it with his own. his evol wasn't plant based, but the lily still perked up. plants do need the light to survive.

"i'm not from your world either."

"i would hope not. i would hate to think i forgot someone like you."

you just watched his profile, his evol casting a warm glow over both of your features.

"... you aren't upset? i- i've basically lied to everyone. to you, to mia..."

"i have also lied to survive. i know you don't want to hurt mia. thats all that matters."

you hummed softly, nodding slowly as you looked back at the plant.

"i know things i shouldn't and because of that, people think i'm a threat. i'm not... i'm not me- not the one whose lived in this world all those years ago. i just appeared and then the world shifted to fit me in. i wasn't a part of the story originally..."

"... the story?"

you looked to him, slight panic in your eyes, but he just looked at you with curiosity.

"i-... in my world, this one was a video game... you were one of the main characters and mia was the player insert. i... don't know how i got here, but now i am here. and i know about you and everyone else and your pasts and secrets and-"

xavier put his hand on yours, pulling you to stand. the bench he sat you on wasn't comfortable, but it was better then crouching.

"deep breath. it doesn't sound like it's your fault. you didn't know this would happen."

he paused, seeming to take in your words for a moment, just processing them.

"so you know about me and other 'characters' from this game and these other 'characters' see you as a threat?"

you hesitantly nodded, chewing your lip.

"you're the only one i've told all this to, so they just think i somehow learned a bunch about then out of nowhere..."

he nodded, eyebrows slightly pinched together.

"not even mia?"

"no... i didn't- i didn't want to make her hate me... to ruin it all. but- but i already have."

"you haven't ruined everything. you just-... you just need to explain everything, right? once they know why you know so much, they won't view you as a threat."

you huffed at him, a skeptical look on your face.

"i still know more then they'd like... don't you think that's enough?"

"i think if worse comes to worse, i can handle a threat. but you have to talk to mia first. she deserves to know why you've been acting weird."

you hesitantly nodded. mia would probably be the easiest to talk to anyway. and if she didn't hate you by the end of it, she could help you with the others.

"... can i stay here the night? just one night to prepare myself?"

he hesitated before nodding, standing up.

"what should i tell mia?"

"that i'm visiting family. thank you so much, xavier. you... you really didn't have to do all this."

his expression shifted, conflicted like he had two voices arguing in his head. he shook it off, meeting your eyes with a kind smile.

"i wanted to. just, try to relax. i think theres a sleeping bag in the back."

you watched him go, questions rising at that look.

'what was that all about?'

.

.

a̶̡̺͚̦͎̟̤͋̄̂̋̓̆̕͝͠f̶̘͊̇̊̅͆̓̑͆͝f̴̨̨̧͚̖̤͓̫̙̭̣̤̽͊͐̽̉̓̐̏̔͐̔̈́̑͘͠ͅi̴̢̛͍̓́̈́̔͒̒̽̈́̾̏̌̊͊n̸̫̗̭̣͓͕̳̥̤̥̝̞͙͇͓̯̉͒̏̽̈͘͜͜͝͝͝i̷̢̨̛͕̭͔̹͎̼̭̳̥͓̫̺̙̥̘̩̽̋͑̿̍̑͌̍̈́̽̏͘̚͘̚̚t̵̛͖̰̭͉̦̬̺͙̓͗̆̈́͋͗̐́̅͘͠͠ỳ̶̧̡͉̫͔͔̥̥͚̦̒͂̅͛̿́͛͠ ̷̡͙̘̳͓̼͎̪͚͎̯̮̩͓̉̃̅̒͛̎̍͑̿̃͗͘͜͜ͅl̸̪̂̀͂̂̈̿͑́̊̔̓̔̚e̷̪͍̱̣̾̽̀v̷̨̛͍͕̠̰͚̜̞̳͓͛ȩ̸͙͍̟͓̗̭̲̰̫̝̪͂̽̓̿̑̅͂̔͊̈́̄̅͐̈́̎͘̚͝ͅl̷̡̦͕̗̩͐ ̷̡͓̣̪̞̲̣̮̠̪̲͙͉̱̰̀̂́͆̈̌̂͗̋̾̽͋̚͠[̵̡̡̢̧̜͙̮̭̫͍̣͓̮͕̮̥͕̳̞̒͂̓̊̑̄̽͛́͌̿̾̈́͘2̷̧͉͚̦͚̟̬̝͈̳̉̉͊̓̔̆͒̀̀̉̒̋͆̈́̂̇̂͝0̶̛̮͙̣͈͉̹̮̱͉̘̣͙͕̦̟̉͌̓̿̅͊̄͊͜͝ͅͅ]̸̡̨̘̫͔͙͓͙̰̺̝̰̻͎͔̳̥̭͖̜͂̏͊͊͑̊̐͛̆͒͆̈́͐̽͑̌̕͠

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taglist: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @plzdonutpercieveme @young-adult-summer @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @asakiyu @leftpoetrymoon @hon3yydew @anemobabygirl @clandestienly @crimsonrubie @beaconsxd @yuurisfavblog @cutiesgaloree @udejoenrlddo @mephisto-with-a-knife @poptrim @rhoswen-drake @szafficat @1ren3n @peachystea

'ello, new chapter alert!!

not much to say rn, but i think i can get out another chapter today, NO PROMISES!!

thank you for reading!!

-chara <3

[radiohao]

bro, i think i love u

synopsis: sion as your brother's best friend

warnings: mentions of food

wc: 1.3k

—

sion has been a part of your life for longer than you remember. he became best friends with your older brother in grade school and have been inseparable since. it feels as if your parents adopted him, as he walks in unannounced when he's bored (even when your brother isn't home), eats all your snacks, and picks you up from class. it may be annoying at times because one brother is already more than enough, but with sion, it's familiar. it's secure and warm.

you can't lie; you always thought he was good looking. but you had always assumed it was just a passing crush, a feeling that will leave with the seasons. you were incredibly mistaken when sion came back after furthering his education abroad. he had gotten a job offer in your hometown, and apparently he took the opportunity without hesitation.

it was a solemn day in your house, your younger siblings all at school while you sat on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your feed. the door bursts open and you don't think to look at who entered, assuming it was your brother arriving from the gym. a deep voice rings through the home.

"guess who's home?"

you shoot up from your spot on the couch and whip your head to the voice's origin. you find yourself staring straight into oh sion's eyes. he dyed his hair back to a jet black after being blonde, as you've seen on his posts. he's wearing an acid-washed dark gray shirt, paired with some loose black pants. a silver dog tag hangs from his neck, and his face seems to have been chiseled down to perfection. this is far from the sion you remember when he was last year. you gulp nervously, blinking blankly at him.

he smiles at you gently, running a hand through his hair. "hey, y/n!" you stand up and slowly walk to his place in the doorway. "oh sion?" you say, almost like you're in denial he's here. sion laughs and wraps his arms around you, bringing you in for a hug. "it's been so long. i missed you guys." you're nuzzled into his shoulder, still frozen in shock. the smell of his cologne fills your senses, and you find yourself hugging him back with a smile adorning your face. he pulls back and you finally get a good look at sion up close. he looks so good now, you think.

the smile drops from his face as he looks at you intently with an unreadable expression. the house goes silent once more, just you and sion looking into each other's eyes, his hands lightly on your waist and yours around his neck. there are no words spoken, yet you're both thinking the same thing.

what is this feeling?

over the next few weeks, sion blends back into your life like he never left in the first place. he walks in once again, unannounced, drinks all the diet coke you bought the week prior, and picks you up from work just like he used to. except things are different now. you've both grown up, and neither of you are kids anymore. and since the day sion came back, there's been this thick tension clouding you both. it's only one night that you face the hard truth; that maybe you've loved sion all this time.

you wake up in a cold sweat. the sleeves of your cardigan have imprinted red marks into your cheek, your clothes are scattered on the floor, and it's pitch black aside from the light illuminating from the door being cracked open. you scramble for your phone, checking the time. 1:29AM. you grumble and sit up, rubbing your eyes.

you curse yourself for falling asleep right after the dinner with your friends, groaning at your lack of willpower to not even change out of your jeans. you decide to ignore the time and go about your night routine as usual, taking a shower and cleaning your room. it may be late, but it's better than going to sleep in outside clothes. you tread to the kitchen, opening the fridge with a grumbling stomach.

to fulfill your cravings, you reheat the leftover pork belly from last night and find some fried rice, from which you assume sion brought home. as you close the refrigerator door, you turn to see oh sion leaning against it, a small smirk on his face. you scream, and he jumps back a little at your outburst. "oh my fu- what is wrong with you?! why are you still awake?" you quietly yell, landing a smack to his chest. his eyes shut close as he winces, chuckling, "i got thirsty! i was just waiting my turn. why are you still awake?"

"i woke up all crusty and gross."

"you always wake up crusty," he says. you glare at him.

"whatever- anyway, i didn't know you were sleeping over tonight."

"wasn't supposed to, but i changed my mind. happy to see me?"

"no, not really." you roll your eyes and make your way to the living room, taking a seat on the couch. sion smiles, following you. he lifts your ankles up and sits, placing your legs on his lap. he's done that since middle school, you think. the room goes silent aside from the bustling of the tv show. you don't know what to say. but sion does. "you still do that?"

you furrow your brows. "do what?"

"sit sideways on the couch. you always did that before. it's like you're allergic to sitting properly. but i guess some things never change, like how you always use a wooden spoon because you hate the sound of the metal clanking against your teeth. oh! or how you always change out of your outside clothes no matter how late it is. i remember when this one time when you were a sophomore-"

his words fade out into the background as you watch sion ramble. you realize he knows you, maybe even better than you know yourself. and you think that you probably know him just as well. you know he always knocks 4 times before entering your room, you know he never orders water at restaurants and gets coffee instead, and you know he always carries two sticks of gum in his pocket.

oh god, you think. your lives have been intertwined for years now. and as you sit here on the couch, legs intertwined as well, you accept it. you've always loved sion. you love him in the way he comes to your house unannounced, seemingly at the most fitting times, like when you're feeling down or stressed. you love him in the way he eats all your snacks and drinks all your diet coke but apologizes and buys you twice as much the next day. you love him in the way he picks you up from work and you two get takeout, taking the long way home whilst screaming to bruno mars songs. the realization you've been avoiding all these years hits you like a bus, in the quiet of the night. you realize that he's always loved you too.

"y/n." your name leaves his mouth and you look into sion's eyes. "yeah?"

he sighs exasperatedly. "can we stop pretending that there isn't something going on between us? it's killing me."

"spit it out, oh sion."

he raises a brow at your remark and laughs softly, squeezing your calves. he leans in, closer and closer, until the words leave his mouth in a hushed voice.

"i love you. i think i always have. i realized it when i came back home. i could've sworn you felt it too."

he takes the words out of your mouth. you don't respond. you don't need to, because you're already cupping his cheeks and pressing your lips against his. sion's hand moves to hold the back of your knees, the other brushing your hair out of your face.

with sion, it's familiar, safe, and warm. you don't have to try around him, because regardless, he still cares. he still loves you.

you pull back, breathless. he looks down at your lips, then back into your eyes. the two of you break out into giggles. you hear someone clearing their voice and you look at the hallway to see your older brother standing there. you gasp, taking sion's hand off your neck.

"i- i can explain." you say, putting your hands up. he scoffs.

"i knew it. i knew something was different the moment sion got back."

you pinch the bridge of your nose, ashamed. sion chuckles and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"now i owe dad 50 bucks," your brother groans.

"what?! you made a bet with him??"

"yeah, like back in high school. he bet you two would get together, but i said it wouldn't happen because you know him too well. guess i was wrong."

"you're always wrong." you and sion say simultaneously.

"both of you shut the hell up or i'm telling mom you were sticking each other's tongue down your throats at three in the morning."

"sorry."

—

author's note: eeeeee first sion solo post???? it was supposed to be one with the entire hyung line, but i got carried away AUXWIHXIUW clearly!!! hope u enjoy <333

[ladyloveandjustice]

I have finally read through the entirety of the Bruce Wayne Murderer/Fugitive storyline. I'd read parts of it but now I know all of it. But the fact David Cain's explanation for murdering Bruce's ex-gf and framing him for the murder to the point of doctoring the evidence so his family and closest allies would think he was losing it too.

"You're basically Cass's dad now I guess and sure I know it was her choice, you didn't "take" her from me and she's never coming back to me. I know all that. but I wanted to prove to her that YOU are just as big of an asshole as I am by showing you'd be a piece of shit to your family and push them away if you ever got in trouble and GUESS WHAT IT WORKED I WAS RIGHT"

is the funniest motive of all time.

"I may be a bad father who put my daughter through horrible abuse and trained her to be a living weapon, and I guess it's valid she doesn't want anything to do with me, but you suck too and I just need everyone to know that. Cass I just need you to know you did not upgrade all that much here!!!!" Just extremely petty.

And Bruce can't even refute him. He's just like "damn what a wakeup call I won't be like that anymore" but of course he'll inevitably be like that again as soon as DC decided Batman needs to be a loner. (War Games would be the next time. I think NML was the time before this one. It's really is fascinating how they never got tired of this plot).

(It is sweet that he protects Cain from getting assassinated entirely because he cares about Cass after this though.)

Anyway. This is the last time we'll see Cass be important in a crossover event and it's kind of wild. The batfam was genuinely all involved in this event (steph not too much, she's the exception because she nobody tells her anything as always, but she does at least show up a few times and not to get tortured) and given kind of equal weight and this was. the last time for a long time huh.

Anyway I absolutely love that Dick and Cass are firmly on "BRUCE WOULD NEVER KILL SOMEONE ESPECIALLY AN INNOCENT HOW DARE ANYONE IMPLY OTHERWISE" and Tim and Babs are like "well I mean it's very unlikely and I don't want it to be true but he could. He's an unstable man. Who knows. Gotta approach this objectively and objectively Bruce kind of sucks", it really says a lot about their respective personalities and relationships. Tim-Babs skeptic alliance. Dick-Cass that's My DAD you guys just don't get it I'm the one who understands him!!! alliance

[mickyschumacher]

Omg Dean omg Dean 😭🙏

Thank u he’s lit soooo underrated and it’s dry out here babe like I’m thirsty

Idk if your requests are open but can u write something long for him (like 6k word count or something) something like angsty like they meet randomly somewhere but reader doesn’t know anything about football so she doesn’t know who Dean Huijsen is and they keep getting closer and closer but he doesn’t tell her about his football career but then somehow she finds out (like maybe went to a game with her friends? You’re free babes it’s your style so im sure it’s gonna be fire) and she gets upset like she cuts him off and all and he’s trying to win her back but but but wait a min pookie i got more 😌🤚 you thought only Dean has secrets guess what she also lied about some stuff miss reader here lied to Dean about why she cut him off cuz when he asked she’s like “you lied to me” but babe she didn’t tell him that she’s scared to date a footballer because of the spotlight and she’s not in a good financial situation (make it like lil hints in the fic before they reveal the fact she’s not that rich).

Thank u pookie in advance love u 💙

[PLEASE DON'T FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you would never believe that a random meeting with a boy at work would've ever resulted in this. or in which a few lies are told to protect some hearts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst, reader isn't rich = talks about money, reader works and is in uni bc i love me some education, poor football match description, lying from both parties, fluff to balance some angst, reader doesn't have the best relationship with her parents, bad humour imo, and vv bad spanish ♡︎ // not really proof-read

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: dean huijsen x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5.9k+

𝐀/𝐍: soo i loved this request! and i hope i did it justice! almost got to your 6k word count which is absolutely lovely. would love to know what everyone thinks bc i love comments or messages in my inbox! ♡︎

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You tried to withhold the sigh the came naturally upon hearing the bell to the local supermarket where you worked. It was a small dainty thing really. A few fridges on one side, fresh flowers decorating the area, and a nook for the cashiers. To be honest, it was so small, you could run from one side to the other in less than three minutes.

It was decently popular within the Alcobendas area, known for it's quality products and friendly environment. Customers flew in and out at a steady rate, always leaving you a little something to do other than study.

"___, you wanna go for your break?" Your boss and family friend, Rosa, queried, walking over to the cashier. She gave you a soft smile, spotting your tired eyes. "I'll take it from here. When you get back, I think Marìa needed some help on the upper shelves since she hurt her back."

You nodded, smiling gently. "Claro. Call me if you need anything, okay? En serio. Stop trying to do everything by yourself," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

Your boss rolled her eyes. "I'm not that old yet," she retorted, walking behind the nook to replace you. She watched a customer come forward with some items and looked over to you. "Now go on."

You sighed, begrudgingly walking away from the cash register while you removed your apron. Hands parting the curtains to the back room of the store, you rummaged through your bag, grabbing the apple and planner in your bag before leaving through the back door. You winced at the harsh reality of the sun on your skin. The air conditioner in the store had clearly been doing you a favour.

There was a café next door to the store. Equally small and busy. At this time, however, it was more vacant, allowing you to snatch a seat outside after you ordered your second coffee for the day.

You gave a thankful smile to the barista who placed your coffee on your table before opening your planner, finding your happiness quickly die down. Due dates were plastered in every box, some for university and others for your bills.

Taking a bite out of your apple, you flickered through the dates with a frown. When did these all become so close together? A sigh fell from your mouth. You took out your phone, opening your calendar to add on any extra work you had to do in the upcoming works.

By the time you finished, you could barely look at your planner anymore without wincing. You closed the thing shut, taking the last sip of your coffee before resting your cup on the saucer.

Overlap. Everything was beginning to overlap. Work. Assignments. Payments.

Moving out of your home for your first year of university wasn't ideal. But when it became apparent your parents couldn't afford it and suggested for you to work instead of prioritise your education, the only option you saw was to leave.

You parents weren't particularly happy about it, to say the least. But they didn't complain when a magical fairy deposited money every month to help them. In the end, you were doing what you wanted. Even if it was a struggle.

Your eyes flickered over to the time on your phone. You had a minute left till your break and four hours till your other part-time job. Without a second thought, you were walking back to the store, phone slid back into your pocket. You smiled at Rosa as you entered the store, forgetting to get your apron as you found the shelves your co-worker Marìa was initially attending to.

You squinted at the height of the shelf, old stock all towards the back of it. You weren't particularly any taller than Marìa, if anything she had a couple inches on you. Nevertheless, you stretched up, leaning on the tips of your toes, arm reaching out to grab the glass jar of pickles. You winced, feeling your arm strain at the burning stretch, fingers grasping only the air while the store's door opened once again.

You looked blankly at the shelf. You would probably have to go get the step stool in the back room. But before you committed to the idea, you decided to try once again, hand reaching out to, waiting to graze the jar at least but to no avail.

Instead a much longer arm reached above you, grabbing the jar with swift ease and in one fell swoop that had you widen your eyes. You blinked in surprise, turning to find an almost overly tall boy your age stand in front you, hair verging between dark blonde and brown, eyes hooded yet smiling as he handed the jar to you.

"Aquí," the stranger said, voice slightly on the lower side.

Hesitantly you grabbed the jar. "G-Gracias..." you smiled awkwardly, holding to the jar close to you, taking a step back when you realised how close you were.

"Oh," he blinked as if he had remembered something else. He looked down at his hand and the book in lying within it. He stretched out his arm again. "You forgot this at the café. I thought I'd give it to you."

Your eyes widened at the sight of your planner in front of you. You could've sworn you had brought it with you... right? Your brows furrowed while you meekly took your planner from his hands. "How did you..."

His lips parted, realising how weird this seemed. "Oh, um, I was at the table next to yours... so, uh, I just figured you'd want it."

"Right," you slowly nodded, pressing your lips together before you lightly smiled again, flickering your eyes to the amused Rosa in the corner. "Thank you."

His smile in return seemed genuine, far less awkward than yours. He ruffled the back of his hair sheepishly and shook his head. "No worries. I'm Dean."

You blinked at the hand hung out in front of you. Oh. This conversation was still going... You nodded slowly, smiling once again while you reached to meet his hand, eyes having to look higher than usual to meet his gaze. "Nice to meet you, Dean. I'm ___."

Dean nodded as if he was trying to repeat your name in his head. The loud dings from his phone broke his concentration. He sighed, knowing exactly what those messages were saying. "Mierda," he quietly swore under his breath. He looked back at you and sucked in a sharp breath. "Um, I need to be somewhere right now. I just... do you– do you go to that café often?"

You blinked, feeling a wave of heat crash over your face. "Y-Yeah, I guess."

Dean smiled with satisfaction, taking a step back to quickly leave. "Great. I'll see you soon!" He called out, reaching the store door, letting an elderly lady go first before running down the street.

You swallowed hard, trying to register what on earth had just happened.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It turned out Dean truly meant what he had said. You had in fact seen him soon. The next day actually. And almost every other day after that.

You had a friend in him when you least expected it. You spent an unhealthy amount of texting him and waiting. You had no idea what he did during the day but it didn't bother you. You assumed he was also studying or doing something similar which was why you always met in the late afternoons and evenings.

But you couldn't meet him all the times. You had your other job as a retail assistant in a small shop just two streets away. Then you tutored some kids. Though you would never tell Dean.

Dean wasn't like you. If he knew struggle, it was unlikely to be of the monetary kind. The nice clothes, the expensive perfume, offering to pay every time you met each other... his house, God, his house, it was like a mansion. Nothing compared to your over-priced one-bedroom apartment nor your parents' fixer-upper of a house which required a plumber to come every other month to fix something. His parents were similar, naturally. Sophisticated, polished, educated.

These differences lead to excuses. Take today for example. Dean had invited you to go shopping on your free day and then eat at a fancy restaurant. But you declined those hopeful blue eyes. You said you had to study. Which technically wasn't a lie. The studying came after your work shifts and tutoring. But what had been bugging you the most, was the way you looked next to him.

So... out of place.

Like you didn't belong.

Deep down you knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. But it was so difficult. The only thing that was easier to do was make up excuses.

"Can you please go?" Your friend, Isabella, from your very first day of class begged you, waiting for your lecture to start.

You gave her a confused look, putting your laptop on the table gently before you turned to her. "Why would I go to a football game? I don't even watch it."

Isabella clicked her tongue like it was obvious. "Because I'm trying to turn you into a madridista!" She sighed, hands wrapping around your arm in an effort to plead. "Please. I need you to experience this with me. It's Madrid versus Barça," she sobbed loudly.

You winced at the curious looks from your fellow classmates, covering your burning face with your hand while you looked at her. "Fine. Fine. If you shut up, fine."

Isabella leaned back, dropping the fake cries and smiling satisfactorily. "Thank you," she beamed with a shamelessness in her tone.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as your professor walked in.

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Do you eat a lot?" Dean queried, following you around the grocery store.

You furrowed your brows, pausing in front of the fruit and vegetable display racks before looking at him incredulously. "What?"

"Np, I mean–" Dean's eyes widened, cheeks automatically flushing. "I just feel like you're always here. I didn't know there were so many things to buy," he shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Right.

You hadn't told him that you had worked in the store. Dean had assumed when you first met each other that you were just doing some usual shopping to get your daily needs and whatnot.

You should've told him the truth but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Especially when you had met him the next day and realised just how different he was from you. It was just... embarrassing.

You smiled awkwardly, holding up a green apple. "I just really like fruit," you huffed uneasily before putting it in your reusable grocery bag. You internally winced at the amused grin on Dean's face as you moved to the cash register. "Buenas tardes Rosa," you greeted.

Rosa smiled at you, eyes flickering to the tall boy next to you. She had seen him more often in her store, making sure to take her time and tease the both of you. She grabbed your items, sporting a cheeky look on her face as she opened her mouth. "How are you finding my sweet ___?" Rosa asked him.

A family friend... that was what you had told Dean. That's what Rosa only was. Not your boss. A family friend.

Dean grinned, taking a quick glance at you. "You're right. She is pretty sweet."

Your cheeks reddened, a sigh falling from your lips while you shook your head lightly. "You two," you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

Rosa rolled her eyes, sending a nod of agreement towards Dean. "Kindest heart I've ever seen. Don't lose her, okay?" She gently chided, poking his arm playfully.

Your eyes softened for a moment before you looked away, guilt quickly replacing the warm feeling. Your chest felt heavy as Dean grinned again, nodding.

You weren't kind. You were a liar.

You cleared your throat, giving her a tight smile. "I'll see you later, hmm?" You queried, gathering your things, taking her nod as an answer and leaving with Dean.

Five minutes of walking had left Dean spotting a flower shop and begging you to stop for a minute. You weren't going to say no but his lips pouting and blue eyes swirling with hope made it difficult. It had come to the point you rather text him because at least then it was easier to make excuses.

You stood inside the store, calmly eyeing the colourful range of flowers while he greeted the owner. The store had a bit of everything. Pre-made bouquets and pots hanging from every inch. Small paintings hung on the columns, framed with flowers covered in resins.

"¿Buscas flores para una senorita guapa?" The owner queried, taking a step forward and glancing between Dean and you knowingly. Looking for flowers for a beautiful lady?

You opened your mouth to refute the question but Dean had beat you to it. "Algo así," he nodded, tips of his ears turning red. Something like that.

Pressing your lips, you hoped your hands were cold enough to reduce the temperature of your flushed cheeks. But your efforts were to no avail. You could feel your fingers absorb the heat but you could still feel the visible presence of the warm tint on your skin. Furthermore, your heart... it was thundering against your chest.

"I... I think I'll wait outside," you murmured, suddenly craving some fresh air. You walked through the door, still able to here them within earshot.

The owner grinned, turning to find the bouquets of flowers closest to him. He bent down slightly, pointing at the different types. "They all look nice but all of them have different meanings," he started. "The Bougainvillea come from Granada symbolising beauty and peace. The red carnations and the Valencia roses represent affection and love. Lavenders are grace and serenity."

Dean leaned into the flowers, eyeing them carefully. "I'll take a combination of these two," he pointed, smiling at the amused look on the owner's face.

You chewed your lip nervously, slowly breathing in the summer air of Spain. Your heartbeat had gotten slower, thankfully. Out of your peripheral, you could seen the mop of Dean's dark blonde hair. You looked at him and then the small bouquet in his hands: Bougainvillea and Valencia roses.

"Beauty and affection," Dean murmured, pushing the flowers towards you. "Fitting for you."

Your cheeks were flushing once again, even more fiery than the last time. Your throat felt dry. You weren't sure what to say. "I... um."

"Just take it," Dean laughed quietly, taking in your flustered state. He stepped forward, pressing the bouquet into your hands.

Your breath hitched, in fact it ceased to exist as or a moment, you felt as though time itself had stopped. He was so close to you, you could faintly feel his breath as he towered of you. You could feel his hand raise, fingers lightly grazing your searing cheek.

He smiled, stepping back, blue eyes still on you. "Linda." Cute.

━━━━━━━━━━━

"Am I going to have to ban you from your phone?" Isabella queried, amused at the way you were smiling at your screen while you walked towards the stadium for her oh so precious football match.

You gave her a pointed look, rolling your eyes while you turned off your phone. "No, you don't," you maintained, eyeing the floods of white shirts amongst the blue and red.

"So how are you and your mystery loverboy?" She asked, showing her ticket to the staff official outside the doors.

Isabella had caught wind of a change in you almost instantly. It was like you were a different person entirely. Humming while you studied out of nowhere. The weight on your shoulders lighter as you sat in your lectures daydreaming.

When she had asked about it over and over again, you had finally caved, telling her about this strange boy you had meet at work. And she absolutely positively loved it, dreamily citing, with her words exactly, "You two came out of romance novel."

Your cheeks warmed at her words. "There's nothing going on between us," you denied, also showing your ticket.

The both of you headed towards the security check, letting them do whatever they had to. A dry laugh fell from Isabella's lips, hand on her hip. "He got you flowers. He remembers your coffee order. He thinks your beautiful. And when he first saw you, he asked if he could see you again."

You sighed at the way your heart skipped a beat, still remembering that moment outside the flower store – heck it had been replaying in your mind for days. "A-Anyone can do those things," you retorted, dismissing her once again.

Isabella stared at you for a moment, thinking while she pursed her lips and nodding. "Sure," she agreed, grabbing her stuff, "but he did those things and to you."

You stayed quiet, following after her. The sound of your heart rang inside your ears. She was right. Even if you hated to admit it. After Dean had brought you those flowers, your friendship had taken a different turn. It was like he could confidently compliment you without feeling as nervous. And you could laugh freely at his stupid jokes, knowing very well no one else would ever find them as funny as you did.

Your silences together were more comfortable. Small things would remind you of him. He's send you videos of what you thought you'd like. He had even made a handmade card to motivate you for your classes, pairing it with a teddy bear.

It was strange. The world now seem to spin more. Flowers seemed more lovely to you. You would look in the mirror and find yourself smiling out of nowhere. Even the air seemed sweeter to you.

If you took a step back to look at the bigger picture, you could see Dean for who he was. He was sweet, understanding, an idiot most of the times, and walked around carefree.

Simply put, you liked him. And that excited you as much as it terrified you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat in your seat amidst rows and rows of madridistas. The flocks of white stood bright across the wave of red and blue from the culers. You had never been to a match before, though you had seen clips of it on screen. The real thing was far more surreal. Loud, full of cheers and chatter before it even started, music barely intelligible as it thundered through the speakers, and the vibrancy of the green field was striking. Banners and flags ran one with the wind, large tv screens capturing every moment.

The announcer's voice reverberate amongst the crowd, introducing each team, creating the rumble of roars as if it were a cacophony. On the screen, you could see the backs of both teams, each player holding a child's hand while they walked through the tunnel and entered the pitch. Thank God, for the screen. You could barely see anything from where you were sitting.

You watched both teams line up, chests already heaving with anticipation. The camera started with Barça, zooming in on their faces. You could recognise some faces from social media, players like Yamal and Pedri being hard to miss. But as the camera went further down the line and moved to Real Madrid, you could feel the world that was once spinning come to a halt.

Your eyes widened, breath hitched. Heart echoing in your ears under a sadder pretence this time round.

The camera had now moved past him but you could still see it clear as day.

Dean.

It was Dean.

The same hooded blue eyes. The same dark blonde hair. The same freckles you had come to admire. But dressed in white from head to toe, with the royal club crest embedded at the corner of his jacket.

Holy shit.

You watched him join his teammates clapping and greeting every player and referee before running to prepare, shrugging off his jacket, you could see the writing clearly.

Huijsen. Dean Huijsen. He was a football player.

"Oh my God," Isabella squealed next you. "It's Dean." She captured your furrowed brows and sighed, quickly remembering you were a newbie. "He signed with the team a month ago or so. He used to be in England, playing for Bournemouth. He's a really good defender."

A month ago. That was probably when you had first met him.

You said nothing, just vaguely nodding at every bit of information Isabella told you throughout the first half of the match. You just couldn't stop thinking.

You had taken out your phone, hesitantly searching Dean's name and funny enough, you had learnt more about him in ten minutes then you had in a month.

Your stomach churned, skimming the information as much as you could. His Instagram which you had never thought to ask for... it had 3.5 million followers. His dad, a former footballer player.

Chewing your lip, you fought to breathe normally. A football player. That meant cameras, no privacy, a spotlight, and worse of all, money.

Your head peeked up at the sound of the referee's whistle, indicating it was half time. Your eyes naturally fell to Dean, who moved towards the edge of the field and towards the tunnel. He couldn't see you from where you were. And for some reason you were thankful.

For the rest of the game you simply chose to watch him play. It was better than feeling the sickness swirl around in your stomach. Dean was good, like Isabella had said. She had said he was a slightly aggressive player, which surprised you. You had never seen him get angry before. He was always so... shy and sweet around you. Like he was walking on glass.

But you could see it. The desperation and annoyance written across his face as one of his teammate barrelled into an opponent, hands wailing in the air, mouth open to shout. A sore reminder that you didn't really know him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The game had ended with Real Madrid winning, which you supposed was good for Dean. But even as you waited for Isabella outside the bathroom, you couldn't shake off what you had now known.

You sighed, head leaning on the wall, arms folding around your cardigan. You were torn. What were you supposed to do? You liked him. But this wasn't... you weren't prepared for something like this. Hell, you were nowhere near worthy of it either.

Your head turned to a small crowd of laughter, eyes immediately zoning on the dark blonde haired boy who was smiling ear to ear, patting his teammate's back.

You could feel your heart dropped as he turned, catching you in an instant while your hand shot up, your purse covering your face. You winced, eyes clenched tightly. Shit. Shit. He hadn't seen you right?

Hesitantly, you peeked your head, lowering your purse. You spotted Dean's face and it made your chest hurt. He wasn't smiling anymore. His sleepy eyes were wide, lips parted in shock. He stepped forward, hand reaching out to you, calling out your name gently as if he was scared you were going to disappear. " I–"

Just as he did, Isabella had come out of the bathroom, not bothering to look at who was behind you as she rambled on and on about needing to get to the car park before you were stuck here forever.

You took one last dejected glance at him before following after Isabella.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been a week and Dean was still reeling from the moment he had seen you after his win. The last thing he had expected that day was to see you there. But there you were.

He wanted to explain. Why he lied instead of telling the truth. But you had ceased all contact. Blocked his number. Even his Instagram that you didn't follow. And you didn't come to the café anymore. He didn't know any of your friends that he could contact. You had cut him off effectively.

He only had one last resort.

"Buenos días," he greeted as opened the door to the store, waving his hand at Rosa, who was stocking some fruits.

"Dean," she acknowledge with a warm smile, putting down an apple before walking towards him. "I saw you on TV the other day. You should've told me you played. Anyways... well done, my boy," she congratulated, patting him on the back with the gentleness of a mother.

Dean smiled tightly, stomach turning at her second sentence. "Thank you," he said earnestly, blue eyes flickering around for a familiar face.

"Looking for ___?" She asked knowingly, grin softening at his eager nod. "Wish I could help you," she sighed regretfully, "but she hasn't come to work for the past three days."

Dean furrowed his brows at the information. "Work?" He repeated, "She works here?"

Rosa also looked confused, nodding slowly. "She does. For a few months now. She also works at that small clothing store two streets down from here. Inventory or something like that."

Dean blinked in surprise. He mulled over her words, trying to piece everything together. "She does all of that and study?"

"I don't know how she does it. She even tutors some kids to earn some money. She left home to study. Her parents, my friends, they weren't too happy about it," Rosa sighed with a sad smile.

Suddenly it clicked. Why you were so secretive. All your excuses. Why you were so awkward at his house. Why you were always in this store. The look on your face when he offered to pay.

And now you knew him as a fucking footballer.

"Mierda," he swore under his breath, taking a step back. He looked down at Rosa, opening his mouth in desperation. "Do you know where she'd be right now?"

━━━━━━━━━━━

The library. Dean didn't know how he hadn't thought of that. He supposed not having to focus on his education made him forget that you had probably spent a majority of your time there aside from work.

Dean had never stepped into a university before but the action alone had shown him a whole new world – your world. Students everywhere, few of which lightened up, recognising him quickly. He winced, pushing his cap down further to cover his face while he sped up.

His eyes flickered over the campus. He could see all the things you had described to him when you met. The fountain, the large trees, the the endless glass buildings. They were still here. But still he wondered which building you went to the most during your time here. Where your favourite class was. Where your favourite café on campus was. What class you absolutely hated.

The thought of these small things made his heart stutter. Because he had been more further away from finding those things than he had ever been. He needed to find you and explain everything. Now.

He stopped at the words written in bold across a brick building. Biblioteca de Universidad. Dean sucked in a sharp breath before going inside.

The quietness was what hit him first. The chatter was barely above a whisper, almost melding with the soft smell of books and paper. It was large, numerous floors layered with rows of desks and lamps, surrounding by years of accumulated knowledge. And there on the ground floor, you sat in the corner, headphones plugged in, eyes focused firmly on your laptop while your hand wrote down the necessary notes.

He spotted the various small snacks on your table and frowned gently. It was like you had been there for hours already, choosing to immerse yourself into studying if it helped you avoid him.

Dean tried to quiet the thrum of his heart in his ears as he walked over to you. You hadn't noticed him yet, heavily engrossed in what you were doing. Slowly, he pulled out the chair across you and took a seat, finally capturing your attention.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Dean, registering his presence while you took your headphones out of your ears. He looked pretty terrible for someone so handsome. Slightly dark eye bags, exhausted eyes, hair poking out of his cap in odd directions.

"Hey," he softly said, giving you a small wave from across the table before resting both his hands.

"H-Hi," you greeted back, eyes cautiously flickering around to see if anyone recognised him. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk," he simply said, shoulders shrugging and his face full of hope.

Your stomach churned at his words. You knew what he wanted to talk about. The very conversation you had been avoiding. It didn't take long for the waves of betrayal and guilt to flood your brain. "I..." you sucked in a sharp breath, "I don't think that's a good idea."

You could see the disappointment kill the hope in his eyes and you hated it. If he was angry, it might've been understandable. Yet his voice still came out soft and gentle. "Even for five minutes."

You bit your lip, carefully thinking over your options. If you didn't talk, you wouldn't know why he lied but you would also avoid bringing up anything unnecessary. If you did talk, however, you weren't sure if you'd like the outcome.

You blinked as Dean's hand reached over to cover yours, a small warmth spreading through your skin as he tightly smiled. "Please."

You caved. "Okay," you uttered out, not trusting your voice to say anything else.

Leading him outside of the library, you found an isolated corner. The both of you took a seat on the bench, taking a breath of the fresh summer air, still crisp and refreshing. You waited for him to speak, watching the clouds pass by on the blue canvas above you.

Dean quietly laughed to himself, making you look away from the sky and raise a brow at him. He sighed, smile still on his lips. "Now that we're here, I don't really know what to say," he admitted in disbelief.

You pursed your lips, rubbing your arms lightly while you looked back at the sky. "You lied," you simply stated.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He rubbed his clammy hands on the material of his shorts, heart beat picking up once again. "I did," he agreed.

"Why?" You finally queried, turning your head to him.

"Honestly?" He asked, sucking in a sharp breath of air. "Because everyone knows Dean Huijsen. But you didn't. I didn't have to feel judged around you and I liked that," he confessed, pressing his lips together.

You blinked. The guilt was gnawing at your heart again. Here Dean was talking about judgement. And it turned out you both had been worrying about the same things. You cleared your throat, trying to push away the nauseating feeling. "But you had to have known that being a footballer would change everything. The camera, the media, the spotlight–"

"Is that what you're worried about?" He interrupted with a raised brow. It wasn't in a demeaning way. In fact, the action held all the concern in the world.

"What do you mean?" You retorted, mending your own brows with confusion.

"I visited Rosa."

Your face paled while your body stilled. Shit.

"Why didn't you tell me you worked there?" Dean asked, pausing momentarily to let you answer. But when you said nothing while your cheeks heated, he sighed. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about."

You huffed with amusement, your eyes burned as they focused on the students in the distance. "How would you know? We're entirely different people. I can barely afford half of the lunches you paid for. You dine in at fancy restaurants. You live in a seven-bedroom mansion while I live in a shitty one-bedroom apartment. You don't even need to think about about looking at the price. Dean, when I'm next to you, I'm nothing."

Dean clenched his jaw at your choked voice. His chest hurt upon hearing your words. He leaned up from the bench, turning his body to face yours. He took your hands into his, capturing your attention. "I don't care about that. You're not... you're not nothing," he whispered, struggling to get those last words out without feeling disgusted.

You couldn't keeping looking into his eyes. You were scared. Scared he would see right through you. See past your glassy eyes. See your fears for what they were: the fibres of who you were. So instead you looked away again, praying the hot tears welling in your eyes wouldn't fall.

Dean swallowed, blinking rapidly. He stood up from the bench while he kept your hands within his grasp. Bending down in front of you, he ensured you could see him clearly, giving your hands a comforting squeeze. "I'm proud that you work there. Or anywhere. I might not know how you feel. But I know that when you struggle, you don't see how strong you are. You're living by yourself as a first year university student and paying for everything and yet you smile through life... if that's not strong, I don't know what is."

Dean could feel his heart breaking with every passing second, watching the rivets of tears drop and roll down your cheeks, your body shaking lightly. If he could, he would've done anything to stop you from feeling like this.

You groaned to yourself, sniffling while you removed your hands from his hold. You covered your face, voice muffled. "Esto es tan vergonzos," you sighed out, wiping the tears off your cheeks. This is so embarrassing.

"It's not," Dean reassured, hand moving to hold your face gently, thumb carefully caressing your cheek. "I'm sorry you felt this way. I wish you felt like you could've told me and I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't. And I'm so goddamn sorry I lied to you. I don't know if it's obvious or not, but I really really like you."

"Even after all of this?" You queried, breathing out slowly to calm yourself down while you met his eyes.

Dean smiled gently. "Well, since we both lied, I'd say we're even," he joked quietly, letting his chin rest on the top of your knee as he looked up at you. "But yes," he agreed, "even after all of this. If you're worried about what the others will say then forget about them. If you let them, my parents could hunt them down."

You snorted and rolled your eyes, making him grin. He adjusted his body again, leaning up straighter to smooth the creases between your brow. "But I promise you I don't care. What is it they say? For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer?" Dean queried, a quizzical look washing over his face.

You narrowed your eyes yet unable to keep your smile down. "Wedding vows already? You aren't thinking too far ahead?" You teased, poking his shoulder.

Dean smiled, reaching his hand out as a gesture. "Will you take me as your... uh," he paused, trying to think, "oh, as your universally-acknowledged boyfriend?"

Your heart fluttered as it usually did around him. You took his hand and grinned and you could've sworn for a moment Dean had malfunctioned. "I do."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[imnotjustreadingg]

you don't trust me?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Novelist!Fem!Reader (y/n) Genre: Fluff at the end, miscommunication, self doubts. angst Word count: 415 Summary: Bucky thinks his sweet Y/N's cheating on him

Bucky knew the signs. The late-night texts. The secretive smiles when her phone lit up. The way she suddenly shut her laptop whenever he walked into the room. He’d been through enough betrayal in his lifetime to recognize when something was wrong. He just never thought it would be you.

“Are you seeing someone else?” he asked one night, the question escaping before he could stop it. You blinked at him from your spot on the couch, book still open on your lap. “What?”

“I said…” He exhaled harshly, jaw tight. “Are you cheating on me?” The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, genuinely stunned. “Bucky, what the hell?”

“You’ve been different,” he muttered, pacing now. “You hide your phone. You lie about where you’re going. You don’t talk to me anymore, not like you used to.” Your voice trembled, caught between hurt and disbelief. “You think I’d do that to you?” He didn’t answer. And that was worse than if he had.

You stood, heart pounding. “I’ve been working on something. In secret. Because I wanted it to be a surprise.” He frowned, not following. You crossed the room, grabbed your laptop, and shoved it toward him. “Here. Look.” He hesitated, then opened the screen.

A folder titled “For James”. Inside? A manuscript. Hundreds of pages. A novel. His name was on the dedication page.

To the man who saved me in more ways than he knows.

For James Buchanan Barnes—my hero on and off the page.

Bucky's throat tightened as he scrolled through the chapters. It was a love story. Raw, beautiful, and unmistakably inspired by the two of you. You whispered, “The texts were with my editor. I’ve been staying late because I’m trying to meet the deadline before your birthday. I was going to surprise you.” He looked up, guilt crashing over him like a wave. “Doll…”

“You really thought I’d cheat on you?” Your voice broke. “I- I was scared,” he admitted. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I guess part of me never believed I deserved you.” You stepped closer, your touch gentle as you cupped his cheek. “You do. Every part of you. Always.” He leaned into your hand, eyes glassy. “I’m so sorry.” You kissed his forehead, his cheek, his lips. “Just… next time? Talk to me. Don’t assume the worst.”

“I promise.” His voice cracked. “You’re it for me, Y/N.”

“And you’re it for me,” you whispered. “Always.”

[vanilabaebo]

𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄. [ pt 2. ]

inf: denki kaminari is your best friend and you've never thought of him as anything more than that. he's always been there for you when you need him, but now he needs your help. the more you help him out, the closer you two grow, and you can't keep denying your growing feelings. but does he feel the same?

cw: SLOW BURN!! denki x afab!reader, lots of sass, reader has unnamed quirk.

part 1 !

there is a clumsy yellow lump snivelling on your couch. you’ve tried everything.

and by everything, you mean chess, blackjack, monopoly, clue. you even offered to download fortnite on your laptop and one-v-one denki — but nothing works.

“come on, kami,” you say, trying the nickname his friends often use for him. it feels strange to say, it feels to intimate for a best friend. “denki. it’s not that bad.” you know lying isn’t going to help, but it can’t hurt to try — after all, if it consoles him, it’ll work.

“not that bad?” denki practically whines from underneath his blanket. “not that bad? they said i’ll have to retake the class! do you know how embarrassing that is?”

well. no, you don’t, but you can imagine.

you sigh, sitting down on the couch next to him. you tenderly take the edge of the blanket and pull it upwards, revealing denki’s face, which is flushed with embarrassment. “Denki,” you say kindly — certain moments with the blonde require gentleness — “do you want me to go with you to the academic counselor? I’m sure they’ll find a suitable tutor for you.”

denki yanks the blanket, yellow eyes ablaze. “are you joking? no way! and have my name plastered on that huge billboard full of freakin’ papers for dumbasses who need tutoring? yeah, i’ll take the fail.”

you frown. “come on. nobody even looks at that board.”

okay, everybody looks at the board, but you have to say something.

“you’re a bad liar,” denki says, standing up and tossing the blanket on the couch. “I’m literally done for. i’ll just take the grade. Is your laptop charged? i wanna play fort before i go back to my dorm to tell mineta.”

you nod, but a part of you isn’t satisfied that denki’s satisfied. but how could he get his grade up if he doesn’t want the embarrassment that comes with being tutored unless — 

“denki!” you shoot up from your spot on the couch, so giddy with excitement you need to steady yourself on his shoulder.

he gives your hand on his shoulder a curious look, but doesn’t question. “what?”

“let me tutor you!” you chirp, proud of your idea because this one just might work — and if it does, it’ll save his grade!

“aw, i’m in for it now,” denki groans, slapping a hand on his forehead to feign disappointment, but not before you see the smile that peeks through. “i’ll never get a break from school with you being my tutor.”

you smirk. “well, the only other option is fail. you wouldn’t want bakugo to hear you retaking a class, now would you?” bringing up the fiery blonde is a sore topic, but you’ve known denki long enough to know that he would fall over his feet to impress katsuki bakugo, who, even if he is a well-known jock and bully, has some of the highest grades of your class.

denki gives you a glare and a poke that shocks the surface of your skin with tiny bright yellow bolts, though not harsh enough to inflict pain. “harsh. but you’re right, i guess.” his yellow gaze shifts to the side, thoughtful. “i guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽

and that’s how you find yourself sitting in the study room of your public library, highlighting graphs and points and reading out the next formula to denki, whose head rests on his folded arms, eyes closed though he’s not asleep. 

“denki,” you say, gently stirring him by poking his head.

his head of unruly blonde hair, the thick lock of jet-black that shot right through it was ruffled. denki isn’t the type of guy to spend hours in front of a mirror — he wakes up, runs his hand through it maybe once or twice, and then calls it a day. Still, somehow his hair just looks so . . . soft.

so maybe your whole hand is in his hair now, your expression fascinated by just how does he keep his hair so soft? because, well, he’s denki. and his hair is just sooo soft and—

“um, what are you doing?” denki’s voice is muffled, his head still buried in his arms. 

you freeze, whipping your hand out of his hair as quick as lightning. “um, waking you up?” you try, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a cheeky smirk.

denki’s head lifts slowly, yellow eyes bright as his smile. “nice try. you wanna know what shampoo i use, don’t you?” 

“Actually, conditioner,” you correct him, unable to meet his gaze. are you blushing? and your hand was in his hair? you resist the urge to slap yourself. What is going on?? 

you find the study guide packet you’d made for algebra and take it out, flipping through the pages and reading vocab that you already know; anything to get your mind off of whatever that was, because whatever that was was weird. in all your years of friendship, you’ve never touched denki’s hair, never caressed him like that, it was so weird to think about! 

“do we really have to study now?” denki’s voice cuts through your thoughts. maybe he forgot about what just happened. 

“yes,” you say stiffly, trying to forget about the whole thing. But it’s hard not to remember — especially when you wouldn’t mind doing it again.

So you scoot your chair a couple inches away from him, studying your head off and doing your best to teach him what all the variables in a new formula mean (“The whole ass alphabet is in this one problem!”) and how to graph a problem with that formula (“I don’t know how playing connect the dots is gonna help my quirk be more powerful”) and eventually, you’re done for the day.

The library is nearly empty by the time you two walk out of the study room, your heavy backpack of study material and binders weighing down Denki’s shoulders like a giant necklace. 

“So, good study sesh?” you chirp, hoping at least some of the work made sense to him.

Denki makes a face, pursing his lips to one side and looking down at you. “Eh, i guess I understood a bunch more than before. But I don’t think studying more could hurt.”

You smirk. So he does like studying. “so, the great I-have-everything-against-studying Denki wants to study more?”

He rolls his eyes, glancing away to run his hand through his hair. “Yeah, just a bit. Just to lock all that stuff in my head before midterms, y’know? And can we do movie night at mine instead of your dorm Friday? I’m tired of Tubi movies.” he looks at you brightly.

“Fine. we’ll study tomorrow and thursday after classes, and then Friday can be our free day.” you decide to relent, since, one: you’ve started to hate Tubi movies too, and two: Denki always has the best snacks at his dorm.

≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽≽

You’re not gonna lie, studying for your own midterms and teaching Denki has taken its toll on you — your nails are a mess, all bitten off from stress, you haven’t had a good hair day in a while, so many things that you could just pick apart if given the time (and a mirror).

But today is Friday. 

Worry-free, studying-free, party-and-get-drunk friday, but also movie friday.

Which is why you stand at Denki’s dorm room, left hand clutching a blanket and unpopped bags of buttery microwave popcorn and right hand knocking on the door, the special pattern you two had made up (two knocks, two knocks, one knock).

“You’re here!” denki whips the door open and snatches the stuff from your arms. “come in. we’re gonna watch The Terrifier.”

“That sounds like a horror movie,” you say slowly. “Denki . . .” you’ve never really liked scary movies, and Denki’s respected that since forever. At least until now.

he gives a cheeky grin. “Come on. live a little. It’s really not that scary. Maybe you can give me one of those head massages from the other day if you get scared, hm?” his grin turns into a smirk.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Denki!” you squeak, pushing past him with a huff to enter his a dorm. The dorm sizes are pretty generous, and it doesn’t help that denki lives in one of the higher quality ones — his has a medium-sized kitchen, living room, and two bedrooms instead of one.

The movie is already on its pause/play screen, so you take the remote, falling onto the couch as you press play and music blares. 

“Don’t be a baby, it was just a joke,” Denki whines, having followed you into his dorm. He grabs the yellow pillow next to you and gently tosses it on your lap, sitting down next to you. 

You watch the black pleather crease under his weight. “It’s not that. I thought you’d forgotten.”

“psshhh,” denki scoffs. “Wouldn’t forget that.” he glances at you, then looks away, the tips of his ears reddening, “I mean, it felt good.”

your eyes don’t leave the tv. but his words ring in your head. “Okay, denki, just say you’re kinky.”

he looks back at you, his expression completely serious. “I’m not. I’m serious, like actually. Maybe if I’m like stressed or something, that would help me out, y’know?” His head falls on your shoulder. And his tone is calm, like this was just a casual conversation — and maybe it is and you’re just making it weird.

you try to joke. Maybe that will work. “What, you want me to do it again, like, now?”

Denki shrugs, the movement rippling against the couch. “Wouldn’t mind it.” He looks up at you, something twinkling in his eyes, though you’re not quite sure what.

“Fine,” you mutter, your fingers finding his soft blonde hair, nails gently brushing against his scalp. Denki closes his eyes, seeming to lean into your touch, which makes your face hot.

your gaze remains glued to his cute little tranquil expression — wait, cute? what?? you guess he’s not that bad looking for a boy, and his hair is really soft after all.

maybe you’ll take your other hand off the remote and hold his chin up with it. that’s not that intimate, is it??

then he mumbles something, but you can’t hear it, don’t understand it, because shit.

shit, shit shit, no.

because you like denki.

© vanilabaebo 2025.

[heldbybarnes]

The Quiet Between Us

Bucky Barnes x Reader

----------

The snow was falling in soft waves by the time Bucky finished stacking the last piece of firewood. The air held a kind of hush he hadn’t known in years—as if the trees themselves were listening, as if the world had finally exhaled and let him rest.

He didn’t mind the work. Repairing old cabins suited him more than therapy ever had. The hours were quiet, filled with woodsmoke and hammering, and no one in town asked questions. Most folks figured him for a war vet with shadows in his eyes. They weren’t wrong.

The cabin next door belonged to you. You had arrived in late October with a handful of boxes and a promise to yourself to disappear for the winter. Something about the way you moved—gentle, but guarded—reminded Bucky of himself.

You waved most mornings from your porch, always with a mug in hand, sometimes wrapped in a thick sweater or a blanket around your shoulders. You never pushed, never asked why he flinched at loud noises or worked well into the night. You just… existed beside him.

And he began to look for it. The steam from your coffee. The curl of your fingers over the railing. The way you watched the sunrise like it was something sacred.

It was early December when he found a bag of biscotti left on his steps. No note. Just a quiet offering, buttery and sweet.

The next morning, he brought over a thermos of coffee—strong and dark, no cream, the way he’d noticed you took it. You blinked at the gesture, then smiled softly, and said, “Guess we’re neighbors now.”

He sat on your porch that morning. And the one after that.

Sometimes you talked. Sometimes you didn’t. Bucky didn’t mind the silence. He liked the way it wrapped around the both of you, not empty, but full. Safe. Shared.

One morning, close to Christmas, he noticed your hands trembling slightly as you held your mug. He didn’t say anything, just shifted closer, letting his arm press gently against yours.

“Bad dream,” you murmured after a while.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

Neither of you moved away.

The snow thickened that week. Bucky helped you stack wood, repaired your creaky back step, shoveled your path without being asked. You brought him soup. Left him a note once with a little drawing of your porch view and a line that said, Thanks for not making the quiet feel lonely.

He read it three times before slipping it into his coat pocket.

January came. So did the thaw, ever so slightly. One morning, you handed him a book with a dog-eared page and said, “I think you’ll like this part.”

He read it on his porch, boots up on the railing, heart steady. It was about a soldier who came home and learned to build again. To be held. To be known.

That evening, he knocked on your door. Just once.

When you opened it, he looked unsure, as if the words were stuck in his throat. You didn’t rush him. You never did.

“I think I want to stay,” he said finally.

You tilted your head, smiled gently. “Then stay.”

And he did.

Not because he had nowhere else to go. But because, in the quiet between you, Bucky Barnes had finally found peace.

[lenalee-academy]

Look at this comment someone made on my Avengers fic?! 🥹😭 I read it and couldn’t stop smiling and a minute later read it again and burst into tears and now there’s this cycle of like near rolling around my couch in glee as I read it again and sobbing ugly happy tears that this person said such kind things about my work.

[nenoname]

.....ok it's legit wild to see people saying that emma may is unironically their fave character

[remythologise]

kcd2.........

[clowndensation]

we hired a new guy at work and his name is vincent btw. literally replacing me with some guy with the same exact name. and our email addresses are all just our first names and then @companywebsitename.com so if i ever WERE to come back, i'd be like. vincent1@companywebsitename.com. disrespectful.

[clumsypuppy]

if escape rooms as team building exercises became popular im not sure if id be more excited or terrified

[moonchild-in-blue]

I haven't really done much art for tumblr (at all) lately, cus life, but! Here's a lil something I've been working on (it's a Xmas gift) 💙

(also peep that lil January calendar painting 👀 i did mini squares for each month for myself, because I need to have a physical one always, and they each have their own colour 🥺)