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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

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[SVT Imprinted] Soonyoung: World’s Best Babysitter (Spin-Off)

Anonymous asked: I thought he would name it Coco! LOL it’s really a good imprint episode! Is it ok to request a spin-off with just Soonyoung tending to Kaito and the chickens? Like he even brought all hens and rooster to Jun’s room? 😂😂😂 Thank you and keep it up! 😍😍

Characters: Soonyoung x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, 100% crack, soonyoung is an irresponsible babysitter

Word count: 1,617

Summary: Before Jun had brought his mate home, Juri planned out a girls’ day specifically for all of the mates to go out, have fun, and relax. The rest of the pack – save for Soonyoung – had work and school to tend to, which meant the goofy wolf was left in charge of your 3-year-old brother.

Imprinted Masterlist

“Out,” Juri had told him, “we’re taking her out.”

And out they took you, leaving Kaito in Soonyoung’s care because it was your day to babysit, but it was your only free day that week, and you just looked exhausted.

All. The. Time.

So Juri declared a girls’ day – despite Seungcheol getting protective and saying it was dangerous to go out alone – and all of the mates went out for the day.

But you and the girls weren’t the only ones to go out. The rest of the pack had things to take care of. Some had work, some had class, and others just left because they didn’t want to have to take care of two kids.

“Come on, Jihoon,” Soonyoung begged, knowing the shorter wolf didn’t have anything he actually had to do today. “Why won’t you stay?”

“Because I don’t want to be around a kid,” Jihoon scoffed.

“That’s mean!” Soonyoung gasped. “What did Kaito ever do to you, huh?”

Jihoon grabbed the motorcycle helmet from the key hook by the front door, opening the door, “I was talking about you,” he stated before leaving.

Which meant it was just Soonyoung and little Kaito for the day. Kaito obviously didn’t mind, as he’d taken quite the liking to your mate. He even took the time to give him a nickname because “Soonyoung is too long, and you should have something to match me and _____”.

Kaito and Hoshi were partners in crime, and even though Soonyoung definitely made for a great babysitter, leaving them alone in the house for the day was probably the worst idea anyone ever had. You didn’t know they’d be left alone, and Jihoon figured it wasn’t his problem.

Three hours into the day, and the pair had already gathered every blanket from every room to make “the world’s biggest blanket fort”, made chocolate milk with extra chocolate that Kaito eventually threw up after running laps around the house, and had already set Jun’s trashcan on fire. Clearly, things were going well.

But they still had a few more hours to go.

As the two laid under their giant blanket fort – Kaito in one of Jihoon’s shirts because he threw up on his and refused to wear a women’s shirt, and Jihoon was the tiniest man in the house – Soonyoung flipped through the channels.

“Hoshi?” Kaito looked over at the wolf curiously.

“Hmm?” he hummed, seeming in a trance from the flickering of channels.

“Did _____ tell you we got more chickens?” he asked.

Soonyoung nodded, “Think so…”

“They’re getting eated again,” he informed Soonyoung.

Immediately, the wolf looked away from the TV to the 3-year-old, “Huh?”

“I said they’re getting eated again.”

“It’s eaten, Toto. What’s eating them?”

“I dunno! I’m only three!”

Soonyoung laughed loudly, reaching over to ruffle the younger boy’s hair, “Right, my bad. Come on, let’s go investigate.”

Like a good adult, Soonyoung got Kaito in his light-up sneakers before he carried him piggyback style down the street to your home. Kaito sang a few Japanese songs he knew on the way while Soonyoung encouraged his very off-key singing. He also noted that someone in your family must listen to Babymetal since he recognized the lyrics to Karate.

Finally reaching the property, Soonyoung let Kaito off of his back when he squirmed so he could run over to the garage door. Soonyoung found the key where you had told him it was many times before, and opened the door carefully as to not let any of the chickens out. He noticed, as Kaito had said, there were significantly less chickens than there had been before.

“Well,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “we have to do something about it.”

“I have a plan!” Kaito grinned before waving Soonyoung down to his height.

The wolf wasn’t sure why Kaito wanted it to be a secret, but he played along anyway. However, his face lit up when he heard the young child’s solution, thinking he had taught him well.

“I like the way you think!” Soonyoung grinned. “Do you have something to put them in?”

“I got a wagon.”

“That’s a little too small, bud.”

Kaito hummed as he looked around before his eyes landed on the wooden structure in the yard, “What about that? It’s my dad’s.”

It was a hook-up to their small tractor. It was used to carry produce when their dad had owned a small vegetable farm, but it didn’t have much use now. It wasn’t too big, though, so Soonyoung figured he could manage to make it work, especially with his strength.

“Help me load them up,” he nodded before going to get the cart from the edge of the yard.

“Done,” Soonyoung sighed as he closed the door to the room the chickens would call home for a while until they figured out what was lurking near your house that was eating them.

Obviously, Soonyoung immediately assumed Jinsoo since he’d been spotted there before. He just didn’t understand why the werewolf would be eating the chickens you let out into the yard. He had a place to live, and he could shift back into human form; what did he have to eat animals for? Maybe just to piss the pack off?

Then again, there was a good chance it was just some wild animal. Did that mean he would let his guard down? Not at all.

“Hey Kai?” he looked down at the boy sitting on the floor like he was exhausted – even though he didn’t just pull a cart for 3 miles.

“Uh huh?”

“What do you feed them?” Soonyoung wondered, having never been much of a farmer. “Like…do they get hungry?”

Kaito looked at the older boy like he was stupid, “Everything gets hungry, Hoshi.”

He sighed, sitting beside Kaito, “No, I mean do they have to be fed at certain times of the day? Like dogs or something?”

“They’re not dogs, they’re chickens, Hoshi!”

Soonyoung sighed, laying back on the floor and just staring at the ceiling. Why was he asking a 3-year-old when he literally had Google in his pocket?

They didn’t have chicken feed, but they had bread. Therefore, he would feed them bread. Ducks liked bread, chickens and ducks were both birds, so chickens have to like bread. Who doesn’t like bread?

So there the two were: sitting on the floor in the room full of chickens while they pulled off little pieces of bread from the slices and tossed them about the room as the chickens went to peck at it. Kaito was having the best time, picking off pieces and saving them up so he could hold them in his hands and toss them around like confetti. Who knew someone could have so much fun with chickens?

Suddenly, Soonyoung heard the front door open, followed by a yell that very quickly turned into a gasp, “We’re ho…my god…”

You were back, and clearly, you had seen the mess.

“Kaito!” you called.

“_____!” he cheered, dropping the slices of bread he had in his hands and raced to the door, opening it and running out.

Soonyoung made sure none of the chickens got out before he left, slipping through the doorway before closing it securely. Kaito was halfway down the stairs, and you were looking into the living room in horror. The other mates just looked tired.

“_____!” Kaito called as he ran straight into you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Kaito, what did you do?” you breathed, not taking your eyes off of the living room that looked like a tornado hit it, and then a giant that clearly wasn’t an architect made a blanket fort for shelter.

Kaito shook his head, pointing behind him, “Hoshi made that!”

“The mess?” Aya asked.

“Excuse you, that was both of us!” Soonyoung frowned. “Don’t blame me for the whole thing.”

You turned to the mates, profusely apologizing for the actions of your brother, and mate. Faye laughed, shaking her head and tossing an arm around you as the other girls went straight into the mess to clean it up.

“Sweetheart, don’t even worry,” the tall girl told you. “Soonyoung pulled this stuff way before Kaito showed up.”

Your small crew cleaned up the mess before any of the wolves returned home. Kaito was fast asleep in your lap with his head on your chest before the first flood of boys came through the door. Mingyu immediately went to the kitchen to help Juri make dinner; Minghao, Chan, and Jeonghan joined your group in the living room; and Joshua went to his room to study. Jihoon came home and walked right past the living room, and Wonwoo showed up from work and laid on the floor in front of the TV with his head in Faye’s lap. Then Seungcheol returned with Seokmin, Hansol, Seunkwan, and Jun. The alpha went to the kitchen, Seokmin, Hansol, and Seungkwan hung out in the living room, and Jun went up the stairs.

“Told ya nobody would know,” Aya smiled at you.

“Know what, baby?” Jeonghan wondered.

“Nothing,” she quickly assured him, pecking his lips just to prove there was nothing to worry about.

But then there was a scream from upstairs. Not even a manly yell; a scream.

“Why the fuck is my room full of poultry?!” Jun cried.

All eyes automatically looked to Soonyoung. Even the pack that was in the kitchen came to the living room to look at him accusingly. You were even staring at him in shock.

“You stole our chickens?!” you asked him.

Not knowing how to explain himself, Soonyoung shrugged, “I missed my first love.”

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loverboytrashmouth · 4 years ago

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Wish You Were Sober

pairing; Reddie

word count; 4k

summary; Eddie is tired of Richie flirting like a madman whenever he gets alcohol in his system.

a/n; so i decided i’m making a kind of series of reddie fics i write based on songs, bc i’m the type of bitch that listens to any music or intakes any kind of media and thinks “iMagiNe tHiS bUt rEdDiE<333″ so ya there’s that lol. here’s a lil angsty one shot based on wish you were sober by conan gray, aka a superior song if u ask me. as always, read on ao3 here if you’d like and enjoy ! :)

Nirvana blared through the speakers and traveled throughout the too small apartment owned by some random guy in one of Richie’s classes. Richie didn’t know him too well - he thinks his name is Chris? Collin? Something with a ‘C’ - but, hey, a party’s a party, and free booze is free booze.

The trashmouth was chatting loudly over the music with Bill on a dingy leather couch, waiting for Stan and Eddie to return with more drinks. Richie was already significantly further along than his friends in terms of his drunken state, all obnoxious laughs interrupted by hiccups and long, gangly limbs flailing more wildly than usual. It almost should be concerning to the other Losers, having only been at the party for less than a couple hours and their friend already being long gone, but it was what they were used to. Since they were 15 and stealing liquor from their parents, the Losers constantly saw Richie’s “go big or go home” attitude with drinking. They assumed it was just Richie wanting to be the life of the party and center of attention, whether that meant going shot for shot with Mike, accepting any type of drinking related dare from Beverly, etc.

Richie let them believe this, because it was better than telling them the truth. It was easier than admitting to them that around the same time he started sneaking a copious amount of vodka from the Tozier’s alcohol stash, he was also realizing certain feelings he had for a certain Loser.

Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie was sure it was just one of those basic laws of the universe, one that’s impossible to ignore and inevitable to come to pass. Despite this, living in a small town like Derry meant getting the shit kicked out of you if you even look at another guy for too long, soulmates or inescapable love or whatever be damned. Richie had gotten beatdowns left and right from neighborhood bullies for being a “faggot” before he even knew what the word meant, so he, unfortunately, knew this from personal experience.

But now, sitting in an apartment in Manhattan of all places, attending NYU with three out of six of his best friends, away from those assholes in Derry, Richie thought he’d loosen up. Let himself be brave.

He soon learned that was easier said than done; who knew what 19 years of internalized homophobia could do to a man?

It’s not like he was afraid of being more of an outcast; he was already a loser with a capital “L,” and he, along with the rest of his friends, carried the title like it was given to them by the Queen herself. Deep down Richie knew the rest of the Losers wouldn’t even bat an eye at the fact that he liked dudes the way he should have liked girls, so he wasn’t afraid of losing them either. And deep, deep down, Richie also knew there wasn’t really anything wrong with him. Why would he feel such a way if it was supposed to be such an unnatural and vile thing? He couldn’t help who he was, who or how he loved, and God, he loved Eddie so much he thought he could just burst with it sometimes.

That shred of acceptance, though, was buried so deep in his lanky form, and the only way to reach it was through a ridiculous amount of shots. Or beers. Or just about anything with a decent alcohol content, really. He’d even settle with wine if he had to.

When Richie was drunk, he was able to be more clingy and face less consequences. He was already an affectionate guy, constantly pinching Eddie’s cheeks and throwing a lazy arm around the shorter man’s shoulders whenever he could. With alcohol, though, he’d give sloppy cheek kisses and intertwine his fingers with Eddie’s and allow his face to form a subtle blush when an intoxicated Eddie would lean into it.

“Sorry for being all over ya last night, Eds. You know how gross and clingy I can get,” he’d say the following morning, and then they’d fall back into their rhythm of bickering and ‘your mom’ jokes. Business as usual, like clockwork every time they’d get wasted.

Richie thought it was going well, that his feelings were going totally unnoticed, that he was stealth. Until this particular college party, that is.

Richie’s attention left his conversation with Bill about the newest Die Hard film when he felt the couch sink next to him, turning to meet eyes with a mildly tipsy Eddie. The taller man’s face immediately lit up, a goofy smile spreading across his chapped lips.

“Hiya, Spagheds! What’s cookin, good lookin’?” Richie slurred out, his arm finding its way around Eddie’s waist and using his other hand to snatch the mixed drink his friend was holding out for him. Eddie responded with his usual scoff and eyeroll, but Richie noted an extra bite to it that he wasn’t used to getting from him.

“Don’t call me that, asshole! And haven’t you ever heard of personal space?” Eddie grumbled, wiggling himself out of Richie’s side embrace and putting some distance between the two. The arm that was once around Eddie made its way to Richie’s own body as he dramatically grasped at his chest.

“Eddie, baby, you’ve wounded me! Since when do you pass up some signature Tozier cuddles?” Richie was met with a simple huff in response as Eddie avoided his gaze. Richie’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at the lack of attention he was receiving from the man who would usually be giving him the most attention, but he was overall too drunk to overthink. With a shrug, Richie downed his freshly made drink in record timing before crunching the plastic cup in his hand and tossing it over his shoulder, causing Eddie to scoff again from next to him. Stan spoke up from beside Bill before Eddie could ream his friend about his lack of care for tidiness.

“Maybe you should start on some water, huh, Rich?” Richie gasped dramatically, turning to look at Stan as if he had just told him pigs fly.

“Staniel, did you just ask moi to drink water? What’s the point of free booze if you’re not gonna take advantage?” He asked incredulously before standing, wobbling on his long limbs for a couple seconds and giggling a bit before regaining his balance. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go see if my boy Chris has any good brewskis lyin’ around.”

“Isn’t his name C-C-Connor?” Bill asked, shaking his head in amusement. He seemed to be the only one enjoying the trashmouth’s antics this evening, as Stan’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern which he tried to pass off as annoyance, and Eddie still kept his gaze elsewhere. It was the latter that made Richie itch for another drink.

“Whatever the fuck, Billiam. I’ll be back in a jiff, my loves! Try not to miss me too much!” Richie exclaimed with a bow, breaking out his British accent for his next sentence. “But if I find m’lady Mary Jane, don’t wait up, lads! Pip pip!”

Before Richie could step five feet from the couch, an aggressive hand was yanking him back by the wrist. Losing his footing due to the intrusion, Richie stumbled once more, nearly toppling onto Eddie. The shorter man’s tight grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from sending them both back onto the scratchy leather of the couch below. Richie beamed at the attention he was finally receiving, despite the glare Eddie was boring deep into his features.

“Sit the fuck down, Richard. You’re not drinking anymore fucking beer and you’re definitely not smoking anything. You’re drinking some water and I’m taking you the fuck back to your room, asswipe,” Eddie said sternly, getting as close as he could to Richie’s face with the height difference between them. Richie couldn’t help but love when Eddie got like this; sure, he was red in the face more with anger than with the alcohol, but the anger was backed by mountains of concern. It reminded Richie how much his love cared about him, even though he was sure their forms of love differed. There was still some kind of love there, and sometimes, that was enough for him.

Although Richie felt his chest swell and he wanted nothing more than to ease Eddie’s anger and please him, his mouth rambled before his brain could tell it what to say, as usual.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Eds, all ya had to do was ask,” Richie slurred with a wink, slowly bringing his hand up Eddie’s arm, his calloused fingertips slightly teasing the warm skin. Eddie’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red, from anger or something else, no one was sure - until Richie’s hand was being swatted away, the smack of it loud enough for Bill and Stan to hear over the music from their spot on the couch. Richie mumbled a curse under his breath as he rubbed the skin Eddie came in contact with, a sting lingering there. He opened his mouth to speak again, some kind of excuse or apology on the tip of his tongue, but never got it out due to Eddie’s voice cutting him off.

“Stop doing this, Richie! Just stop! I’m tired of it!” Eddie's voice was slowly rising, and the tremble that laced within his words acted as some kind of magical potion; suddenly Richie had never been so sober.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sorry, whatever I did I’m sor-” The apology was interrupted with another signature scoff as Eddie looked at the ground, shaking his head, breathing out a humorless chuckle.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” he said with a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking Richie in his eyes once again. Despite the apartment being dark with the exception of a couple of lamps scattered around the area, Richie could see the glistening threat of tears waiting to spill from the doe eyes he loved so much. His heart ached.

“Of course you don’t know what you’re doing, Rich, because you’re too fucking drunk! You’re always too drunk. I just… I just wish you were sober for fucking once!” Eddie practically screamed, before his voice softened with hurt again. “I just wish you’d act like this with me without fucking booze.” There were a couple beats of silence between them, two pairs of dark eyes swimming with gallons of emotions simply blinking at one another, the only noise coming from Eddie’s sniffling. Richie did all in his power to search for a response, but for once in his life, the trashmouth was at a loss for words. After what felt like forever, Eddie finally ended the moment by turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door, leaving Richie to stand in dumbfounded silence while his intoxicated brain processed the scene that just unfolded. His thought process was interrupted by a voice coming from the couch.

“Wha-what just happened?” Bill asked, his amusement from earlier in the night completely dissipated and replaced with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Richie’s oblivious and a dumbass is what just happened. Nothing new,” Stan deadpanned from next to him. Richie snapped his body towards the pair, making his head spin and reminding him of just how drunk he was. He blinked at the two in an attempt to adjust his sight before raising his hands in defense at Stan’s comment.

“What are you talking about? Do you know what that was about?” Richie asked, pointing towards the direction Eddie stormed off in. Stan rolled his eyes before standing up and grabbing Richie by the shoulders with both hands, giving him a serious look.

“When we went to get drinks, Eddie talked to me. About you. About how you act when you’re drunk, all over him and shit, more than usual. And how much he likes it, but he hates that he likes it, because you only do it when you’re drunk.” Richie continued to gape at his friend, clearly not connecting what Stan’s words meant. Stan sighed, scrunching his face in annoyance and gripping Richie’s shoulders tighter. “He’s in love with you, asshole! Either tell him you love him too, because trust me, everyone except him knows you do, or stop leading him on. It’s fucking ruining him, man!”

Realization finally hit Richie, his eyes welling with tears as Stan’s grip on his shoulders softened. “He- He is? Are you sure? This- This isn’t funny, Stanley. A-Are you sure?” he breathed out, and if it wasn’t for the weight of the situation, he’d made a joke about how he was sounding like Bill, nervous stutter and all. Stan gave a slight nod and responded, but Richie didn’t hear what he said. His mind was suddenly racing; find Eddie. tell Eddie. kiss Eddie. EddieEddieEddie.

Before he knew it his feet were running just as fast as his thoughts, not 100% sure where he was going, just knowing he needed to find Eddie. Richie raced out of the apartment building into the chilly air that was New York City on a late November night, frantically scanning the streets. His eyes soon locked on a figure about half a block down, leaning against a mailbox, head in his hands. Even with the distance between them, Richie could tell he was trembling, either from the cold or from crying, he wasn’t sure. As he felt the sharp breeze across his skin exposed by the rips in his jeans, he assumed probably both.

Richie thought better than to call out his name, opting instead to slowly approach Eddie. He did his best to labor his breathing in his short walk over, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation that was about to take place. The confrontation that would bear all feelings, all confessions. All of the walls Richie had been building around himself since high school would finally come down.

He wished he had another drink.

“Eds?” He spoke softly, possibly the softest he’d ever spoken, as to not scare Eddie and send him running. The shorter man lifted his head from his hands, and Richie’s heart broke even more at the sight before him. Eddie’s eyes were red and puffy, a wall of hurt extremely evident in the soft brown. His nose was runny, and his lip quivered as he looked away when he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Don’t call me that,” he practically whispered, just loud enough for the other to catch it over the bustle of traffic in the streets surrounding them. Although he was avoiding the other man’s gaze like his life depended on it, Eddie made no attempt to walk away. Richie took that as a small win.

“Eddie, talk to me. Please. What’s up? It’s just me and you, man. C’mon.” Richie wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch Eddie. Offer a comforting hand on his shoulder, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, tell him everything would be okay. But he didn’t dare move.

A car honked down the street, offering the only noise that cut through the thick silence when Eddie didn’t take Richie’s offer to speak. The former stayed silent with his head down, finding the dirty concrete under his pristine white converse highly interesting. Richie let out a sigh.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. I’ll do all the talking. I’m the Trashmouth after all, aren’t I?” Richie offered a lame chuckle when his attempt at a joke fell flat, Eddie not breaking his frown even slightly. Richie cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. “Look, I talked to Stan, he told me what you guys talked about, and -” He was cut off by the same humorless chuckle he heard in the apartment minutes ago, but this time it dripped with sadness rather than anger.

“Dammit, Stanley, you fucking traitor,” Eddie mumbled mostly to himself. He shook his head with a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, making them impossibly redder, before willing himself to look at Richie, his voice finally reaching above a murmur for the first time since leaving the party. “Secret’s out, I guess. I’m a fucking cliche. The fuckin’ queer that fell for his best friend.”

All Richie could do was silently stare, mouth slightly agape and eyes comically blown, amplified more so by his glasses. Sure, Stan had told him this not even five minutes beforehand, but hearing it from Eddie himself was an entirely different experience. He figured under different circumstances, Eddie would probably be laughing at how dumb he was sure he looked. Instead, the shorter man looked at him expectantly with tears still in his eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response, and expecting the worst. They stood this way, basically a mirroring of what played out in the party upstairs before Eddie stormed out, for a solid minute before it was - once again - Eddie who broke the silence.

“So much for doing all the talking,” he muttered, the volume of his voice lowering, Richie realizing as Eddie looked back at the ground that he was closing in on himself once again. “Good night, Rich.”

“No,” Richie finally spoke, his arm darting out to grab Eddie’s hand before he could even adjust his feet to leave. “Please don’t walk away again. Please.” His voice broke on the last plea, his own eyes finally beginning to water. Eddie was still staring in the opposite direction down the concrete path he was planning on following before he was interrupted, but was staying put, not rejecting Richie’s hand in his. “There’s so much I wanna say to you, Eddie. So much. I just… Shit, I just don’t know how.”

Richie was crying just as much as Eddie was at this point but quieter, unable to pull himself together as much as he wanted to be brave. Eddie turned his head to face Richie with his glare still hardened, only softening when he saw the state Richie was in. Eddie had known Richie since they were literal children, and he knew better than anyone that Richie Tozier didn’t cry like this. Not unless something was truly eating at him. The anger Eddie felt towards the situation seemed to have completely disappeared as he comfortably squeezed Richie’s hand, giving him encouraging eyes.

The taller man used his free hand to rub the tears from his eyes, giving him a better look at Eddie. They were standing fairly close to the lone street light of the block, the faint orange tint of the bulb complimenting Eddie’s lightly tanned skin and chestnut eyes. Without thinking, Richie brought his hand up to Eddie’s face, cupping his cheek and wiping a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. He continued softly rubbing at the skin there after the tear was gone, his thumb dancing across the freckles, his mind flooded with thoughts of how beautiful the man before him was. Eddie closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the feel of Richie’s touch.

Unable to find words again but refusing to let the moment slip out of his fingers for the third time of the night, Richie did the only thing he truly knew how to do; he acted impulsively.

If asked, Richie wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when he decided to kiss the man he’d loved since he was 15 in the middle of Greenwich Village at one in the morning. Before he knew it, the hand on Eddie’s cheek slid down to his neck, pulling their lips together before the shorter man could react to the shift in Richie’s hold on him. As much as he didn’t want to admit the fact, Richie knew he wouldn’t have taken such action if it weren’t for the alcohol flowing through his veins, but at this point he didn’t much care. When their lips met, he forgot all about the booze, and became drunk on Eddie.

Eddie kissed back without hesitation, letting go of Richie’s hand and easily snaking his arms around his neck, with a comfortability as if they had done this thousands of times. It was sloppy due to the pair’s mixed tears along with their lack of experience, but nevertheless the two men kissed with purpose, as if the fate of their livelihood depended on this moment. Perhaps it did.

By the time they pulled away and rested their foreheads together, Eddie’s fingers had found themselves tangled in Richie’s dark curls, and Richie’s hands were gripping Eddie’s hips for dear life. The kiss hadn’t lasted too long - thirty seconds or so, if that - however the energy both men poured into those short seconds left them panting heavily, their breath tangling together, hot in the other’s face in the midst of the cold air around them.

“That was better than talking,” Richie breathed out with a wet chuckle, causing Eddie to finally crack his first smile of the night. It was a small one, the corners of his mouth curving only lightly, but Richie saw that his happiness had made its way into his stare.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie whispered with no real bite in his words before bringing their lips together again, this kiss softer than the last. While their first kiss was filled with the passion built up from years of mutual pining and secrets, their second let them convey the deepness of their love without words to speak. A tender peck of their lips told Richie everything he needed to know; this moment was very much real, and Eddie Kaspbrak very much loved Richie Tozier.

And if the kiss wasn’t enough, Eddie made sure to tell him when he pulled out of the kiss and rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, pulling him into a proper embrace.

“I love you, Rich. I- I think I always have,” he confessed, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was buried in Richie’s neck, but the other man heard him loud and clear all the same. Richie released his grip on Eddie’s hips and wrapped his arms around him, letting himself breathe out a sigh of relief as he held him impossibly closer.

“I love you too, Eds. So fucking much, fuck.” Richie pressed a kiss to soft brown waves, breathing in the clean scent of lavender shampoo mixed with light cologne, his senses filling with just Eddie.

Standing in the middle of a bustling city they barely knew in the wee hours of a Sunday morning, arms wrapped tightly around one another, ignoring the strangers that walked past them most definitely giving them some variation of judgemental stares, Eddie and Richie had never felt more at home.

“Alright, Trashmouth,” Eddie started, reluctantly pulling away from Richie’s hold. Richie pouted at the loss of feeling Eddie’s body pressed against his own, making the latter chuckle and playfully roll his eyes. He pressed a quick peck to said trashmouth before continuing. “We can talk about this more in the morning. Right now, you need water and sleep.” Richie slapped a toothy grin onto his chapped lips after, once again, being reminded of how intoxicated he still was, falling back into his goofy demeanor with ease.

“Ya gonna take care of me, Dr. K? Ugh, what a dreamboat,” he replied, miming a cartoonish faint. Eddie simply giggled and grasped Richie’s hand once again, interlacing their fingers and leading him in the direction of their dorms. Richie fell back ever so slightly as to not get caught looking at Eddie like the lovesick dork he was, feeling a warmth grow in his body he was sure wasn’t due to the alcohol.

Richie still drinks after this night; old habits die hard, of course. However, Richie didn’t have to be drunk anymore to admit he loved Eddie. He told him sober and drunk, day and night, and vowed to remind Eddie just how much he loved him until the day they died.

#my writing #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #reddie angst #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it 2017 #it 2019

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lunarliza · 5 years ago

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JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 1: Popsicles

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

note: so this is my second JJ fic! I’m so excited for ya’ll to read it. it’ll be more light-hearted and shorter than DLS :)

“Come on... come on! This one right here let’s go!” you yelped. The crowd behind you was practically chattering on their fingernails.

The seven year old boy in the water paddled as hard as his lanky arms could take him towards the daunting wave.

“Now Gavin now! Stand up!” you shrieked as the boy hurriedly went through your instructed steps, tucking his knee, and thrusting upwards as the wave got close. Then, before he even realized, he glided rigidly along the wave as the board carried him across the water.

“Hooray! Awesome job Gavin!” The flock cheered and rushed to pat the boy on the back, his dad lifting him up in his arms.

The child scuttled towards you and threw his arms around your neck. You chuckled delightedly. “Alright everyone! That’s it for our surf lesson today. Be sure to check out the gift shop on your way out!”

You waved bye to the guests as they made way to return their boards to the hut, some handing you rolled up cash, with thankful smiles.

Once the coast was clear, you jogged back to the hut only to find Sophia, your best friend and lazy co-worker, lounging with her legs stretched on the checkout counter of the tiny surf shack. She hung a lollipop in her mouth while her eyes glued to her phone screen.

“You know, when you asked me to find you a job, I actually thought you meant one where you actually work.”

Sophia popped out the sucker and threw you a glare. “I did work! See!” she pointed her hand at the sign hanging beside the door that read ‘OBX Surf and Sports’, “I put that sign up this morning.”

“It’s crooked.”

“Bleh, bleh, bleh,” she mocked, “Nothing I ever do is good enough.” You chuckled and shook your head at her.

You peered out the giant window at the front of the store, surveying the empty beach. This was going to be the rest of your summer. At sixteen years old, you were one of the Outer Banks’ surfing all-stars and spent your days working as an instructor for the second year in a row.

Customers loved you and your ability to work with all ages rendering you the title of ‘Top Instructor’ at the shack- which didn’t mean much seeing as 90% of the employees were amateur teenagers.

Nevertheless, you were determined to keep that title, as whoever brought in the most satisfied customers by the end of the summer wins a $5,000 scholarship. And you needed that money bad in order to attend your dream school: UVA.

Along the beach, you caught a glimpse of your competition, Cody, and instinctly groaned.

On any other occasion, you really didn’t care about what people did with their lives, but something about your arrogant, sleazy, five-foot-seven co-worker grinded your gears.

He was always man-splaining to you and the other girls at the shack or kissing ass to your boss. And you knew well he was after the scholarship too- your scholarship.

“Look at him,” you sneered to Sophia as she joined you at the window to death-glare the boy. He was prepping his group on the sand for their session and looked absolutely despicable in his shorts that were inches away from exposing his little one. Emphasis on the little.

“Ugh, he’s making them do jumping jacks again,” Sophia pointed out, crinkling her nose, “God that poor old lady. Can he be any more extra?”

“I need to look away, I think I might vomit if he ever flashed me.”

Your best friend snickered at your hatred as you waxed down your board for your next lesson. “Did the group of girls check in yet?” you asked.

“Yeah, they’re sitting and waiting at Eye Sickles,” she informed, referring to the popsicle food-truck next door. “I can’t believe they really signed up for the month-long surfing program. I didn’t know people actually paid for that.”

“You’d be surprised. These tourists will buy into anything, trust me,” you said before heading out the door.

You walked up to three tourist girls lounging on the fold-out tables and chairs at the food-truck. They were mindlessly typing away on their phones, looking as bored as ever.

“Alright, do I have Annalise, Maia, and Arabella?” you announced with your work-smile on. They peered up from their phones and nodded with blank faces.

“Awesome,” you continued, trying to maintain your enthusiasm, “I’m y/n, I’ll be your instructor! I see you guys signed up for the month-long pro-boarding program which is great. Have you guys ever surfed before?”

“Nope,” a blonde girl replied, “Our parents found this online and said it’d be good for us to learn while we’re here. We’re from Richmond, Virginia.”

“Oh cool!” you jeered, the fake zeal was oozing at that point. “Well, I’m happy to be spending the summer with you guys. I’m going to have you guys grab a board and we’ll head down to the sand to go over the basic motions.”

The trio followed you into the hut and picked out a board from the beginners section. You noticed the blonde one giggling with Sophia at the stand for a bit before joining you on the sand. She had a leader-like quality to her while the two other remained quiet but friendly.

“Alright so, just for formalities, who’s who? That way I can identify you better,” you asked as the girls situated their boards along the shore.

Not shockingly, the blonde extended her hand to you first. “I’m Annalise,” she greeted a little sullenly. You shrugged off her attitude, attributing it to her being a bougie tourist.

“I’m Maia,” a tall, jet-black haired girl said next. She had a very athletic body and came off as the quietest one of the group.

“And I’m Arabella,” the last one chimed in. Her hair was a fiery orange and she had piercings run along her ears and nose.

“Alright cool! So now, we’ll start off with the movements you’ll go through once you hit the water. You want to start off flat on your stomach and paddle towards the waves. Make sure you have full control of your board at all times,” you began as the girls copied your demonstration on their own boards.

You heard sniffles come from the group, but ignored it to continue your spiel. You could hardly read any of their expressions through their giant, bug-eyed sunglasses.

Just as you were about to explain the importance of balance- you favorite part of the lesson- you saw the blonde sit up on her board in irritation and start sobbing through her glasses.

“Annalise come on, it’s not worth it,” the tall one, Maia, reasoned as the Annalise shook her head furiously.

“I can’t do this right now,” she cried before bolting back towards the shack.

You watched her in utter confusion. “Was it something I said?” you asked the remaining two.

The orange one shook her head and gave you a sincere look through her glasses. “No, she’s just really upset about this guy,” she turned to her friend, “Come on, let’s go check on her.”

At that point, you had no choice but to follow the group towards their distressed friend. This was definitely coming out of their session time.

The three of you plowed up the sand to find the girl, Annalise, sprawled on Sophia’s shoulder at the tables as she cooed her like a baby. You wanted to cringe.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a piece of shit anyways! Trust me, he did the same to me too,” your best friend comforted and petted the stranger’s yellow hair.

“What’s going on?” you questioned at the scene. Sophia glanced up at you with a pleading look.

“It’s JJ.”

Oh brother. This dude again. JJ Maybank was the Outer Bank’s most infamous fuck boy. Him and his friends threw parties all the time at the Boneyard- ones you have yet to attend- and he effortlessly earned his reputation by sleeping with any girl he could get his grubby hands on.

By this point, he’s broken half the hearts on the island with girls moaning and groaning about him left and right- Sophia included. You remembered her wailing the day he ghosted her after they did the nasty. It wasn’t a pretty day... or week for the matter.

You didn’t understand what the big deal was with the guy. You’d gone to school with him since the first grade and he’d always been that guy that rolls in the mud during playtime in elementary school. And he still was that guy to this day.

You heard all the cringey lines he’d pull on girls at school that would get them swooning and you swore he was running a voodoo business because no one in their right mind could fall for that.

But everyone did. Except for you.

“What? Did he ghost you too?” you gestured towards the wrecked weeping girl.

She nodded and blew her boogers into the tissues Sophia brought out.

“I-I, well, we met him at a party this weekend and he took me to this little hideout on the beach. He told me that he never met anyone like me before and said all this other shit. Then we had sex there, which I never do in public, and he said he couldn’t wait to see me again. And he never called me after!”

Though you thought her public display was a little too... public, you did feel sorry for her. The guy was a tool, and these tourist girls, especially, didn’t know any better.

“Don’t worry,” Sophia assured, resting a hand atop hers, “he did it to me and everyone at school. We all fell for the trap.”

Maia and Arabella joined the sitting girls in a piled group hug as the ones in the center sputtered in tears together. You couldn’t bear to watch, but for Sophia, you awkwardly joined in anyways.

The rest of the surfing session consisted of the girls pulling up their own chairs and bad-mouthing JJ, along with all other men, as everyone licked their popsicles.

You sucked on your mango one, not minding the little break as it was the easiest $150 you ever made. The girls weren’t as hoity-toity as you first thought. They apologized for wasting your time and promised to leave five-star reviews about you. Even better.

As evening rolled in, you found yourself laughing and joking around with your new-found friends. They told you wild stories of their private school shenanigans back in Richmond while you and Sophia filled them in on life at the OBX.

“This day was incredible,” Annalise beamed, dazed after her fourth popsicle. “Can’t believe we all bonded like this over a guy,” she chuckled, “I just... gah, I wish we could get him back somehow. Make him feel how we feel!”

“You should,” you agreed, “Why don’t one of you guys go to the parties and try to seduce him and then leave him hanging? The trick with men is to withhold sex from them and they’ll be helpless.”

Everyone’s face lit up in excitement at your idea. “No, totally! We could definitely do that!” Sophia exclaimed with wide eyes. “So who will it be? Who’s our hamster?”

“Not me,” Maia objected almost instantly, “I have a boyfriend back home so no seducing will be done on my part.”

“Arabella then,” Annalise suggested, nudging the girl beside her.

“Alright...” she agreed, fiddling with the string of her bathing suit, “I guess I could take one for the team.”

“There we go!” you cheered, “You just march straight into that party, grind on him a bit to leave him hanging, then proceed to embarrass the shit out of him! Problem solved!”

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

note: do not worry! more drama to come

chapter 2

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n

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fbfh · 5 years ago

Text

“forever” paxton hall-yoshida x reader

genre: fluffy romance + mutual pining (not too slowburn tho lol)

word count: 3.4k

au: none?? jock x theatre nerd ig

pairing: Paxton x broadway baby!reader

requested: yes !! i hope u like it uwu

warnings: one hell one motherfucking and i think that’s it for swearing?? um brief self deprecating/talking bad abt urself from paxton (bby boy needs a self love boost), reader and paxton are home alone together for a little while but nothing bad happens, uh,,, i think that’s it

summary: when Eleanor can’t run lines with you, she sends over a very attractive, mutually pining substitute.

reccomended songs: “Seventeen” - Tuck everlasting OBC, “The Kiss” -The Princess Diaries score

a/n: i’m p sure i kept the reader p gender neutral but there’s implied slightly long hair, and you play the lead (a girl named winnie) in ur schools production of tuck everlasting but like it’s theatre so anyone can play anyone lol,, this took so got dam long bc i’m fucking s o f t for jock x artist and it just sorta happened lol aLsO,, not super thoroughly edited so there might be a typo or two?? im tired lol

requests r open <3

You had only ever seen two athletes present during rehearsals. Once when Madeline (who at the time was playing Penny in your production of Hairspray) was dating a guy from the soccer team. The other was when the star of the basketball team had come in to give your choreographer pointers for the basketball scenes during High School Musical.

Until now.

You had run onstage part of the way through “Live Like This”, which wasn’t out of the ordinary since so much progress had been made on the costumes. You were still tying the ribbon on your pinafore as you jumped into the song, but when your eyes met a face in the usually empty auditorium, you faltered. You almost sang the wrong verse, but recovered quickly, continuing with the blocking. What felt like a moment later, the number was almost done and you were nearing the end of your counterpoint with Mae Tuck - played by Eleanor, of course. Who could be better for the part? You held out the last note, trying to stay in character despite all the distractions in the back of your mind. You had to talk to Eleanor when the director called for 10; she’d started telling you how Devi was being weird recently. Also, what the Hadestown was Paxton Hall-Yoshida doing chilling in the auditorium? You shoved all that away, focusing on staying in character until the director called for a break.

‘I want to go to the fair. I want to go so badly! I just need a change, need to get out of this house for a little while. I never do anything, so this can’t be asking for too much, right?’

You projected all that into your everything - face, voice, mannerisms, energy.

“Hold!”

Everyone froze.

The director wrote a few things on his paper, sighed, and underlined something several times.

“Okay, good job! I need to revise some of the blocking, then we’ll do notes, so take ten.” Your sudden nerves had definitely made you pitchy, you knew that would be one of your notes for sure.

A chorus of “Thank you ten”s erupted, and you immediately ran to Eleanor, telling the others good job as you passed.

You leaned in and started speaking to her, quietly.

“Okay you need to finish telling me about Devi, and that other news you’re being so cryptic about! Also, what’s up with Fierro over there?” you nodded towards Paxton hoping he wouldn’t see, and you noticed Fab is sitting near him. You realized they’re probably waiting for Eleanor and/or Devi. That must be it, he’s been hanging out with them lately, right? Eleanor gasped.

“You’re right! Paxton is such a Fierro!”

You cringed inwardly a little bit as her voice carried through the auditorium, mixing with the others. Your eyes darted over to him for a fraction of a second. Oh god. He was looking at you. Or in your general direction at least. Lena, the costumer, walked around the set gingerly, following you around and getting you out of your dress incredibly carefully as you and Eleanor walked off stage.

“No! Well, yes- but no. What’s he doing here? Jocks never come here during rehearsals. I saw Fab too, are you guys and Devi getting dinner or something?” You said, entering the auditorium, and stepping out of the dress. You grabbed sweatpants and a silky, floral kimono jacket from your bag to throw over your leotard and tights. She waved back at Fab before sitting down in the front. You both grabbed your fans and dramatically flicked them open in sync. Your wrists fluttered, cooling both of you off. A knowing, and slightly mischievous, look came on her face.

“Devi and Fab and I are. Paxton must be here for something… else.” she shrugged, nodding towards Paxton. You looked over again. He was staring at you. You did a double take and tried to hold back your smile.

“Wh- I do not know to what you are referring.”

“To what I am referring is the blush on his cheeks.”

You barely held back a nervous, bubbling laugh.

“He is not blushing! Why would he be blushing!”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “Just like how I don’t know that he’s been loitering in the halls outside the music room during your last three solo music rehearsals.”

You struggled for an answer. Before you could form one, you were interrupted.

“Okay, okay what is the best Lin Manuel Miranda musical? Because Kathryn thinks it’s Hamilton-”

“Duh!”

“-But I think it’s In the Heights! It’s an underrated jewel!” Jonah interjected, still wearing his Jesse Tuck hat.

You considered for a moment.

“I mean, they’re too different to compare. In the Heights has the same energy as Rent - showcasing what goes on in ordinary people’s lives, and how love ties us all together,” he nodded in agreement, “But Hamilton is on a way larger scale, almost Les Mis meets Fun Home vibes. But in terms of personal preference…” Eleanor scoffed at your answer, and Jonah went back to debate further with Kathryn.

“Anyway,” you turned back to Eleanor to ask her what the hell she meant by Paxton Hall-Yoshida was blushing. But before you could-

“Eleanor, we need you to try on your blue dress again,” Lena was already pulling her away, “I had the empire waist in the right place but half the pins fell out, and it’s just...” And she was whisked away before you could finish the thought. You just had time to help Holly get out her wig pins and drink some lemon water before notes. Eleanor still wasn’t back, so you made sure to write down hers for her. It was pretty standard; be quiet backstage, go over your lines, don’t touch props that aren’t yours, don’t eat in costume, and a couple blocking changes you made note of. After your end of rehearsal warm downs and huddle, everyone left relatively quickly. You ducked into the bathroom to freshen up a little. Sometimes it was hard coming down from such intense energy after rehearsal. You mentally ran through your to do list. You needed to get some more tea, write that essay when you got home, go over your notes- You gasped, cutting off your own train of thought. You ran out of the bathroom to look for Eleanor, still clutching her notes in hand.

Your voice still echoed in Paxton’s ears. He wished he had a whole album of you singing. Your voice made him want to ruin his spotify algorithm by listening to nothing else. You had looked at him a couple times, and his heart had almost stopped. He didn’t know eye contact could be so intense. It’s probably just cause you’re like, the only person in the audience. Where else is she supposed to look? He deflated a little. He heard his name and looked over to you and Eleanor talking together. Hopefully it was about him. Hopefully it was good. He checked his phone, trying to look busy. When he glanced up to see if you were looking, you were gone. He started to look around for you when he saw Eleanor waving at Fab, and sure enough, you were next to her. What he didn’t expect was you dropping your dress to the ground. Time slowed down (and his heart sped up) as you stretched a little, and pulled out sweatpants from your bag.

Wow.

You had on what looked like a bathing suit on underneath, and a few other people had done the same, but he knew that image would be in his memory, probably forever. His heart was beating in his ears and he knew he must be blushing.

“You okay, Paxton?” Fab asked, a seat or two away. Oh god, he didn’t want people asking why he blushed every time he looked at you! He muttered something about needing to make a call and headed for the doors. Don’t look back at her, don’t look back at her… His eyes involuntarily darted in your direction right before he left. You had on a flowy translucent jacket, your hair thrown back supermodel style as you fanned yourself to cool down. He needed to cool down too. Maybe a cold shower, a really cold shower.

You managed to find Eleanor just before she left. Two girls were with her, you had seen Fab once, and you’d heard a lot about Devi, but had never been introduced.

You gave Eleanor her notes, and she hugged you.

“You’re a lifesaver!”

“Of course, I-”

“Uh, who’s this?” you looked over, and the shorter girl - Devi, based on what you’d heard about her - was giving you a weird look. You introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you. How do you know Eleanor?” said the taller girl - definitely Fab.

“Oh,” you smiled, “she’s my almost mother in law. And my arch rival,” you counted on your fingers, “my sister, my niece, my lover, my husband, and…” you trailed off, trying to think of the other dynamics your characters had had in past shows.

“Your co-conspirator.”

“Right,” you laughed. Devi and Fab looked at you two.

“We’re in the musical together.” you clarified. You were about to part ways when you called to Eleanor, “Hey, we’re still on for running lines tomorrow night?”

“Uh… Sounds good!” she walked away quickly, speaking to Devi and Fab in hushed tones. Something was definitely up. That was typical Eleanor Scheming behavior.

That night, you almost couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t the normal post rehearsal can’t sleep. In fact, Tuck Everlasting was the last thing on your mind as you readjusted your pillows and snuggled into your duvet. You stared at the neon blue stars projected and swirling on your ceiling. You sighed. Again. Your brain was a 24/7 livestream of Paxton Hall-Yoshida to relax/study to. You saw him again, his face in the dimly lit auditorium, Adonis in a sea of faded seats. If you hadn’t been sure before, you knew now that red was definitely his color. You rolled onto your side. Your heart picked up speed as a thought crossed your mind. You could almost see Paxton now, kneeling next to you, his fingertips brushing your cheek. The piano underscore to “Seventeen” ran through your mind. You could imagine him saying “Wait with me, we could share the world…” so vividly it almost hurt. He leaned in, and…

You let out a loud sigh and rolled over again. Your heart was fully saturated. That’s more than enough pining for tonight.

“Paxton!”

He was a little surprised when Eleanor just walked up to him at lunch the next day. Most people were too intimidated to approach him out of the blue.

“I have a plan.”

“Uh, I don’t know what you-”

“Cut the crap, I know you like her.”

His face blanched. Well, yeah of course he did. Who wouldn’t? He was going to ask Eleanor if there was something he could do to win you over, just not here, not now. Not where everyone could watch and jeer and rib him for it. Just like they were doing now.

“Woah, dude, who is it?” Trent asked. He fumbled for words. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He hadn’t kept his crush a secret because he was embarrased of you, he’d kept it a secret because his dumbass friends wouldn’t get you. Hell, he barely got you. You were so deep, and emotive, and artistic...

“Bro, if you like her as much as it seems like you do,” Trent continued, “you gotta win her over.” He was a little shocked at the agreement murmuring through his group of friends. He didn’t know how to respond. Trent turned to Eleanor.

“What’s the plan, drama mama?”

“First of all,” she said, an almost humorously dangerous look on her face, “never call me that again. Second,” she shoved some papers into Paxton’s hands, “meet me in the music room immediately after school.” She started back for her table. Trent looked back over to Paxton.

“You gotta do it, dude. We’ll cover for you at swim.”

The rest of his friends agreed. He was pleasantly surprised at how supportive they were being.

“Yeah, I guess... we’ve got a plan.”

The next day went by pretty smoothly. No rehearsal was scheduled since they were finishing construction for some of the sets, but everyone was instructed to do a couple read throughs of the script, focusing on scenes they’re still forgetting, to make sure everyone’s off book. You stopped by 7 Eleven to get a blue slurpee (for homework) and a couple coconut waters (for run throughs). You texted Eleanor on your way to the slurpee machine.

okay so do you like the mango coconut water or the pineapple one?? It’s the mango one right?? i always forget lmao

sent at 4:16 pm

btw I don’t have that much homework so you can probs come by around 5:30 if you’re ready by then

sent at 4:16 pm

Bae Tuck

OMFG!! I totally forgot about running lines tonight, I can’t make it! :( but I’ll send someone over to help you out. :)

sent at 4:17 pm

You squinted at your screen. That was weird. Eleanor never used colon parentheses smilies. Like, ever. She always used emojis, and usually way more than two per text.

yeah np, are u good? ♡

sent at 4:17 pm

Bae Tuck

Yes :)

sent at 4:18 pm

Bae Tuck

Also get the passionfruit one 🥥🍠 👀

sent at 4:18

that’s,,, el that’s a sweet potato,,

sent at 4:19 pm

Bae Tuck

Close enough 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

sent at 4:19pm

...Okay? That was definitely weird. You shook it off and headed for the counter to pay. You stopped half way there, and turned back to swap the mango for passionfruit.

Not long after you had finished your homework and tidied up your room a little, the doorbell rang. You exited the kitchen, drinks in hand, and opened the door. Your heart caught in your throat. Paxton Hall-Yoshida was standing outside. And you were pretty sure he looked nervous. You both just stood there for a second. No one breathed, no one spoke.

“Uh, hi, do you want to…” you backed up, motioning for him to come inside.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, entering the doorway. Paxton motherfucking Hall-Yoshida was in your living room. You held out a hand to him.

“Coconut water?” he took the box, looked at the label, and smiled.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said again, this time a faint, yet unmistakable note of joy in his voice. He took a sip. He smiled.

“Passionfruit’s my favorite.” You silently thanked Eleanor, who you knew must have planned all this. Most of the evening was a blur, and you thanked god your family wasn’t home right now. You went upstairs, texted Eleanor asking what the actual fuck, made some surprisingly comfortable small talk, then filled him in on how to run lines.

“Do you think playing the soundtrack would help you… get into character?” he asked.

“I would probably just end up singing the whole thing,” You laughed and tried to ignore the butterflies in your chest. The main scene you struggled with was before “Seventeen”. It was harder to get into Winnie’s head because you had no romantic feelings for Jonah, and you always just made each other laugh. You had started with a few easier scenes of Winnie and Jesse, like the fair, and the dialogue before “Top of the World”.

“That was really good,” he said, and you felt the sincerity of his words.

“Thanks…” you smiled and took a sip of coconut water, hoping you weren’t blushing too hard.

“So what next?” he asked.

“Probably the scene before ‘Seventeen’,” you said, giving him the page and scene number, “it’s one of the hardest ones for me. I guess I just can’t connect to Jonah the way Winnie does.”

“Huh,” he said, skimming the page. When you looked up at him, he had something between a smile and a smirk playing at his lips. You made yourself look away before you got too distracted. You refused to think about the fact that you were sitting across from Paxton Hall-Yoshida on your bed, in your room, like you were… close with each other. His eyes skimmed the script, finding the dialogue. He glanced up at you and nodded, indicating he found his place. You began.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t get away,” you said, jumping into character.

“I may be 102, but I can still outrun anyone,” a smile played at his lips. You smiled, then let your face fall.

“I’m so sorry, I-I tried to warn you-”

“No, no,” he interjected almost seamlessly, “It’s okay, it’s… refreshing having someone look after me who isn’t my mom.” His eyes flickered between your face and the page. You smiled with him for a second, then let distress cloud your face.

“Jesse… that man came by my house today. He heard the music box, he knows about you-”

“I know he knows…”

You continued on with the scene and he trailed off when he came to the sheet music for the song Seventeen. You took in a breath to start the dialogue in the middle of the song, but before you could…

“Six years from now you will turn seventeen,

Turn seventeen,

The same age as me,

Six years from now,

Go to the spring,

Go to the spring and drink…”

He was singing to you. He was looking at you and singing to you. His eyes only flickered down to the page to confirm the lyrics. He was nervous, you could tell. But through his hesitance, the emotion in his voice was sincere. Your heart was beating faster. You didn’t even notice your pulse was ringing in your ears, you were too focused on Paxton.

“I'll wait for you till you turn seventeen,

Turn seventeen,

The same age as me,

Six years from now,

Go to the spring,

Go to the spring and drink…” Your hand rose to cover your mouth. He hesitated, and you remembered your dialogue.

“Uh, wh-what if I… forget where the spring is?” He reached out and took your free hand in his. Your pulse was off the charts. “I’ll go get you some water. Just… remember to keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one will find it.” You got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about the water. You knew he had never really been in a serious relationship before, and it clicked suddenly - if he learned an entire song to duet with you, just how much he must like you. You exhaled a breathy laugh, unsure how to process the sudden euphoria you felt.

“You make the world sound so… exciting. I just want to drink the water right now!”

“Uh, no. You have to wait.” you both smiled, anticipating the upcoming joke.

“Why?” you ask, “What’s the difference?” You held your breath as he tried not to laugh through the delivery of the punchline.

“Believe me,” he rubbed his thumb over your hand, “there’s a difference.” You both chuckled, and he continued singing. You were so focused on him, so… touched that he would do all this for you.

“Winnie, wait with me,

And we could be married,

Winnie, wait with me,

And we'll share the world,

Winnie, you can stop time,

And live like this,

Forever…”

“I could live like this forever,” you echoed.

“Live like this...” you sang in tandem.

“What do you say, Winnie? Do you want to…” he broke character suddenly, and asked, his eyes boring into yours, “Do you want to go out some time?”

He could see the adorable smile blooming on your face, even from behind your hand. You nodded.

“Yes, I-I would love that,” and you began to sing the last line in the song, “Forever-”

But before you finished holding out the note, his lips were on yours. His mouth moved slowly, intentionally, against yours. You followed his lead, flustered. He leaned further forward, his palm caressing your cheek. It was everything you imagined it would be, and you had quite the imagination. Your head was angled up and your hands rested themselves on his back, one tracing little shapes. Your shoulders were pressed against each other and neither of you could think. He was so warm. He tasted like coconut and passion fruit, and a distant part of your mind silently thanked Eleanor again.

You really could live like this forever.

#paxton hall yoshida x reader #paxton hall yoshida #never have i ever #nhie #nhie x reader #never have i ever x reader

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buckysmischief · 4 years ago

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running in the dark - 1

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,291

Warning(s): language, angst from the start but ends on a good note

AN: It you haven’t seen x men first class and/ or don’t know who Alex Summers is & need a face for the character, just google Lucas Till. & if anyone wants to be tagged, there’s 23 spots.

to the permanent tags - if you don’t want to be on the list anymore for any reason at all, message me and let me know. ill be making a post about it in a few days (maybe) but just figured id mention it now lol

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Your attention wasn’t fully on Alex and he could tell, “Where’s your head at?”

“You,” you lied, “and this game.”

“You hate baseball, Yn. Don’t lie.” Alex Summers was a blonde hair blue eyes masterpiece who was sculpted by the gods, too bad their temper wore off on him.

In the hopes of avoiding a public argument, you thought telling the truth would be the safest bet, “My anxiety is just really high, Wanda and Pietro kinda dropped a bomb on me before I left the house and I haven’t processed it. Remember my old neighbor that I was close to, but we fell out of touch? He’s coming back apparently.” For a moment you thought he had dropped it, but no, he’s been wanting to start a fight since you made him late to the game.

“So you’re telling me that you’re thinking of another guy and the irrelevance of his life to yours in the middle of a date that I paid for?” He always knew how to play the victim, and any other night you would have fallen for it, but not tonight. So you ignored him. “Well I’m gonna go, have fun finding a way home.”

You didn’t have to find one, Wanda was always on standby for situations like this - which was reason number four she didn’t like him. The fact that it happened more than once wasn’t information you wanted to share, but after a long session with your therapist you knew that it wouldn’t do well to keep that information to yourself. If Bucky was here it would have been him, which was something else she wanted to talk about but your time would always run out around that point.

The drive to the house from the stadium was short and quiet, but the moment the smell of the ocean began to fill your senses you felt yourself becoming more grounded. Living at the beach was the one condition you had when Wanda suggested you get a place together, which is why she had four houses picked out before she even asked you.

You just wanted to go sit on the roof and watch the waves crash into the sand, but if Pietro’s car parked in the driveway meant anything it was that the three of you were in for one hell of a night.

“Hey there, doll.” Correction, the four of you. “Long time no see.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Anger was never an emotion you felt for Bucky before he left, but over time it became the only one you could remember.

Bucky knew you wouldn’t be exactly thrilled to see him, not after cutting all communication, but he didn’t expect that. He expected awkward silence, shifty eye contact, even you going off on him. If he knew you were this mad, pretending not to know him mad, he would have gone about this totally different. “Let’s walk the beach, the moon’s just bright enough to light the way.”

“No.” You wanted to run to him and give him a hug that would make up for the eight years of silence, but when you looked at the man who was standing in your living room… he was a stranger. This Bucky’s hair was shorter and he stood taller, you could spot a few tattoos on his arms and another creeping up the side of his neck, he even had facial hair. If so much had changed on the outside, you weren’t ready to find out how much had changed on the inside, not yet. “You’re a stranger, could be a murder for all I know. Or worse, someone who just up and leaves. Already had that happen once tonight, wouldn’t wanna risk it a second time.”

You ignored everyone and walked up to your room and had every intention of going to bed, but the voices coming from downstairs were too distracting - especially since you couldn’t make out what they were saying. It didn’t help that you longed to have your toes in the sand ever since Bucky mentioned that walk. The last thing you were going to do was show your face downstairs though, so your bedroom window was the only way out.

Once you were safely on solid ground and you could taste the salt in the air it was like you could breathe again. In the last six hours your entire world had turned upside down, again. It always seemed like one thing after another but the last six alone have been a complete joke. Sure, lashing out probably wasn’t the best move but what else were you supposed to do? Pretend everything was okay? Not a chance.

“You know, after all these years it’s comforting to know this is still your happy place.” You didn’t hear him coming, but you figured he’d show up eventually.

“So you’re not a stranger.” he started to smile, figuring you were finally over it and ready to talk, but that wasn’t the case. “You’re a stalker.”

“Can you just drop the attitude for five minutes and look at me? You can be mad at me all you want after that. If you can’t give me five minutes then I’ll leave, but when you’re ready I’ll be at Pietro’s.” He stood behind you for a few more minutes, neither of you speaking a word, before deciding to walk away. Your feet were moving before your brain could even register what was happening, and when Bucky turned around with arms wide open because he knew no matter what you’d never let him walk away from you, you ran even faster.

The two of you just sat in silence for a while, but eventually Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him, “So, who is Alex?”

“Alex Summers, he was a grade ahead of us.”

“You’re dating that asshole?”

“How surprised are you really?” Truth be told, he wasn’t. Of course he hoped that at some point over the years you would stop dating losers and find someone who treated you right, for many years he hoped that guy would be him, but sadly he knew neither of those things would happen.

“You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, Yn, that’s it.” He meant it. Even if that person was someone else, he meant it. Bucky had tried moving on from you by dating a couple different women but they could never compare to you, especially Natasha. She was so jealous of his friendship with you, even the idea of you, that she had somehow manipulated her way into alienating you from his life. It was something he couldn’t undo, but something he was determined to make right.

“So what about you?” wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, you asked the first thing that came to mind, “How was the Army?”

“It was fine. Got to travel a bit but I mostly stayed in Texas. How have things been here?”

“They’ve been great.” The lie came out easy, it always did. “Do you wanna head back in? I’m starving.”

He pulled you up from your spot in the sand and as he was carrying you back to the house you realized you weren’t mad at him anymore. You had a glimpse of hope that maybe this was the first step in things finally going back to normal since he left.

“So,” he spoke softly, “we’re good?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we were never not good.” acting as if you didn’t treat him as a stranger only hours ago.

“I was hoping you grew out of being a brat.” Everyone knew that would never happen.

“Me? A brat? Sergeant Barnes, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

perm tags (49/50): @sociallyeneptbarnes @hopesbarnes @stuckonjbbarnes @superavengerpotterstar @estillion14 @sleepingspacedragon @geeksareunique @imsoft-barnes @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @murdermornings @distractedgemini @screaming-fridge @readeity @whatinthyworld @my-drowning-in-time @valkyriesryde @buggy-blogs @hey-its-grey @pinknerdpanda @brokenthelovely @theannoyingnightmarecollector @death-unbecomes-you @rhymesmenagerie @teasgyu @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @https-bucky @also-fangirlinsweden @goalexis123 @missmeganrachel @sunflowersandcherry @miraclesoflove @matsumama @reann-loves-sebstan @thinkoutsidethebex @thefridgeismybestie @niall2017 @maddope @imagine-all-the-imagines @thummbelina @m3ga1nsp1r3d @romaniansweetheart @thebadassbitchqueen @king-sebb @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bonkyboinkybucky @slaytherinthoughts @kingkassam @anti-the-glitch-bitch @poppunkdork

series tags (2/25): @rebekahdawkins @writerwrites

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #alex summers x reader #angst #fluff #mutual pining #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #bucky barnes #alex summers #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #marvel #running in the dark

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writesowhatnext · 5 years ago

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what if we rewrite the stars? // sirius black

Summary: Soulmates are dangerous things; you can’t ignore them, no matter how hard you try.

Request: Hi! Could you please write a soulmate au where Sirius and the reader have been dating for a couple of years and everything is great and they're madly in love but when their soulmates are revealed the reader's soulmate turns out to be Regulus, (they're good friends) and maybe Sirius doesn't have any? And could it be fluffy at the start but really angsty after it? Thank you love!

A/N: I would put this as regulus too but he’s not actually in it because this is just sad lol fyi Regulus absolutely breaks my heart my sweet boy

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: none I think? just sad af

part 1 // part 2

“Do you know what Sirius is?” you asked, playing with his hand as you lay shoulder to shoulder, on your backs, in the astronomy tower. You compared the size of your hands as you pressed your palm to his.

“It’s my name.” he said, turning to face you with a smug smile. You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. He poked you in the side, his face lighting up further at the sound of your laughter.

“It’s the brightest star in the sky.” You carried on anyway, folding your lips inward and biting your top lip as you stared up at the dark night sky. It looked so vast from the tower, so endless.

“Huh,” You turned to him, breath catching in your throat at his intense gaze. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes impossibly dark as he stared at your face. “I thought the brightest stars were in your eyes.”

Heat rushed to your face as you exhaled, pushing him with your free hand.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Only for you.”

You rolled your eyes again but you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as he interlocked your fingers, using his other hand to stroke the skin of your hand softly.

“That’s Aquila,” you pointed upwards towards a cluster of stars, recalling what you’d learnt in Astronomy. “And there’s Cygnus.”

He kissed your hand gently.

“My uncle was called Cygnus.” He hummed, tilting his head to the side. “He was probably my cousin three times removed as well,” he paused then, his lips twitching in amusement. “A nasty thing is inbreeding.”

You huffed a laugh, feeling him vibrating in laughter too.

“Would you name your children after stars, too, like your family?”

“Planning our kids already, are we, love?” he mused, distracted by your hands. You shook your head at his easy words.

“Sirius, what if we’re not-“ you paused, suddenly nervous. “What if I’m not your soulmate?”

You had no doubt in your mind that on your eighteenth birthday: it would be Sirius’ name scrawled across your forearm or nothing. You couldn’t help but consider that maybe he was meant for another. You felt sick at the idea of someone else’s name written in cursive on his skin.

“That’s impossible, love,” he whispered, tugging you to face him. He looked so sure, so steadfast in the idea. “We were made for each other.”

You swallowed; your chest heavy with the emotion in his eyes.

“Ever since I met you,” he turned onto his side, shoulder pressing into the stone floor. “I knew I would marry you. And that won’t change, because, in a couple months, my name is going to appear,” He pulled his fingers from yours and gently stroked his long index finger down your forearm. “Right here. Right where it’s always meant to be.”

You wanted to regret getting into a relationship before you found out who your soulmate was but you could never regret any time you spent with Sirius. With him, everything felt right; it always had. You felt nervous, though, as your birthday grew closer. Whilst you desperately wanted for you and him to be soulmates, you had heard of people’s soulmates not matching up, or worse, people not having any at all. Your birthday was a couple days before Sirius’ and so, you would know first. That, understandably, terrified you. What if you had him and he had someone else? What if you woke up that day and there was nothing there? You couldn’t shake the thought in the weeks leading up to your eighteenth.

Sirius had been grumbling the day before about a rumour he’d heard about his brother.

“I can’t believe Regulus is on the Slytherin Quidditch team.” He said, leaning back on the sofa in the common room. You sat next to him, barely listening, whilst the others sat dotted around in the chairs with James and Lily sharing.

“Regulus,” he repeated, shaking his head. “My idiot brother.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. Sleeping, lately, had been something solely reserved for those not freaking out about their eighteenth birthday.

“He’s quite good, actually, so I’ve heard.” You mused, thinking about the last time you had seen him.

You and Regulus were quite good friends; he approached you a few years back to see if Sirius was okay, too proud to ask himself. Hearing of Sirius’ family history, you weren’t too fond of him to start with. But time went on and after a few conversations, you grew to like Regulus. He was slighter than Sirius, and shorter too, but it was undeniable that they were brothers. And, although they barely spoke to one another, they were almost scarily alike: they had the same dark sense of humour and they both thrived off of making other people laugh. You and Regulus often studied together in the library whilst Sirius was off pulling pranks and getting detentions.

“Whose side are you on?” Sirius asked incredulously, his shocked expression bordering on theatrical.

“The side of good quidditch.” You replied, teasing. He made a face; you smiled. You felt a brief respite from your worrying but, your good humour didn’t last long. Sirius watched your face fall and, as the others continued their own conversations, pulled you closer to him.

“You know,” he began, wrapping his arm around you and brushing your hair back with his hand. “I’ve never met anyone more beautiful than you.”

Knowing him, you expected a quip at the end; something like ‘apart from me, of course’. It never came this time, though. Your sad smile broke his heart.

“Love,” you felt tears prick in your eyes at his soft tone. “I promise you that everything will be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

“How, Sirius?”

“Because no matter what happens tomorrow,” he pushed your head under his chin, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tightly to him. “Soulmates be dammed; it’ll always be me and you against the world.”

“You promise?”

“I swear on every star in the sky. And every star in your eyes.”

You sniffed, wiping your eye with your hand, catching a few lone tears as you shot him a dry look.

“I’m incorrigible, I know.”

You barely slept that night. You considered just waiting up to watch the name appear on your arm; you knew some people did. You couldn’t though. After so many nights without rest, you were too tired to stay awake and instead feel into a restless sleep. The next morning, for the first few moments, you’d forgotten what day it was, only grateful to have got some rest. It wasn’t until you moved to turn over, deciding that you could miss Herbology for the day, that you saw the jet-black words across your skin. Safe to say, you missed Herbology.

Sirius was starting to freak out. He hoped that you’d just slept in but he knew that you not showing up to class meant nothing good. Remus wanted to help but he knew his words wouldn’t soothe his friend’s anxiety and so, silently, he planted Sirius’ mandrake for him before moving onto his own. James tried to distract Sirius, deathly aware of his drumming fingernails on the bench in Potions. It didn’t work. At lunch, Peter offered him his pudding, only to be turned down.

“Sirius,” Lily called from opposite him. Sirius’ head shot up to meet sympathetic eyes. Lily sighed and slide over a piece of paper. He frowned, making no move to take it. “It’s the password to Y/N’s dorm.”

Sirius left without another word and for the rest of lunch, the others sat in silence, even when he returned twenty minutes later in exactly the same nervous state.

It wasn’t until Transfiguration that he saw you anywhere. He was determined to find you, and with a free period afterwards, he decided getting out of Transfiguration as quickly as possible was the right idea. When he turned around to leave, though, whilst everyone else was still packing away their quills, he saw you. Your eyes, extremely bloodshot, he could tell, widened when you saw him and you moved quicker than he’d ever seen to leave. He was faster, though, and before you could run out of sight, he followed you onto the courtyard.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he shouted after you, rushing to catch up.

You froze, tears already flowing down your cheeks. It wasn’t until he circled around to face you that his mild anger dissipated into sadness; his worst fears about the day had been confirmed.

“Whose name is it?” he asked gently, his eyes shining at you looked at him.

“Sirius-“

“Whose name is it, Y/N?”

His voice broke.

You didn’t speak, you just lifted your sleeve, pushing your robes up your arm. You both read the name ‘Regulus Black’ printed across your forearm. You’d been reading it all day, your heart breaking every time. Nothing broke your heart quite like Sirius’ reaction, though. He nodded, swallowing. Tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Sirius-“ you started, biting your lip and tasting your own salty tears. He shook his head, looking away.

“Sirius, I’m sorry.”

He was too far away to hear you, already storming off.

You spent the next few days swimming in grief and guilt. What was written on your arm wasn’t your fault but the image of Sirius’ face when he found out was plastered on your eyelids every time you closed your eyes. You hadn’t seen him in days. Though, really, you hadn’t seen anyone. You woke up, you went to classes, you took food from the hall and then you went to sleep. It was an empty routine but empty was how you felt. You considered talking to Regulus, but he wasn’t eighteen yet and he would have no idea what was happening. You thought it was best to cross that particular bridge later on.

It wasn’t until you heard people talking outside your window that you realised it was Saturday, Sirius’ birthday. You were supposed to go to Hogsmeade. You got dressed in a rush, debating whether it was actually a good idea. It didn’t matter though, you decided. You had to know. When you reached his dorm, you entertained the idea that he had gone to Hogsmeade without you; or with someone else. Your stomach lurched at the thought. You knocked twice before James opened the door. He looked dishevelled and tired and you wondered, at his wide eyes, how much worse you appeared. He shut the door behind him, shooing you down to the empty common room.

“James-“ you said, voice croaky. Before you could say anything else, he enveloped you in a tight hug and you felt something inside of you break. You clung to him tightly and hoped he couldn’t feel the cold of your tears on his shoulder.

“James, I didn’t-“ what? Mean to? You tried to remind yourself it wasn’t your fault.

“It’s okay.” He said gently, holding you to his chest again.

“Is Sirius okay?”

James pulled away, looking down sadly. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. His reaction scared you.

“Who-“

“He doesn’t have one.”

Your whole mind went blank. “What?”

Before James could answer, you blinked, physically taken aback.

“Oh,” your shoulders sagged as you thought about how devastated he would be, how sure he had been. Your eyes met James’. “Can I see him?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good-“

“Please.”

He thought for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw before nodding. You followed him back up the stairs, heartbeat echoing in your ears as he opened the door and you saw Sirius curled up in sheets, shoulders heaving occasionally. Your heart broke at the sight of him and you were barely able to keep the sobs from ripping at your throat.

“I’ll be downstairs,” James said, the door shutting behind him. You didn’t reply. Stepping towards his bed, you bent down to sit on the floor so your faces were at the same level. He looked at you, eyebrows twisted in anguish and face slick with tears. You reached a hand over to him, making sure your sleeves were drawn down. He didn’t move as you brushed his dark hair from his face. After a second, he held your wrist and his touch was warm and familiar. You could feel your own tears falling as he looked at you and for a second, it felt like nothing had changed. It was a lie though, you realised as you watched him. Everything had changed because your soulmate was his brother and, well, Sirius didn’t have one at all.

And so, you sat there, deadly quiet. Nothing you could say would make it better.

#sirius black x reader #Sirius Black imagine #sirius black #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #writing #imagine

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littlegiantposts · 4 years ago

Text

pilot (~revised~)

Kageyama x f!reader

may contain spoilers!

description: In which Y/n is a new addition to Karasuno’s Girl’s Volleyball Club

warning: I’m sure there are some curse words in there.

A/N: yeah so there is another version of this on my blog, but that was really like a test run/rough draft, so here is the revised one that I like better and I added more scenes. ALSO, just ask if you wanna be added to like a taglist. I already stated this in the previous pilot post i will state it again to make sure.

This started off as just as a nice story to play in my head, but I really wanted to see if I could write it down. First things first, I am raised in California. Thus, I am quite incompetent in knowledge about Japan schooling. All my knowledge is really from me googling stuff and ofc, watching haikyuu. With that said, if I made a mistake on the take of Japan schooling, I do not mean to cause any offense. This is solely for entertainment purposes. With that said, I do not own the characters of haikyuu. However, there are some characters I made up with my own imagination. In addition, this is an “x reader” sort of story but I will be defining some of her characteristics so I am sorry if it hinders you from imagining its you. Finally, I am not that good at writing stories lol but im trying. I hope you enjoy.

I hate introductions. Y/n thought to herself as she sat back down in her seat after standing in front of the class, stating her name and her previous school. Her gaze shifted towards the window. The sun was out and shining and she had the perfect view of the gymnasium. Oh how she just wanted to get up from her uncomfy chair and leave the boring lecture and head towards the gym.

It was the first day of school for Y/n at Karasuno High. It’s not like she started in the middle of the semester, no, she was just about a month late into the school year. With her work ethic, she didn’t feel any pressure in order to catch up with everyone else. She knew she would get it done.

It’s not really her fault she came a bit late into the school year either. Her dad’s job required a small move, not that she was complaining. She didn’t really feel tied down at her old high school because: she wasn’t there for that long and she didn’t really make any friends, despite joining a sport.

It’s not that she didn’t want to make friends. It seems that her track record, or the lack thereof, from junior high with meeting new people has left an imprint on her.

Y/n looks down at the worksheet that was passed out in the beginning of class. The assignment was already completed due to Y/n’s eagerness to finish any homework that would take away time from her main passion.

Some people would say she was obsessed. Some would say dedicated. She simply sees volleyball as an opportunity. The class bell rings, signaling for lunch. Before she realizes it, she is walking towards the gym, in which she would meet the girl’s volleyball captain. As she is switching shoes, she can hear screaming from inside.

“-What did I tell you about touching my onigiri! You are going to pay for that!” “I really didn’t mean it this time, I promise! I didn’t know it was yours!” The voices were muffled, yet she was still able to hear the sincerity in both of the voices. Y/n was about to open the gymnasium’s door when the door swung open by a tall pink-haired girl. She was being chased by another tall girl with long blonde hair, but she was a bit shorter than the pink one. Before Y/n could process stepping aside because it seemed the pink-haired girl had no inclination in stopping, she was tumbled to the ground by the girl who she can only guess took an onigiri without permission. As well, the blonde clumsily tripped and fell on top of the two.

“You idiots! Will you stop it! We already told you, we got a guest coming today and we want to make a good first impression!” A stern voice called out inside the gym.

“Um, Moa-san, I think our wishes are already soiled.” Another voice chimed in from the gym.

“Wha- You dumbasses! Hey, are you okay?” A girl with dirty blonde hair came out from the entrance and offered a hand towards Y/n as the two perpetrators started to get up with apologies towards Y/n.

“Yeah, I am good.” Despite just being tackled to the ground, Y/n remains as neutral as ever.

“Aren’t you going to ask if we are okay?” The energetic, pink haired spoke.

“As if I care when you collide into our guest! You really need to be more cautious, Etsuko!” She barked. “I am Aihara Moa. Pleasure to meet you. You’re the first year that turned that application past the deadline, right?” she states more calmly than her previous statement.

“Pleasure is all mine. And, yes. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Y/n states with quite the unfazed face.

Does this kid crack a smile once in a while? Moa asked in her mind. She seems quite different than the other first years we have. Her thoughts continue.

“I am Oba Yuma and this is Morita Etsuko.” Yuma, who had the pretty, long blonde hair, spoke with a warm smile.

“Why did you introduce me?! I wanted to have a cool introduction!” Etsuko huffed with a small pout.

“Well, it’s not like you can recover your so-called ‘cool introduction’ from that full-body collision.” Yuma smoothly replied. Etsuko’s eyes widened and cheeks heated up as she couldn’t come up with a sly comeback to her logic.

“You guys are just lucky that Rinko isn’t here to scold you.” Moa warned the 2 first years. With the mention of the scary third year that wasn’t even the captain, yet she reigned supreme in the disciplinary department, they shivered at the thought of the punishment.

As Y/n stepped further into the big, bright court, she spotted that she could only assume was the captain as she looked so appalled at what happened.

“Hello, you must be Michimiya Yui.” Y/n knew she had to say something to pull the worried captain from her thoughts.

“Hi! Yes, that’s me! I am so sorry for those two. I would say they aren’t always like that, but I don’t want to lie to a potential teammate.” Yui spoke with an uneasy smile.

Yuma and Etsuko’s interests peaked when they heard “a potential teammate” come out of their captains' mouths. They were the only first years on the team, so the thought of another person in the same boat as them made them excited and wanted to join the conversation. The two first years gave each other a look and started to walk towards Yui, and hopefully their new friend. However, before they could even be in ear-shot, the pair got pulled away by Sasaki Chizuru, another third year.

“Oh, no. Don’t think you will be bombarding her with questions right off the bat.” She bluntly states.

“Oh, c’mon Sasaki, aren’t you curious about her? Like how did she get into volleyball? Or even, is she a beginner? Or maybe she is an absolute monster who dominates the court!” Etsuko proclaimed as her mind went too fast for her mouth to follow.

“As of right now, it’s not our business. All we can do, and are allowed to do”, emphasizing the word ‘allowed’, “is to watch from the sidelines and quietly eat our lunches.” Chizuru instructed the first years and pointed at the far corner of the gym.

Despite her own words, Chizuru couldn’t help but glance at Y/n and wonder the same things that the first year questioned. At face value, Y/n was quite the enigma. The 2 first years gave a pout, but headed towards their desired location.

“So, you came from Niiyama Girls' High? That’s a really good school for volleyball. What made you come to Karasuno?” Yui asked.

“It was the most ideal school in terms of my dad’s work location.” Y/n states plainly. She didn’t technically lie. It was an ideal school in terms to the proximity to her new apartment, but that was not the only reason. She saw videos of their interhigh-prelims last year and to be quite frank, Y/n was not entirely impressed with the state of their team. However, she knew that this meant there was room to grow for them. She knew very well that she could have gone to Shiratorizawa and joined their girls’ volleyball. Objectively, with her skill set, Shiratorizawa made sense. Nonetheless, Y/n didn’t know what compelled her to pick this one. She convinced herself it was because she is a sucker for rooting the underdog.

Does this kid show any emotion? Yui thought in her mind. It’s like nothing affects her.

“How long have you been playing volleyball?” Yui curiously asked.

“Since the 2nd grade.” Y/n quickly states. As much as she wasn’t showing it, she was just itching to show what she can do. The court was right there in front of her, after all.

“That’s impressive, alright, well if you’re comfortable with it, I’d love to see some serves and sets from you. After school, we can hold a three on three since we all aren’t really in the right clothes to play.”

“Sounds good.” To say Y/n was excited would be an understatement. As she removed her cream sweater, she could feel a set of eyes burning a hole on her back. She turned around to put her sweater down and realized that she was wrong. It wasn’t one pair of eyes, it was all of them, curious to see how good she really is. She could feel her heart pounding at the thought of holding everyone’s attention. She knew if she let her mind continue, the nerves would get to her and hinder her performance. She took deep breaths and started to quietly humm a song that was previously playing on her phone from her morning ride to school.

Yui passed a volleyball to her and ran to the other side of the net, and yelled, “Let’s see what ya got!”

Y/n carried herself behind the serve line, taking one deep breath to keep her hands from shaking. With that exhale, she opened her eyes and focused her sights on Yui. The captain wouldn’t admit it, but she could already feel herself sweating under the first year’s gaze.

She looks so intimidating. I’m not even on the court, yet I’m scared. Yuma viewed Y/n’s determined look. For Y/n, it was as if everything crumbled away and the only thing remained was the court. She starts her run up.

A jump serve?! Yuma, Etsuko, and Chizuru incredulously thought simultaneously with eyes basically bugging out of their head. They watch in amazement as she jumps with severe height and reeled her arm back. After that, all that could be sensed was a loud snap and then the ball smacked the ground next to the wide-eyed captain. The impact from the ball gave a small breeze through Yui’s short hair. The deafening silence that followed her serve filled the room in an instant. Those watching from the sidelines had to pick up their jaws from the floor.

“She’s a first year?! Are you sure?!” Etsuko broke the silence with her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Boke Etsuko! That was already clarified, don’t make her repeat herself!” Yuma scolded. While Yui read your capabilities on your application form, it was nothing like actually being on the receiving end in real time.

“That’s quite a serve she got in her arsenal.” A voice startled the three high school students, sitting on the sidelines. Etsuko and Yuma were the most startled, but Chizuru was quite used to her fellow classmate popping in every now and then.

“Seriously, Sudou. We have to put a bell on you or something because I don’t think my heart can take any of your surprise entrances.” Sudou Rinko only slyly chuckles at Etsuko remark. She looks over at Y/n and Yui on the court.

“Did you guys see the precision on that serve?” Rinko posed to the other three sitting on the ground, munching on their lunch.

“Well, not really, but it landed, like, near Michimiya, right?” Etsuko tries to come up with the answer that Rinko was looking for.

“It landed right next to her left foot. I think that pipsqueak is able to aim her serve.”

“What?! That’s insane.”

“Yeah, insane, but not impossible.”

“With her, maybe we can win more games!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Etsuko, a team is only good if everyone is giving their all.” Yuma reminds. “After all, there’s not only one person on the court, there’s six.”

“I heard she came from Niiyama Girls' High.” Sudou stated as she reverted her gaze back to her fellow teammates. They stared at her after she gave more information on the stranger in their gym.

“Why would she come to Karasuno then?” Yuma asked honestly. She knew that her team had strengths, but she also knew that other teams had strengths that overpowered them.

“How could you diss your own school like that?” Etsuko was almost angry at how her teammate was treating their school. She always was the one to take pride in everything she does.

“No, that’s a valid question. It makes sense that a player with her caliber would be well-suited in a powerhouse school.” Rinko supported Yuma in her question. All four look ahead and see that Y/n is beginning to set for Yui.

“Her precision and accuracy are so on point, it almost makes me sick.” Yuma commented on how your form for setting only held the necessities. Y/n stepped with purpose, and it showed as she passed a nice set for Yui, allowing her to have optimal choices in where she can place her spike.

The bell rang, ending lunch. Etsuko couldn’t wait for practice. She wanted to play against Y/n on the three on three. As for Yuma, she always wanted to learn how to set, but with her grand height, most people would assume she would be great as a spiker. Everyone started to pack their belongings up, heading to their respected classes. Y/n started to head towards class 1-5. Etsuko and Yuma caught up with Y/n, standing on the sides of her.

“Do you guys need something?” Y/n poses the question bluntly, yet she was quite startled. Y/n never expected to have people purposefully come up to her.

“Yeah, where did you learn to serve like that? It’s crazy!” Etsuko praises.

“Don’t you remember what Sasaki said? Don’t crowd her with questions, dumbass!” Yuma scolded, which Etsuko already had an irritated look on her face.

“It’s only one question! It’s not like she’s going to fall apart by it, and I just wanna know because I want be strong as well!” Etsuko’s vain on her forehead looked like it was having a field day.

“Yeah, like that would ever happen.” Yuma remarks.

“What did you just say?! I’m going to make you eat your words!”

“Ooo Frenchie has me shaking in my boots” Yuma taunts with the famous pink haired character from Grease. Etsuko started to jump at Yuma. Because Y/n was between them, she raised an arm.

“Please do not fight, you may cause a ruckus.” Y/n chimed in. The first years returned to their previous spots. Etsuko huffed a little and crossed her arms and slightly turned her head away.

“So, what class are you in? I am in class 1-4. I don’t think I have seen you in the hallways.” Yuma tries to maneuver the conversation to something other than volleyball. Y/n was honestly confused. It’s been awhile when someone her age, someone in her grade asked her a genuine question about herself. She almost felt it was some sort of joke.

“Um, I have class 1-5. And that’s because today’s my first day. Transferred a bit late.” Y/n had pauses in between her words, still not used to people going out of their way to talk to her.

“Woah! You must be pretty smart! That’s a college-prep class, right?” Yuma genuinely comments with a warm smile. Y/n nods, complements on stuff other than volleyball made Y/n short-circuit. The trio walks inside the main school building, the air condition changing the atmosphere. Y/n didn’t notice, but she received some stares from other students as the three walk through hallways. While Y/n remained oblivious, Yuma and Etsuko realized immediately and looked at each other with perplexed looks, not because of the stares that were directed towards you, but the fact that you seemed unfazed by it.

“Woah, who is that? She’s really pretty.” a student spoke to their friend.

“She’s new I’m pretty sure.” another commented.

“I heard she has a famous dad. She’s like loaded.”

“I wonder if she’s taken”

“I heard she came from California.”

“Someone told me she’s snooty.”

“Her looks certainly make up for it”

“Why is she hanging out with those weird volleyball girls?”

Etsuko physically jolted at that last comment, anyone can physically see the irritation on her face. She turned her head towards the voice of the last comment, wanting to immediately put them in their place. On the other hand, Y/n was too much in her head at the moment.

Shoot, I haven’t asked them a question. Well, that’s what I should do, right? That’s what friends do? Wait, we aren’t even friends, I just met them. They probably think I’m weird. Oh great, now I haven’t said anything for the past 3 minutes. They probably think I don’t like them. Y/n felt that this was weird foreign territory.

“So, what’s your favorite subject?” Y/n broke the silence, just wanting to say anything to make sure that her two future teammates knew that she was still invested in this conversation.

Are you serious, Y/n?! No one wants to talk about school, that’s so lame! They probably think you’re a smart ass. Uhg. You’re terrible at this. Y/n wanted to groan and bow her head in shame, but all she could do is hold her head high and follow through with her question.

“I like math, and you won’t get an actual subject out of Etsuko, she will probably say something stupid like lunch.” Yuma answered.

“Hey! Why do you keep answering for me?! I am fully capable of answering!” Etsuko barked at her snarky teammate.

“Yeah, your English grade can clearly vouch for you.” Yuma sarcastically stated. Etsuko looked like all the blood from her face left, looking quite pale due to her not so great English grade. Y/n didn’t realize it, but a small smile was on her face as she saw the two interact.

“Well, this is my stop, And, Etsuko, your stop was awhile ago.” Yuma stated as she didn’t really know if she should just send a wave your way or a handshake because Y/n seemed so formal. She settled with a pat on the back. Etsuko copied Yuma, but her pat was a bit more forceful and it really just turned into a smack. Y/n didn’t say anything, but noted that Etsuko has one hell of an arm on her.

“I already knew that! I wanted to talk to our new friend!” Etsuko looked like she was going to cross her arms and stomp her foot like a small child throwing a tantrum. Y/n stopped her walking when she heard the word “friend” come out of Etsuko’s mouth. Y/n turned to look at Etsuko and Yuma with a surprised look. Etsuko and Yuma instinctively thought they misspoke and perhaps angered you.

“We’re friends?” Y/n held a pause between the two words. Her incredulous face kept switching eye contact between the 2 first years in front of her. “You don’t even know if I will be your teammate yet.” Y/n stated. Etsuko bursted out in laughter and it caused Y/n’s face to turn beet red, embarrassed. Yuma’s face looked like she wanted to backhand Etsuko, but before she could, Etsuko spoke “You don’t have to be our teammate for us to be friends! There isn’t criteria the last time I checked to be friends. Besides, you’re really cool!”

Yuma retracted her arm, despite Etsuko being a dumbass, she somehow always knew what to say in awkward situations. Y/n felt something that spread through her chest. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Etsuko and Yuma bid there goodbye’s to Y/n, leaving her to get to her class. The feeling in her chest was not new, it’s just a feeling that she has not felt in a long time.

Y/n sat down in her seat and pulled out her notebook. Everyone started to take their seats. Right before the teacher reached to close the door, a short girl with a small blue hair tie in her short blonde hair just managed to slip through the door. She was out of breath and sweaty, muttering an apology and quickly sat at her desk, which was coincidentally on Y/n’s left side. The teacher began lecturing, instructing to open a page in their textbook.

The end of the school day approached rather quickly. Because of her most recent interaction with Etsuko and Yuma, she couldn’t wait for the three on three. Specifically, who would she be playing against. While thinking of possible offense moves to coordinate, Y/n grabs her volleyball bag from her locker and makes her way to the girl’s gym. The door was already open and she peaked through to make sure there was no way she will be tackled again. She makes eye contact with a girl with short black hair, which she vaguely remembers as Sudou Rinko.

“Hello! I’m sorry I am a bit early, I just wanted to get a head start in warming up because I do take awhile for those.” Y/n quickly explains with a hint of timidness.

“That’s alright! I already setted up the net so you’re welcome to warm up in here or outside, whichever you prefer.” Sudou stated, making sure she didn’t seem to overbearing as others perceive her to be.

“Okay, thank you. I do prefer outside.” As much as Y/n’s face held a deadpan look, she was nervous in front of the third year. She didn’t know if she could just head out or bow. Unfortunately, she went with the latter. Sudou cheeks turned red. She didn’t really expect that, I mean in her eyes, she’s just a third year. But, your formality was appreciated.

“Heh, no need to be so formal. I’ve seen what you can do even without warming up, and we would be lucky to have you on our team.” Sudou reassured.

Now it was Y/n’s turn to turn slightly red. She’s new to accepting genuine compliments. So, all she did was a weird salute with a firm nod of her head, and headed out.

That kid has an interesting way of interacting with people. Sudou thought to herself. Hopefully, she’ll be able to open up more. Sudou busied herself by warming up as well.

In the meantime, Y/n found a spot near the side of the gym where there were no trees and the sun just perfectly drenched the scenery with natural light. It was as if the sun placed a golden film over everything and settled on a calm atmosphere. Here, Y/n began stretching.

After awhile, Y/n was tossing a volleyball up in the air, getting comfortable with how the ball fit perfectly in her hands as she set it in the air. After a couple of sets, she got into the rhythm of bumping, setting, and spiking against a wall. While she was focused on the ball, out of her peripheral vision, she notices someone. After a spike, rather than bumping it, she catches it.

“If you are going to stare any longer, I expect a name out of you.” Y/n stated with a calm yet stern tone while still staring at the wall in front of her.

“I-I’m sorry. You just seem so focused.” The stranger spoke.

Y/n closes her eyes, when she opens them, she turns to look at the stranger. He’s tall, way taller than her. He’s got a beard and his hair is pulled into a tight bun. If Y/n didn’t know any better, she would have assumed he was a teacher, but he was wearing a school uniform after all. With her eyes set on him, it was as if the guy visibly shook in fear and eyes widened.

“Well, you have to be, in an actual game of course.” Y/n responded.

“You play?” The mysterious guy asks. He does have a calming voice for someone who looks like the opposite.

“In order for me to answer, you should give me your name. I’ve been taught to not talk to strangers.”

“Oh r-right. I’m Azumane Asahi.”

There was a beat of silence as Y/n kept staring at him, deciding how she should approach this conversation. In Asahi’s eyes, he thought she was judging him and he started to wonder why didn’t he just mind his own business.

“Yes, I play.” Y/n answered his previous question. Asahi perked up at her answer like a little puppy.

“You seem like you’re really dedicated.” Asahi offered his observation to her. Y/n chuckles. Asahi’s eyes widened once more at the sudden reaction out of the girl.

“I’m guessing you play as well.” Asahi was dumbfounded at your observation. He was scared at how you were able to pick that up quickly.

“H-how did you-”

“Someone who is able to easily recognize the dedication in one person, also finds that same dedication within themselves”

Damn, this girl is wise. Asahi thought.

“However, volleyball was just a guess.” Y/n continued. “And I was lucky enough to be right.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

Y/n looked at him again. Y/n wasn’t one to let someone divulge into their personal life. Mainly because no one really came up to her for advice since she was quite the nonchalant person. However, if today is any indication, it seems her social interaction skills has been given a second shot. Y/n analyzed Asahi’s troubled face.

“Are you having an internal battle?”

How unfortunate that you phrased it that way, Y/n. Jeez. You can be so formal sometimes. Y/n scolded herself.

“Yeah, of some sorts.” Asahi responded with a puzzling look at the ground.

“About volleyball?” Y/n specified.

“Uh, yeah.” he reluctantly responded.

“What’s up?” Y/n knew that was more informal and she mentally high-fived herself for talking like a normal teenager.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah”

“Have you ever not wanted to do something because you failed at it?”

A beat of silence.

“No.” Y/n said confidently. However, she knew what he was trying to ask, so she added, “But, I’ve felt frustrated at it before.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Well, tell me, can you be frustrated at something yet you want keep trying it?”

Asahi didn’t respond, just thinking of what she said.

“The answer is yes, by the way. Volleyball is a sport where you are constantly improving yourself, just like any other sport really.” Y/n started to blabber on. “Volleyball provides that uncomfortable tension of not being enough. For some people, it discourages them completely, leaving them to quit or be stagnant. But, there are rare cases where the person is strongly encouraged by it. Those are the people who really do succeed.”

Asahi was deep in thought as he processed your words. As Y/n looks at Asahi, he looks like he’s going to hurt himself if he thinks any harder.

“Here, stand over there. Let me set for you.” Y/n commanded. Asahi Looks up, “h-how did you know I spike?” At this point, he thought you were some sort of psychic.

Y/n shrugs, “Only an ace would have that mindset and label a simple mistake as a “failure”. You feel like you’re whole team depends on you, right?” Asahi nods with shame. “Well, I think you need to understand that the other 5 people on your side have their own jobs as well. Sure, they know that you are capable of grabbing a point, but that’s because they are supporting you in the process.”

Asahi is quite overwhelmed at all the truth you are speaking, but it makes sense to him. Asahi obeys and walks where you pointed to.

“Now, run up like you are going to spike. You’re job is to knock,” Y/n grabs an apple from her lunch box, “this off of this trashcan.” Y/n places the apple on the the tin can and positions it in the way where a blocker would be in terms of where Asahi is standing. “Imagine this,” she draws a line in the dirt with her foot, “is the net. And, I don’t doubt that you are able to hit over the net.”

“O-oh I don’t know, you see, I haven’t really-”

“Just do it.” Y/n cuts him off with a sigh. Asahi gulps and catches the ball from Y/n.

He takes a deep breathe in. And a deep breathe out. He tosses the ball to you. Of course, Y/n perfectly sets the ball for him.

She notices after those deep breathes, it seems Asahi is a completely different person. He looks more focused and confident. His eyes are concentrated on the ball.

After the set, Y/n quickly looks over at the tin trashcan. And lo and behold, her apple is now on the dirt floor. Y/n smiles fondly. Asahi carries the most precious smile on his face.

“Now, how did that feel?” Y/n questions him.

“Makes me want to do another.” Asahi was staring at his hand as if the key to life was written on his hand. He then looked over at Y/n with a glint of inspiration in his eyes.

“The boys volleyball team should still be practicing, right? I still have to start my own practice.” Y/n shares a soft smile, which she hasn’t done in awhile. Asahi reverts back to a nervous state. Y/n’s guessing there is some awkward tension between that relationship.

“Just go to them. It never hurts to just try, right?” Y/n tries her best to be encouraging, but not too pushy.

“I-I don’t know I left them so suddenly-”

“Just go! Or else.” Y/n knew she shouldn’t use fear as a tactic to push him, but to be quite frank, it’s useful in these rare occasions. Asahi fervently nods, he didn’t want to hear what came after ‘what else’ so he quickly grabs his bag and starts his jog to the boy’s gym.

“Oh wait! What’s your name?” Asahi was already a bit far, so she had to yell, “Y/n! Good luck!” She cups her mouth as if that will totally help her voice travel to him. “Well, thank you, Y/n!”

Y/n picks up her things and heads towards the gym, where she has her own journey to embark on.

Taglist: @riceballsandanime

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superhero--imagines · 5 years ago

Text

<--- Part 3 Here! / Part 5 Here! (Last Part)--->

A/N: I’m going to do one more part, and then a Light + Dark ending.

To my usual followers who didn’t come here for star wars content, I’m so sorry. Usually I make separate blogs for different content, but then when I lose interest/get busy, I neglect the blog, and then I realize I haven’t made content in a while, and then I get anxiety and keep pushing it off, and then I feel bad because I put all this effort into this project, and didn’t carry out. It’s just a whole negative feedback loop. So from now on I’ll make a separate tab for different fandom imagines, and keep a separate master list. I refuse to change my username though because I’ve had it for 4 years, and I refuse to let it go (lol).

Anyway hope you’re having a good day :)

* “That’s so rad!”

*Ben can’t help but smile, it’s nothing all that impressive, he just made a few flowers bloom for you

* But your smile as you walk though the garden, leaning over to smell the perfume of the hibiscus flowers:

* It’s like he hung the moon for you

* It’s well worth the trade off of his life force

* “Rad? Is that a new word from back home”

* He doesn’t miss how you freeze when he brings it up

* He hadn’t meant anything when he said it, he certainly didn’t mean to make your smile constrict like that

* “Yeah, it is”

* You get that look on your face again, the one he’s seen since childhood

* You’re eyebrows are strung together, and your hands tremble slightly

* Your eyes remained fixed on the flower in front of you

* Ben has always wondered what it is you think about when you get like this

* What he can do to ease your mind

* He rests a hand on your shoulder, his hand is so big against your shoulder, it’s three times larger at least

* Just like that you spark back to life

* “Shall I guide you to the Queen’s rose garden, Ambassador?”

* “Yes,” a gentle smile curling on to your lips “that sounds lovely”

* A part of him was worried that you had changed, five years is a long time after all

* But watching you frolic in the meadow, carefully threading small white flowers together in a crown;

* You’re still the girl he remembers

* “There!” You say, placing the flower crown on his head

* “Now you look like a prince”

* Ben feels his face grow warm, he’s sure his face is practically red by now

* “I’m a Jedi Knight, not a prince” he tells you, and you grin

* “You’re my prince and I’m your knight, remember?”

* If he wasn’t sure of his blush before, he certainly is now

* Why would you bring that up?

* But Ben isn’t one to back down

* “No, you’re my Princess and I’m your knight.”

* Your cheeks bloom with color, almost as red as the roses that surround you

* That’s an awfully pleasing expression

* “I’m not a princess, just an Ambassador” you mumble, Ben’s ego continues to swell

* It’s almost as big as his head, before promptly deflating when he see’s Poe waiting for you in your suite

* “Ambassador, I’m going to the bazaar to look for parts, would you like to join?”

* So the boy wasn’t just apart of his imagination

* He’s not quite sure how to feel, but he knows he does not feel good

* You eyes light up as soon as you hear the word ‘bazaar’

* Well, it’s not as if he can monopolize all your time

* “You’ll come with us, won’t you Ben?”

* You look up at him with stars in your eyes, and he feels that nostalgic warmth bloom inside his chest

* Then, as if you just realized he might not know who this man is, your eyes light up

* “Ben, this is Poe” you gesture to the handsome boy, with hazel eyes, and the strong nose, who’s made Ben feel bile in his throat for years now “and Poe, this is my best friend Ben!”

* He should be happy you called him your best friend, but in this situation, it just makes him feel empty

* They share a handshake, but he can feel the tension in the air

* “So did you make that light saber on your own?” Poe nods to his weapon of choice attached to his hip

* “Yeah, Lu- Master Skywalker makes us all make our own”

* Poe’s eyes are practically sparkling

* “Can you show me how?”

* Poe is actually a very nice person. Ben understands why you would want to be his friend

* “You know, it’s all about getting to that sweet spot when you’re piloting”

* “I agree, the feeling as you’re just about to leave the planet’s atmosphere-“

* “Oh, man” Poe claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder “I know”

* Ben wants to hate him, but he’s such a cool guy

* They laugh and joke all the way to the bazaar

* Ben feels a chill, and notices he hasn’t heard you say anything for a while

* You must be annoyed, you probably feel left out of the conversation

*It adds up, you probably didn’t expect to be the third wheel in this situation

*He looks over, and the slight tremor from before, becomes a blizzard in his chest

* You’re wearing a cloak, but he can still make out your expression

* Eyes dead set on the ground, your hand trembling

* You’re not annoyed, it’s worse than that

* It’s that face again

* He isn’t quite sure what to do, he can’t call out to you in this situation

* He can’t attract attention

* frosty white teeth dip into the tender flesh of your bottom lip, your hands clenched so tight, Ben’s sure there will be crescents left on your palm

*But he can’t just watch you tormented like this either

* He catches the glimmer of gold, and an idea strikes him

* His hand rests on your arm

* “Do you like it?” He motions towards the pale pink gemstone ring in front of you

* It’s slow, but you relax under his touch

* And just as slowly the chill begins to subside, left with a comforting warmth

* Oh

* These are your emotions

* He’s felt this way around you since childhood, so he never noticed

* All along he’s been feeling your emotions

* Those times when he felt lonely, and you were a galaxy apart, when he felt this warmth

* It was you

* It was always you

* He’s tosses a gold coin to the shopkeeper, and slides the ring on to your finger

* “Ben, it’s not even my size!” Your face blooms with color, as red and lovely as the rose’s you love so much

* He just smiles

* “We’ll get it adjusted then” he leans down to whisper in your ear, and your flush only darkens

* That expression looks good on you

* He can’t help but grin

* He slides the ring down your ring finger

* “Seems to fit fine to me”

* “Ben do you-“ you look up at him with wide earnest eyes

* “I think I got all the parts I need!” Poe interrupts, carrying a crate full of various parts

* “Let’s head back then” you mumble, wrapping the clock around you just a big tighter

* “Did I interrupt something?” Poe asks, and Ben can see from his aura he’s genuinely clueless

* Well that makes two then

* The walk back is silent, with Poe trying to break the tension, only to recieve a one word response

* “Did you have fun?”

* “Yes”

* “What was your favorite part?”

* “All of it”

* Poe decides to head to the ship, either to give you some space, or to avoid the awkward situation

* Ben walks you back to your quarters in complete silence

* “Well, see you tomorrow morning” You tell him

* He moves to turn away, but stops

* “She hates you now”

* He doesn’t want to leave like this

* Before you can open the door, he places a large hand in front of you, smack dab on the middle of the door

* “Have I upset you in some way?”

* His hand is planted firmly on the door, a few inches above your head

* You’re so small now, he hasn’t noticed before. You’re almost a whole foot shorter than him

* When you were kids, you were taller than him

* You look up at him, with large expressive eyes, bashfully glancing down

* “N-no, it’s just, I’m just-“ you cut your own words off, toying with the ring he bought you

* He’s never seen you like this before, face flushed, shuffling anxiously

* “I’m embarrassed” you mumble, looking away from him

* “Because of the ring?” His hand moves to hold yours without even thinking, and your blush only deepens

* You really are as lovely as a rose

* “A man shouldn’t buy jewelry for a woman unless he’s in love”

* Is that all?

* “That’s fine, because I do love you” the words tumble out of his mouth before he can process what he’s saying

* He’s a bit embarrassed, but he doesn’t regret it

* He loves you, he’s loved you since he was a child and you would follow after him like a hatched newborn

* When you would throw rocks at his window in the middle of the night

* Even when you would stick your nose into all of his business

* He’s awfully fond of you, you should know that by now

* Instead you sigh, slipping your hand out of his

* “Not like that Ben,” the flush is gone, you look older when you look at him now, tired

* “Romantic love”

* What the hell has romantic love got to do with it? Love is love isn’t it?

* Noticing his puzzled expression you add:

* “You know, when you love someone so much it almost hurts you. You think about them all the time, and you miss them when you’re apart, even if it’s just for a day. And whenever something happens, they’re the first person you want to tell”

* “Have you ever felt that way about someone?” The question leaves him without restraint

* You smile, but it’s without joy, and look at him with those same, tired, eyes.

* “Maybe once or twice”

* Ben feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach

* He doesn’t know why but the thought that you had loved someone, loved them like that, before

* It makes him so sad

* “You’re not the only person who has her heart”

* “Keep the ring” he rushes to put on a smile, but he’s sure it looks forced “consider it payment for all those years you were my knight”

* At that you laugh, and the feeling on Ben’s stomach gets a bit better

* Against his better judgment, he reaches for you hand once more, careful not to hurt you

* And presses his lips to your ring finger

* “I’ll see you tomorrow Princess”

* Ben doesn’t remember how he gets back to his living quarters, or even how he ends up in his bed

* What he does remember is the dream he had that night

* You were in a pair of lacy red panties and a bra, and nothing else

* Hair falling in wild waves over your shoulders

* You held him so well, wrapped yourself around him so well

* He rested his hands on your hips, you felt so soft

* Then, all at once, you crumble against his chest

* You’re so small, your head buried in his neck

* “Ben, please”

* He wakes up with a start, groaning when he checks under his blanket

* The perfect start to a perfect day

* Elsewhere you wake up in quite the same manner, awkward and embarrassed

* You have the soul of a 40 year old at this point, yet you’re still at the mercy of this hormone laden body

* “This is going to be a long week”

Tags: @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @treestarrrrrrrr @treblebeth @crazynocturnalkiki @lokilover-39

#star wars imagine #kylo ren imagine #ben solo imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #beno solo x reader #ben solo x you #poe dameron imagine #kylo ren x poe dameron #platonik aşk #kylo ren headcanon #kylo ren #ben solo #jedi!ben solo #Jedi!Ben Solox reader #superhero--imagines

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marshunter06 · 5 years ago

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Duncan’s Good Reputation?

Inspo credit and mad love to @stuckupwindbag your post about Duncan’s first PO becoming a monk totally inspired this. Then it turned into a 5+1 cause I’m a sucker for those things.

One-

Oddly enough, Courtney first finds it through a letter. She hadn’t meant to be snooping, but with their relationship beginning again, trust was a touchy subject. She can just hear her mother’s voice- “once a cheater always a cheater hun, don’t ever forget that.'' To be fair, he left the open letter in plain view. It was just sitting on top of his kitchen counter close to where she placed her car keys. She was only looking for her keys when she accidently ended up glancing at the letter. It was handwritten. She would only skim it.

Duncan,

Nice to hear from you personally instead of through your new parole officer asking for advice. Glad to see that you’re out of trouble nowadays. I always knew you had a golden heart. Speaking of advice, I gave you some that I know you took- Congrats on the outcome - I finally did listen to my heart as well. After some traveling I found my place on a mountain on a little island. I’m finally at peace and I’m happy. Never thought I would say this, but thanks for getting in trouble all those years ago. I wouldn’t be on top of the world if it wasn’t for you.

Much love,

Your old PO

David, a newly devote Monk

“Hey Princess, did you find your keys?”

She jumps as the voice and moves as far away from the counter. If he noticed she was acting weird, he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he picks up her keys then tosses it to her. He smiles as he sees the letter.

“Thanks… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Is it cool if we meet for an early lunch instead? I gotta mail David back.”

“You mean brunch? Sure… who’s David again?”

“Brunch is for pansies. He’s my old parole officer. Dude just became a monk, go figure.”

Confusion was written all over her face as she chose to ignore his brunch statement. She waits to see if he’ll elaborate, and surprisingly, he does.

“We met the first time I got out of juvie, he was meant to be a mentor to me sorta. It didn’t work out that way. I kept getting into trouble and he tried to help, but he couldn’t because of protocol. I didn’t really care, but it bothered the hell out of him. Right before I left for Island, I told him to quit his job and do some soul searching since he was so unhappy. Besides, I figured I’d win and I wouldn’t need him anymore. Guess he finally found his calling.”

Duncan shrugs it off like it’s no big deal, but Courtney knows there’s more to the story he’s not telling her. She doesn’t push for the details, just happily accepts that he opened up about a piece of his past.

Two-

She almost loses it when she finds him repeatedly liking the same girl’s post on Instagram. She decides to get information before confronting him. When she finds out the girl was an ex she was ready to kill him, until she reads through the comments. The first picture is of a selfish of this gorgeous blonde with blue eyes. The caption read: Your fav girl is back, and this time with a new username!

duncansthename: with love huh?

ashwithlove: you know it dunkie (;

The second picture wasn’t any better. The same girl is smiling at the camera in a bikini at the beach. The caption read: Sun’s out so your fav hun’s out!

duncansthename: you’re not very creative Ash.

ashwithlove: did you even read your own @?

duncansthename: lol same old Ashley

ashwithlove: back at cha asshole (:

The third picture is when she became curious instead of just angry. Another selfie except this time her hair was considerably shorter. The caption read: New hair, who dis?

duncansthename: geez who hurt you babe?

ashwithlove: *rolls eyes* says the guy who broke up with me through a text.

duncansthename: we were 13! I said sorry already, besides you were going to do the same thing.

ashwithlove: I know, I’m just teasing (:

The fourth and final picture she comes across is what finally gives her all the pieces. Ashley was smiling with her eyes and both hands up pointing at a rainbow. The caption read: Never been happier in my life than right at this moment.

duncansthename: guessing it went well then, congrats Ash

ashwithlove: I owe it to you dunkie! Thanks to you, I can be ash with love <3

duncansthename: don’t get all soft on me now, I don’t do that shit

ashwithlove: sure tough guy, maybe I should message your princess (;

duncansthename: stay away from my girl, you live on the other side of the world now anyways

ashwithlove: no promises, besides the heart knows not distance only love

duncansthename: you’re unbelievable

ashwithlove: I learned from the best (;

“Pizza’s here if you’re ready for a break Princess.”

Even though she was no longer jealous, she still wanted to make sure her assumptions were correct.

“Duncan, who’s Ashley?”

He doesn’t even flinch, a good sign since he all but jumped away when she confronted him about Gwen way back.

“She’s an ex girlfriend of mine. My first girlfriend actually.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry Princess, I’m not carrying a torch for her. Besides, she has a girlfriend now.”

“You’re not just saying that right?”

“No? That’s a dumb thing to lie about. If you met her, you would know. She’d hit on you instantly.”

“But you just said she has a girlfriend.”

“Her girl would probably hit on you too. You’re fucking gorgeous Court.”

She feels her cheeks warm up at his compliment. She still wasn’t used to him being sweet again, so she shrugs it off.

“Stop changing the subject.”

“Just being honest. Anyways, you just reminded me to reply to her message.”

“You still message each other?”

“Every now and then… She says hi… shit and now she’s FaceTiming.”

“Dunkie! Let me talk to your princess! I know she’s there!”

“No! I always knew you would try and steal my girlfriend after having your heart broken by me.”

“As if. You were the one left heartbroken after I came out to you.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

“Okay, but for real. Thanks dude! I can finally be me now. It’s officially! Your fav girl is out and proud! Mom took it better than I thought and she’s going to meet Dana on Monday!”

“Told you she would accept you. Your mom loves you.”

“I know, thanks for listening though.”

“Anything for my first girlfriend.”

“Careful, I might actually hold you to that! I gotta go, but double date soon?”

“You live in London!”

“So? Okay I really gotta go! Bye Dunkie! Tell your princess I said hi!”

Ashley hangs up on the call leaving Duncan slightly annoyed, but not really. He was about to apologize to Courtney, but she stops him. There was no need, besides the pizza was getting cold.

Three-

If being on a reality show taught Courtney anything was that she shouldn’t be surprised at anything. Still, she was caught off guard when she bumped into Chef Hatchet on her daily run through the park. She was even more thrown off when she sees that he’s not alone. He had six kids with him. He lets them take their hands off the walking rope as long as they promise to stay within the playground. The children all nodded yes then ran off towards the slides and swings.

“Courtney? Is that you?”

“Chef? What are you doing here?”

“Just taking the daycare kids on an outing. They’re repairing our playground, so I thought it would be nice to take the kids to the park.”

“Daycare kids?”

“Yeah! I’m a daycare teacher now.”

She must be in an alternate reality, there’s no way Chef Hatchet could be around children voluntarily. Especially with half the shit he helped pull on Total Drama, no sane person would hire the man.

“I can see you’re confused, but this is my true calling!”

“No offense Chef, but are you okay? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“I’m perfectly fine, Courtney. I thought Duncan would have told you already.”

“Duncan?”

“Yeah, he was the one to convince me I needed to do something different.”

“Wait, Duncan told you to quit and you actually listened?”

“He gives pretty good advice, that kid’s a good listener. I’ve never been happier.”

“What exactly did he say to you?”

“Just that even I deserve to be happy and to give it a chance.”

One of the kids starts crying and Chef is immediately on the move. It’s a strange sight, but Chef is extremely patient with the child and soon the little one is off running again. Who would have thought?

Four-

Courtney was ready to go grab her second cup of coffee when her phone buzzes. It was a text from Heather. She was going to ignore it until she saw that her boyfriend’s name was mentioned.

Heather: I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Pass that message to Duncan. He still has my number blocked.

Courtney: How do you even have my number? Also why were you texting Duncan?

Heather: Your boyfriend’s the one who gave it to me. Also that’s none of your business.

Courtney: You made it my business when you texted me. What did you do?

Heather: I didn’t do anything… okay fine I bitched him out for being nosy.

Courtney: Um… what?

Heather: He was butting in on my relationship with Alejandro again.

Courtney: Are you sure we're talking about the same Duncan?

Heather: Okay fine. I may have bothered him about my relationship.

Courtney: … and why would you do that?

Heather: He’s honest and he’s not afraid to tell it to my face even if he knows I’ll get angry.

Heather: Look, just tell him I’m sorry and that Alejandro and I are okay now.

Duncan picks her up after work and she immediately wants to bring up the messages. She waits until they’re back at her place to say anything.

“How was work Princess?”

“Fine… um… so Heather says she’s sorry?”

He raises an eyebrow at that. He wasn’t expecting that either apparently.

“I told her to only talk to you in case of emergencies. I should have never given her your number, sorry Court.”

“Normally I would be angry, but I’m just curious now.”

“Heather’s been picking fights with Alejandro because she’s afraid of commitment. She found out we got back together, so she asked me how we did it. I told her that she was being stupid and that he clearly loves her. Somehow I end up listening to her break up and get back together with him only to break up again. This was only last month too.”

“Well, I guess they’re back together again. She told me I should tell you that too. Is that why you blocked her? Cause she was being too annoying?”

“No. She obviously loves the guy, she just needed someone to slap some sense into her. I’m surprised she apologized though.”

“Me too, guess she’s really changed. Are you going to unblock her? I think she genuinely feels bad.”

“She should after what she said.”

Courtney waits patiently to see if he would tell her, and just like last time, he does. There were no secrets between the two. Duncan just had a bad habit of forgetting to tell her things that he didn’t think was important.

“She said some shit about you and I got pissed.”

“Typical. Well I don’t care what she thinks. I can’t believe she would talk about me and expect me to help her.”

Her phone buzzes and she can’t help but roll her eyes at the message. It was from Heather again, unbelievable.

Heather: By the way, you’re both invited to my engagement party.

Five-

Courtney learned long ago that she could only count on herself. She learned that the hard way after she started drifting apart from her sister and her parents were no help. Admittedly, part of it is her fault too. They were always interested in different things, it was hard to find common ground.

Things started to change on her birthday. She gets a call from Cate and maybe it’s because they’re older now, but they reconnect. She’s grateful that she at least has one family member she can count on.

The two sisters become inseparable and they tell each other everything. Today was no different.

“I can’t stand him sometimes, but I love him.”

“He’s a good guy Court. You know, I still haven’t thanked him yet.”

“Thank him for what?”

“For bringing us together.”

“What are you going on about Cate?”

“While mom and dad were going through their divorce he reached out to me and asked how I was doing. He told me that you didn’t take it very well and he suggested that we talk about it. I put it off for months. I didn’t know what to say, but then it was your birthday and I knew this was my chance to say something without it being totally awkward. Now here we are.”

“He did that?”

“He did. He really loves you big sis. You picked a good one.”

She smiles at that. It’s true. She didn’t fall for a bad boy after all.

A bonus-

She used to think he ruined her life, turns out he made it so much better. Well, until now.

She almost hangs up at him when she got the phone call. The only reason she didn’t is because her stupid heart told her she still loves him. She really should’ve expected this. He went to juvie, he had a record, why wouldn’t he end up in jail again?

“Princess are you still there?”

“You wanna tell me why you’re locked up? Again!”

“How was I supposed to know I wasn’t allowed to walk inside?”

“The door was locked and it was someone else’s home!”

“Well they need a better security system, that was way too easy.”

“I’m going to hang up on you.”

“Wait! I’m kidding. Sorry, can you please just come bail me out.”

“I’ll think about it.”

She hangs up the phone then screams into the closest throw pillow. It was supposed to be their date night and now her date was in jail. He is never going to hear the end of this once she bails him out. She was all dressed up and now she was going to waste it by going to a detention center.

She was still fuming as she gave the address to the Uber driver. She didn’t even notice that she had arrived until the driver told her so. Except she was definitely not where she needed to be. She was in a neighborhood with nice houses up and down the block. Duncan must’ve given her the address of the house he broke into instead. Great. She was just about to figure out how to call Duncan back when the phone rings again.

“Are you here yet Princess?”

“I thought you only get one phone call.”

“I took another guy’s turn. Where are you at?”

“I’m at the house you tried to break into. You gave me the wrong address!”

“Shit. Sorry, it’s right down the street. Just cut across the park and you should be there.”

“You’re in so much trouble when I get there!”

She had to take a deep breath and calm herself before she started walking. He is so lucky she loves him.

When she enters the park, bright lights catch her attention. She wants to look away, but the path is along the lights. She stops when she reaches the bridge. There he was standing in the middle smiling at her. She heads toward him already asking a bunch of questions, but he doesn’t answer any of it. Instead he pulls her close and kisses her. When her eyes open he’s kneeling on the ground with a ring.

“Courtney, I love you. You’re my favorite girl and I know that everything that happened in my past lead me to you. I know I can be myself around you and still be accepted. We have our ups and downs, and I know I don’t deserve you, but I love you. There’s no one else I can count on without fear of judgement. You’re my princess, marry me?”

“Yes! Of course it’s a yes! I love you too and that’s all that matters.”

She brings him up to kiss him again then he slips the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly.

“You know, you really had me worried.”

“I’m not dumb enough to get caught. I left that life behind me anyways.”

“No, not that. I was worried that you were going to lose your good reputation.”

“Did I scare you that badly? My reputation is anything but good Court.”

“Oh I don’t know Dunkie, I think there are a few people who would say otherwise.”

A/N- There probably could’ve been a better title... anyways, 5 times Courtney finds out Duncan changes someone’s life for the better and the one time he changes her life for the better. (Alternatively you can say that she changes his life for the bonus as well).

#duncney #inspo credit #hope you like it!#thx for getting me back into writing for a bit

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thelazyhermits · 5 years ago

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The fifteenth drabble covers prompt #17 - a hug where one muse stops the other from collapsing. This ended up becoming longer than I planned. Oops lol I hope y’all enjoy it! ^-^

Today is not your day.

Once again, you encounter a villain attack while off campus. This time, instead of a shopping trip, you’re out with the Big Three because you were all planning on visiting Hadou’s favorite tea shop together.

Naturally, those plans go awry when your group stumbles upon a bank robbery in progress. Once they realize what’s going on, the third years all take action.

The only upside of this situation is the fact that Togata actually chose to wear his hero costume underneath his regular clothes today. After hearing about how often your trips off campus go wrong, the blond decided he should be prepared just in case. As a result, none of the citizens will have to worry about seeing a naked Lemillion today.

While the Big Three goes after the villains, you do your best to help the citizens evacuate. After a few minutes of this, your Quirk activates, showing you a worrisome vision.

In it, you see a tall, muscular woman with short orange hair around your age, possibly a few years older, attacking you, claiming her time for vengeance has come. At first, you’re confused, but then, some of your repressed memories resurface from the depths of your mind, providing some much needed clarity.

She was an underground fighter who started her career as a child like you. Her stage name was Drain because her Quirk allowed her to drain the energy of anyone she touched with her hands.

Drain was actually the top child fighter before you came along. Naturally, that changed after you defeated her.

Apparently, Drain has held a grudge against you ever since you beat her since she was never able to regain her popularity after that match. She especially hated that you won when she was the more skilled fighter--which she was.

The only reason you were able to defeat her is because your Quirk allowed you to predict her movements and because you had way more stamina than her. No matter how much energy she drained from you, you kept fighting until she was too worn out to continue which, now that you think about, was pretty ironic.

You were lucky that her Quirk only allows her to drain energy and not reuse it for herself. Otherwise, that fight would’ve ended a whole lot differently.

Before your vision ends, Drain explains that she’s been watching you for some time now, waiting for the right moment to strike. She knew she wouldn’t be able to accomplish her goal as long as you had heroes protecting you, so she waited for the moment when you finally went somewhere alone.

As soon as your Quirk deactivates, you take off into a sprint, knowing you have a limited amount of time before the events of your vision happen. In your vision, Drain was willing to attack anyone who got in her way, so you need to find an area free of civilians.

After all, the last thing you want it for someone to get caught in the crossfire. As you’re running, you quickly pull out your gloves and put them on in preparation for the fight that’s to come.

A few minutes later, just as you run into a nearby, empty parking lot, you hear a familiar voice which makes you come to an abrupt halt. “Not so fast, Prophet! I won’t allow this perfect opportunity to go to waste! I will have my revenge!”

Immediately, you turn toward the owner of the familiar voice and see Drain running toward you. A scowl appears on your face as you activate your Quirk. “Get over it already! That was over ten years ago! I didn’t even want to be in that fight!”

An onslaught of punches and kicks are aimed at you as soon as she’s within reach. Thankfully, you’re able to dodge and block all of them thanks to your Quirk.

Unfortunately, you’re unable to do anything about the effects of her Quirk. Every time her hands make contact with your skin, you feel some of your energy get drained.

That’s one of the reasons why you put on the gloves, hoping the material would protect you from her Quirk since she needs skin-on-skin contact for it to work. Unfortunately, despite your best efforts to avoid it, she still manages to make contact with your skin, and to your dismay, you discover that her Quirk has gotten stronger since she was a kid, allowing her to drain even more energy each time her hands make contact with you.

She cackles, “I’m much stronger than I was before! I trained for all those years so I’d be ready for our rematch!”

A large smirk appears on her face. “You thought you could escape by running away from the underworld, but you were wrong. I was determined to get my revenge even if it meant having to hunt you down.”

You sigh as you move to wipe the sweat off your forehead. “A revenge obsessed stalker. Great. My luck can’t get much better than this.”

Now, you’re really regretting the fact that you went out today without restocking your supplies. If you had your sleeping gas bombs, this fight would’ve already been finished by now.

Although, to be honest, you prefer the idea of taking Drain out with your own strength rather than resorting to using sleeping gas. This just feels like a fight you need to resolve with just your fists.

An annoyed scowl appears on your face immediately after you think that. Oh great. Now, you’re starting to sound like Rappa. You always knew he was a horrible influence.

Drain lunges forward with a yell, and with that, the fight resumes. Minutes fly by as the two of you exchange blow after blow, with your vitality steadily decreasing as time progresses.

It gets progressively harder to dodge her attacks, resulting in you taking hits you’d normally be able to avoid, and you know your punches are getting weaker with each passing second.

However, you refuse to back down. No matter how much of your energy she drains, you won’t stop fighting until you emerge as the victor. You will not let her win.

Noticing this, Drain scowls, “You’re like a damn cockroach! Just surrender already, Prophet! It’s clear who the superior fighter is between us!”

At that moment, your Quirk reveals that the moment you’ve been waiting for has finally come. Because of her mounting frustration, the orange haired woman starts to get careless, resulting in you finally finding an opening which you’ve been looking for since the fight started.

When she aims another punch at you, putting more force behind it than she should, you parry it which causes her to lose her balance. Before she can regain her footing, you rear your fist back and aim a punch for your opponent’s face, hitting her with enough force to knock her flat on her back.

Once again, you find yourself mentally thanking Hastume for your gloves. If it weren’t for them, there’s no way you would’ve had enough power behind your punches to cause any damage because you’re so exhausted now. It took everything you had just to swing your fist at her for that last punch.

Chest heaving from exertion, you deactivate your Quirk and immediately wince when your head begins to throb and the sunlight reaches your now sensitive eyes. You can’t say you’re too surprised about the pain of your headache considering how long you’ve been using your Quirk. You’re just glad you didn’t use it long enough to invoke a seizure.

Squinting, you direct your gaze toward Drain who appears to be unconscious thanks to the combination of your punch and her head hitting the hard concrete. Good. You’re completely spent thanks to her Quirk. If she was still able to fight, you would’ve been in trouble since you’re just barely able to stand right now.

Of course, as soon as you think that, your knees buckle, causing you to plummet toward the ground. As you brace yourself for the fall, you hear familiar voices calling out your name.

“Y/N-sensei!”

“Cryptid-sensei!”

Seconds later, a pair of arms catches you, preventing you from hitting the ground. When you look to see who the arms belong to, you see Togata frowning worriedly. “Sensei, are you alright? You look exhausted!”

Hadou quickly appears at your other side and brings her face close to yours. “What happened, Cryptid-sensei? Did you get in a fight? Was it with that lady over there? Who is she? Do you know her?”

As she peppers you with questions, all you can do is watch the blue haired girl with amused eyes. While this is happening, Amajiki comes to stand beside Togata, who’s still holding you in his arms.

The shorter boy dons a concerned frown when he sees your worn out appearance. “We should find an ambulance and get you checked out. Can you walk?”

You shake your head. “My opponent’s Quirk allows her to drain the energy of whoever she touches, so I’m totally spent. I’m too exhausted to do anything, including walking. You don’t need to get me an ambulance, though. What I really need is a nap.”

Togata grins, “In that case, how about you climb onto my back? I’ll carry you back to school, and we can just have Recovery Girl examine you.”

The corners of your lips curve upwards. “Sounds good to me. I take it the villains from the bank robbery have already been arrested?”

While Amajiki and Hadou help brace you, Togata crouches down in front of you, so you can climb onto his back. As this is happening, he replies, “Yep! We’ll pass the police on the way out and tell them about the lady you fought too. Was she a friend of the robbers?”

A groan passes your lips when you think of Drain. “I wish. She’s actually my revenge obsessed stalker.”

While Amajiki stares at you with wide eyes, Hadou tilts her head. “Was she stalking you for revenge? What did she want revenge for?”

You close your eyes as you rest your forehead against Togata’s back. “I beat her in a fight a while back, and she’s been wanting revenge ever since. Apparently, she’s been looking for me for awhile.”

Since you’ve never explained your past to Hadou, she’s the only one who doesn’t understand the hidden meaning behind your words. Amajiki and Togata, however, quickly realize what kind of situation you were in when you first met Drain. The blond tightens his grip on you in response to your words while a deep frown appears on his best friend’s face.

Thankfully, Hadou doesn’t get the chance to probe further about Drain since that’s when Tsukauchi and a few other officers arrive on the scene. Fortunately for you, Togata and Hadou quickly explain the situation to the police, so you don’t have to.

For a brief moment, Tsukauchi meets your gaze, and when you see the hidden question in his eyes, you slowly nod your head, realizing he wants to know if Drain is somehow connected to your past. After you do that, he asks the other officers to apprehend the orange haired woman.

No doubt he’ll have more questions for you later, but since he can tell how exhausted you are, the police detective allows the three of you to return to school. He even kindly offers a police car to give you all a ride home.

After helping you into the back seat of the car, Togata chooses to sit up front with the police officer who’s driving and begins cheerfully chatting with him. Meanwhile, Hadou and Amajiki join you in the backseat and sit on either side of you.

While you do your best to remain awake, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you is just too strong to resist. After a few minutes of futile struggling, your eyes fall shut, and you finally give in to sleep’s enticing pull.

The last thing that registers in your tired mind is Amajiki making a startled sound after your head falls onto his shoulder. After that, sleep claims you, and you enter a deep, peaceful slumber.

#TABF #bnha #togata mirio #hadou nejire #amajiki tamaki #my writing #hug prompts #mirio was the original character focus choice for this prompt #but I ended up including the rest of the big three too lol #and of course I couldn't resist adding a tamaki moment at the end #my tamaki loving heart was craving some fluff with him XD #the idea of fortune having a past opponent who wants revenge #has popped into my mind before #and this seemed like a good time to try the idea out #sorry the OC's name was so uncreative #I really suck at names lol

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drawlfoy · 5 years ago

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Faux Diplomacy p.2

pairing: draco x mugglebornslytherinilvernmornyfem!reader (a mouthful i’m so sorry)

request: nah i’ve always always wanted to write this

warnings: draco malfoy being a class A dickwad, swearing

summary: reader is an ilvermorny student who was given an opportunity to travel abroad and spend a year at Hogwarts. At first she’s thrilled, but things start to get weird--why is everyone on the trip muggleborn? why were they all put into slytherin, no questions asked? and what is that draco malfoy kid doing? takes place during 6th year so peak angst

a/n: i apologize for the fact that i’m clearly favoring this story over Sound of....Magic? but it’s mostly because i’m writing what i know and i don’t know how to adult lol. also i hope you’re enjoying the slowburn! we might hate draco a little bit but i swear i’ll mend it soon!

music recs: i have a writing playlist specifically for this fic that i might share one day

word count: 2,240

The door was hard under Y/N’s fist, something that she should’ve guessed but the fact of which still managed to surprise her. Maybe she was more intoxicated than she originally assumed.

She knocked four times, slowly but loudly enough for anyone awake to hear her. The last thing she wanted to deal with was an angry racist.

Three seconds passed by, each little mississippi begging her to run the other way before the door opened. She prayed that he was gone or at least deep in sleep. There was no telling what he’d do if he saw her. He couldn’t kill her, at least, but there were hundreds of other things that could happen to her if he was evil enough.

Her worst fear came true as the door flung open, revealing a very disgruntled and very pissed Draco. His pale hair was tousled with some pieces hanging in front of his forehead, breaking Y/N’s conception of his perfectly kept hair.

“What on earth do you want?” He hissed, his eyes burning with an intense emotion that Y/N couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Y/N suddenly felt very silly standing outside his room with an outfit to rival Cher from Clueless as she took in his slightly rumpled silk suit. He was doing whatever important job he seemed so focused on while she was trying to get him to come out and join a party he was so clearly avoiding.

“Um,” she began rather lamely.

“Um,” Draco repeated back in a nasal voice clearly meant to mock her accent.

“Pansy uh..she wanted you to come out. It was a stupid game of truth or dare and she slipped Veritaserum into my drink so I can’t lie and say I did it when I didn’t-”

“You do realize that’s complete bullshit, right?” Draco interrupted. “The Veritaserum? Do you seriously believe that Snape would let us get out hands on that? First years fall for that every year. First time I’ve seen anyone over 12 believe it, though.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew hot as she realized he was probably completely right. Now that she actually thought about it, she couldn’t guess how Pansy could get her hands on something that dangerous much less spike drinks with it.

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

Draco nodded with an “uh, yeah” look in his eyes and made his way to slam the door in his face when a glimmer caught her eye.

In her inebriated state, she told him point-blank, “Cool necklace. Who’s it for?”

Draco froze as he turned to look at his bed, the same one that had a very ornate necklace laying on it. He slowly turned back to Y/N with a terrifying expression on his face.

Uh oh.

He grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and dragged her inside his room, slamming the door shut behind her and shoving her against the wall.

“What the fuck dude-”

“What’s your allegiance?” he hissed, stepping in her eyeline so she couldn’t see the necklace anymore. Their proximity was uncomfortably close. Y/N could smell peppermint on his breath, no doubt remnants of a cup of tea he’d had earlier.

“My allegiance.....sheesh, I don’t know, I don’t know where I fall on the political spectrum, but I am really frustrated with the Senate for impeding any type of impeachment proceed-”

“No, you bloody idiot!” He cut in again. “I mean in the wizarding world. Not.. whatever the fuck you’re going on about.”

“Oh, you mean like... the issue with Death Eaters and everything? I dunno, I haven’t read enough about British politics to know but it’s so ridiculous, y’know? Like, someday all of them are gonna wake up and realize they’ve been drinking the Kool-Aid and that they’re never gonna get rewarded the way the think. It’s really sad, they’re basically in a cult.”

Draco stared at her with wide eyes and a defensive expression on his face. He was still gripping both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them above Y/N’s head and making it impossible for her to weasel out of his grasp.

“I mean, pretty general stuff. American wizarding media is always like, ‘look at these idiots thinking that they’re gonna restore blood purity, aren’t they crazy? BLESS the fact that we left in 1776’ and whatnot. I don’t know, we all kind of chuckle at it and make memes about the fact that there’s even people out there that still buy into that shi...”

Y/N’s eyes managed to catch a quidditch uniform hung up on the bedpost with the name MALFOY printed across the back in silver letters. Suddenly it all made sense--she had just read about his father being incarcerated for being a Death Eater. She trailed off when the realization set in.

Oh no.

“You know, with that thought, I think I’m just gonna go back to the party...I normally don’t get this political. Forget I said anything. Please!”

Draco’s face was the definition of fury. Now that Y/N knew he was Lucius Malfoy’s son, she had no clue what he could be capable of. She briefly wondered if he would kill her before immediately casting the thought aside.

That’d be absurd she reminded herself. He’s still just a teenager, just like you. He’s not gonna kill you.

He took a few moments to glare down at her before opening the door and pushing her out.

“You’re never speaking of this to anyone,” he snapped. “Go back to your party and fall for more of the pranks we like to pull on 11 year olds. Just don’t ever come back here. I mean it. Don’t ever.”

With that, Draco slammed the door in her face. Y/N stood in front of it for a few seconds as she regained her bearings. What had just happened? She was very tired, she realized suddenly.

She was just turning around and walking away when his door cracked open just an inch.

“Are you deaf? I said, go!”

Y/N turned to send Draco a dirty look before walking away for real.

♥♥♥♥

Professor McGonagall was a complete sweetheart and the embodiment of what an empowered witch ought to be, but she had messed up one crucial point when it came to just how dining space would be available for the Slytherin table.

With all the new students, there was rarely a portion of the table empty enough to sit alone or even with a respectable amount of space between oneself and another person.

Y/N suffered the consequences of this the most out of her classmates considering the fact that she was always late. By the time that she got to the Dining Hall for any meal, there was only one part of the table that was consistently open--spots next to Draco and his goons.

The rest of the house was wise enough to know to avoid them and did so well, but Y/N was not so lucky. Nearly every day she was forced to squeeze in next to either Draco, Pansy, or Blaise and was subject to listening to whatever drabble they wanted to discuss each day.

However annoyed she was, she couldn’t help but notice some interesting changes. As the fall days grew shorter, Draco’s appetite seemed to grow smaller. At one point, Y/N was taking portions nearly twice the size of his, and she was a rather light eater to begin with. She heard his irritatingly posh accent less and less, and slowly meals turned into conversations between Blaise and Pansy while Draco stared off into space.

One of these days, Blaise turned to look Y/N straight in the eye, startling her enough to near drop her fork. They never looked at her.

“So,” he began awkwardly. “I hear that you played Quidditch as a seeker while you were at Ilvermorny.”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

Y/N was not about to take any shit.

“Well, you see,” Blaise told her, a sincere look in his eyes, “Draco here is our seeker, and he’s a little busy, so he won’t be joining us this season.”

“Tragic.”

“And you were good, right? Like, really good? I saw your record. It was impressive.”

“Thanks. I didn’t suck.”

A tiny smile cracked on Pansy’s face. Had Y/N actually amused her?

“Okay, enough of the niceties,” she cut in. “Blaise wants you to play for us. Please?”

She batted her eyelashes in a way that Y/N prayed was ironic.

“Well, I suppose,” Y/N answered. “What’s in it for me?”

“For starters,” Blaise told her, “Instant status. People like you if you play Quidditch.”

“So I’ve heard. Is that why Draco dropped out? People didn’t like him enough anymore?”

“You shut up,” Draco grumbled, refusing to look her in the eye.

“So you’re in?”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m dropping out the second either of you mess with me, though.”

Blaise grinned and Pansy kicked his foot under the table. Y/N immediately felt like she was witnessing something that she was not supposed to see.

“Get a room, you two,” Draco reprimanded them, rolling his eyes as he pushed his food around on his plate.

♥♥♥♥

Y/N’s first Quidditch match came and went. The Slytherin team creamed the Hufflepuffs so badly that Y/N probably didn’t need to do any work at all, but regardless, she still caught the snitch.

In Slytherin fashion, her team decided to throw a giant party in the common room. Everyone was permitted a plus one, which was ridiculous since Y/N wasn’t friends with anyone from any other houses. She jokingly extended the invite to Bella in a very dramatic gesture with roses and everything, and her best friend just as dramatically accepted, leaping into Y/N’s arms and requesting that she be carried away.

It was the biggest scene the dining hall had witnessed all year, enough so that when the news of Katie Bell being cursed and nearly killed broke, it took the dining hall a few moments to calm down.

Everyone stared as Dumbledore addressed the student body.

“Students.” He cleared his throat wearily. “If you are not already aware, one of your fellow scholars has been cursed, presumably by a necklace that was gifted to her. Please do practice caution as you accept gifts going into the holiday season. These are dark times indeed.”

Nervous chatter filled the room back up with noise but did not distract Y/N from her pondering.

A cursed...necklace? Where had she heard that before?

♥♥♥♥

Y/N was never a perfect student, but she did enjoy potions and especially appreciated Slughorn’s teachings, so much so in fact that she was invited to join the Slug Club after a few weeks of classes.

Blaise was also there, and the two often sat together and joked about the overenthusiastic Gryffindors and the unresolved sexual tension between Harry and Ginny. It was hardly a secret that the two were into each other, but it seemed that the only people who weren’t aware of it were Ginny and Harry themselves.

“Pray for Dean, Y/N,” Blaise would often whisper to her as they observed the two flirt awkwardly with each other.

The budding friendship between them was odd, but very platonic. Y/N knew he had no trouble excusing prejudice considering the fact that he put up with Draco’s nonsense, but he seemed to see some flaws in the practice.

The most shocking part of their newfound connection happened to be what Blaise confided in her about Draco.

“He’s hardly sleeping anymore,” he told her one cold winter day. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s lost weight and he’s not talking to me. Have you heard anything?”

“No,” Y/N had told him. “Draco doesn’t particularly like me.”

♥♥♥♥

After a particularly energetic Quidditch party in December, Y/N exited the common room and decided she wanted to take a walk about the castle to clear her head.

The snow fell softly outside the window, flurrying about and blanketing the ground in a gentle pristine white. She climbed the stairs of a random tower slowly, savoring the brisk air and relishing the silence that came along with it.

Y/N wasn’t the least bit afraid of getting reprimanded for curfew--she deserved a break, and she was nearly an adult, for Christ’s sake. There was less underage drinking outside than there was inside her current common room, so she could always pull that argument.

She prayed that the top of the tower would be one with an open side so she could be closer to the snowstorm, and as she climbed higher, her desires seemed to be more likely. The breeze was becoming chillier by the second.

Reaching the top of the staircase, she was overjoyed to see a railing overlooking the campus. Y/N jogged up to the barrier, leaning over the edge and taking solace in the freezing air and the cold snowflakes coating her hair.

“What’s it with you and your insistence on interrupting my alone time?”

Y/N turned to see Draco Malfoy curled up in the corner of the tower. His hair was slightly mussed from the wind and his suit crinkled from sitting down, and as Y/N drew closer to him, she came to the most shocking revelation.

His silver eyes were pools of salty liquid, rimmed red at the edges and puffier than she had ever seen them before. His cheeks were shining with dampness, doing nothing to hide the dark bags under his eyes.

Draco was crying.

final a/n: i swear a new update will come soon! i’m sorry that it seems like i might be rushing it. i promise im gonna slow it down a little and focus on the *subtle* fluff

#draco #draco malfoy #harry potter #dramione #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hermione granger #slughorn #hogwarts #ilvermorny #slytherin #hufflepuff #lucius malfoy #ron weasley #harry x reader

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dmcdrabbles · 5 years ago

Note

*slides you a nice, shiny red orb* 'ey fam you wanna fuck me up with something about the Reader being 100% totally-has-been-since-forever-in love with Nero, but dumb rowdy angel boy either doesn't see it or is with Kyrie?

I got this one SO long ago and it turned into The Mega Ficlet™ which is super exciting for me because even though it’s not that long, I’ve never written this much for a request before (or for most things lol). I think I just really like angst, even though I have much trouble expressing it (๑•́ ω •̀๑) I hope this sad enough lmfao

–

Pairings: Nero x Kyrie, onesided Nero x Male Reader

Summary: Your best friend is getting married. Of course you’re happy for him. Why wouldn’t you be?

Word Count: 5,638

Warnings: angst, recreational alcohol use, offscreen injury

——————————————————————————————

The summer after the Qlipoth was as hot as hell on Earth, the kind of summer that got everyone sluggish, running their daily routines at half-speed. Funny how so immediately after life-shattering disaster normalcy slides right back into place, as welcome as an old friend.

Three months have passed, and Redgrave was well into its repairs. Donations came pouring in from outside cities with the unspoken sentiment of “poor thing, but we would’ve done better”; benevolence with an undercurrent of superiority. Even the Devil May Cry crew- including Dante and his brother- had returned to something approaching ‘normal’, whatever that meant for people like them.

You, on the other hand- you had been benched for most of the past three months after a Behemoth had snapped your femur like a twig. Nico had offered to build you a new leg and seemed only mildly discouraged at your reminder that you didn’t plan to cut it off. It was the second big personal disaster of the year- the first being the Qlipoth roots pulverizing your apartment building, forcing you to move in with Nero and Kyrie. You hobbled around their place and felt like a goddamn burden most of the time. You practically begged the doctor to take your cast off.

Only three months gone and normal had slid back into place like one of Nico’s vinyls, spinning round and round and playing the same familiar tune. This one’s called ‘We’ll Be Fine’.

But disasters came in three for you, they always had.

“Okay, okay, slow down!” You yell, pressing your hands against your knees as you try to catch your breath. Ahead of you, Nero slows to a stop and whips around.

“Tired already, Y/N?” He taunts, laughing. “You’ve gotten soft since we left the Order.”

“I just got my cast off two days ago! I’m a normal amount of tired,” You pant, wiping sweat away from your forehead with both arms. Your right leg is throbbing with pain, but you try to keep your steps even. “You’re just too energetic.”

With the rubble cleared in Redgrave City and most of the populace trying to hide from the heat, most of the sidewalks were prime real estate for training. Whole long stretches for Nero to torture you back into shape with. Just like old times. He could always leave you in the dust, fucked-up leg or not.

“What’s got you so bouncy?” You manage, coughing into your wrist.

Nero’s face twists a little and he cups the back of his head, elbows up to the sky as he stretches. The tension in his face melts away as he contemplates, and you almost want to look away- there was just something so private about seeing him so unguarded. He carried the weight of all his stress in his knit brow and his tensed jaw; you haven’t seen him look this relaxed since before you left Fortuna.

“Hey, what’s that look for?” You ask, taking shaky steps to catch up to him. “You get some other new power I didn’t know about?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” Nero drops his arms, swings them a bit as you two start walking side by side. Nowadays it’s so obvious how much of a growth spurt he had- you can remember a time when Nero was so much shorter than you that the morning sun wouldn’t be shining behind his head like that. You have to squint just to look at him.

He rubs his nose, and you stiffen despite your exhaustion. Didn’t take a genius to know what that meant, just someone who knows him half as well as you do.

“About your new power?” You laugh, halfhearted. Weird how even emotional weight slows your footsteps these days. “Did you grow another arm or something?”

“Y/N,” He says, coming to a stop. You just keep walking, trying to keep the jaunt in your step. “I finally asked her.”

“Oh,”

“She said yes.” His voice is so soft.

Couldn’t have expected personal disaster number three to happen so fast. A chronic injury, chugging along with almost-ignorable pain just flaring up fast enough to floor you. Switch the vinyl, play another old song- this one’s called ‘Be Happy for Him’.

“Damn, Nero! Congrats!” You slap his shoulder, “You and Kyrie, getting married? Knew it had to happen eventually.”

A grin breaks out along Nero’s face, and he rubs his nose again. He wraps his arm around your side, yanking you up against his. Like this you barely have to use your bad leg and walking almost feels relaxing again. You’re so close you could tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder.

“We were hoping to have the wedding soon, maybe this month–”

“Why? Any pressing needs?” You joke, petting the air in front of you where a round belly would sit. Nero slaps your hand down.

“No!” He yelps, face red. “We just don’t know how long it’ll be before the next crisis, you know?”

That crease between his brows is back, eyes far off like he was still trying to see the future. Looking for some guarantee that they’d already suffered enough this year and could rest easy for once.

“I know.” You tell the sidewalk, as quietly as if its some kind of secret.

“We don’t exactly have a lot of people to invite, and we wanted something small.” He says, slowly. “About that…”

You round the corner together, finally reaching a part of the city with enough appeal for the people to brave the heat for. You two get more than your share of annoyed glances as passerby weave around the wide blockade you form with your entangled bodies. Nero barely seems to notice.

“Y/N, you know how long we’ve known each other?”

“Iunno. Nine, ten years maybe?” You wrinkle your nose, thinking back. “All I remember is Credo bringing this little snot-nosed runt into training one day and saying that he was going to join us.”

“Runt?” Nero snorts, “I kicked your ass!”

“Only because you fought dirty!” You jab him in the side and he twists away from it, laughing. “Remember what Credo said when they pulled you off me?”

“'Holy Knights don’t start fistfights’?”

“God, so lame.” You shake your head, willing away the less cheery memories that latch themselves to your time in Fortuna. “So like, a decade. What about it?”

Nero pauses, and realization comes to you quickly. Is it entrapment if he’s got his arm hooked around your shoulders like that?

“You’re the closest friend I have, Y/N…”

Don’t ask this of me, you want to say. Instead you stare ahead, burning the memory of this street into your mind in third-person perspective. You wonder how many of the other people around you are feeling that chronic pain of heartache stabbing at them with every throb. It’s an invisible disease with no risk of mortality; the worst symptom is just a constant feeling of being the dumbest person you know.

“Will you be my best man at the wedding?”

“Really! ‘Will you be my best man’, he says.” You burst, laughing a bit. “You’re making this sound like another proposal! No need to be so formal!”

“You’re such a pain,” Nero grumbles, taking his arm off your shoulder and shoving you. An innocent passerby dodges you by an inch, tossing a dirty look over her shoulder at you. “Will you do it or not?”

“I,” You look at the ground, at the buildings, at the dozens of bystanders watching you squirm. “I think I’d make a pretty shitty best man. I don’t know anything about weddings, you know?”

“You’re not our wedding planner,” Nero protests, “Practically just a witness.”

“What if I don’t want to ‘witness’ you and Kyrie being all lovey-dovey as always?” You quip, trying to sound lighthearted.

“Please?” Nero grabs your hand, turning you around to face him. The two of you are taking up the entire sidewalk- you’re probably shoved once or six times, someone probably yelled at you- but it doesn’t even seem to matter. You stare at him, transfixed. You’re pretty sure you’ve never even heard him say ‘please’ before. “I want you there.”

God dammit. That’s not even fair.

“Okay.”

—

It’s three weeks before the wedding, and Nero’s picking out his tuxedo. You had feigned some horrified shock at the idea- you’d never seen someone force him into formal wear before, let alone seen him wear it willingly. You were half sure he asked you along just to spread the misery.

“If I knew the job meant giving you fashion tips, I would have charged you.” You grumble, shifting uncomfortably on the fitting area couch. Weird how they could spend so much money on interior decorating and still make the place so awful to stay in. Still, it was the only place that had managed not to get destroyed by the Qlipoth, so it wasn’t like you had many options.

“Right?” Nico drawled, foot kicking so fast it practically vibrates. She’s been on edge since the attendant confiscated her cigarettes. She sticks out against the artistic monochrome of the store like a tattooed sore thumb. She leans full on against you, the literal to your metaphor of leaning on her. It’s easier to tamp down the melodrama with her crowing in your ear every other minute. “Maybe the wedding should be trash bag themed. Kyrie would still look cute.”

“Oi, quiet out there!” Nero calls from the other side of the stall. “Nico, what’re you even doing here? You’re a bridesmaid!”

“Maid of Honor,” Nico corrected, “And you need all the fashion help you can get. Now are you coming out here, or what?”

The dressing room creaks open loudly, and Nero takes his first step out. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looks almost…sheepish. You’ve never seen him look like that before, and it hits you with a sudden rush of wondering how many other sides of him you’ll never see.

At the beat of silence he spins around and looks at himself in the hallway mirror. He seems so much taller and broader in a suit- he’s nearly as big as Dante now and he looks it.

“Nero, you look…” You start hesitantly. The pause could last a second or an hour and you wouldn’t know any better- it’s unbearable. And punctuated with a loud slap as Nico smacks your thigh with her open palm, jolting you out of your seat as you wheel on her with wide eyes. It throbs in familiar pain again and you clutch it mindlessly.

“Damn, Nero! You ain’t look half bad when you’re cleaned up!” Nico locks eyes with you, a broad grin on her face. “You tell him, Y/N!”

“Right!” You blurt, following her lead. “Never would’ve guessed you’d look so good in a suit.”

Nero glances at you over his shoulder, smile softening his features back into that unfamiliar little boyish look. The wedding date’s barreling towards him and Kyrie faster than Nico in her van, but every day his face seems to hold that unguarded bliss for a little bit longer.

“Good thing, I don’t think Kyrie would have wanted me to get married in street clothes.” He turns back to face the mirror, tugging the hem of his suit again like he’s not used to jackets that fit right. “You don’t think the blue is too much?”

“It brings out your eyes.” You explain. You had picked it off the rack for him with that in mind. Nero’s eyes meet yours in the mirror for a moment, and you wonder if you can play off that softness in your voice for some sort of sentimentality.

My best friend is getting married to the love of his life and I get to be there for every second of it. I’m so happy I could just die.

“Thanks. I guess this one’s probably it then, huh?” Nero looks down at the suit again, pinching it off his body to look at the fabric. It really is a good match, and you tuck away the little factoid that you’ve spent so much time staring into Nero’s eyes that you’ve memorized their lovely grey-blue.

“You don’t even wanna try the one I picked out?” Nico pouts. She pulls a half-smoked cigarette from her shirt pocket and sets it between her teeth. “Fine, fine, go on and change. We’ll see y'out front.”

Nico has the decency to wait for Nero to get back in the stall before she accosts you. She grabs your arm and yanks you up from your seat, dragging you around the corner and behind the racks of suits. These ones are so expensive you don’t have to worry about customers coming by. How clever. Her fingers are like daggers in your bicep when she spins you around.

“Nico? What the hell are you-”

“Okay, listen here.” She whispers, stabbing your chest with one of her little dagger fingers. Her cigarette stays surprisingly steady between her pursed lips. “I know what’s goin’ on with you-”

“There’s nothing going on with me,” You whisper back, slapping her finger down and rubbing your bruised pec. Your heart races under your palm.

“Hey, hey, shut it!” Her voice climbs until an attendant looks over, and she drops it back down into a conspiratorial whisper. “Trust me when I say I feel for you, but you can’t be doin’ none of that-” She clasps her hands together and flutters her eyelashes at you, then snaps back into a stern pout, “Around him, y'know?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Who cares. I’m already obvious.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” You whisper, and Nico has to lean in even closer to hear you.

“Well of course you ain’t,” Nico slaps you in the arm, glancing around the corner to make sure Nero’s still in his changing stall. “Nobody’s looking that tragic on purpose.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Listen,” Nico’s voice drops into a more serious tone, and somehow it makes you nervous. “I’m gonna help you out here. You work with me, and we’re gonna get out of this with minimal damage. It’s a goddamn miracle Nero ain’t already noticed the little crush you got on him, homewrecker.”

The relief drops back down into the pit it rose from. She might as well have slapped you, would’ve been just as funny and hurt less.

“I’m not a fucking hom-” The dressing room door’s creaking cuts you off, and Nico snaps away from you faster than you can finish your sentence. Nero whistles lowly as he turns the corner, suit folded over one arm and lifting the price tag.

“Damn, Y/N. You really know how to pick 'em. This suit’s the most expensive thing I’ll own.” He sighs and let the tag hang, looking up at you and Nico for a moment. He double takes the expensive suits around you, face pulling into a wince. “I am not trying any of those on.”

It’s two weeks before the wedding, and Nero is practicing old drills with you. You never would have thought he’d be the one to suggest it- back when you two were teenagers he hated those drills more than anyone else you knew. Not that it meant his form was ever sloppy; he just played fast and loose with the rules and his sparring never suffered for it. You, on the other hand, had found comfort in the repetition of the exercises; you would practice them over and over until they stuck in your head like ‘Be Happy For Him’.“I can’t believe you still remember all the steps,” Nero mumbled into his shirt, lifted to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He had shoved Red Queen tip-down into the dirt and you had to stifle the old habit of nagging him about it. No officers to get in trouble with anymore. “I did the drills a lot more than you did.” You snort, starting up the drill again from the top. It was nice to know your body could still make the motions. “Never saw the point in them. Nobody fights like,” Nero picks up Red Queen and copies the four steps of the starting drill, “You follow that pattern every time, you’re gonna get your ass kicked by the first person who notices it.”You roll your eyes. “That’s not what the drill is for, which you’d know if you listened to our instructors.” You switch up the first drill halfway, changing to the end part of the third drill then back to the top of the second. “It’s so you know how to respond to your opponent and always have something to fall back on. And for good blade control.”Nero stops your sword with his own, stepping up in front of you so you can see his skeptical look. “So you just go back to the old moves one way or another. But people and demons don’t exactly fight fair. What happens when you get something you don’t have a drill for?”“That’s what the control is for.” You push down Nero’s sword and straighten yourself back into your familiar sparring stance. “Wanna test it out?”“Thought you’d never ask.” Nero grins, spins Red Queen just to show off. “You gonna be good on that leg?”To answer you dash forward, sword flashing in a flurry of sweeps you already know Nero will dodge. Using unblunted weapons is a bad idea, especially at this speed, but you and Nero spend more time practicing with real blades than fake ones anyway. He recognizes the drill as expected and brings Red Queen down by his legs in anticipation of the final slash. You feint away at the last second, whipping your blade back and starting up a different drill; this one presses him to retreat back step by step.He doesn’t even try to attack. Maybe he can see the slight stumble in your bad leg, maybe he knows you’ve never favored your left so strongly before. You stop your drill halfway again and instead make a slash around his head so fast that he stumbles back afterward, a ‘what the hell?’ popping out of his mouth just as a tiny lock of his fringe falls to the floor. “Your cut was a little uneven,” You explain, mouth curling up into a half-smile. “Blade control.”Nero huffs and shrugs, ruffling the front of his hair for a moment and starting to turn away. At the last second, the dull side of Red Queen sweeps the back of your good knee and you crash to the ground with a yelp. Nero stabs Red Queen into the ground beside your head, plants one black boot next to it, and leans over you with a smirk. “Fighting dirty.”

—

It’s one week before the wedding, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table making wedding decorations. The original plan was just flowers scattered everywhere- Nero and Kyrie both loved them- but bouquets were too expensive for a Devil Hunter’s budget. So origami it was.

“Done.” Trish announced, dropping one last flawless stalk of paper leaves onto the table. You had been skeptical about Kyrie’s choice to enlist Trish and Lady with the decorations, but one glance at their work had you eating your words- they were damn good at this. “Do you need help with the roses?”

You exchanged a look with Nero, staring at each other and then the messes you two are making out of the paper. You laugh and slide over a stack of paper. “Yes, please.”

“So, Y/N, how are you holding up?” Lady asks after a moment of working in silence. Your eyes flick to Nico for a second and she raises her hands up defensively, like she expects you to attack her with some delicate handmade decorations.

“Uh,” You accidentally rip one of the petals you’re working on and you curse under your breath. “What do you mean?”

Lady looks between the two of you for a moment, mouth twisting into an amused half-smile. “Your leg?”

“Oh. It’s fine.” You flex your leg out as if to test it again. It responds with a resounding throb of pain. “Would be even better, if somebody didn’t decide to clothesline me with his sword.”

“Come on, I barely hit you.” Nero grumbles, waving away Lady’s dubious look without glancing up from his rose. He’s starting to get the hang of it.

“I figure after the ego bruises heal I can get started on finding a new place.” You continue, just as Kyrie walks in with the snacks for everyone. She stops short, mouth falling open in surprise just as Nero turns to you with an almost identical expression. It would be funny if it wasn’t directed at you.

“Y/N, I didn’t know you planned on moving out so soon!” Kyrie starts up again, placing food and drinks on the table as she watches you with a strangely worried look.

“Ah, well,” You take your drink and gulp it down to spare yourself some time. “After the wedding I thought it would be nice for you and Nero to have the place to yourselves.”

Nero pulls his mouth in a tight line. “We’re not gonna kick you out.”

“You don’t have to,” You say, awkwardly. “I just think it’s going to be awkward having an extra roommate around.” And I can’t pay my share of the rent if I can’t fight anymore.

“You’re always welcome with us,” Kyrie smiles gently, until Nico groans loudly and makes her jump.

“Aw, come on. Don’t make it weird for’im.” Nico crosses her arms, locking eyes with you and nodding just the slightest bit. “He’s just too nice to say he wants his own place again.”

Lady and Trish’s eyes ping-pong between the four of you, watching the argument unfolding with mild amusement. You drop your own gaze to the table to avoid locking eyes with anyone.

“Well, you can stay with us in the meantime,” Kyrie pipes in. “At least until you get back on your feet?”

“Nah,” Nico fills in for you again, “Because he’s gonna be stayin’ with me.”

—

It’s the night before the wedding, and Nero is sitting with you at the bar. He’s trying to salvage something more relaxed out of this bachelor’s party that he didn’t really want, and you’re doing your best to help. Dante’s plan to “show up at the bar and see what happens’ combined with the only guests being the groom, the uncle, the estranged father, and the lovesick best friend is turning about as well as could be hoped.

“He didn’t,” Nero sounded horrified, but a grin was stretched wide across his face.

“I’m serious!” You insisted, shouting over the music and the chatter all around you. You took another cautious glance all around- you hadn’t seen Dante for well over an hour, but you still felt the need to check. “He said ‘if we can’t take Nero to the strip club, we’re taking the strip club to him’. Word for word.”

“Noooo,” Nero moaned, his entire upper body melting onto the bar even as he shook with laughter. His grip stayed firm around his beer though- he learned well from the last one. “Stripper nuns, though? The hell does he think I’m into?”

“I was afraid to ask,” You take another gulp of your own drink, eyes falling closed to savor the way the alcohol seemed to turn even your anxiety into a pleasant blur.

“How the hell did you talk him out of it?” Nero asks the bar, blindly wiping the condensation off his beer glass.

“Told him he could bring stripper nuns to my bachelor party someday.” You lean your face on your hand, watching Nero’s back shake again. You were pretty sure he was giggling. “It’s hard being a martyr.”

“Martyr?” Nero turns his head, pillowing it on his forearm as he smiles at you. God, he’s so drunk. “You’re my guardian angel.”

“At your service,” You salute sarcastically. The conversation lulls and you rest your chin on your hand, glancing around the room. When you look back down at Nero, he’s still watching you. His smile has faded back into something thoughtful. “What?”

“You finished packing up this morning, right?” Nero mumbles, head bobbing slightly with his words.

“Yeah. Nico already picked up my stuff, so I’m staying with her tonight.” You tap your fingers against your glass. “She offered to start teaching me her gunsmithing too.”

At that, Nero sits back up. “Really? You gonna have to pay an apprenticeship fee or something?”

“Pff, no.” You stare at your glass. “But I’ll be joining her side of the business. For now, at least.”

Nero stares at you for a second, mouth open. “The hell? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Uh, sorry?” You twirl your cup, face twisting into a grimace. “I’m just testing it out for now.”

“Jeez. You’re leaving devil hunting and I’m getting married. What a year.” He sips his beer. “You excited?”

You look at Nero for a moment, not sure how to answer. How do you say ‘I’d rather it all stay the same forever’ without sounding as pathetic as you feel?

The bartender saves you, sliding up to offer refills. You accept, and she turns to Nero.

“I’m still working on it,” Nero sits up, drunk grin relaxing back into that soft expression he got so often lately. “We probably shouldn’t drink too much before tomorrow.”

“Special occasion?” The bartender asks, sliding your drink to you and picking up your old glass to clean it out. You take it in big gulps, a medicine for the upcoming repetitive conversation- you’ve heard people ask Nero about it so many times you can’t stand to be sober for it this time.

“Wedding.” Nero grins. The bartender whoops and tops off his beer.

“Finally some good news in this city. Everyone’s so damn depressing lately.” The bartender picks up a clean glass, clinks it against yours and Nero’s cups in turn. “Congrats, you two!”

The warmth in your stomach cools, then freezes. You fumble, exchange a glance with Nero. “Oh, I’m not–”

“He’s the best man,” Nero explains, red up to his ears. “I’m marrying someone else.”

“Oh,” The bartender says, sounding genuinely surprised. “Sorry, you were just looking at each other all puppy-eyed-”

“Where’s your bathroom?” You interrupt, and you must look queasy because she hands you a plastic bag from under the counter even as she points to the back corner. The second your bad leg takes your weight it crumples under you, and Nero’s arm shoots out to hold you up. You twist out of his grip.

“I’m good, I’m good-” You assure him as you stumble off, not caring who you bump into, breathing hard into the plastic bag. People sober enough to see the way you heave part way for you, clearing a decent path to the bathroom. You shove the door open as hard as you can. To your irritation, it doesn’t even make a peep. You scan the room- empty. You run into a stall. You fall to your knees in front of the toilet bowl.

And you let out a sob.

It echoes through the bathroom, multiplying until it almost feels as loud and as crushing as it feels. You grip the bowl and empty your tears into it, whole body curling into itself tighter and tighter like you can make yourself so small and weak that the pain will leave, satisfied. Every sob forces its way out of you violently. Let it out, you tell yourself sarcastically, the same way you would if you really had just vomited into the bowl like you were supposed to.

You don’t know how long you kneel there, only that by the time you finally roll onto your ass your knees are numb. You’re still crying but at least the roaring in your ears has died down enough for you to hear your phone vibrating against the tile. It must’ve fallen out of your pocket. You glance down, eager to shut it off, but it’s slid far into another stall and you practically have to crawl into it to pick the phone up. At least the gaps under the stalls are massive.

Two notifications- a text from Nero (‘you ok?’) and an incoming call. “NICO” flashes across the screen. Right. She was supposed to be picking you all up.

“Finally you answer!” Nico yells into the phone, and you wince away from it. “You know how many times I’ve been callin’ you, dummy?”

“Sorry,” You whisper into the phone. Another sob shakes you, and you cover your mouth. Too late.

“Hey, you doin’ okay?” Her voice is so much softer than usual and it makes another sob bubble up out of you.

“I’m so tired of this, Nico.” You whisper, voice taking on a harsh edge as you grit your teeth. “I can’t do this.”

“Hey, hey, hey lover-boy, it’s just one more day. One more day and this shit’s over and done with.”

“It’s not!” You hiss, drawing your knees up tight to your chest. When your voice comes out again, it’s rising louder and louder. For a second the music in the bar seems to climb with your voice, then it’s damped down again. “It’s not done tomorrow! Tomorrow is the ‘first day of the rest of their lives’,” Your voice breaks in a half-crazed, exhausted laugh, “And I’m so happy for them! Nobody in the world deserves it more than they do! I should know, I’ve been by their sides for almost a fucking decade!”

“Listen–”

“We don’t have the Order anymore, we don’t have Fortuna anymore, but they have each other and Nero is so, so happy with her.” You have to pause, overwhelmed by another breath-stealing shudder, “I would never want to hurt Nero. I want him to be happy.” Your whole body seems to relax at once, ragdolling you against the stall. “I just wish he could be happy with me.”

“Listen, lover-boy,” Nico starts, but you don’t hear the rest. Through the bottom gap in the stall you can see a pair of black boots, standing motionless just a few feet away. They turn slowly, and by the time you have the stall open he’s gone.

—

It’s the day of the wedding. They planned it for the evening, just a simple ceremony in a simple place with a small group of people and a simple reception. The details blur together like you’re still drunk. Nero hasn’t spoken to you since last night, and you can’t tell whether it’s deliberate. On their wedding day, grooms rarely have time to chat, let alone confront their best man on what they may or may not have heard the night before.

As planned, you and Nico walk the aisle together to your spots. You’re too slow for the music and you know it, but you’re not used to your new cane yet and you haven’t gotten the right rhythm to support your steps with it yet. Nico stayed up late crafting it for you, said you couldn’t just keep fucking up your bad leg by walking on it as much as you do. She’s working overtime to act like you’re just hungover instead of emptied out from an emotional breakdown, and when you can feel present again you’ll be sure to thank her. Until then you stand behind Nero, face schooled into a smile.

How far back would you have to go to save yourself from this feeling? The moment you accepted your role as best man? The moment Nero told you he was getting married? Your choice to follow them after the crisis in Fortuna? The day you and Nero were sworn into The Order? The day you met him?

How many years would you erase to stop yourself from being here this day, this time, standing at Nero’s side and knowing the fact it was a place no longer reserved for you?

Had it ever been?

Nero looks back at you over his shoulder, brow creased up in that soft expression that has gotten so familiar over this past month. Not a sign of fear or regret. It was the face he made when those butterflies fluttered in his stomach, when he told you about being with Kyrie, about the future he wanted together with her. A face that said he couldn’t wait for the future.

But his eyes are sad. And you have to wonder what that means.

He turns as the music started for her walk down the aisle. So beautiful in white, the fabric of her veil fluttering behind her almost reminiscent of Nero’s wings. She glows in the sunlight. The smile on her face crumples into an overwhelmed grin as she looks up the aisle to her groom and his best man, both of whom stood there with faces wet with tears.

As Kyrie and Nero step into each other’s spaces they bubble off the world around them. No pretenses between them, no expectations, just hands meeting and a whisper under Nero’s breath of her name, spoken like the most intimate word in the world.

And you stand there privy to it, like a voyeur to joy that was never meant for you or your ears.

Tonight, tomorrow, a week from now, a year, you can rebuild yourself into something that you hate a little less. You reassemble yourself just like Redgrave City has, piece by piece. You can play that familiar tune “We’ll Be Fine”, because you will be.

But for today? Today you witness their first kiss as husband and wife, and you stumble a little when you let go of your cane to applaud.

#sakkajagga #request #nero x reader #unrequited nero x reader #dd mild #had this queued since the morning and yet i'm literally editing it up to the last second lmfao

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supernatural-book · 5 years ago

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A Pretty Big Win

Title: A Pretty Big Win (Prologue!!!!)

Summary: Things are getting pretty stressful in the Winchester's lives. In the middle of all the stress, Dean Winchester proposes that the two of you go on a road trip together, just to get away from it all. After all, spending time with his loving girlfriend was just what he needed- a win.

A/N: Oooooof okay. Heres the first part to a series I want to start! I already have the storyline written out, so I hope to take less than a year to finish it, lol. Anyways, I was originally just gonna do one long fic, but decided this would be better.

Ugggh.

It was way too early to be awake but, truth be told, he never got to sleep in the first place. Dean Winchester rubbed his hands over his scruffy face and sat up in bed before deciding to just sit and watch his girlfriend for a moment. He would inevitably have to drag his ass out of bed, but for now, he wants to take the time to appreciate your presence. God, look at you, baby. You looked so calm, so small and helpless lying next to the disgruntled hunter, the lumbering oaf that was Dean Winchester. Sometime during the night, you had curled yourself around him in an intimate embrace, one that Dean hadn’t been used to before knowing you.

Dean Winchester was a good man, but he did have his faults. For instance, his post-hunt ritual wasn’t always to shower and snuggle up in bed with his one true love. Rather, he’d drive himself to a bar to get tipsy and find any woman who he wanted to lose himself in that night, only to leave as soon as he could in the morning. Sure, he’d have someone to hold on those nights, but laying with a stranger after sex could never compare to the embrace of two lovers who shared each other’s hearts and souls. He knew that now, and he found himself wondering- once again- what he did to deserve someone like you. Someone who’s such a contrast to his cold, dark life.

He knew from the moment he met you that you were going to be the death of him, and he was ready to accept that fate happily. When he was younger, he had flirted innocently with you every now and then, just watching to get a reaction out of you, wondering if you would ever be his. You made him feel things. Good things- hell, great things. Things he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

God, that was so long ago. How did it take him so many years to get a hold of you? ‘Not my fault’, Dean mused, ‘she makes me feel like an awkward kid again. She makes me all flustered and shy when she smiles. And her laughter, God, it’s so beautiful. And the way she says my name…’ His face was flushing just at the thought.

In your sleep, you snuggled closer into Dean’s side and used your leg- which was tossed over his own- to try and pull him closer to you.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Gotta get up now.” He pressed a kiss against your forehead and when you still didn't stir from your slumber, he realized just how tired you must have been. Recently- he'd be completely honest- things haven’t been going so well in the Winchester’s life. Things weren't quite as bad as they'd been in the past- there was no looming apocalypse, thank God- but the stress of all the hunts was still taking its toll on all of you. Especially you, bless your precious heart. Who knows what you were trying to do, staying up late to research and wearing yourself out like that for him and Sammy. Dean would never, ever be able to find the right words to thank you for all you've sacrificed for them. The most stressful thing about all of this was that there was nothing you could do yet. Read through all of the books in the library, sure, but you had absolutely no leads and therefore no place to start. And among the stress of trying to figure out what to do, there seemed to be so many cases. Much more than usual. “God, I’m sorry (Y/N). You deserve so much more than this life.” He decided to let you sleep in a while longer and grudgingly pulled himself out of bed, groaning when his feet hit the cold floor. He turned back momentarily- he could never really get enough the girl who gave up everything for him and gave him everything, could he?- and tucked the blankets warm and snug around your form, smiling to himself.

‘Oh baby, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, you know that? And I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Okay, something was off.

It was early morning when you woke up to the sound of your lover's heavy, booted feet moving around on the hard floors of your shared bedroom. You cracked your eyes open and looked around for any indication of what time it was. There were no windows in the bunker, but your eyes fell on the digital clock on the nightstand. Three in the morning? What’s Dean doing up at 3 am? You drearily noticed that Dean had his and your duffel bags on the edge of the bed, each half-filled already.

"Dean?" You shuffled around on the bed, indicating to him that you were awake. In your half-asleep state, you immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. Oh God, something bad happened and now we have to get out of the bunker before we die. "What's happening? Where are you going?" Dean looked up at the sound of your voice, a genuine smile taking over his face at the sight of you in his bed. It wasn’t odd for you to sleep in his bedroom- you’d been dating for two years now- but you could always see how thrilled Dean was to see you there every morning.

And God, it had been way too long since you saw him smile at you like that, despite the eyebags.

Dean had a habit- maybe not a habit, a curse- of staying up too late for his own good and not getting any sleep some nights. Not his fault, and you couldn't blame him- hell, if you had half the emotional and psychological trauma he did you wouldn't be able to sleep either. Most of the time it was nightmares -his time in hell, in purgatory, a particularly bad hunt- and sometimes just plain old memories. He was often haunted by memories of the past, guilt over things long gone, the deaths of people who he could never save and still blamed himself for, and the worry- scratch that, the fear- of losing you. You would always be able to tell when he had a night like that. Aside from the telltale eyebags and many, many cups of coffee, he'd carry himself less proudly, be less talkative- it was always worrying when he didn't crack jokes with you- and overall be the spitting image of a broken man.

Something was different today- ahh, this morning, at 3am. He was… excited.

"Morning, sleepyhead." He leaned down to lay a kiss on your forehead, dragging his hand over your messy hair. "I was just about to wake you up." His gentle gesture and happy demeanor calmed your worried mind. Nothing bad was happening; he doesn’t seem worried or rushed. In fact, he seemed… softer, calmer than usual. You sat up in bed, watching him lay items out on the bed to pack.

"So… what's going on?" You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

"You and I are going on a road trip for the weekend. Or however long we can be away."

"Without Sam?"

“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a romantic getaway if I brought my little brother with, would it?” He caught your confused gaze and laughed. "What, I can't go on dates with my girlfriend?"

"That's not what I meant. Is there, like, a hunt or something?" Dean opened your dresser and tossed you a pair of your jeans and one of his big Led Zeppelin tees.

"No. No hunts this week. Told Sammy we all need a break. Gotta get out of here, don't you think? I’m suffocating" He turned to you again, leaning in to give you a squeeze and help you out of bed. “Anyway, we need to go on a date again, ya know? It's been a while. Come on, get up, sweetheart. I’ll keep packing, you go get dressed. We’re wasting driving time." You happily jumped out of bed to get ready, taken aback by how sweet Dean was acting, considering how stressed he had been the day before. Not even 24 hours ago, Dean was downing a bottle of whiskey and stressing over everything that had been happening recently. “I just need one win. Just one.” he had muttered into his glass before downing it and letting the familiar drink burn down his throat. It was odd that he suddenly seemed cheerful and happy again, but you’ll be damned if you’re not gonna cherish every single moment of Dean’s sweet side. ‘God,’ you thought, thinking back to your past with him. ‘His sweet side is what made me fall for him in the first place’.

When you first met Dean, you knew immediately that you’d fall in love with him.

You were born into a family of hunters, who eventually- of course- met a tragic fate like many others, while you managed to get out of the life and were in the midst of your college education. Two FBI agents- odd, it didn’t really require the FBI- came to your dorm to ask you about it.

They were both tall and imposing, one a bit taller than the other, and they were both quite handsome, you’d admit, but your eyes lingered on the shorter of the two. He had short dirty blonde hair and, once they sat down across from you and you could see him closer, you noticed the freckles sprinkled across his face. And the way the light hit his cheekbones- God he was pretty. You had to stop yourself from staring at his eyes- they were so beautifully green- while he questioned you.

And boy, this man sure didn't seem to care if there was a difference between questioning and flirting. Because you got a decent amount of both, leaving you flustered and fucking aching for him before you even knew his name.

They asked strange questions, but questions that struck a familiar chord in you. “Did you smell anything strange when you found them?” You knew why they were asking, and it reminded you of the information your parents told you to keep you safe. Sulfur equals demons. Were these guys hunters too? So, in the midst of their interrogation, you broke out your own questions. “Do you believe in demons?” They froze- surprised when they learned you came from a hunting family and asked for your help on the hunt. They introduced themselves- Sam and Dean Winchester. “The Winchesters?” Your parents told you about John Winchester- their father- and here you were, meeting his sons.

Well, their parents sure make pretty babies.

After you helped them on the hunt, you knew there was no way you could continue living normally, but Sam and Dean helped. They introduced you to a friend of theirs- Bobby Singer- and persuaded you to stay with them to ensure your safety. Sam told you later that Dean was the one who suggested having you stay at Bobby’s and who wanted to keep in touch with you.

You stood in the doorway of the bathroom, brushing your teeth and watching Dean dig through your dresser and looking up every now and then to have you confirm the outfits he chose. You answered in small sentences, still lost in memories of when you first met.

You weren’t going to lie- the first things you noticed about Dean was how handsome he was. Not only in appearance, even though he was goddamn pretty- but in the way he held himself. He was confident, but not egotistical- just enough to be attractive and flirtatious without the whole douchebag vibe. He knew how to make you (and basically every hetero girl he ever interacted with) flustered with just a look and damn, he knew he was good at it. You eventually learned he wasn't just a pretty face. He had the best sense of humor- some of the funniest lines you'd ever heard belonged to him- and was always super selfless, even to the point of self-sacrifice. And, when he wanted to be, he was sweet. He went out of his way to keep you safe and comfortable, no matter the situation. Need a bodyguard while in a bar? 'Got you, sweetheart'. You're scared about walking into this next hunt? 'Just stay behind me. Nothin' will hurt you long as I'm here'. You just plain need a hug? 'Aw. C'mere, kid'.

You could still remember the conversation you had with Dean before they left you with Bobby after that first hunt together. “Remember, you’re only staying here so you don’t get hurt. Don’t just throw your life away for hunting, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid, Dean. I’m twenty-two. I’m only six years younger than you.” He gave you a stern look.

“Don’t change the subject, (Y/N).” You sighed, but couldn’t help but smile. He cares about you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

“Alright. I won’t go looking for hunts, but If you’re in trouble, I’m not just gonna sit by and watch. I'm gonna help.” After they had loaded their stuff into the Impala and were ready to drive off, Dean looked at you again, making you promise to stay safe. “Only if you do too.” You could still remember- vividly- how Dean gave you a quick wink and a smirk right before they drove off.

Little did they know, that was the beginning of your long friendship with them.

Smiling at the fond memories of him, you left your spot in the doorway to wrap your arms around Dean’s waist from behind, earning a soft grunt from him. “Well, hey there.” He turned around in your arms and kissed the top of your head, taking a moment to breathe in your scent.

“I love you, Dee.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” You continued to pack your stuff up and get ready, seeing that Dean had already laid out most of your toiletries and your favorite outfits- consisting of mostly Dean’s shirts. When you finish, you grabbed a big, warm flannel out of Dean’s duffel bag and pulled it on, surrounding yourself with Dean’s scent and warmth. He gazed at you with an attentive grin; he always loved when you wore his clothes. After shrugging on his jacket and grabbing his duffel bag, Dean turned to you and looked you over one last time, a big, toothy grin taking its place on his face. “You ready?”

“One hundred percent.” you grabbed one of his hands in yours as you made your way out to the garage, where your black beauty awaits you. Dean smirked and twirled the keys to the Impala around his finger.

“Then let’s get out of here, baby.”

Taglist!

@music-lockscreen, @bella-ca, @yetanotherreader

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #a pretty big win #series #fluff

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yoongi-sugaglider · 5 years ago

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Seek and Destroy

Pairing: Namjoon x reader featuring ot7 and Monsta X though not specifically by individual member name

Warnings: None really? Mild violence, bomb explosions, member injury, heavy sports junk (The angst Queen did it to em I’m sorry lol)

Word count: 2609

Au: sports/ Halo aka grifball. Futuristic twist on rugby

A/n: Okay so I know not many will understand the ins and outs of the Halo universe unless you’re a gamer lol. Keeping that in mind I tried hard to make it as comprehensive as possible without losing the substance of the plot. A special shout out to @crystaljins for the beta read lol Ya girl almost chickened out until she came through with the confidence boost. Thank you so much chica~ And on that note I hope you all enjoy!

***

The roar of the stadium crowd echoed in his ears. A distant cacophony that rang through the concrete tunnels protecting the anxious man and his equally unnerved teammates. He ran a trembling hand through the short cropped blonde hair at the base of his neck, turning to his team in the hopes of lightening the mood.

“This is it boys. The finals has been a long time coming but we’re here because we’re the best of the best. We’ve squashed every team that stood before us. Those crowds out there?” he punctuated his statement by jabbing his thumb towards the exit. “They’re cheering for us! It’s Bangtan they want! Are we going to give it to them!?”

He glanced around, taking in the various answering cheers of the team as a whole.

Yoongi, their goalie, was checking the straps of his reinforced suit, ensuring that the specialized titanium composite body suit protecting his vital organs was undamaged before beginning the process of putting on the various components to the outer shell. Jimin and Taehyung, two of their center backs, were joking and hugging as they cheered and chanted in singsong voices.

Jin, and Hoseok, their center forwards, were distributing the fuel canisters to ensure that everyone’s rocket packs were properly fueled. And then there was y/n, his fellow center forward.

She smiled up at him, sliding an armoured glove through the military cut of her hair before sending him a thumbs up that was meant more to reassure him than it was to show that she was ready.

“Remember boys. We are at war.” Namjoon growled as he banged the steel plate covering his chest. “Monsta X may think they’re prepared for us. But we’re gonna show them why we’re Bulletproof!”

A resounding cheer echoed through the hall as the last member of their team arrived, pushing the massive cart sporting their gravity hammers along the hall and distributing them accordingly.

“Jungkookie! You’re late man!” Taehyung joked, patting the backup goalie roughly on the back as he reached out to grab the Gucci patterned grav hammer that belonged to him.

“Yah! I can’t help it! I had to shove my way through a bunch of reporters just to get here. I swear you would think we had won already with the way they were acting.” Jungkook grinned as he handed y/n her hammer.

She took it with a nod, inspecting the handle to make sure that it was powered up and ready to go. The weapon moved easily in her skilled hands, weighing close to 85 pounds and yet slicing through the air like a chef’s knife through a tuna filet.

A moment of pride filled him as his eyes followed those around him. They’d come a long way to get to where they were today. From injuries early on when their equipment wasn’t rated to deal with explosions, to almost being torn apart as a team when rumors ran rampant after an incident between Yoongi and another goalie on an opposing team.

They'd made mistakes, plenty of them to be sure. But the most important thing was that at the end of the day they were family. Had been since they'd been on a squad together in the war that ended 8 years ago. These were their retirement days, and yet they still faced danger, still fought together, and would lay down their lives for each other, Namjoon wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hyung. We’ve got 2 till contact.” Taehyung interrupted his thoughts, handing the captain his helmet before sliding his own on and locking it into place.

“Saddle up ladies! We move out at 0600. Get your gear and get moving!” Namjoon’s voice had taken on a hard edge, adrenaline lacing the nerves trailing along his fingers and stilling the trembling he hadn’t even realized had taken over until it quit.

The team moved together like a well oiled machine, taking hold of their weapons and banging them into their chest plates before moving towards the exit.

The former space marine grinned, shoving the high tech helmet onto his head and locking into place until the Heads Up Display flickered into view and gave him a map of the entire arena they were about to enter.

***

The roar of the crowd increased, stadium lights reflecting on bright blue armour as Bangtan stepped onto the field.

Namjoon waved, grinning beneath the protection of his armour as his well disciplined team lined up at their end of the field.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We are here today to celebrate an amazing feat! The match up of the millenia!”

He tuned the rest of the announcer’s speech out, choosing to glance across the field to take in the glaring red armour of the opposing team.

Monsta X. They’d not been on the grifball scene nearly as long as Bangtan had, but they’d fought together in the Covenant War almost a decade before.

Namjoon remembered well their leader Shownu’s ability to strategize in the heat of battle. Clearly picturing the last battle they’d been in and how Shownu had quite literally carried an injured Jungkook off the battlefield while ensuring that both teams escaped into the alien planet’s early morning sunrise and to safety.

Namjoon respected him to be sure. But past experiences had to be put to the side. He was no longer a Spartan officer. No. He was the captain of a team of ruthless players. And as the final countdown began he knew the others felt the same way that he did. This was their chance to finally unleash. To be able to face an opponent as skilled as they were, to battle like they used to in a life or death situation with no way of knowing what the end result would be.

They loved the feeling, they lived for it. And no matter how this match turned out they would finally feel complete.

The clock ticked out each second, inciting the crowd into a fevered pitch, filling the stadium and the surrounding city with a deafening shout of almost feral proportions.

Namjoon waved to his team as it came close to time, signaling them to ignite their jet packs.

The building rumbled as the floor began dropping away, causing those on the field to now rely on their jetpacks to keep them in view of the stands. At the same time the audience seats began to rise, powered by massive pistons that lifted the seats into the air as huge almost building sized monitors flickered to life. The monitors showed various positions on the field, each focused on ensuring those in the arena as well as those watching at home would be able to see the full extent of the match.

A loud buzzer resounded through the air, signalling the start of the match as a massive round bomb was shot high into the air. Namjoon moved quickly, signalling to his partner to grab the bomb as he powered up his gravity hammer in preparation to defend her.

Y/n managed to reach the bomb, snagging it and whooping in glory through their shared comms as her armour sizzled a bright orange color to signal to those watching that she was now in possession of the coveted item.

The field erupted into chaos, three members of Monsta X having decided to take on Yoongi in an attempt to render him immobilized and Bangtan’s goal undefended. Jimin and Taehyung moved quickly to defend him. Taehyung shot high into the air, letting out a war cry as Jimin flew down low. As one they converged, forcing two of the opposing team to swerve away from the goal at the last minute as Yoongi took the last on on his own.

The man seemed to have underestimated the shorter goalie. Yoongi wielded his hammer with ease, waiting for the man to come just within reach. As he swung his hammer Yoongi took full advantage of the high tech armour he was wearing. Lithe body flipping through the air with barely a thought as his warrior reflexes caught the man in the back of his head with the gravity hammer.

The poor fool’s body shot across the arena, catching the barrier of his own goal with his ankle and spinning off into the bleachers. Taehyung cheered, saluting Yoongi with his hammer before turning back to assist Hoseok in keeping others off of Namjoon’s back.

The orange armoured Spartan meanwhile had been surrounded. She floated in the center of the arena, back to back with Jin who was flailing his hammer back and forth in an attempt to keep those trying to steal the bomb at bay.

"Jin come on, focus!”

Y/n elbowed her senior officer in the side, causing him to pause in his rapid and random movements to really assess the situation around him.

The match proceeded rather quickly. After a hasty play call by Namjoon, Jin and Y/n managed to shake off their opponents and scored with a resounding explosion that the unfortunate goalie hadn’t been quick enough to avoid.

Namjoon breathed a huge sigh of relief as the medics cleared him to continue playing, thankful that the protective armour that protected the sport’s players was the military grade that’d always been their signature on the battlefield.

He signaled to his crew, letting them know to set up for the next bomb to be deployed. His attention was caught by Yoongi who seemed to be reclining in between the goal posts.

“Hyung!!! Really? Taking a nap in the second round???” Taehyung seemed to have caught on to what Namjoon was glaring at as his voice was layered with a high pitched irritation.

There were grumbled words over the muffled coms and Yoongi waved in Taehyung’s direction just as the bomb launched into the air to signal the start of the second round.

It was a mad rush to the bomb, one that unfortunately Bangtan lost with a series of well placed swings of the hydraulically enhanced battle hammers of Monsta X.

Jimin shot forward, dealing a glancing blow that knocked an opponent out of his way. He smirked beneath his helmet, a loud growl echoing through the coms as he seroed in on the two red suits attempting to pin Taehyung down midfield.

He barely registered the play by play of the announcer, instead honing in on the reserve fuel lines glowing bright blue against metallic red paint.

“Taehyung! DUCK!”

His brother in arms reacted without hesitation, cutting the ignition of his jet pack just long enough to drop thirty feet through the air.

With a battle cry Jimin swung, clipping the supply line of one of the men and sending him careening into his own teammate and out of play for the moment.

Taehyung cheered Jimin’s actions, patting him on the back in appreciation as they raced back into the game.

Jin meanwhile was attempting to redeem his earlier hesitation, battling it out with a red suit as if this were a real battle and his life depended on it. An overhead swing clipped his opponents shoulder, forcing him to almost drop his own weapon. Before the man could respond Jin was swinging up, catching the man in the jaw and almost knocking him out cold.

“Jin! On your six!” Hoseok shouted as he came up behind his elder.

A member of Monsta X had been intent on catching Jin off guard but Hoseok caught on quickly, smashing into the man with his shoulder and shoving him well past Jin who smashed his hammer down on the man’s back. If it weren’t for the protection of the armour this would have destroyed the man’s spine, instead only shoving him down towards the floor of the arena and rendering him timed out of the match for a matter of 15 seconds.

Namjoon battled it out side by side with his girl, grabbing her hand and swinging her through the air in front of him to launch her towards the orange suited man that’d quickly made his way towards their goal.

“Yoongi! Watch out!!!” She screamed, attempting to garner his attention.

He’d unfortunately come under attack, having been virtually pinned down in the safety of his own goal as he battled off the remaining member of the opposing team.

She watched on in horror as the orange suit launched the bomb across the field. It breached the barrier between the goals posts, ticking rapidly as the enemy launched themselves out of the way.

Yoongi hadn’t seen the bomb and was unaware, turning only at the last second to stare at the device as it exploded.

He was launched through the air, smashing neck first into one of the goal posts before dropping to the ground below.

“YOONGI!!” A collective roar echoed through the communication system as the bulk of Bangtan raced to his rescue, dropping from the skies like flies and landing around him as the medics quickly set to work attending to his injury.

Jungkook rushed from the sidelines where he’d been observing the match, helmet and hammer already in hand as he joined the group to wait out the medical team’s diagnosis.

“He’s going to be fine. The fall unfortunately broke both bones in his left leg. He’s also got a concussion and several minor cuts that we’ll be treating immediately.”

Namjoon nodded as the others sighed in relief, though his eyes burned with fervor as he watched his elder and battle buddy get carted off the field.

He turned to his team, barely registering as the crowd screamed and cheered at the raised wave of Yoongi.

“We’re ending this. Now.” Namjoon’s orders left no room for objection, though those around him would have never said anything against their fearless leader.

“Jimin take point. Phalanx form up.”

They rose into the air, patiently awaiting the countdown to announce the resumption of the match.

At Namjoon’s signal the team moved as one, forming a solid line of titanium and muscle around Jimin and moving forward across the field at a fearsome pace. Hammers worked in unison, swinging and smashing the opposing team as they tried to break the line.

Namjoon roared into the coms, signalling Taehyung and Hoseok to break rank as Jimin streaked forward like a bullet. The young soldier acted on instinct, dodging a player with a roll in mid air before launching the bomb at the goal more than 15 feet away.

It struck with a clang that echoed through the stadium, beginning the 3 second countdown.

“Move out!” Hoseok shouted, shoving an opponent out of the way with a resolute swing of his hammer before tackling Jin out of the way.

The arena went quiet, a unified breath being held as two of the opponents attempted to race towards the goal to knock the bomb out of the way.

But they were too late.

An explosion rocked the arena, smoke and flames billowing forth to encase the field and obscure the players from view.

A moment longer of silence as the smoke cleared, blown away to reveal a victorious Bangtan standing at attention as they faced the crowd in a resolute circle. Jungkook flew to the side lines, offering the injured Yoongi a hand and helping him to the center of the circle.

Namjoon turned instantly, shouting a clipped “Atteeennn Hut!” Into the comms before saluting the injured warrior. As one the others saluted as well, moves well polished and practiced hundreds of times before. And yet this salute felt different.

More a salute to the ending of a chapter in their lives. Or the beginning of a new one.

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