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srjlvr · 1 year

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SEVEN ROYALTIES

7 brothers. 7 new kings. 7 new thrones. 7 love stories.

note. im a bit early to do this, but we’re getting closer to 1.5k followers so i decided to drop it! i cant believe i am able to reach this amount of followers honestly! this is a special series to show you how thankful i am. i wouldn’t be here without y’all.

THE seven brothers of hybe’s kingdom will be getting each a new throne and kingdom of their own to rule, and each one gets a love story of his own too.

GENREs will be included in each member’s story and so are the WARNINGS and WORD-COUNTS.

TAG-LIST ; i’ll consider this tag-list to all members, send me an ask or comment on this post if you’d like to join.

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz , @ohdudehesflirting

lee heeseung x fem!reader genre: strangers to lovers , commoner and a royal , fluff , angst ! warnings: loads of curse words.

you always knew your short temper will be a disadvantage, but you never thought that moment will happen when it came to a royal blood.

“watch where you’re going!” you yelled at the person who just bumped into you, “my apologies madam, perhaps i can offer you some sweet cookies as an apology?” he smiled.

you laughed at the nickname and the cute offer, “people don’t offer here cookies just because they want to apologize, are you new in town?”

he then shook his head, “you keep your things to yourself if you don’t want people to keep asking you for favors”

you ran before the person could even reply, “didn’t she realize who is she talking to?”

STATUS posted!

park jay x fem!reader genre: arranged marriage , one sided love at first , angst , fluff ! warnings: curse words , mentions of food (nothing serious, just dinner breakfast and all) , uhh dunno if it’s really a warning but just a rude behavior.

it’s been a few months since your huge wedding held in the castle, “i’ve married to you only because of the fact that i need to marry off to someone to get the throne” your newly husband groaned.

he’s been telling you the same sentence each time you remind him that you’re actually a married couple.

you’ve been taking care of him when he got sick, made him meals and even did most of the laundry, regardless of the fact that you have tons of servants.

jay has been ignoring you all day and all night ever since you first met, even ordered that you must have separated rooms.

but all it took for him to understand that he so longed for you, is to see you walk away. now, he’s determined to bring you back and love you all over again.

STATUS posted!

sim jake x fem!reader genre: strangers to lovers , fake relationship , he fell first but she fell harder , runaway royals , fluff , angst ! warnings: mentions of pregnancy(nothing serious i promise trust me) , mentions of food (not specifically, just meals).

your beauty is beyond compare, and you know that. your parents knows that too. which is why they’ve been forcing you to go on dates with filthy princes who wants nothing but to use you and your beauty as a trophy.

you hate that, being treated as an object in the eyes of other people. so you ran away. where? you didn’t know, but you packed your bag and left the house in the late late hours.

what you didn’t expect however, was to get caught by another runaway prince.

“who are you?” you suspiciously asked. “i’m sorry madam, let me introduce myself, i’m sim jake, hybe’s-“

“hybe’s prince” you gasped, “and you are?” he shrugged off the fact that you just cut him in the middle of the sentence.

“i’m l/n y/n—“ “the runaway princess?”

STATUS posted!

park sunghoon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers , one sided love somewhere into the story , heavy angst , fluff ! warnings: character’s death (not a main character) , curse words.

sunghoon has everything, wealth, power, a throne. but none of these matters when he can’t have you by his side.

“i hate you, park sunghoon” you spit out, nothing but hate is in your fierce glance at him. he just chuckled, “you don’t mean that”

“oh i do,” you nodded, “and i’m only doing it because i promised her it’ll happen”

“looking back at that promise, i realize why you used to believe that promises are stupid” you added.

“i’m sorry” he apologized, “sorry isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

STATUS posted!

kim sunoo x fem!reader genre: mistakenly falling in love , strangers to lovers , fluff , a bit of angst ! warnings: none atm.

the ballroom was full with young royals who are there the celebrate ni-ki’s birthday, the youngest out of the seven brothers.

it was a NO ADULTS party and therefore, the king and the queen ( aka the parents ) tried to describe him who is he going to marry. it was a pretty obvious force marriage.

“you’ll know it when you see her, she’s awfully pretty” they said.

“i’m l/n y/n” you introduced yourself with a curtsy, sunoo took your hand and kissed the back of it, “you look awfully pretty, y/n”

“oh! her name is minju!” right after the party, the queen and the king reminded sunoo that the girl he’s off to marry is named minju.

STATUS posted!

yang jungwon x fem!reader genre: childhood friends to lovers , promised to marry , fluff , angst ! warnings: mentions of food , pregnancy i think , maybe curse words (do lmk if i missed something!!)

you’ve known jungwon ever since you can remember. his castle is considered your second home and your castle is considered his second home.

you were pretty confident in your friendship, until you became teenagers and things started to fade away between you two.

he knows you’re promised to him, so why was he so unconfident about it when he saw you talking to other princes?

and you know he’s promised to you, so why do you feel like crying when he’s being introduced to other princesses as well?

STATUS posted!

nishimura riki x fem!reader genre: troublemakers falling in love , strangers to lovers , dumb and dumber relationship , fluff , angst ! warnings: none atm.

you were some kind of the black sheep in your family, always breaking rules and doing what you’re clearly not supposed to do. you love your freedom.

you heard about a prince who’s just exactly as you are, and you’re more than eager to meet him.

“are you…?” in one of your usual sneak outs, you bumped into a familiar face, “am i…?” he mocked.

“never mind” you shrugged, “i thought you were nishimura riki”

“i thought you’re l/n y/n” he chuckled, it was too dark for the both of you to see each other. “so who are you?” you asked, “nishimura riki, you?”

“l/n y/n”

STATUS coming soon!!

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fics-and-quotes-andthelike · 1 year

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May I request a fanfic with Dean Winchester x fem!reader, who is into cars and drives an Rx-7? She should be really sweet and innocent and her car-hobby is something you wouldn’t expect first glance. She loves drift events and works at a garage. Thank uuu!!!

Have a lovely day and remember to eat and drink enough! 💕

We Have Time

Title: We Have Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3,825

A/N: Thank you so much @milkb0nny for the request!! I really got into this story, and I hope it lives up to what you were imagining.

And thank you for your kind words, I hope you have a great read and an amazing day!

A 1967 Chevy Impala.

You couldn’t help but stare, your jaw slack as you admired the car. You had a pretty nice car too, if you did say so yourself, but you hadn’t seen a freaking 1967 Chevy Impala in a while.

Your head tilted to the side as you slowly walked up to the car. You’d absolutely love to get your hands on it, but you could tell that the car was loved and well taken care of, and that the owner would probably never let another person lay their hands on it.

You were startled out of your thoughts when someone cleared their throat behind you. You whirled around in surprise and were suddenly standing face to face with two men. They were both tall, though one was taller than the other, with long brown hair. The other was a bit shorter, with cropped blond hair and piercing green eyes.

You could feel blood rushing up to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Sorry,” you said.

The taller man smiled kindly. “No worries. What’re you up to?”

You shook your head, your cheeks still flaming. “Nothing. Well, I was headed back to work, but I got distracted and now I’m a little late, but I should be fine, I think. I just love this car and I had to stop and take a closer look and now here we are.”

The taller man chuckled at your tangent, but the shorter man was looking behind you. You followed his stare and came face to face with your own lovely car. Your 1995 Mazda RX-7.

You turned back towards the two men when you heard the blond one finally speak. “That’s a damn nice car.”

You felt pride brimming in your chest. Of course it was. You’d kept it in pristine condition, and if there was one thing that you knew for sure, it was cars.

The man looked back towards you and offered a small smirk. “You like my car, sweetheart?.”

You smiled easily. “I love it, actually.”

His smirk grew as he put on a flirtatious voice shamelessly. “Oh, yeah? You wanna go for a ride sometime?”

The taller man made a face of disgust, but you were practically jumping for joy. “Really? You mean it?”

The shorter man blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. Why wouldn’t you, though? It was a freaking Impala.

You reached out a hand, still buzzing with excitement. “I guess if you’re offering me a ride, I should introduce myself. Hi, I’m y/n.”

The taller man reached out a hand first, his handshake gentle. “I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.”

You moved your hand towards the shorter man, who took your hand in his. His grip was firm. You smiled as he introduced himself. “Dean.”

You nodded and looked back towards the car again. “So, did you mean it?”

Dean hesitated, looking you over, before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I meant it. We’re only in town for a few days, but why don’t you give me your number? I’ll take you on a ride.”

Your smile widened and you quickly recited your number as soon as Dean had his phone out.

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows at you. “You sure about this?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yeah, of course. If you guys don’t mind me hitching a ride for a bit, obviously. I’d sit in the backseat, and I’m a good passenger.”

At that, a smile of amusement grew on Sam’s features as Dean cleared his throat. “I think you misunderstood me, sweetheart.”

A wave of disappointment crashed over you. “Oh.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No, not like- I was thinking I’d leave the lunkhead behind and the two of us could go for a ride.”

“Oh,” you said again, relief filling your chest. “Yeah, that's fine.”

You could see Sam stifling laughter, though you weren’t sure why. You looked towards your phone and gasped lightly. You started walking backwards towards your car as you spoke. “I’ll definitely take you up on that, call me whenever. I really gotta go, but it was nice to meet you, though!”

You turned and ran the rest of the distance, hurriedly entering your car and driving off as quickly as possible in the hopes that you wouldn’t get fired for being so late.

From the same spot that you’d left them in, Sam burst out into laughter as Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam bent over, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t think she got the hint, Dean. Or maybe she’s just more interested in your car than you. You’re losing your touch.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, sulking towards Baby. Who cared what Sam said? You’d said yes to the ride, right? That had to count for something.

He looked off in the direction your car had gone in. “I can’t believe that’s her car.”

Sam threw him a look as he walked over to Baby and opened the passenger’s door. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. If you know how to take care of it.”

“Right. Because you’ve never even gotten a scratch on your car.”

“Hey,” Dean said warningly. “Baby’s been through some tough times, but she knows she can count on me.”

~~~

Dean stood still, staring at Baby.

Sam stood to his right, staring at the damage as well. They’d been standing here for a few minutes. The worst part about it was that the hunt was already over. There was nothing and nobody for Dean to take out his anger on.

Sam glanced towards Dean, hoping that this wouldn’t cause him to go feral. He opened his mouth to offer condolences, but Dean stopped him before he could speak.

“Not a word.”

Sam nodded silently and looked back towards Baby. It definitely wasn’t pretty.

Dean had been able to fix his car up plenty of times, but Sam had a feeling that even Dean might need some help with this one, if only so that he didn’t mope around in silence for hours as he fixed his Baby.

Not that he’d say that right now, of course. He’d wait until Dean finally stopped staring at the wreckage, first.

~~~

Dean stood a safe distance away from the car garage, leaning on Baby. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger and his arms were crossed over his chest. He’d love nothing more than to just drive away, but he’d have to come back for Sam anyway, so there was really no point.

Sam was talking to someone about the damage that Baby had sustained during the hunt. Dean wasn’t even sure what cover story they were using. He’d been too upset to ask.

Not that it mattered. They shouldn’t have come in the first place. He could’ve fixed Baby up on his own.

He still could. Maybe Sam could just walk back to the motel.

“Hey!”

He glanced towards the voice and immediately dropped his arms down by his side when he saw who the voice belonged to. He smiled, the anger in his chest subsiding slightly. “Hey yourself, sweetheart.”

You looked behind him and your eyes widened as you saw the state of his car. To say that you were surprised was an understatement. You’d definitely wanted to get your hands on that car, but you really hoped that you hadn’t just manifested an accident or something.

You looked back towards Dean. “What happened?”

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

You nodded slowly, your eyes still stuck on the poor Impala. “Okay.”

Dean looked over at you. “Eyes are over here, sweetheart.”

Your eyes snapped over to Dean. “Yeah, sorry. It’s just… sorry. Anyway.”

Dean smiled slightly. “Anyway.”

You grinned. “You said you were only in town for a while, right? What brings you here, of all places?”

Dean felt a warmth in his chest, thankful that you were kind enough to try and distract him. “My brother and I are travelers. We just wander wherever the wind takes us.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “The wind picked a horrible time to send you here. There’s been a bunch of accidents lately. I’m getting a bit worried, honestly.”

Dean felt a small smirk creep onto his face. “Is that right? I have a feeling it’ll die down.”

You made a face. “Horrible choice of words.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he let out a small cough. “You’re right. Sorry.”

You shrugged and smiled. “It’s fine. Wandering where the wind takes you sounds fun, though. I’ll have to try it some time.”

Before Dean could respond, you heard someone call out your name. You both turned in the direction of the garage to see who it was. Your boss pointed towards the Impala and cupped her hands around her mouth to shout, “These boys need a hand with their car! You got it?”

You waved a hand to show acknowledgment. Your boss nodded and walked back into the garage.

Dean whipped his head around to face you. “You’re a mechanic?”

You smiled with pride. “Only the best in the business.”

Dean looked you up and down. “Is that right?”

“You’re the one with the beat up car.”

“Don’t.”

You grinned unapologetically. “Sorry.”

You looked up as Sam approached the two of you. “Hey,” he said, “is there anywhere around here where we can get some food?”

You nodded and pointed. “Five minute walk that way, you’re going to hit a few places and a market. Is that okay?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks.” He looked over at Dean. “Come on, let’s let her work.”

Dean looked over at you, who sent him a sweet smile. He shook his head slowly and turned back towards Sam. “I’ll stay here, help out with whatever.”

Sam made a sound of disbelief. “She’s a professional, Dean, she can handle it.”

“Oh, I know she can. I just want to see her in action.”

You blushed, looking away with a smile.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll be back.”

Dean nodded and watched for a moment as Sam walked away before turning back to you. “So. How long is this going to take?”

You shrugged and looked behind him, cringing at the damage. “Three days, minimum.”

Dean closed his eyes in pain before shaking his head. “Alright. Alright, that’s fine. We have time.” He opened his eyes and smiled. “So. What other surprises are you hiding?”

~~~

“That’s bull!”

Dean watched you fondly as you yelled at the television that was set up in the garage.

You were multitasking, watching Formula Drift as you worked on fixing up the Impala. Which isn’t what he had expected from you, but really, he should have known better by now.

After all, this was the third day that the two of you had been busy repairing Baby.

Your time together had started out quietly. On day one, when you had gotten Baby to your workspace, you’d started crooning as if she were a living thing. Dean had taken a liking to you immediately after that.

As soon as you started working, the two of you made progress quickly, much faster than he could’ve ever done it on his own. It was made even faster by the fact that you were splitting tasks and helping each other out whenever possible.

The first day of work was mostly silent, except for a few short exchanges here and there.

But on day two, you two had gotten to talking. You were an open book, no secrets or lies to you at all. Well, except for the fact that you were “sweet and harmless on the outside but a tough mechanic here in the garage”, according to Dean. You’d laughed at that, causing that warmth to appear in Dean’s chest again.

You had told Dean a bit about your life, and how your family was no longer in the picture after an accident that had happened a few years back.

“I’m sorry,” Dean had said softly.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

Dean had found himself telling you a bit about his life as well. That Mary had passed away long ago, and that John had gone more recently.

You had looked at him with such compassion in your eyes as you said, “I’m sorry, truly.”

He had nodded once in acknowledgment before he’d steered the conversation towards something else.

You were easy to talk to. Almost too easy. Today, on day three of working, Dean had almost told you what he had really been doing that had caused so much damage to the Impala. He caught himself just in time, but still marveled at how easy it was to be honest with you.

Luckily, your conversation had been cut short when your boss walked in and turned the television on. “You’ve got to see this,” was all the context that she had provided before walking out once again.

Dean had glanced at the screen in surprise when he saw Formula Drift playing, and looked over at you with even more surprise when you immediately repositioned yourself so that you could work on Baby and watch the TV at the same time.

You’d been working and watching the competition for a while now, instructing Dean to hand you a tool every once in a while or giving him a job to do when you didn’t want to tear your gaze away from the screen.

But even with your focus divided, Dean could see how loving and careful you were being with Baby.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you when he saw how passionate you were with both the Impala and the competition. You were muttering to yourself as you worked, and looking up at the screen every once in a while to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

He wasn’t even really paying attention to the screen, or Baby, to be honest. His gaze was focused on you.

You threw your hands up in frustration and shouted at the screen before looking over at him. “You saw that, right? You saw that, I know you did.”

Dean nodded, not really even sure what he was agreeing to. “Yeah, I saw it.”

You huffed out a breath of anger and stood. “I can’t watch this anymore, it’s too much. We’re almost done here, do you want to see if Sam has some food for you?”

Dean looked down in surprise to see that you were indeed almost done with your work. A quick glance at the clock on the wall let him know that the two of you had been working hours.

He looked over at you. “Yeah, sure. We’ve been at it for a while, don’t you get breaks or something?”

You smiled. “Yeah. I’m trying to subtly ask you if I can take my break now.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Yeah, no, of course. Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

He turned away from you, but stopped when he heard you groan again. He looked back to see you bouncing on your toes as you watched the screen.

You made eye contact with Dean. “I’m coming, just give me two seconds.” You looked back at the TV.

Dean shook his head in amusement and walked back over to you, gently placing one hand on your shoulder and using his other hand to grab one of yours. He slowly led you away even as you stared at the screen.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he mumbled.

“It’s just-”

“I know.”

“It’s so stupid, he didn’t even-”

“I know, I’m sorry. Come on.”

“Dean, are you seeing this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Come on, you can do it, I believe in you.”

He finally led you away from the screen, releasing you as soon as the tension faded from your body.

You laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

Dean smiled back. “What’re you sorry for? I get it.”

You grinned, looking down at your feet. “How long are you staying in town for?”

Dean’s heart sped up. So you had definitely caught on to his not-so-subtle flirtations over the last few days.

You looked up and smiled hopefully. Dean had been nothing but kind and sweet, and you were hoping that he’d at least entertain the idea of the two of you spending more time together. Especially since he’d been hinting at it for a while now.

But as you watched his smile start to fade, you realized that your hopes had only been silly little dreams. Nothing more.

He looked away. “We don’t usually stay in one place for long. We’ll probably be out as soon as Baby’s ready to go.”

You could feel your heart drop down to your feet, but you forced a smile on your lips. “Yeah, that makes sense. Traveling with the wind and all.”

Dean nodded, still not looking you in the eye.

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll get Baby up and running soon. I’m just going to grab some food and I’ll get back to it.”

You turned your back on Dean before he could reply and walked away swiftly. You furiously wiped at your eyes as you felt them well up.

You didn’t know why you were so upset. Why would Dean put his life on hold for you when you’d only just met? Just because the two of you had some things in common? Or maybe because he had allowed you to be open and vulnerable without judgment. Or maybe because you had seen the way that he was looking at you as you worked, even though he hadn’t seen that you were looking at him the exact same way.

You stopped walking when you knew that you were out of Dean’s sight and leaned against a wall. There was no one like him in your small town, and you doubted you would ever meet anyone like him again. Someone tough but kind, eyes haunted by his past even as he tried to make sure that others didn’t have to suffer the way he did. Someone who made you feel like you had time to take things slow, and let things click into place.

You straightened and took a deep breath. You couldn’t let this affect you. Yeah, it hurt that Dean had led you to believe that you might become something, but when it came down to it, you’d only known each other a few days. No matter how much you liked him, you had to stay focused.

Even if Dean didn’t stay, you had a job to do.

~~~

“She asked you to stay?”

Dean shook his head. “No. No, she didn’t. She asked how long we’re staying for.”

Sam threw his hands up. “Same thing! What’d you tell her?”

“The truth.”

Sam spluttered. “The truth?”

Dean made a face. “Not the whole truth, I’m not insane.”

“You’ve done it before,” Sam pointed out.

“We’re getting off topic. Look, I just told her that we never stay in one place long, and that we were leaving when Baby was ready.”

“Dean,” Sam said in exasperation. “You’ve been flirting with the poor girl for days. Now she probably thinks she did something wrong.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

Sam stayed quiet for a moment. There was nothing that Dean could do to fix this. Not really. Not unless…

Sam sat up straighter. “Okay, listen. Maybe we can stay a bit longer.”

Dean shook his head. “We have a job to do, Sammy.”

“What job, Dean? We don’t have any new leads. Garth hasn’t called, and Cass hasn’t told us that the world is ending again.”

“Yeah, but-”

“We have time, Dean. Take advantage of it.”

Dean shook his head again. “Sammy, listen-”

“No, Dean, for once in your life, you listen to me. I can see the way you look at this girl. Hell, her boss sees it, too. I know our life makes it almost impossible to settle down, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.” “Sammy-”

“Wouldn’t you say the same thing to me if Jess was still around?”

Dean stayed silent. Sam was right, of course. He’d love nothing more than for his brother to be able to settle down peacefully with the love of his life.

He took a deep breath and looked up at Sam. “Alright, I hear you.” Sam nodded, satisfied. “Good. Now, go get her, tiger.”

~~~

You looked up and smiled as Dean entered your workstation again.

“We’re almost done. Just a few last tweaks and you’ll be out of here.”

Dean stood across the room from you, his hands in his pockets.

You frowned in concern. “Hey. You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright. But, uh, there’s been a change in plans.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Oh?”

Dean offered you a small smile. “We’re actually going to be staying here a little longer than we thought.”

You could feel your heart speed up in your chest, but tried to squash down your expectations. “Really?”

He nodded. “I still need to give you that ride, don’t I?”

You laughed in relief, allowing the flood of feelings that you’d been pushing back to move forward, front and center. “Yeah, you do. What made you change your mind?”

At that, Dean walked forward until he was standing beside you. “I think you know.”

You smiled. “Maybe. But I’d still like to know.”

Dean grinned and gently patted his Impala. “Well, Baby, of course. I need to be nearby in case you’re not as good as you say you are, so that I can make you pay for damages.”

You laughed. “Fair enough. You want to finish her up with me?”

“Obviously.”

You hummed. “We’re almost done, though. Where are you going to take me?”

Dean shook his head. “It’s a surprise.”

“Not always a great idea to keep a first date destination a surprise,” you said, surprised with your own boldness.

Dean chuckled. “First date, huh?”

You took a step closer to him. “Maybe. Is it?”

Dean lowered his head towards yours. “Absolutely.”

You could feel warmth radiating off of him in waves, allowing yourself to be comforted by his presence as you tilted your head up towards him.

Before you could even register what was going on, your boss burst into the room. “Hey, I have a guy out here asking for help, are you-”

You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment as Dean stepped back, looking up at the ceiling to hide his flushed cheeks.

Your boss slowly backed away, pulling the door closed behind her. “Sorry about that. Carry on.”

You peered out from behind your hands and looked up at Dean. “Maybe we should save that for our date. You know, just in case my boss decides to walk in again.”

Dean smiled, the warmth in his chest stronger than ever before. “Don’t worry about it.

We have time.”

A/N: Part 2!

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shekeepswriting · 1 year

Text

A Little More Heart

[Syverson x Reader]

Word Count: 3977

Summary: On a night out with an old friend, Sy meets a woman who catches his interest.

Warnings: Just cursing and a little bit of alcohol

A/N: This could become a series? I’ve got little bits and pieces and some fun ideas. Let me know if you’d be interested in that. I’m new to this part of tumblr and very nervous...

Sullivan’s was pretty barren that night, not that anyone could expect much for this late on a Thursday night. A few regulars warming their usual barstools, making conversation and laying out their woes to a characteristically haggard Billy Sullivan as he filled the pretzel and peanut bowls. A duo of middle aged women talking gratuitous shit at a table near the middle of the room with frequent smoke breaks. A group of four guys, barely on the right side of 21, trying to boost their cool kid points by getting good at pool. One woman sitting at the end of the bar with a notebook, leaning heavily on her forearms in a way that read more fatigue than alcohol consumption. Looked like she was drinking lemonade.

Everyone who had been there when Syverson and Danny walked in two hours earlier was still holding steady.

They’d made their way through the stages of conversation people usually had drinking with old friends. The short term catch up, funny argument over something stupid, brief foray into more emotional territory, shared memories, hypotheticals. Their night, at least, was starting to wind down.

When Sy came back from the bathroom, Danny was staring at the woman at the bar, finger tapping idly on his glass. Having known him since he was fifteen years old, Sy knew that face very well.

“Not gonna go your way,” Sy said mildly, with a hint of a smirk.

“No? How d’you figure?”

“She’s sitting at the very end of the bar with a notebook and pen. She didn’t come here to make friends or get hit on.”

“She could’ve stayed home to write,” Danny argued, but his face was thoughtful as he watched you.

“We could’ve stayed home to drink.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Alright, take it easy. I’m not gonna harass the woman. Just gonna introduce myself. If she’s not interested, I’ll go. Not trying to be an ass.”

“Nah, you don’t gotta try. You’re a natural.”

Danny squinted, snatching at Sy’s glass and downing the rest of his drink in retaliation.

“You go then. Looks like you’re running empty anyway.”

“I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Oh, I know it. Old man Syverson ain’t known the touch of a woman in fifty years,” Danny said, exaggerating his accent and wiping away an imaginary tear.

“That’s enough of that now.”

“Come on, man. Look at her. Frowning and drinking alone. She’s your soulmate.”

Sy shot him a frown, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Not drinking alone though, am I?”

“You talk to her or I will.”

Sy gave an unconvinced grumble, but the look on Danny’s face made it clear it was no idle bluff. Now, there was nothing wrong with Danny. He wasn’t aggressive or pushy; he knew how to take no for an answer. But he’d give it a solid effort, and he was the most extroverted person Sy had ever met.

If you were uninterested in company, the way that he was almost certain you were, it would be easier to avoid the whole process entirely. And if Sy took up the bar stool two spaces to your right, Danny wouldn’t have a clear view to know whether or not the two of you actually spoke a word to each other.

He stood up from the table with a deep sigh, making sure his annoyance over the disruption of his night was fully documented.

“Happy hunting, Captain,” Danny said with a stupid grin and a sloppy salute that had Sy rolling his eyes as he turned towards the bar.

As you noticed his approach, your shoulders tensed up, lips slightly pursed but eyes still trained on your journal. Sy gave you space, careful to only observe you through his peripheral vision as he claimed a stool a fair distance from you, leaving a buffer seat between you.

Billy approached as he sat, brought him a beer with minimal conversation.

You fidgeted, clicking your pen three times in rapid succession.

There wasn’t much more Sy could do to set you at ease without blowing the whole operation, but he set his phone on the bartop, scrolling absently through contacts and pictures to give himself something to do, something to help you feel less observed.

Your leg started bouncing and you glanced at him, quick as humanly possible.

There was a silent standoff for a few minutes, one Sy was trying very hard to will out of existence. But you were still tense on your barstool, expectant.

You broke first.

“No pitch, huh?”

You were looking right at him this time, fully turned to face him, eyes intense but not unfriendly.

“Pitch?”

“You left that cozy corner table to come drink by yourself on an uncomfortable bar stool. Usually the kind of move that’s followed by an introduction, maybe some pickup lines. A pitch of some kind.”

Sy turned his head just enough to see the table he’d been sitting at out of the corner of his eye. Danny turned his head away too fast, feigning interest in the record cover art hanging on the bar walls. Idiot.

“Saw me over there, huh?”

“I’m a woman drinking alone in a dive bar, and you are literally the largest threat in the room. Of course I saw you.”

Sy frowned.

“Not a threat to nobody.”

You raised your eyebrow, reaching out with a speed that had Sy struggling not to tense up as you looped your pen under the chain barely peeking out of the neckline of his shirt.

“You don’t strike me as the necklace type. Military, right?”

“Retired.”

You hummed, letting the chain drop back against his skin as you retreated from his personal space. He reached up, patting the shape of his tags as they resettled against his chest beneath his shirt. It felt strange, wearing them again. He wasn’t used to it anymore. Normally they lived in the back of the top drawer in his desk, out of sight and as far out of mind as he could manage to keep them. But anniversaries were psychologically significant. He’d learned that in therapy. So he’d decided to honor this one, the anniversary of his initial enlistment, by putting them on again. Going out with a friend from before… everything. It was why he was here.

“Military,” you repeated quietly, your eyes back on your notebook again, still tilted out of Syverson’s view as you flipped the page, stared at the blank expanse for a moment before giving your pen two thoughtful clicks. “Always a threat.”

Sy’s stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“Not to you. Not to anyone in this bar,” he said firmly, tilting his head to add as an afterthought, “Long as they mind their fuckin manners.”

Your mouth curved up at the corner, just the hint of a smile, the first he’d seen from you all night. Not that he’d been watching. Much. It disappeared after only a few seconds, replaced by a focused frown that traced a crease between your brows as you put pen to paper.

His eyes flicked down towards the bartop, but the cover of the notebook still shielded the page from his view. He was tempted to drop it, leave you to your work, whatever that might be. But your body language gave him pause. You had shuffled around on your stool during your brief conversation and remained that way even now, shoulders and hips pivoted slightly in his direction rather than running parallel to the bar in a position more comfortable for writing. He fiddled with the label on the bottle of beer the bartender had brought him, the corner peeling back easy under his thumb before he smoothed it back into place.

“What’re you doing?”

You glanced up at him, flashing that little smile again, though this time it looked a little sharper, caught somewhere between self-conscious and amused.

“Chasing the muse, I guess.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, gave a neutral hum.

“Not sure I know what that means.”

“Sure you do,” you said quietly, eyes tracing thoughtfully over his face before you turned your attention back to your notebook. “It’s a pretty universal concept, I think.”

“Maybe.” He took a sip of his beer. “Just figured most people don’t come this far south looking for it. More of a New York and LA kind of thing.”

“Just because those are the places most people look for inspiration, doesn’t mean those are the only places you can find it.”

You were some kind of artist then. Interesting.

“Can I ask what you’re looking to inspire? Or is that too personal?”

That earned him another look, something quiet and appreciative. Two quick pen clicks.

“You can ask. I kinda want to hear you guess though.”

He looked again at your notebook. It wasn’t the tiny kind, but it wasn’t full sized either. Leatherbound or something like it, not spiral. He couldn’t see the paper to know whether it was lined or not. Could be for writing small amounts. Drawing maybe. You could even be writing song lyrics in there. He hadn’t been around enough artsy people in his life to know a damn thing about it.

But he was observant, good at cataloging behavior, pretty decent at reading people. When he had first approached, your hand had been gliding in straight lines across the page, but now it was moving more erratically. There was something different in your glances too. Slow, almost too intense to be polite, analyzing. Maybe you were drawing him on that page you kept so carefully hidden from his gaze. Or maybe you were still deciding whether or not he was a threat to you. Sy wasn’t totally comfortable with either option, but he’d prefer to think that the current turn of the conversation was proof of you softening just a little towards him.

He hedged his bets a little, just in case.

“Don’t see any paint on ya. That’s about the best I can do,” he said mildly.

“That was an awful lot of thinking for ‘don’t see any paint on ya,’’' you said, tilting your head. A bit too gentle to be an accusation, but you still wanted a better answer.

“Alright…” Sy shifted on his bar stool, angling towards you. “Looked like you were writing before I got here. But now you’re either scribbling or drawing. Maybe even drawing me by the way you keep looking at me. Unless you’ve got another reason to be staring like that.”

Right answer. You were smiling again, a little freer than last time.

“I’m not staring.”

He shrugged. “Studying, then.”

“I’ll take studying,” you said with a slow nod. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“I’ll live.”

“Of course you will, but that’s not an answer.”

“Sure isn’t,” he said, taking another drink.

His own lips curved up into a smile, almost against his will, when you laughed. Bright and open. You were fully facing him now with the kind of smile that was impossible to ignore, genuine and joyful and inescapably contagious.

“Let’s try this then…” you said, trailing off into soft humming sounds as you added a few last hurried lines to your notebook before setting your pen down.

You ripped the page out as cleanly as you could manage and set it on the scarred bar top, giving it a little push towards him.

And it was his face looking up at him from the paper, rendered in wild pen strokes of blue ink, but no less detailed for the messy style. The close cut of his hair, sharp furrow of his brows above focused eyes, the beard that had needed trimming for two days at least. Neither unflattering nor romanticized, just honest. The way you saw him. A little intense, a little rough around the edges, but not harsh. There was kindness there somewhere in the lines of his face, but he couldn’t pin down exactly where.

Sy hummed, gestured toward your pen.

“Borrow that for a minute?”

You slid it down the bar to him with a raised brow.

He nodded in thanks as he took it, snagging an unused napkin as well. With an excessive slowness, he sketched out his very best stick figure, looking up at you with an evaluative stare when he heard a muffled laugh. You dropped your hand from your mouth, meeting his gaze with a playful smile, tolerating the long look with amusement dancing in your eyes.

He dutifully added two dot eyes, pausing for a moment before drawing eyelashes and eyebrows, trying not to tear through the napkin. A very geometric nose followed, and a wide open smile. After another long look he added your hair, actually bothering to get the shape right since it seemed much more attainable even with his limited art skills.

You were still smiling as you watched him sign the corner.

“Those your initials or is that your name?” you asked, tilting your head to read the tiny letters.

“My name,” he answered, sliding the napkin and pen back to the bar space between your two stools.

“Sy,” you said slowly, as if testing the sound of it. He smiled too, just a little, not remembering when he’d last liked the sound of his own name so much.

“You didn’t sign yours,” he reminded you, and you squinted your eyes at him, knowing full well what he was after.

Still, you took up the pen and signed the loose sheet of notebook paper. Probably exactly as you signed everything else: mostly illegibly. He could decipher the initials, but not much else.

You let out a snort at the unimpressed look he leveled at you.

“Now you’re just causin’ problems on purpose.”

“It’s not my fault that you write like a caps lock keyboard and I don’t.”

He sighed.

“And here I drew you a real pretty picture,” Sy said slowly, tapping the napkin.

“You did,” you said with a smile. “But I’m still holding out for the pitch.”

“I still don’t have one.”

“Come on, now,” you said, a challenging spark in your eyes. “I’ve never met a man who didn’t have a pitch. A line. A move. You’ve got something.”

“Haven’t done none of that since I was a teenager,” he said. “I’ve got no use for that shit.”

“Sure you do. Because I’m asking. And don’t tell me you haven’t flirted since you were a teenager. I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sy shifted in his seat.

“Didn’t say I never flirted. Just said I don’t use lines.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at the distinction, resting your chin on your hand.

“Come on now. You want to know my name, that’s the price. And I expect your best work, Sy.”

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his forehead. This was about to be real fuckin embarrassing.

“Alright. Not promising anything good, here. I only ever had two.”

“Efficient,” you said with an approving nod.

“They’re not good,” he repeated.

“But they worked?”

“Mostly. God only knows why.”

“Stop stalling,” you said in a stage whisper.

“First one…”

“I’m ready.”

He cleared his throat, looked straight into your eyes.

“Wanna make out later?”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before stretching into a wide smile.

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “I wasn’t ready.”

Sy shrugged, took a sip of his beer while you stared at him in awe.

“That worked for you?”

“Yep,” he said with a small smile. “What, you don’t appreciate honesty?”

“I… do,” you answered slowly. “Okay, I guess I see it. What’s the second one?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t mean to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my phone number. Could I borrow yours?”

“You turned your accent up for that one,” you said with a delighted laugh. “Full force southern charm. My God, what a little heartbreaker you must have been!”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” he said, turning back away from you.

“No, I’m completely serious. I fully believe those worked for you, and now I kinda want to see pictures.”

“Now, you’ve gotten more than enough outta me for one night.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed.

You picked your pen back up, wrote your first name in small block letters under your artsy scribble, your best approximation of his own handwriting.

“Bullyin me,” he muttered even as he committed your name to memory.

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery,” you said breezily, laughing at the look he shot you in response.

“So, what, you’re some kind of artist then?” he asked, changing the subject. “Draw and paint and all that?”

You shook your head.

“Not really, no. That’s just for fun. I like drawing people.”

He looked at the paper again.

“Well you’re damn good at it. If that’s not the muse you’re chasin, what is?”

“Umm,” you sighed, like you were preparing to give an explanation that you’d given dozens of times before. “I write online for a magazine. It’s… kind of like a travel blog, but it’s less about the places and more about the people? Here…”

You reached into your pocket for your phone, tapping around for a bit before handing it to him. There was a picture of you at the top, a profile view of you driving, but it was so strongly backlit by a late afternoon sun, that it left your features mostly indistinguishable. Smart. Probably safer that way. Below that, a US map covered in multicolor pins, a calendar view, with dots on days you’d posted, and finally a list of posts. Abbreviated views of each one showed a first name and city, a pen drawing like the one you’d done of him, and the first two sentences of your story.

He nodded slowly.

“You gonna write a story about me, then?”

You fussed with your hair, shifting uncomfortably on your stool.

“Probably not. Unless you want me to. I always ask permission first.”

“I’m sure you do. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

You sighed again. Sy frowned.

“So what’s the problem then? Looks like there’s a lot here. Doesn’t seem like you need a lot of help.”

“I didn’t think so either,” you said with an unhappy smile. “But my editor has decided that I need to attract more dedicated readers. People who check the website every day, not just when they think to. Subscribers. And to do that, I apparently need to add a little more heart.”

“What’s that mean?” Sy asked.

“Good fuckin question,” you said, lifting your glass as if in a toast. “I guess some sort of emotional buy-in. Something personal and specific so the readers get invested in me specifically, not just the people I talk to.”

“And that brought you down here?”

You shrugged.

“My grandma lives here. Seemed like as good a plan as any.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to see you, whether it helps with your writing or not.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your eyes softening. “She really is.”

“How long you think you’ll be staying?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got two weeks of posts queued up, so I bought myself at least that long before I have to figure out how to… do the emotion thing.”

“That damn emotion thing,” Sy said, shaking his head, smiling a bit when it drew a soft laugh from you.

“Yeah…”

“Maybe I’ll see you around again then,” he ventured, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a tiny ass town,” you said with a smile. “So probably.”

“You’d be okay with that?” he checked.

You laughed again, nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so. Long as you mind your fuckin manners,” you said, taking on an overplayed surly tone as you repeated his earlier comment back to him.

“I always mind my manners,” he said matter-of-factly, glaring playfully at you when it elicited a snort from you.

“Oh, sure you do,” you laughed, checking the time on your phone.

You took a deep breath in the companionable silence that followed, reaching down to drag your bag up from where it had been tucked safely between your feet. The napkin with Sy’s drawing curled your lips into another smile as you closed it between the pages of your notebook and stowed it in the main zipper pocket along with your pen. Your phone went back into your pocket.

Looked like his time with you was almost up.

He leaned back on his barstool a little, glancing back at Danny who was now schooling the young guy at pool with a self-satisfied smile.

When he returned his attention to you, you were giving him that searching look again.

“About that time?” he asked.

“I think so, yeah,” you said. “It was nice meeting you, Sy. Sorry for giving you a hard time.”

“Nah, you’re not.”

You laughed, shrugged your shoulders.

“I’d like to think it did you some good. But seriously. I had fun talking to you. Thanks for the company.”

He nodded, gave you a smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Hope so.”

You took another breath and slid off your stool. Billy came to collect your glass, mostly melted ice now, and you gave him a polite smile.

There was a moment of hesitation, like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure what. You settled for a little wave as you started to turn towards the door. Then it was Sy’s turn to feel it, the suddenly urgent need to say something, to drag the moment out just a little longer.

He called out your name, a plan forming in his head when you turned quickly back to him.

“Yeah?”

“Well, ‘fore you go, I figure I should ask you...”

“Ask me what?”

If you had any idea what he was about to say, you were hiding it extremely well, just staring at him curiously, head slightly tilted and smiling softly. Almost made him change his mind. Almost.

“You wanna make out later?”

Your eyes lit up, a laugh barely kept in check, locked behind a widening smile.

“Oh, I see. I get it now,” you said, taking a step closer.

Sy raised his eyebrows.

“It’s the eyes that do it. You weren’t doing the eyes before.”

“I’m not doing nothing with my eyes,” he argued, but a smile slipped free when you took another step closer.

“Yes you are,” you laughed. “You’re smoldering.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t smolder.”

“It’s more lighthearted than most,” you admitted. “Dare I say even playful. But it’s still a smolder.”

He shrugged easily, eyes scanning over your face.

“Still ain’t answered my question.”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

“Said it, didn’t I?”

You looked him over, humming thoughtfully. He didn’t move, kept right on looking until your eyes returned to his.

“I’ll think about it and let you know,” you answered with an unreadable expression.

“And how are you gonna manage that?” he asked, spinning on the bar stool to keep his eyes on you as you moved towards the door.

You clicked your tongue, patting at your pockets with increasing concern until you finally met his eyes with a despairing frown.

“Oh God, you’re right! I totally lost my phone number. Any chance that I could borrow yours?”

Sy shook his head with a sigh, holding his hand out for your phone as you approached him again, an inescapably smug smile on your lips.

“Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he muttered, biting at the corner of his lip to keep a smile in check.

“You certainly think so, or it wouldn’t have worked.”

He handed your phone back to you, watched you send him a wink emoji before you turned to leave again with a parting flutter of your fingers.

He shook his head again when the door closed behind you and saved your number as “Trouble.”

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

A/N: I’m very nervous. Please let me know what you think and if you wanna read more! Thanks for sticking with me this far

#syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #sandcastle fanfiction

526 notes · View notes

cosmitton · 4 months

Text

my friends should know i don’t listen by now

Johan Seong X F!Reader (foreign)

A/N: It’s been a while since I wrote anything, sorry about that! I just finished my Spring semester of university and am set to graduate at the end of this year, so I’ve been busy lol. This one is a bit more romantic than the others, though they’re not really in a relationship yet. Idk what chapter this takes place around, exactly, but it’s a little while after the first 2 I wrote. (Maybe around chapter 283, the end of Hostel, or a little bit after that?)

This is a continuation of this and this that I wrote before, if you haven’t read them. Same reader. Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Zoe’s ever met Johan? Right?

Once again, I hope you enjoy and please let me know if anyone’s OOC or anything I need to improve. Thank you! c:

masterlist

Warnings: None

Summary: Johan comes to pick you up from school to go to the park. For the first time, your school friends find out who you’ve been spending time with.

You’re so into finishing with writing your notes that you don’t even realize that class has ended already. Not until you’re pulled from your thoughts, at least.

You hear your name being called and turn to see Daniel at the doorway to your classroom. Of course, Zack, Vasco, and Zoe are with him – and another girl… Mira, you think? The girl Zack has a crush on. You haven’t really spoken to her, seeing as you’re in the baking department while she’s in the fashion department with the others – and she’s not as outgoing as Zoe is to introduce herself, she seems nice though.

You nod to him, starting to pack up your things. You almost forgot that you have a date – well, not really, but kind of. It’s a good thing Daniel pulled you back to Earth or you would’ve been late, and your date would’ve been pouty, despite how much he denied that he ever pouted.

“Hey,” you stand up, putting the strap of your bag onto your shoulder, “sorry.”

“Take your time.” Daniel smiles, ever polite.

“Hurry up.” Zack huffs, but cowers when Mira looks at him chidingly.

“How was your day?” Vasco asks, always the buff, oblivious golden retriever.

You smile fondly at him, “fine, thanks. Yours?”

Vasco prattles on about everything that he and Jace, and the rest of Burn Knuckles, did today as your group walks out of school together. Admittedly, you stop listening once you get outside, looking around for your date – he should be meeting you at the gates. You see a couple of other students glancing confusedly in a direction and chattering with each other, and when you turn to look in that direction, you see him.

“Johan!” You raise your hand in the air as he looks up, straightening up from the way he was leaning against the pillars at the entrance of the schoolyard, to show that you’ve seen him and are on your way. “Hey, guys, I’ll see you late–”

You’re cut off when someone gently, but firmly, pulls you back. You turn to see Vasco with his hand on your arm, staring straight ahead at Johan with a tense look. The others in your group seem to have similar looks of apprehension or surprise on their own faces – except for Zoe, who just seems curious.

“Who’s that guy? He’s cute. Is that your boyfriend?!” It’s cute how Zoe seems genuinely excited about the prospect.

Vasco says your name tensely, and you turn to see the concern on his face. “You know him? Did you invite him here?”

You take another glance around the group – they’re all watching you now, “You guys know him? He’s my friend.”

“Do you know him? I mean, really know him? You should be careful around him, he’s–”

“It’s fine, Vasco. I can handle myself. And he’s a good guy.”

Vasco seems about to refute that, but Daniel steps in this time, “are you sure? Do you know what he’s involved in–”

“It’s not my business. And, no offense, but this isn’t yours.” You pull your arm out of Vasco’s grasp. “Thanks, guys, really. Don’t worry about it.”

You start to back away when Zack steps forward, a mix of eager and some kind of concern – though you don’t think it’s for you because Mira has a similar look, though she’s staring at Johan with shock as well. You wonder how they know him, and why they’re so surprised to see him, but you don’t ask – that also isn’t your business, and Johan will tell you in due time. “Wait, how do you know him?”

You turn toward Johan now, “see you later!” Now that you look at the brunette, he’s definitely pouting – figures.

You ignore Zack calling after you to answer his question and jog to meet with Johan and his dogs. “Hey,” you aim at the boy while you pet Eden and Miro in greeting.

He doesn’t answer. You look up to see that he’s glaring back at the group of your school friends, before he turns and starts walking away without you. You laugh slightly before catching up with his long strides. Your friends have bothered him, but you don’t ask why because you know that he’ll end up saying it anyway. It just takes him a minute, it’s like he can’t help himself.

As expected, he finally speaks, “you’re friends with those guys?”

You hum, knowing it’ll annoy him that you don’t elaborate further. But he never does, so why should you?

You can almost hear him roll his eyes, “and that big idiot? You’re friends with him? Really?”

“Vasco’s nice.” You offer.

Johan scoffs, “he’s not that great. Why is everyone so hung up on him?”

“Everyone?”

He doesn’t elaborate, of course.

You try again, really twisting the knife. “Jealous?”

He finally looks at you, half-annoyed and half-aghast. “Of what? Ignorance and failing grades?”

“You’re not even in school.”

“Shut up.”

You laugh as he turns away again, “you’re pouting~.”

“’M not.”

“Are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Not–”

“Isn’t he?” You turn to Eden and Miro with your ‘stupid voice’ – as Johan calls the baby talk you naturally do with dogs – to ask them, “isn’t it so obvious that your dad’s pouting?”

“Don’t bring them into this.” Really, it’s adorable to you the way Johan is scandalized as if his dogs can actually understand and agree with you.

Eden and Miro both bark anyway, excited by the attention. You laugh, “see? They know it, too.”

“Traitors.”

#lookism #lookism x reader #johan seong x reader #seong johan x reader #seong yohan x reader #johan seong #seong johan #seong yohan #lookism webtoon #my writing

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writtenfangirl · 1 year

Text

Secrets and Good Luck Charms

Plus size!Reader, angsty turning fluffy

Listen, as a plus size woman myself, I know that the chances of an F1 driver being attracted to me is close to 0, especially when they're literally always surrounded by supermodels. But I can live in my delulu era, even for a little while.

I challenged myself to create a fic with top-tier begging and I genuinely hope I accomplished that cause this was so much fun to write.

Enjoy!

Part 2

“Charles, I think we should break up.”

The words left her in a sudden whoosh, ceasing her boyfriend mid-story. His apartment went quiet, and Y/N felt the little hairs on her arms rise but her goosebumps wasn’t from the cold.

Charles’s luminous green eyes widened.“What?”

A part of her wished she could take the words back, snatch them from the air where they hung heavy like smoke. But she’d been building up her courage all week and she wasn’t about to back down now just because he flashed those beautiful green eyes that Charles knew she could never resist. She said the words slower, kinder. “I think we should break up.”

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe the words he was hearing. “Why?”

“Because you’re ashamed of me, Cha.”

And there was the truth, the conviction that had Y/N’s resolve strengthening. Charles could deny it all he wants but Y/N knew the truth, deep down. He was ashamed of her. It was a truth that had been sitting in her chest for the better part of 9 months and it was a truth that had begun to eat at her as their relationship progressed.

He said his next words slowly, like a child struggling to learn new words in a language he wasn’t familiar with. “What would make you say that?”

She kept her own tone even, betraying none of the hurt that sat heavy in her chest. “Because, Cha. We’ve been together 9 months, close to a year, and yet you have never introduced me to your mother or your brothers. Not even to your friends. No posts on social media, no mention of my existence at all.”

He frowned. “I thought you wanted your privacy.”

“I do want my privacy.”

“Then I don’t understand why you want to end things!” His voice grew in octave and Y/N could see him fighting to keep his calm.

“Because, Cha,” she said, struggling to keep the exasperation from her voice, “you’re ashamed of me. I don’t care that you post me on social media or not. I don’t care if the world knows about us. If you want to keep our relationship out of the public eye, that’s fine. I know you’re doing it to protect my feelings and I appreciate it, I do. But, you refuse to let me meet your friends or your family for that matter. They’re the people that matter to me because they’re the people that matter to you. But I’ve never met them, even after you’ve met mine! And I’m—“ she took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting the hurt that threatened to have tears spilling from her eyes. “I’ve dated enough guys to know when they’re ashamed of me.”

“I am not—“

“Don’t deny it, Cha, please. It hurts even more if you do.”

His mouth snapped shut. There was confusion in his face, and maybe a bit of hurt, but Y/N saw the truth in them too. The shame that coated his eyes like paint.

“I know I’m not conventionally beautiful like your exes.” Y/N said, her words soft. “They’re thin and slender and they’re beautiful. They really are. Models and influencers that I could never compete with and I’m okay with that because you were okay with that. But I see now that you’re not. You don’t like that I’m big, that I have a stomach and huge thighs. You don’t like that I have stretch marks and rolls. And you know what, it’s fine. If you prefer thinner girls, it’s fine. I won’t hold it against you because I know some people just have preferences and it’s okay. But I refuse to ever change myself and hate myself just to fit into a person’s standards. I’ve spent so much of my life being ashamed of my body, I can’t do that anymore, Cha. I love you and you are literally the man of my dreams but I love myself too, and I love myself too much to let someone do this to me.”

“You can’t just leave me. I love you.” Charles rushed the words out as if somehow, his words would stop Y/N.

“I don’t doubt your love for me, Cha. Not one moment. I know you love me. But you don’t take me on dates in public places where people can see us. When we do go out in public, you keep a physical distance between us. You never even so much as look at me unless you have to. I’ve never met a single one of your friends, work related or not. I don’t think you’ve even mentioned to them that you were with someone. Never met Arthur or Lorenzo and I’ve definitely never met Pascale. You love me in secret and that’s not okay.”

He reached for her hand but Y/N pulled away. The hurt that flashed in his eyes made her want to tell him to forget about her confession, forget about what she said so they can return to normal but Y/N knew she couldn’t do that. She owed it to herself to do what was best for her, to love a man who loved her so much he had to shout it from the rooftops.

“Y/N, please—“

“It’s okay, Charles.” She stood up from where she sat, pushing down her own feelings as Charles looked up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Really, no hard feelings. Let’s just forget that this, us, ever happened. I wish you good luck with everything, I really do. I’ll pray to every God that exists that you become a world champion with Ferrari. I’ll always root for you.”

“Y/N, wait—“

But she fled the apartment before he could say anymore.

And Charles Leclerc is out of the 2023 Belgian Grand Prix! I have to say, Crofty. Leclerc’s string of bad luck and terrible performance has really been a blow to Ferrari’s morale as of late. It really is such a horrible way to end the first half of the season, especially after such an incredible six months! It truly is such a shame. With the way things are going, what was once a tight race for the championship between Verstappen and Leclerc could simply become Verstappen’s third world championship. Let’s hope the summer break gives him the clarity of mind he needs to get his head back in the game and the championship race back on track.

Charles wasn’t stupid. He knew why he was losing and it wasn’t his car or his team or their strategies.

His abysmal performance could only be blamed on one person and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to blame Y/N.

Because really, the only person to be blamed was himself.

Because she was right.

And he hated that she was right.

He never thought he was the kind of person who was vain or who particularly cared about the opinions of others. He knew what it was like to be scrutinized by the media and while he justified keeping his relationship with her private by believing that Y/N was a private person, he couldn’t justify hiding her from his friends and family.

It didn’t even really matter to him what she looked like. He loved Y/N, not for her body but for her soul. He was the moth attracted to her bright flame and he would have gladly let himself burn if it meant feeling the heat of her touch on his skin. She was kindness and warmth and compassion all rolled into one person, the kind of person people wished God made more of.

And he found her beautiful. Yes, she wasn’t thin but he never cared about that before. Y/N was beautiful in his eyes. The kind of beauty meant to be admired in paintings. Her soft, curvaceous body and her sweet face made her beautiful. She may not have fit society’s standards but she fit his and that’s all that mattered. That’s all that should have mattered.

So why did her words, her accusations, cut him so deep?

Was she right? Was he ashamed of her?

“Mate, you okay?”

Carlos’s voice broke him out of his reverie. It wasn’t like Charles to get distracted from the matter at hand, but his mind kept wandering to his girlfriend. Or rather, ex-girlfriend.

“You’ve been distracted.” Max noted.

It was the summer break, a rare time in their hectic lives when they got a chance to take a breather. One of the drivers, Charles couldn’t remember who but he suspected it was George, had arranged a little get together for them. Alone time on a remote island in the tropics far from the prying eyes of their fans and the media. Not all of the drivers could make it, but those that could brought their girlfriends with them. The irony wasn’t lost on Charles that he was the only single man in an island full of couples.

It was the kind of outing he would have wanted to include Y/N in but wouldn’t have, choosing instead to stay at home so they could spend some time alone. It never occurred to him if Y/N would have wanted to come.

“I’m fine,” was his only brusque reply.

“You don’t seem fine.” Pierre chimed in.

Charles tried not to scowl. The other drivers were his friends as much as they were his co-workers and competitors. He grew up racing and competing with most of them. Max, George, Alex, Lando and especially Pierre, were constant figures in his life. If there was anyone who could help him, who could understand him, it would be them.

But it was so hard to accept the help when Charles was so… down.

He looked at his friends, saw the expectant looks on their faces and sighed.

“My girlfriend broke up with me.” The words left him before he had a chance to think about it.

His friends’ expectant expressions turned into surprise before shifting to mild curiosity.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Pierre’s frown could only be described as hurt. Not that Charles could blame him. Pierre was his best friend and the first person who supported him when it came to his relationships. The fact that Charles kept his girlfriend a secret probably hurt him more than he let on.

“No one knew,” Charles said reassuringly. “Not my brothers and not maman.”

“So you were only together for a short while,” Carlos guessed. “What’s the big deal?”

Charles couldn’t blame Carlos for assuming that Y/N was only in his life for a while since he never told them she existed but the insinuation hurt all the same.

“We were together close to a year. 9 months actually.”

“That long?” Alex asked, surprised. “Usually you introduce your girlfriends after two months. You kept her a secret for nine months?”

Charles winced. What sort of excuse did he have for keeping her a secret? No flimsy excuse could ever justify what he did.

“Why did she end things?” Max asked him.

Dread pooled in Charles’ stomach. What does he even say? He looked at his friends, at their earnest and open expressions. He knew no matter what he says, they won’t judge him. Or at least, not to his face.

“She ended things because she thinks I’m ashamed of her.“ Charles’ admission tasted like metal in his tongue.

“Why would you be ashamed of her?” George asked, raising a quizzical brow.

“Because she’s nothing like my exes. She’s not thin or slender, she’s full bodied. I’ve never introduced her to any of you, not even to my family. She thinks I’m embarrassed to be seen next to her.”

“Are you?” Lando asked, judgement ripe on his face.

“No!” Charles’ defense was quick. “I am not ashamed of her. I never have been! I’m… I’m more ashamed of myself. That I didn’t reassure her. I’m ashamed that I did something that made her feel bad. I hate that I did that to her.”

“Why didn’t you introduce her to us and your family anyway?” Carlos asked this time.

“Because with her, I feel real. I feel different. A good different. And I know how cruel people can be. I know you might not have judged her and I know if my brothers and maman met her, they would love her. Maman, especially. But if I introduced her to you, then that’s one step closer to introducing her to the world. I was scared she couldn’t take the attention and run.”

“Is she why you’ve been so bad in track lately?” Max asked.

Charles simply nodded before closing his eyes and rubbing his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Well there’s only one thing you can do,” George said in that tone he uses when he thinks he knows best. “You have to go after her. Go back to her and beg her to take you back.”

“And then what?” Charles snapped, unable to stop himself from voicing out the fear that’s been plaguing his mind, “She’ll still be watched by the media. Y/N is soft and she is kind. I don’t know what I would do if people say bad things about her and I know they will. I’ve dated literal supermodels and people were mean. What more someone like her? If someone insulted her in front of me, I might actually commit assault.”

“Mate, that’s up to her and you to talk about it,” Max said. “You can’t really take the choice away from her. If you love this girl, then be with her. Fuck what other people think.”

“Charles, all that matters to us is that you are happy. If she makes you happy, then we will be happy,” Pierre reassured. “You don’t have to worry about us. This girl doesn’t happen to be an ax-wielding psychopath, right?”

The rest of their group winced at Pierre’s poor attempt at a joke but Charles smiled nonetheless. Trust Pierre to always try his best to lighten the mood. “No, she’s kind of perfect actually. I really love her.”

“Then go to her so you can get your head back in the game and beat Max in the championship,” Carlos urged.

“I don’t know about beating me,” Max smirked and the topic of their conversation shifted to playful jibes and jokes. But Charles’ mind stayed on Y/N, at his friends encouraging words and before his mind could reconcile what his body was doing, he was already on his feet, heading to one of the yachts moored on the island.

“Where are you going?” Pierre called out as he ran from his friends, towards the woman he loved.

Charles answered, his mind racing as fast as his heart. “To get my girl!”

When Y/N heard the frantic knocking on her apartment door at 1AM, she expected the worst.

Which of her family had died? Which of her friends was laying in a ditch somewhere with their car wrapped around a tree? What was the tragedy so urgent, so horrific, that it couldn’t wait until the next day and had to knock on her door at 1AM in the morning?

But when she opened the door, all she saw was Charles, eyes wide and frantic.

“Cha?” Y/N asked, not quote believing her bleary eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her face, bringing his mouth on hers in a searing kiss that had Y/N’s eyes shuttering close and her breath leaving her lungs.

She tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the searing heat of his hands on her skin as his tongue swept across her mouth, kissing her as if he was underwater and she was the siren able to grant him his oxygen. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her heart deciding what her mind already knew but refused to believe.

She had missed him, wholeheartedly. And she knew that if Charles ever came knocking back, her self restraint would crumble like chalk on pavement. She would accept him, consequences be damned.

“I’m sorry,” he panted when she pulled away, her mind racing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Charles, I don’t understand. What are you doing here? I thought you were—“

“It doesn’t matter where I was,” he insisted, his grip on her tightening, like he was afraid that letting go would cause her to disappear. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. Cherie, tu es belle. Je suis vraiment désolé. Je n'ai jamais eu l'intention de te blesser.”

“Charles, slow down,” Y/N urged, pulling him into her tiny apartment and closing the door behind her. Her french was rudimentary at best and with how fast he was talking, she was struggling to translate what he said. “You’re speaking in French. I don’t understand.”

“You are beautiful.” He blurted, stopping Y/N in her tracks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you but I did anyway and I hate that I hurt you. I’m not ashamed of you but I am ashamed of how I acted. Forgive me, cherie, please. Please take me back.”

“Charles—“ Her phone trilled from where it was charging in her living room and Y/N pulled away from Charles it, ignoring her best friend's flashing face and clicking the red button to silence it.

“You deserve better than me, I know,” he continued, “and I know I don’t deserve you. But I will do everything I can to at least be deserving of your forgiveness. Please, Y/N. Say you forgive me.”.

“Charles—“ her phone rang again and with a growl of frustration, Y/N grabbed it, answering it upon seeing her best friend’s face flashing. “Y/BFF/N, I can’t talk right now. I'm in the middle of—“

“Did you see?” Y/BFF/N said frantically on the other end, causing Y/N to frown. “Tell me you saw it!”

She sent Charles an apologetic look as she answered. “Saw what?”

“Check Charles’ instagram! And I mean, right the fuck now! Call me back when you do.” And she hung up.

Y/N glanced at Charles before following her best friend’s instructions, opening up the app and searching for Charles’ account. When she saw her picture on the first square, Y/N’s eyes snapped to Charles.

“You told your friends about us,” Y/N said, stunned.

“I told the world about us,” he clarified. “I never told anyone because I was selfish. I am not ashamed of you. I never have been, never will be. I was scared because introducing you to my family and my friends means that you’re one step closer to being known to the world and I was scared you would run from all of it. From the fame, from the mean comments. It’s happened before and I didn’t want it to happen again, especially not to you. I’m not naive. If people can be mean and ruthless to girls who look like Charlotte and Alexandra, what more you? I thought I was protecting you. I don’t ever want you to leave. Please, come back to me.“

“I can’t believe you told everyone about us.” Y/N still sounded dumbfounded, even to her own ears.

Charles gave her watery smile. “People should know about you and the love I have for you.”

Y/N wasn't entirely sure what it is about Charles that could have her melting into a puddle on the floor. She's been with good looking men before and none of them ever had that effect on her. But his confession, his conviction, had her abandoning her phone's incessant notifications, her arms automatically wrapping around Charles' neck, pulling him to her. His hands rested on her waist, ghosting down her back.

And, despite herself, Y/N felt her lips pulling into a soft smile. “You know, when I went to bed a while ago, I wasn’t expecting to see my ex knocking at my door, begging me to take him back at one in the morning. Especially since I know he’s suppose to be somewhere in the tropics on vacation.“

“Begging?” Charles raised a brow, almost in challenge, a small smile playing at his lips. Mirth and hope mixed in his green eyes and Y/N knew that there was never any chance she couldn’t accept his apology.

She nodded, her smile turned teasing. “Oh, yeah, definitely begging. Groveling at my feet, asking for forgiveness. Never seen anything like it, to be honest. You know, some girls have a thing for that and I never really understood it before but now, I kinda do. I might not forgive him just so I can listen to him beg again.”

“You are a cruel woman,” Charles said as he pulled her closer to him, his hands warm on her waist, his nose barely touching her own as his breath tickled her mouth.

“Is that what you’d call the woman willing to forgive you?” She batted her eyes, feigning innocence. “Even after she knows you’re only begging for forgiveness because of your losing streak? You did always call me your good luck charm.”

“You are my good luck charm.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in those things?”

“When it comes to you, I’ll believe in anything and anyone,” he said seriously before he grinned, wide and infectious. The kind of grin that promised an evening of debauchery and laughter. “So you forgive me?”

“Well, you did tell the world that I was your girlfriend so now I have to forgive you and take you back. I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of Charles Leclerc.”

He smiled triumphantly and this time, when Charles dipped his head for another searing kiss, Y/N didn’t pull away.

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newtonsheffield · 6 months

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Molly, I loved little princess bean Katie and Lady Mary with Dilf daddy King Sharma 😍 we need more. How did they meet? Did Katie catch Mary sleeping in Dilf King Sharma bed? I need to know!! please 🙏

Oh they’re super sweet.

Once upon a time, Mary was only Lady Mary Sheffield, the Earl of Sheffield’s daughter and Tharman was only His Royal Highness, Tharman, Crown Prince. And He had a very sweet daughter.

“Now, I’ve arranged for you to sit next to the Prince at dinner.”

Mary stared at her mother as they sat in the back of the car weaving through traffic. “How, and more importantly; Why?”

Her mother waved her hand. “I made a donation to this… whatever this charity is.”

“A children’s hospital? You know, sick children.”

“Don’t be so…snippy tonight.” Her mother sighed, “Mary, please. Please don’t be sarcastic tonight.”

“So… don’t be myself?” Mary asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m to sit next to the Crown Prince for some… ungodly reason and… become mute.”

“Oh don’t be dense.” Her mother scoffed, “He’s had long enough. It’s high time he married again and you, if you would put in just a modicum of effort; would be perfect.”

“He’s had long enough?!” Mary squawked, a little horrified, “Mama, his wife died from complications after childbirth. I think he’s allowed to grieve.”

“Oh, is that what you’re worried about?!” Her mother rolled her eyes, “Darling, you could ship the girl off to boarding school by the time you’re actually married. And I’m sure they have people who would take care of her in the meantime.”

Mary knew that all too well. She’d spent an entire childhood of her own with no one but a nanny for company, her parents sometimes not even in the same country. So lonely.

Mary gaped at her mother, “What are you-?! I can’t believe you.”

“You’re quite pretty when you smile. Just flirt with him a little, one thing can lead to another. A little pregnancy scare in a few months and-“

“I’m not sitting beside him!” The car pulled up to the venue and Mary slipped out as soon as she could, desperate to slip away but her mother caught her by the arm, her nails digging in.

“You are going to. You can’t not. How would that look?”

Her mother was right. She could hardly refuse to sit beside the prince without it looking like a slight but all she felt in the pit of her stomach was dread. Dread that increased with every step she took.

She could feel her mother’s eyes boring in to her from three tables away as they waited for the prince to arrive, Mary already in her seat. He’d become a bit of a recluse truly, in the four years since his wife had passed away. Appearing at events and leaving as soon as would have been appropriate. She’d seen him quite a few times at a distance, though they’d never been introduced and as she stood, waiting for him to make his way across the room.

He was handsome, up close. She realised as he inclined his head to everyone at the table and his eyes fell on her. His jaw sharp and his eyes kind, his thick, dark hair curling over his brow. So handsome that she fumbled a little as she curtsied and she could nearly hear her mother cursing across the room.

“Please, please. Everyone sit.” He smiled, “I’m sorry I’m so late. A little Princess was telling me all the reasons why I should take her to the toy store tomorrow.”

Everyone let out a polite chuckle as they settled into their seats and mary did the same, feeling a little wooden. Avoiding her mother’s piercing gaze. She could hardly focus on anything as the dinner started, staring at her glass of water as conversation started around her.

“Is everything alright?”

His voice was warm, close to her ear and it startled her, the gentleness in it. She let her eyes slide to his and a lump appeared in her throat at the gentle concern colouring his face.

“Of course, your highness.”

His eyes slid to her name card, “I’m sorry I’m not better company, Lady Mary. I’d be very happy to trade places.”

Mary breathed a sighed imaging her mother’s furious face. “Lord, please don’t do that.”

“I’m very happy for you to choose the topic of conversation then. I’ll admit I’m a poor conversationalist these days. I spend most of my time with a four year old. Well, she will be soon.”

There was something so sweet in that. In the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about his daughter and his smile grew brighter. And it made her brave.

She cleared her throat, smiling as she took a sip of her wine. “Are we acquainted enough that I could ask you for a favour?”

His eyes widened but he leaned in, smiling bemusedly, “Well we’ve known one another a full minute. I have to imagine we are.”

“No matter what I do tonight, can you pretend to be very uninterested in me?”

“Do you want me to be uninterested in you?”

“I want my mother to think you are.”

“Ah.” He gave her a tight smile. “I see.”

He cleared his throat, making a great show of leaning away from her. “I’m sorry, Lady Mary, I disagree!”

She bit back a smile, “Maybe a little too dramatic.”

He winked at her quickly before he turned away completely, nudging his elbow until her hand rested on it and it looked for all the world as though she was desperately trying to get his attention.

“Did you try, Mary?” Her mother tutted as they left. “Did you actually try?!”

“I did, Mother.” She said sighing, “I’m not sure what you wanted me to do? Take my dress off and sit in his lap?”

Her mother stood stone faced. “You aren’t anywhere near as amusing as you think.”

“Maybe not, but I am going home.”

“Fine. You’re useless to me anyway.”

Mary sighed as she turned away, trying not to let it sting as she made her way down the steps towards her waiting car. She was almost there when she heard a voice call out.

“Are we safe?”

She started at the sound of his voice and turned to see him waiting for her, grinning a slightly lopsided smile that made her heart skip.

“Ah well, she’s deemed me useless and sent me home.” Mary chuckled, “She continues to think I’m a disappointment so… I’d have to say quite the win tonight.”

His laughter was a bemused, warm little thing and she had the oddest impression that it had made its way into her chest. “I’m always glad to be of assistance, Lady Mary.”

“Very gallant of you, Your Highness.”

He really was very handsome as he smiled at her in the moonlight, dimples on his cheeks. He paused for a moment, “Can I… ask you a question?”

“I think we’re past that point. Surely.”

“Why? Why did you…? Many women might have behaved differently and I just… Why?”

Mary sighed, honesty spilling out of her. “If I give my mother this… it would never be enough. I will never be enough for her. And it doesn’t seem fair for you to be drawn into all that.”

He gave her a sad smile, leaning in closer. “Then I’m afraid to say it but your mother’s an idiot.”

Surprised laughter burst out of her and she loved the way his smile grew at the sound of it.

“Then it’s not because you’re seeing someone else?”

Her heart stuttered. “I’m not but…”

“Lady Mary I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me. No one would have to know. I only… It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself at one of these things and I… I’d like to get to know you.”

She stared at him, a little in shock but the answer came without much thought. “I think I’d like that as well.”

It was a nearly two months later, when she woke up warm in his bed, his chest warm behind her before she slipped out of it. Throwing the shirt she’d slipped off his shoulders last night back over her as she padded towards the kitchen.

His sister had taken Kate out the night before, she’d bring her back this afternoon and something ached in her chest, something anxious at what they’d been dancing around. Her meeting his daughter.

He loved his daughter. That much was obvious. From the way he spoke about her and the fact that his study was covered in scrawled pictures in bright green crayon. The greatest gift of his life, he called her, with so much warmth that a lump grew in Mary’s throat now just thinking about it as she opened the fridge. There was another, bigger kitchen, Mary knew, where professional chefs toiled away but this was for the family alone, so they didn’t have to bother the staff over tiny little things. Hunger gnawed at her stomach and she was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear it.

“Who are you?!”

“Fuck!” Mary squawked in surprise, letting out a screech as she dropped the jug of orange juice she’d just lifted off the shelf, the glass smashing on the floor at her feet as she whirled around.

A tiny girl was standing in the door way still in her pyjamas, fluffy slippers on her feet. She had Tharman’s thick, curly hair that cascaded down her shoulders, his little twin as she stared adorably up at Mary, tapping her foot.

“My Appa says that’s a naughty word.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Mary gasped as footsteps sounded in the hallway, Tharman rushing in.

He was only in his boxers his hair disheveled from sleep and the way Mary’s hands had run through with her legs over his shoulders and his jaw fell open at the sight in front of him. Mary, naked but for his shirt. His daughter, confused. Juice, all over the floor.

“Kate, Peanut.” Tharman said finally, picking her up and settling her on his hip with an apologetic look at Mary. “Auntie Im was supposed to drop you off later.”

“Granny said she needed her.” Kate chirped still staring at Mary, who could hardly breathe. “Where are her pyjamas?”

Mary wanted to fall through the ground, truth be told, trying to tug the shirt further down her thighs. “I… left them at home.”

Tharman smirked a little looking up at the ceiling before he sighed. “Kate, remember how we spoke about how sometimes Men and women have special friends?”

Kate nodded, resting her chin on her father’s shoulder. “Then they get married sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” Tharman said quickly, “Well, this is Mary and she’s Appa’s special friend. Can you say Hello?”

Kate smiled at her, a cheeky little grin as she reached out her hand for Mary to shake, “I’m Kate.”

Mary’s heart fluttered as she held her hand out to take Kate’s tiny one in hers. “It’s nice to meet you kate. Your Appa’s told me so much about you.”

Kate looked suspicious, “Appa is silly.”

“Appa’s very silly.” Tharman huffed in agreement, kissing his daughter’s temple.

“Are you going to stay with us today?”

Mary looked at Tharman who smiled encouragingly before she nodded, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Mary might be around here a lot from now on, peanut.”

Kate looked between them slowly, her lips pouting. “Mary can you read?”

Mary bit back a laugh, “I can read, yes.”

“Can you do voices? Appa’s bad at them.”

“I can… try.”

Kate patted her father’s head in a sign to let her down and she tugged Mary’s hand forward dragging her out of the kitchen, calling back to her father. “Mary and me are going to get books and toys Appa!”

Tharman kissed Mary’s cheek quickly as she passed sighing as they left “I guess I’ll clean up the juice then.”

And when she sat on the floor with Kate on her lap and Tharman across from her it was shard not to feel as though this was the start of their little family. Even if no one else knew yet.

#head on the pillow au #kate sharma #kate sheffield #mary x Tharman #papa sharma remains a DILF #mary sharma #molly’s asks and answers

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all-about-kyu · 1 year

Text

𝑴𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝑷𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒃𝒖𝒅𝒔

Summary: If only you knew how to look where you were flying Pairing: garden fairy!San x fem frost fairy!yn Tropes: fairy au Genre: fluff Rating: G Warnings: language but Tinkerbell-ified Word Count: 808 Note: for the Ateez Fairy collab hosted by @cultofdionysusnet

You’re so incredibly late to your duties to start the season-changing. You aren’t a wind fairy, but you fly at a speed that could rival them. As you fly, you take notice of a few blooms starting to sprout from the Earth. The garden fairies are putting their work in to make everything look pretty for the upcoming spring season. Then you see one garden fairy in particular that steals your breath away. He’s stunning, to say the least. He has the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, and his white blonde hair stands out boldly against the dark green grass he’s surrounded by. You end up being so distracted by him that you don’t look where you’re flying. One moment you’re zipping through the air, and the next, you’re stuck in some sort of soft textured red thing.

“Oh, jingles.” you huff, trying to see if you can find you’re way out of whatever this is.

Suddenly the thing around you opens up, and you see daylight peeking in. As it opens more, you realize you flew directly into a rosebud and managed to get yourself stuck inside. You’re already embarrassed, but when you see the garden fairy that’s helping you, you think it wouldn’t be so bad if you stayed stuck inside the bud. That pretty garden fairy you were stunned by is the one who’s freeing you. You see his pretty smile alongside a deep set of dimples. His pale blonde hair pushed up and out of his face, showing sharp angles. You try to hide in your hands for a moment, hoping that it isn’t reality that he’s helping you.

“What a pretty flower.” he muses from his place on the ground.

“Yeah, yeah.” you sigh, staying sat in the now bloomed rose, “You guys are really putting a lot of effort in this year.” “Oh,” he smiles widely, almost resembling a cat, “I was talking about you.”

You feel the heat of a blush rush through your neck and your cheeks. You hold your face hoping to cool it down. The garden fairy looks amused, though. He’s still smiling brightly at you from the ground.

“You wanna come down here so I can properly introduce myself?” he offers.

You look down at the ground properly this time and realize he’s standing in a large muddy puddle, “I… don’t do mud.” you admit.

He chuckles, “It’s not that bad, see?” he giggles as he stomps down into the mud, some splashing up onto the bottom of his pants.

You groan, “Watch out, I’m making an ice patch next to you.”

The garden fairy steps sideways and gestures for you to do as you wish. You gently move your hand and watch as the ice crystals form a patch big enough for you to stand comfortably beside him. After flying down, you grimace at the amount of mud around you. The blonde fairy has a bit on his cheek, which he likely doesn’t care about at all.

He reaches his hand out to you, they’re slightly dusted with dirt, but it’s clear he’s trying to give you a friendly gesture. You take it in yours and shake it. Shivers run up and down your spine and through your wings as you make contact with him.

“I’m San,” he smiles, “do I get the pleasure of knowing your name, pretty flower?”

“I’m y/n.” you smile back, “I’d love to stay, but… they need me over at the shift point and-”

“You’re running late,” he chuckles, “I could tell that from the moment I saw you fly into that rosebud.”

You groan again, “Yeah… do you maybe wanna fly over with me? They won’t believe me if I said I got stuck and had to let the handsome garden fairy help me…” you throw your hand over your mouth as soon as you process that you said he was handsome out loud.

San smiles at you, “I’ll go with you if-”

“If?”

“Just walk through the mud. It’s not that bad.” he giggles.

You sigh but tentatively toe into the mud just off of your ice patch. Cringing, you take a deep breath and take a step fully. San walks ahead to where the dry dirt is. The adoration is practically dripping from his eyes. He literally just met you, but he thinks he may risk it all for the pretty frost fairy in front of him. He watches as you cringe with each step. Small whines about how your pale blue and white clothing is getting covered in the dark mud. The moment you reach him, you look at him and huff an exasperated sigh at him.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Snowdrop?” he giggles, booping your nose.

“It was horrible. Never make me walk through the mud again.” you whine.

Networks: @kwritersworld @k-vanity @cultofdionysusnet

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris

#san fluff #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #tinkerbell who #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #san fanfic #san x reader

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ikkosu · 7 months

Note

Megatron angst, you say?? Megatron is ashamed of the kindness the reader shows him and even more ashamed of the love that developed from that kindness. He remembers keenly how little he thought of organics, the devastation he caused to Earth. The billions of organic lives across the universe that were snuffed out on his command. He can barely stand to look at himself in the mirror. He buries himself in his duties to hide from that vicious guilt, but it doesn't help, not really. Megatron feels he doesn't deserve your affection. He doesn't realize his distance hurts you, if only he would open up to you.

IT'LL PASS

Megatron x gn!scientist!human reader

a/n : ooooh I love these kind of angst! so yummy and gobble-able. I stayed up late writing this. megatron angst be upon ye (if that's how the saying goes, anyways). hope you won’t mind me using this Au, SSAU, in case confused of the size difference.

warnings : little bit of fluff on first half, angst on the second (yipeee) 💀 this is so long, god help me.

[i]

He remembered the first time he met you.

Your hands clinched over his larger ones, tugging it down so you could peer on your toes to get a better look at his face, It took him a moment to register you, first it was the pliant flesh curled over his digits like vines, warm and soft then his head swiveled down with a jolt to meet your curious, wide unblinking eyes.

"Is this...Megatron?" Your eyes narrowed, focused — words, innocent yet simple, came off as almost dumfounded.

He doesn't know what to say.

A raise of his brows and the purse of his lips were all he could muster in response. You’re the walking embodiment of the species he sought to eradicate. To destroy. And yet, here you are, unfazed. Jumping on your toes, drumming your hands over his digits, pawing at his broad, mettalic arms like he was a specimen. Before he could reply, Ratchet grabs the scruff of your collar and yanks you away.

“Wha— hey! I was about to introduce myself!"

“That can wait until the actual debrief. Which is due time. Sorry about this, this one’s a bit of a loiterer.” He grumbles, then yanks you away to fall in step with his pace. “Stir up another problem in the lab and make it count. If Rodimus asks, I am not dealing with his moping about whether or not the body gets decimated or cremated.”

"Oh, come on! " You’re now half-way across the hallway, disappearing. Voices muffled. “It’s like, the size of my palm, Ratty. It’s real cute too, with the puffed out fur and all. We should keep it!”

“I don’t care if it’s the size of your brain. Drift thinks it’s some kind of miracle. Like spiritual miracle or something.” Ratchet grunts out. “Dispose it before someone like you could be infected and you’ve got bad allergies, remember?"

"But—"

“Don't fight me on this. Earth is miles away and I am not comm-ing the Liason Department with a petty issue like that!”

Your altercation disappeared, much the same as your figures, through the sliding door, where the squabble continued into what’s possible the lab the medic mentioned.

Megatron stares, slightly dumfounded as it swishes close and Magnus, for a large mech he’s incredibly a silent walker, teeters behind him, shuffling on his pedes.

“I see you’ve met the organic scientist. An interesting subject to behold, no?”

Rodimus is somewhere behind the duly appointed, a few steps back, moping with a scowl.

With a small wolfish grin, he managed. “I wasn’t aware you’re keeping pets.”

“Excuse me?” The sports car bristled, fists clenched, now already close. “Who’re you calling pets you—“

“Rodimus, please.” His tirade of a decent chewing out is halted by Magnus, whose arm is a barrier between the two, “ Ease down and stay in that corner until I’m done.”

"You're gonna let him say that?" A digit jabbed his way. “But he!—“

“Is trying to a rise out of you.” The bigger mech lays a terse hand over his shoulder. “You of all people should know that. Now, go.”

He’s surprised the younger mech even complied, given his role as the ‘co-captain’, Megatron assumed Magnus would be the one subverscient to his commands. With a scowl he whirled around, stomping away to whatever room deemed worthy of another tantrum. Magnus, however, swivels back with a firmer look, determined not to be swayed by his prodding.

“Discrimination is an offense.” He begins with a finger wag. The grey mech sags. Oh, not this again. ‘’ Any more remarks like that will terminate your stay here. The human you’ve met is the only one residing here in the Lost Light. I expect you to treat them with the same respect they'll have for you."

"Only?" He drawls.

"Many are still not fond of us. Take it a small step towards peace between organics, if you will. " Magnus said, craning his neck over the warlord’s shoulder in time for the med-bay doors to slide open again.

Ambulon steps out, First-aid beside him, and in that split second, he gets a glimpse of you haggling Ratchet at his desk. On your palms were the rat they encountered earlier. He could only assume you're fighting for it's refuge here with how you're assaulting ratchet with desperate puppy eyes and coddling the little rodent to your cheek.

Then the doors slide shut again.

“ In your habsuite are several books on Organic history. Optimus encourages amending tension between Organics and Cybertrinians. So, you can start there. And, while that may prove a bit difficult I hope it isn't an obstacle towards your..."

He struggled, not able to to find the word. Perhaps, repenting is too much of a long stretch so he settles on, “Your stay here.”

"I'll manage just fine." He says gruffly and turns on his heels.

There was something brimming inside his chest. A familiar tinge of energy, much the same when he used to regard Orion with the same kind of fondness.

It'll pass. He reminds himself. It's just a fleeting feeling. It'll pass.

[ii]

You’re like a shadow.

Quick to come, quick to leave — a passing blur.

From the corners to the hallways, you were always there, except he never had a chance to properly introduce himself. Why? He doesn't know why. After all, you were the first person who greeted him with enthusiasm.

The next time he met you was evening, if it was even considered that way, space was in a constant plunge of darkness, anyways. Magnus's caution not to dwell at the bar was indeed taken into consideration as well as disregarded with much care — since drinking is naturally prohibited during 'work hours', according to Magnus, a notion that is an always for him.

Swerve's was fondly quiet.

The rest had gone to ogle another 'off-world chick flick' Rewind proposed. One of those action packed, cheesy films mechs these days are so sodden for. Obviously, he turned it down, ignoring Whirl's attempt to provoke him for being a 'buzz-kill' (he dodged another blaster to the head in doing so) and slumped by a cubicle , nursing a drink he kept swivelling aimlessly in his servo. He watches the purple curl then crest, sloshing about, caking the rims dry. His mind, plagued.

Too caught up in the voices in his head, the swift yet gentle pitter patter of footsteps prodding towards the counter was unheard. It was only when you slid into the empty seat in front of him that he blinked, jolting much as he did when he first met you.

He eyed the datapads and pens cluttering on the surface, following your tandem, gloved hands gently pushing the cup of engex aside. A barrier no longer. You laced your fingers and leaned over, nose close to touching. When it appeared you've caught his attention, your eyes creased, much like a half moon and he finds himself faltering at the sight of the sun.

Though, he stood his ground by holding a firm gaze.

"I hope I'm not bothering you?" Your voice is low, like you're half-expecting Ratchet to pop out again and drag you away.

"Well..." Megatron swivels to his half opened book of the Autobot Code on the table. He still has, much to his chagrin, a thousand more chapters to go through and might as well spare himself from this heinous task and deal with Magnus's preaching.

"Not at the worst time you found me." He folds the book primly and sets it aside.

"Splendid! Is that, ah, how you say it there?"

"What?"

"How’s it going buddy! Or, what's got you up in a twist pal! Something like that. Magnus is always haggling me about 'conforming' to certain ranks with the way I speak. So, what does it?"

He stares at you for a moment, more accurately, staring down, brows pinched. You're awfully small. And not in a 'teeny, tiny, precious little pet' kind of way. His gladiator instincts overruled his prior thoughts and the heigh difference is so explicitly stark he could crush you with a mere swing of a fist. Why are you here? I could kill you. He's not so sure what to think of that. Though, his lower region can preach otherwise.

He should really stop drinking.

"You're not suppose to be here."

"Not quite."

The smile turns into a wolfish grin. It's only now he noticed you've plopped a black satchel on the table.

" Actually, to tell you the truth I'm old enough to be drinking. Hell, even mingling with the lot of you. It's just that, ah, the chemicals! Chemicals, am I right? It hurts the human brain. Makes it woozy. Real, woozy. Can’t think well. I don't know about you bots, cons, uh, there's more gosh, but you see I'm—"

"Referring to your presence." He crosses his arms, leaning back.

"Rodimus doesn't like you here."

The satchel flaps open with a click. You shrug. "Hm. That's a lot less fun, no? Guess he'll have to suck it up. Can’t keep me in a cage forever. I need my own breath of fresh air.”

He looks off to the side, forcing back an imperceptible smile. " Is that so? Whatever happened to conforming to ranks?"

"Ah, apologies, he'll have to handle shoving a stick up his tailpipe."

"You would prefer mingling with me than—"

" Obviously. It's a perfect time for our interview to start!"

.Megatron shifted slightly away, fighting the urge to frown. His digits drum the service, irritated.

"You're interested about the war." He states plainly.

"It's not much about the war, you see. It's, well more about the performers. No, wait not performers, the ah—“ You wag the pen in front of him, struggling to find the words, other hand fumbling to open the book. When you're unable to muster a coherent explanation, you settle on, "Short story, I’m a researcher. Journalist, even. Half-scientist? You get the gist."

Your eyes flicker down to the clutter of datapads by his side, an amused grin this time, " What's the point? I suppose you're already aware of my name, then?"

He feels his faceplates burn. The many datapads you caught contained the ship's dwellers and one, sticking out from the others, is your profile. It was a harmless dive, but with how blatant his stylus circled your picture a deep red, he knew he was in too deep. He clears his throat, a swift digit nudged the rim aside and it's hidden under the others.

"A bit of curiosity isn't too much of a harm these days." He doesn't shake your outstretched hand but taps your palm with his digits. "What would you like to know?"

The touch lingered. You smiled.

"You."

[iii]

He's not sure what to think.

Several weeks after the incident at the bar there's been a routine he's now accustomed to. Wake up, have a cup of energon, haggle both Magnus and Rodimus before making his rounds around the ship. (Succumb to dirty looks from mechs, as well). Then, it's only then he's able to spend time with you in the confines of his habsuite.

The first time was very uncomfortable. He's twiddling his thumb like a schoolboy as he’s perched on the edge of his birth, glaring at the floor while you're sprawled on the couch, scribbling whatever he uttered onto the paper like it's a holy scripture.

He needs to say something.

Anything to keep the conversations aflow. The sessions were about two hours long — three if it became a little more in depth — and he finds himself short circuiting when you’d throw in an ‘joke’ or two. Apparently, he missed the joke. It flew right over his head. When the rest of the conversation fell off awkwardly, it's only then he realize how inept at casual conversation he is.

"I suppose you can say the commodities there were made were satis-factory." He pauses for a moment, letting it simmer.

You blink a little, the one in your hand twirls for a moment before your palms clutched your mouth, hunching over the chair, shoulders heaving. There was a pleasant sound from your lips. Is that—

"Are you laughing?" He asks, strangely offended.

"Sorry, it's just— mhmaha, eheahag. Hehehnskslk,” You gathered yourself but the cheeks still twitched. “. Is— is that, like, a pun. Are you punning?"

He gave in, looking away. “…Magnus urged me to be a lot less ‘stiff’ with how I deliver certain….statements. ”

“So, you went with puns.” The pen nudges his cheek, playful.

He swats it away with a chuff. “We were discussing about industrial propaganda during the early courses of the war, it’s only appropriate that I put that in.”

“How many more have you got under your sleeve, megs?"

From his faceplate, a small smile cracks. “If you have enough time to spare.”

[iv]

When he looks at you, he's reminded of Orion.

Compassionate yet strong-willed. Accepting yet firm. Perhaps it's because you're as youthful as the first conjure of a star or perhaps he likes to believe that you are. You innate curiosity for knowledge, your naive recklessness for danger; determined to be the hero, despite lacking — it worries him.

In what way does it so?

Sometimes, he half expects you to emerge as a different person. One day, a bright smile on your face, the other, a facade. Your true self. He finds himself dawdling towards the mirror, scrutinizing his faceplate. The creases and wrinkles that amass his grimace, they eased into a gentle smile when he thinks about you.

It’s the little things that gets him.

Your hand on his arm when you speak, the focused adoration in your eyes when he goes on another tirade about his poems, or when he’s particularly feeling a bit sour, you’re always there with your own two cents which breaks a smile out of his face — it makes him feel something he doesn’t want to prod.

“Energon?”

He stares at the outstretched cup, his other servo is cradling his temple, migraine induced. He’s at his desk, hunched over a datapad, stylus working with abandon when you came in, the brief respite of luminescent light flaring his room stark before it shrouds dim again. Everyone had clocked in for the night. Magnus left a few hours earlier. You, on the other hand….

“How…how did you make this?” He’s dumbfounded, watching as the purple swirls around his reflection.

You declare proudly with a puff of your chest. “Being a scientist, you can pull off a few strings or two to get it. Though, I did almost combust a ‘certain’ contraption trying to filter off raw energon. Brainstorm's instructions aren't easy to read. I should really stop trying to crank up the generator to max….”

“Please, i implore you — don’t do that again.”

You shrug, a little grin.He vents. Guess he’ll have to tolerate you for the time being. You set the cup of energon on his desk and peered over a little.

“What’re you up to?”

He feels his face burn. “Annotating the next poem you requested. For our next session. You…wanted to see my earlier poems and their possible significance."

There was a bright twinkle in your eye — too bright he swiveled away for a moment.

“May I?”

“If you have time…”

[v]

It appears interviewing isn't your only vice.

Off you go to expeditions outside the Lost Light, floating about on meteors, wrangling native plants from native planets, returning to med-bay, sometimes, with parched gloves that're burnt at the tips and hair a different color from the chemical abrasions.

Megatron sometimes finds himself on the gurney instead with how much pressure his spark is taking its toll.

Once, he's startled off his armor when you tapped the window from the outside, mouthing about how Brainstorm probably started another fire in the east wing.Safe to say it wasn’t long before the fire reached him. And, you’re the one chipping off the burnt metal parts from his arm, gently cradling his servos.

It's just a little brain worm, he tells himself. Another delusion he conjures because he's so desperate to feel something — anything to contradict his guilt. Your touch is nothing but miniscule and yet he finds himself in front of laboratory often, and he'd look lost when you're greeted at the sight of the warlord dawdling in front of the lab, another excuse concocted on the spot to deter you from the possible reason.

"Isn't he a little too keen on experiments like these?" Perceptor mutters. "I didn't realize he's fond of...whatever new shenanigans they've made. If anything, I surmise an ulterior motive."

"Oh, let him be." Brainstorm waves him off dismissively. " There's no harm in finding new hobbies. He's an ex-warlord let 'im live. Besides, I heard he wanted to be a medic once, can you believe that?"

"Until the day I die, no."

"Oh, Percy, you bore."

"Please, don't even go there "

Megatron blinks as you set down a pink vial on the desk, your own hands gripped his own with a vice, tugging him along to your experiments. Your scruffed up lab coat is half-burnt at the sleeves and the bubbling beaker by your side is driving him up the wall. Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation, whatsoever?

"So, I was working on the prospect of dying acids, right? Not, die die, as in, well, dying. Die as in coloring. Trying so that when they explode it explodes a certain type of color. Neon, too! And here, take a look at this—"

You're ranting. Mouth moving, not stopping. He can't seem to focus. You're so much smaller. Just below his torso, fun-sized, easy to hold and when he's touching your soft parts —you guide his hand to pry open whatever contraption-lock you're making, he finds himself flinching.

You're so...soft.

"I'm what?" You say, yelling over Brainstorm's loud generator resounding across the room.

You're squinting, straining to hear. He wants to peel the goggles away. He wants to see your eyes.Wants to the see the way the luminescent lights freckles off the white like sparkles. He clears his throat, jabbing a finger to whatever contraption he can set your mind on, not at how his faceplate is burning much as the generator is.

"That doesn't look safe."

"That's because it's a bomb." Perceptor emerges behind you both, a scowl on his face, and paid no mind to his startled expression as he makes a beeline towards the other scientist, struggling to hold the generator together. There's a distance muffled yelling and shuffling. You both stare at them, unmoving.

"You build bombs."

"Unethical, I know."

He whirls to look at you; you're focused elsewhere. "That's not what I meant."

"Okay, okay. I might've lied a bit on that Journalism thing. But hey, I've got to make meet ends right? Hm? Megs?” You look around. “Where’d he go?”

[vi]

"What's this?" He's snapped out of his tirade, swivelling his gaze from the dome-ish greenhouse he's been ogling at to you crouched near the pot, gloved hands shoved inside the soil.

He remarks bitterly. "I pour my heart out and you're pulling out weeds?"

"Yup. Wanna help?"

They're in your personal laboratory for today. Given the amount of flora and fauna strewn about the room, Ratchet remarked it was like a greenhouse of some sort. Megatron vents, lumbering from the chair and towards your form. He snagged the recording pen from the table, clicked it and dropped it into the satchel

So much for a moment of heart to heart.

"What's this?" His digits curls out, prodding the petal of the bud, clutched between your palms.

Even when he's crouching, he's still towering over you like a building.

You smile up to him, child-like. "A new kind of flower I made."

"Really, now."

"Oh, come on hear me out."

"If it's complete and utter jargon to mess with my circuits — don't even try."

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll keep it simple."

With a snap of your finger the room became dim and from a pot, you plucked out a flower. It wasn't, however, a normal visage of one. Megatron slowly extends his palm, cradling the plant like it was crystal. The petals are glass like; it sparkled blue, frolicking purple. Against his chassis it glew, a faded tinge of color on the gunmetal grey. His face eased into a smile.

"This is....fascinating. How did you make this? Don't answer that. You'll only give me a headache." He tries to clamp a servo over your lips but you duck away. "Even so, I have no words to conjure... how much I feel about this. What implored you to create such a remarkable plant?"

" Your poem."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"The one where you compared sparks to flowers. In a way, I do see that too." You gestured around. "My own world is like a garden. And i like to keep my garden clean. Weed out the bad stuff, put in the good stuff. But sometimes, new flowers grow amongst the old, and when they do..."

You look up to him with a small smile. "They bloom into something beautiful."

It took him a moment to understand.And when he does, his spark thrummed for a desperate plea for touch. Without thinking, his digits find your chin and reels you close.

He thinks about this often. Your kindness wasn't because you were simply kind. It's because you believed everyone had a chance.

He doesn't deserve one.

It's like everything clicked together. The sullen memories strung itself into shape, now etching across his processors. Limb, lifeless bodies across barren land. Blood smeared the soil dark crimson. What is he doing? This is shameful. Shameful of him. The very species he sought to kill, to snuff out, to eradicate. The wide, spanning field of flowers. Blue, hauntingly beautiful. Those were the lives lost.

You could’ve bloomed amongst them

He shoved you away, not to harshly but in a manner of surprise, jolting much as he did when he first met you. His shoulders grazed the pot on the table as he stood and it toppled to the ground. The shards crackled, breaking on impact. Soil a barrier, sprawled between you both.

His own anger flared, fists clenching.

“Woah, there. Something wrong? Did you get pricked?”

Megatron says nothing as you clean up the mess. Hands plucking the shards off the ground, rambling again. "Man, your shoulders are really wide. Not as big as Mangus's but still, they're like a whole wall of—"

"You should hate me."

You freeze, the shards paused halfway down into the duster, tipping a little over the edge.

Megatron kept his gaze to the floor. He needed to tell you this. He needed to remind you now. He's not what you think he is, and just because he's had his moment of respite with you, he's still, and will always be the Megatron who sought domination through means of violence, ethical or not.

"I know."

Your face smoothens out a moment before it eases back into a smile. The gentle kind.

"I killed your people. Eradicated thousands of them. Torn through vibrant planets, decimated floras, faunas, and life that teemed in those regions. I hurt nature. I hurt it's mother."

"I know."

"Then, why are you so subverscient to your own compassion? Why not take your anger out on me?" He takes a domineering step forward. "I don't understand. A person can't be this forgiving."

"Because it's wrong." You say simply. "Because it won't do anything. Look, just because you think I'm nice to you doesn't mean Im not aware of what you did.Even if I get to break several joints off your sockets, would that get me anywhere? If anything, it'll make me more miserable."

”You’re naive.’’

The flower no longer crackled. No longer bright. Like the broken pot, it lay shattered on the ground, glinting.

"If that’s how you see it..." You trail off, eyes creasing into a frown. "Is this about the poem? I didn't mean to overstep—"

He whirled away without a word. "I need to go."

[vii]

He can't get you out of his mind.

Day by day passes. From night to morning to dawn, he finds himself plagued with thought hes not able to comprehend.

Everytime he wakes up, there's this urge. He finds himself wanting to see you. He steeled himself, however, walking past you when you approach. Answering in clip tones when you ask. Magnus notices he's in his office a lot more recently, pouring through the mountains of datapad like he's on a grip.

"You should rest, Megatron." He tells the captain once.

What returned however is a grunt. Neither affirming nor denying. The enforcer frowns. He'll have to ask you about it. And yet a quick look to the scientist deters his thoughts. You're less bright and while you still have the amiable streak it appears as though you're forcing a grin through it all. Something must've happened. A fight, more preferably. That led to him confronting Rung about it, and the psychiatrist confronting Megatron — in a less subtle way, of course.

The warlord tells him it's just a brain worm, something eating at him for a while.

Something passing,

"I do think that is something quite more." He mutters, stylus crossing another scribbles on the datapad. "Given your nature with the former it's only normal to feel shame to such sentiments. Inter-species relationships dwell on that complication a lot. I get questions regarding guilt, betrayal of their own race and the unethicalities of it all. The only significant point here, however, is how you're willing to approach this problem.”

Rung, straightens his goggles. “How would you like to look at it?"

Megatron ponders. He thinks. Gears churning, scheming. Silent. He wants it to be something more yet he wants it to be nothing beyond what they are. How can he, a warlord whose actions eradicated almost half the cosmos, bring himself to feel even a minuscule hint of happiness? No, he can’t. He doesn’t deserve any of this. It's not like you feel the same.

"Nothing. It's just a fleeting feeling. It'll pass.

"Surely it can't be that easy to put aside."

Megatron frowns. "What, you don't think I can do it?"

Rung pulls a terse smile, folding his fingers over his lap.

"t’s not a matter of whether or not you can do it…" he trails off, unsure. It appeared as though he wanted to say more with how his lips part for a second. "But if that's how you would like to proceed, I am not forcing you. After all, your feelings wouldn’t fare better if I do. The choice is yours."

."I think it's best I keep my distance.

Rung seems a little distraught at that. "Perhaps it's better that you don't. Your feelings, they’re not something you can toy around with such ease. And while they're indeed very complicate, avoiding them is—"

"Don’t pretend to understand how I feel.” Rung flinches at the sudden venom in his tone. “I know how to deal with this. I just need time. Time…time is all I need.

It'll pass. He tells himself.

It never does.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #megatron x reader #idw megatron #transformers idw #ikkosuwrites #mtmte megatron #lost light

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bobgasm · 1 month

Text

kingpin ⦾ sixteen

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x ofc!emery young word count: 2497 warnings: lying by omission for a good reason,

summary: in which emery learns the partial plan

fifteen | kingpin | seventeen

Emery noticed.

She noticed the staring. Felt him watching her whenever she walked away. She wasn’t oblivious to her figure, but she didn’t flaunt it like Natasha would. She didn’t like the attention, so she often covered up by wearing clothes that didn’t accentuate her figure.

But Bob still noticed. Whether she was in tight gym shorts, a pencil skirt or slacks, or even the odd chance she wore track pants in the office; he still noticed. She still caught him staring. Felt the heat in his gaze. And on the odd occasion, felt a shiver of excitement rush through her.

This morning was no different. She was never one to be bold and do anything about it, but he was attractive. She wasn’t blind to it. And for some reason, this morning she had the courage to smirk when she caught him checking her out. The colour stained his face immediately and she felt victorious.

So why did it hurt watching him rush away?

Her lesson with Payback flew by, and she made her way home to shower. Enjoying the short walk back to her apartment building as the early morning traffic slowly started to pick up. When she made it home, she pushed open the door to find Natasha sitting at the breakfast bar shaking a protein shake.

“Morning,” Emery greeted warmly.

“Morning,” Nat replied with a smile of her own. “How was your workout?”

Emery grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before answering. “It was good. Payback’s been kicking my ass. My arms feel like jelly, but I’m enjoying it.”

“Missing my spin classes yet?” She teased with a laugh as Emery took a large sip of her water.

“Kind of. It’s a different kind of exercise, you know?”

Nat nodded in understanding. Emery knew she understood, so she didn’t feel the need to explain any further.

Emery didn’t sleep too well, but then again, she hadn’t been sleeping well at all lately. Too busy trying to find the missing pieces of the puzzle whenever new information presented itself. And yesterday was a fucking day.

She felt heavy after seeing Mickey. Heavy after blowing up at Richard. She felt small under Bob’s gaze and cautious words. She wanted to talk it out – she needed to, but she couldn’t talk to Nat without bringing her into this mess, and she was carefully trying to avoid that.

Emery took several gulps, downing half of the bottle as Natasha eyed her. “You remember that kid I used to talk about, Mickey?”

“What about him?”

“He’s a cop here,” she revealed, watching Natasha’s eyes widen slightly. “Bumped into him yesterday.”

She was sticking to the facts as much as she could. It was killing her to lie to her sister, but she needed to tell her something.

Natasha nodded slowly. “Where did you bump into him?”

“I was with Coyote,” she replied. “We went out for coffee,” and now is where she chooses to twist the truth. “The barista called his name. I didn’t speak to him, I didn’t know what I’d even say. ‘Hi, fifteen years ago we were best friends but then my mom died and I got put in foster care’ just screams a little crazy, you know?”

Nat laughed softly. “Yeah, it does,” she admitted. “So you saw him but didn’t say anything?”

Emery nodded. “And now I don’t know if I’ll see him again because I was too scared to introduce myself.”

“Well, you know he’s a police officer, so you could call the stations and ask around until you find him?” She suggested and Emery allowed herself to smile in relief. “Yeah, that could work! I know it’s a little daunting, but you can sit on it. Think about it for a bit, if that’s what you want to do.”

“That’s a great idea, Nat,” Emery said. “I didn’t realise how much that was weighing on me until just now.”

A half truth. A half lie. Whatever you wanted to call it, telling Nat even a small portion of what happened yesterday felt good. Emery wished her a good day before hopping in the shower, feeling gross from her workout, and the secrets that seemed to just keep piling up.

She made herself a coffee and some breakfast, needing to recharge after her workout and get ready for the day ahead. Bob and Coyote were set to come around 10, so she wanted to at least look productive even if they were going to talk for a bit.

Emery frowned and glanced at the time on the microwave, wondering who could be knocking before 9am. Looking through the peephole, she saw that it was Heather, her landlord. Bob’s mother.

She opened the door cautiously. “Hi Heather, is everything okay?”

Heather nodded and smiled reassuringly. “I was wondering if you have a moment to chat?”

“Is this about yesterday?” Emery asked, still unmoving from the doorway. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to let her in until she knew what was going on.

“Yes…I wanted to check in. See if you were holding up okay?”

Emery nodded in response. “I mean, I’m getting there? I’m having a meeting with Bob and Coyote in about an hour…”

“I love my son,” Heather started. “I love him, but you need to be careful with what you tell him.”

“I don’t know if you should be saying this. My apartment might be bugged…”

Heather shook her head. “It’s not. They would never bring their business into someone’s home unless they had a good reason to. Make sure you don’t leave either of them alone.”

“Are you telling me they’re going to bug my apartment?”

Emery felt her stomach drop. Heather looked down the hall, making sure no one was out and about.

“Richard has ordered it. He doesn’t trust you. Your apartment, your office, and even your car will have bugs by the end of the day, if they aren’t already. He thinks you know more than you’re letting on.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because as scared as you were standing up to him last night, you still did it. There’s good in you, Emery. Don’t let them corrupt it.”

“Did you know my mother?” Emery dared to ask. She needed to know, before she lost the chance to ask again.

“Not well, but I knew she was a single mother trying to make ends meet,” she admitted with a sad smile. “I should go. I’m sorry, Emery, for everything.”

Emery’s left reeling. She still wants to trust Bob, give him the benefit of the doubt, but can she? She doesn’t have much time to do anything about it, though, because she needs to do some work before he and Coyote arrive. There’s wages and invoices to pay.

She works a lot slower on a single screen, having to check and then recheck she’s entered the right account details and wage total. She’s still in her head, over analyzing what Heather had told her. Trying not to freak herself out and let the paranoia convince her they’ve already successfully bugged her apartment; bugged her car and office. She’s still not entirely convinced her laptop isn’t bugged considering it’s a work one.

She’s so focused on her work that she doesn’t realise the time, hearing a knock at the door that pulled her back to reality. When she checks, she’s surprised to see Bob standing alone, a small smile on his face.

“Coyote couldn’t make it, he had some other business to take care of,” he told her and her stomach sank. Heather’s words are at the forefront of her mind. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on his movements if he’s the only one, making it harder for him to place any bugs in her home.

She wondered about Coyote, if he’s bugging her office and car and that’s why he couldn’t make it. She nods and welcomes him inside.

“It’s been a morning, sorry, I forgot you were stopping by,” she said, moving into the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

“Just water, thank you.”

Emery filled a glass with water, watching him look around the apartment. It looks different than it did the day they moved in. They’ve made it more homey, old family photos of Nat and Emery in foster care are hung up on the walls. There’s some plants and flowers around the room, livening the place up. That’s all Nat’s touch. She knows that if Bob saw her room, it would look exactly like it did the first day. Walls bare, minimal personal possessions making the space her own. She’s not a nester. All she needs to be comfortable is a roof over her head and somewhere to sleep.

She made herself comfortable on one of the sofas, where she had been working from before he arrived. Bob took a seat to her right and she folded her arms over her chest. It’s a defencive stance, she knows it. She doesn’t care.

“Just ask whatever you need to ask me,” she told him. The

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Emery,” he replied, placing his glass on the small coffee table. “Yesterday brought up a bunch of new information and some loose ends that we need to tidy up.”

She sighed and rubbed her face, trying to collect herself. Her sleeping schedule had been shot for weeks already. She wasn’t up for the intensive questions she knew Bob likely had at the ready, but she had no other option. She had to tell him anything that she knew the answers to. This was her life now.

“I was nine when my mom died,” she told him. “I used to do my homework at the diner. Any time Richard would show up, he’d make me feel uncomfortable. He never said anything to me, it was more the way he carried himself. My mom got jumpy around him, but she hid it pretty well. Dion was never in the diner at the same time as Richard, but he was there most of the times that I was there.”

“And you’re confident that Dion is Dominic Decker, the man you saw at the diner before you applied for this job?”

Emery hummed. “I wouldn’t say I’m confident. There’s similarities, for sure; the eyes. Dion was much younger, and I was only nine, and I tried not to look at the man at the diner. That photo I saw of Decker when I was at your place the other day, he looked more like the guy from the diner than Dion did.”

“We’re going off the assumption that all three men are the same,” Bob told her. “Coyote’s following some leads, trying to figure out if Dion even exists. We don’t think Decker had any other family, at least, he had a gentlemen’s agreement with Richard that he was an only child, both parents dead, still with his wife.”

Emery nodded at the information. “Okay, so what else do you want to know?”

“I want to know about your father,” he said.

“I don’t know anything about him,” she stated. “My mom never told me about him, never mentioned any man in a romantic nature, and I never asked. It was just us, and then it was just me.”

She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, a warm, prickling heat she tried to blink away. She wished she had her own glass of water, but she wasn’t too keen on grabbing one. Heather’s words had shaken her and if she couldn’t spare a second without her eyes on Bob, just to be sure.

Bob looked pained as she admitted that last part, reaching for his glass of water and taking a long sip.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Emery asked him. “You want me to be truthful and trust you, but you aren’t even allowing me that same respect. What aren’t you telling me, Bob?”

“We’re under the impression that Dion/Decker is your father, and he set the FBY account up for Betty Young.”

Emery laughed, she couldn’t help it. Shaking her head in disbelief, a look of incredulity on her face. “You can’t be serious?”

“It’s a theory I’m investigating with Fanboy.”

“You brought Mickey into this?!”

“I know Mickey only has your best interest in mind. If my theory is true, we’ll handle it,” he assured her. “Richard’s ordered your apartment, office, laptop, phone and car to be bugged. He thinks you’re dangerous, a threat. He doesn’t trust you. So I’m going to show you exactly where I’m planting the bugs because I trust you. I have a plan, Emery, and I need you to trust me.”

“So I can’t even feel safe in my own home? My home, mind you, that is one of your family’s properties?”

Her hands shook as she clamped them together.

“My mom’s real estate is legitimate. She made sure none of Richard’s money touched it. He doesn’t have any say in how she manages them, how she renovates them. She refuses to employ Floyd Construction to keep everything totally separate. This place is safe,” he tried to reassure her. “I do have to plant a couple of bugs, but you’ll know exactly where they are. We need Richard to think you don’t suspect anything.”

“You sound like you have a plan,” she said, unable to stop her voice from shaking. Her nerves were shot and Bob gave her a sympathetic smile.

“I do, this is where I need you to trust me, Emery,” he replied softly. “I don’t know how well you hold up under pressure, and after you went off at Richard yesterday, it’s safer to keep you in the dark. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now–”

“But it’s the only way,” she finished for him, taking a shaky breath. “If you’re right about Decker being my dad…do you think he’ll come for me?”

Bob’s silence told her everything she needed to know. She nodded solemnly, then once again more determined.

“Can we plant these bugs now?”

The bugs were planted in obvious spots, but not too obvious her sister would find them. One in the light fixture, one tucked behind the bookshelf, one in her bedroom. Bob made his discomfort at her setup known with a grumble, a mattress still on the floor where she had told him she’d been waiting on her bed to be delivered. He hadn’t said anything further on the matter, which annoyed Emery more.

Still, she didn’t argue with him about his non-argument. Not while there were now live audio devices sending whatever they said back to god knows who. Knowing there was one in her bedroom didn’t fill her with comfort, but she knew it had to be done. She knew Bob had a plan, whatever that was, and as stupid as she was, she trusted him. She hoped she didn’t regret it.

author's note: sorry it's been a minute since i updated this! trying to get back in the mindset for this fic 🤪

#bob floyd x oc #bob floyd #bob floyd x ofc #mob!bob floyd #mob!au #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x ofc #robert bob floyd x oc

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just-wrting · 1 year

Text

The Babysitter (Part 1)

Title: The Babysitter (Part 1)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After the family you babysit for moves, you meet with a father and son duo who are about to change your life.

Word Count: 1438

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A/N: This took forever mainly because work has been kicking my ass with all these 9-hour shifts that switch from mid-morning one day to close the next. Part 2 will be up in a few days though I promise!!!!

You can hear your phone ringing in the next room. It’s probably not anything, but since you had spread the word that you need a new babysitting gig, you rushed to get it. Nothing said perfect timing like that call.

“Hi, this is (Y/N) (L/N). What’s this call about?”

You tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder as you scoop up the youngest of the kids into your arms.

“Hello, this is Aaron Hotchner. Someone told me I could call you about babysitting. Is now a good time?”

“Yes! Now works, though pardon the screaming in the background. The parents are running a little late but are almost here.”

In fact you could see their car just a few houses down the street. Granted, taking the call made you feel a bit guilty, but the parents had assured you that if you had someone call about your offer you could take the call.

“I can call back later if that works better.”

You pulled the plastic fork out of one of the boys’ hands and mouth ‘don’t you dare’. You can respect the sibling urge to annoy the younger siblings, but you can’t let him chase his siblings with forks.

“Actually the parents are pulling into the driveway. If you want, I know a place we could meet. It’ll give me a chance to introduce myself to your kid or kids. Does this number work to text you the address?”

You wipe the youngests face off, freeing their smile from pizza sauce. A car door closes and a chorus of ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ ring from around the kitchen.

“Only if it’s alright with you. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“No, it's fine. There wasn’t enough food for me to eat anything so it’s a good time for me to have dinner.”

You hand the youngest off to the open arms of their dad. You hear the flurry of kisses that makes the toddler laugh. It’s adorable to see how much the family cared for each other.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds like a plan. I hope to see you in about twenty minutes.”

—

“I’m so lucky you guys had mac and cheese left. This usually sells fast.”

You flash a smile at your friend. This was definitely your favorite spot. Practically everything they sold was homemade, from the mac and cheese right down to the cupcakes. It was all made with love, and perhaps tiredness. Not to mention, as a regular you got to try the new stuff early. That includes the napkin of cookies that they gave you after they took your order.

“Just for you, my loyal customer. Besides dinner, why are you here? Got a hot date or something?” she gives you a cheeky grin.

You wipe your mouth and shake your head. “Nope. Meeting a potential gig here. Figured since I needed to eat here works.”

At that moment, the bell above the door rings. In steps a man, smartly dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a maroon polo, with his son in tow. The man locks eyes with you right away before quickly scanning the whole cafe. His son was eagerly looking at your stack of cookies.

“I’m Aaron Hotchner. I was looking for a (Y/N) (L/N)?”

You stand up. “Right here. I’ve already had dinner but if you two would like something feel free to order it. I’ll pay for it.”

The son is quick to make a dash to your table once his dad strides toward you. He puts his little hands on the table and looks up at you with big eyes. You can see the lights reflected in them and you know that if you get the gig those eyes will be the death of you.

“Can I have one of those cookies, please? There aren’t any of them in the case.”

Aaron puts his hand on his son’s shoulder and steers him toward the counter. “It’s not nice to ask for other people’s things, Jack.”

You hide a smile behind your hand. Sure you shouldn’t want to give him a cookie, but he asked nicely and is just too cute. As much as you want to spend time fawning over the fact that not only is the kid adorable, he’s got good manners, you try to focus on Aaron.

Given the fact that he didn’t mention or bring a wife with him, you figure that she isn’t in her son’s life anymore. You make a mental note to ask about it in private. That sort of topic is sensitive for kids, so you don’t plan on broaching it in front of Jack.

“I don’t mind letting him have one of my cookies. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat all four of them by myself anyway.”

Aaron gives Jack a gentle nudge your way. It takes him just a few steps to run to your table. He climbs up on a chair and sets his hands in his lap. He never looks directly at you, only at the table and the stack of cookies.

“It’s fine if you have one. Your name is Jack, right?”

Jack nods his head and reaches out for the cookies. He held it in his hand and took a tentative bite out of it. Crumbs fell to the table and you slide a spare napkin across to him.

“I’m sorry if I had called at a bad time, I didn’t realize you would be busy.”

Aaron sets down a cup in front of Jack. There’s whipped cream poking out of the top signaling it’s a hot chocolate. Jack seems eager to keep the sweets coming as he starts to drink.

“It’s not a big deal. If everytime someone called was a good time, it would probably be a bad sign.” You took a sip of your coffee. “Actually you had great timing. Today was my last day with the Smiths.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been babysitting?”

Jack eyes the cookies as he polished off the one he had grabbed. You slide them a little closer to the boy and give him a nod. He looks up at his dad for his confirmation.

“Since high school. I was already watching my younger siblings and figured what’s a few more. I even scheduled college around one of the families. Most of the families I’ve worked with work long or random hours.”

“That’s good to hear. I tend to have to go out of state for my job.”

As you sit and discuss things like pay and qualifications, Jack falls asleep on his dad. You can hear the soft little puffs of air as he dreams, and you realize it’s gotten later than you anticipated. The cafe is supposed to close in ten minutes and you feel the exhaustion hit you like a truck.

“If it’s okay, I can start tomorrow. I’d be more than happy to take care of Jack.”

Aaron runs his fingers through the boy’s hair and lets out a sigh. You know he’s thinking hard about what he should do. The conversation shows how much he loves his son. It’s heartwarming to see and you want to take a picture of them.

“That sounds good. I’ll text you the address later, but I think it’s time to go now.”

You chuckle. “Yeah he’s out for the night. I’m surprised he fell asleep so quickly even with the sugar.”

Aaron gently picks Jack up. “It’s been a long day.”

You follow him to the door. He does his best to walk in a way that doesn’t disturb Jack, and you find yourself admiring him. Being a single parent can be hard, and Aaron seems to handle it with grace.

“I’ve got it. I can get the car door for you too.”

Thankfully, the car was right in front of the cafe. There’s a booster seat in the back seat, and you can see a variety of kids' toys littering the floor. It doesn't take long for Aaron to buckle Jack in. The kid doesn’t even stir.

“Thank you for being able to meet me here. I know it’s not a very convenient place, but I’m so grateful,” you say.

Aaron gives you a soft smile. “Thank you for being able to start tomorrow. Jack seems to like you so I think you’ll be a good fit.”

“Well then I’ll be at your place at 6 am sharp. Have a good night, Aaron.”

“Get home safe, (Y/N). I’ll see you in the morning

#reader insert #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner #criminal minds aaron hotch

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 3 months

Text

Megamind Au for @fanofstuff02 Hope you like it!

You see the guy there? The one trying to grab the ray gun in mid air? That's me.

I've been having a pretty shitty week so far. I've trained a psychopath with magic powers, lied to the love of life, and got my ass beat pretty good.

But maybe I should back up a bit.

Many years ago, I escaped my dying planet with only the clothes on my back and the orphaned baby girl that I saved. It didn't us long to come to this new planet named earth.

It also didn't take us long to be introduced to the legal system there, our home was pretty much the prison for the longest time. This was how I met him, Michael or his found name The General. You know, because he was “The General” of defending forces or some shit. How fucking boring can you be?

Well I came up with a far better and way more fitting name for myself.

The Devil.

Sera walks down the hall of the prison and knocks on the glass scaring Peter. "Read on your own time. Open up." He did as he was told. Sera went to the glass and didn't see Lucifer anywhere. "Hey!"

"Boo!" Lucifer jumped out of nowhere scaring Sera. He started laughing like a crazy man as he sat in his twirling chair. He gave her a devilish smile "Good morning Sera, dear, how’s it going for you?"

Sera bristled. "I'm not-"

Lucifer interrupted. "Good news, I’m a changed man now! Ready to make a fresh start in the society as a trusteable citizen!"

The warden stifled a laugh. "You’re not as smart as you claim if you really think you’d be trustworthy! You are a fucking villain and you’ll never change and you'll never leave."

Lucifer blinked but kept his smile. "You're fun you know that?"

Sera clicked her tongue looking beyond unimpressed. "Someone sent you a little gift."

"Oh is it a duckling?"

"No." Sera deadpanned. "Oh look, it’s from The General! For you to count the every second of your 66 life sentences. Now that’s fun, never would’ve thought General would care about a piece of garbage he put in prison." She placed it on her wrist. "Oh but he does have good style. You know, I think I’ll keep this."

Lucifer grinned wider. "Can you do me a favor and tell me the time? I don’t want to be late for his huge museum opening."

Sera rolled her eyes and glances down at the watch. "Oh no, looks like you’re gonna miss it. With several thousand years." She said snidly before walking away.

Lucifer just hummed softly. "Mm, I don’t think so." He could wait, he had time. And oh boy he didn't have to wait long. The guards brought in Sera who was disguised as him. When placed in his seat, Lucifer stole the watch back.

"No you fools, he tricked us." Sera said weakly.

Lucifer grinned evilly. "You're right." He changed into Sera. "I'll always be a villian. Muwahahahaha!" Lucifer took off out of the prison.

His daughter Charlie was waiting for him in the car. "Hello there father!"

"Charlie you amazing daughter you! Good job getting me the watch sweetie." Lucifer got in the car and sped for downtown, he changed back to normal.

They had a news reporter to kidnap.

"Make sure to come on down for the General day celebrations. I'm Adam Kadmon, for 69 news." Adam gave the signal to his camera man Alastor to turn the camera off.

Alastor smiled. "And cut, that was amazing the stuff they get you to say."

Adam crossed his arms. "I wrote that piece myself Al."

"Oh, well it's amazing they let such art on the news."

Adam rolled his eyes playfully. "Good save."

Alastor places his camera in the news van. "Why don't we, uh, blow this joint?"

"Oh come on we can stay and enjoy the General day celebrations!" Adam gestured around, it was a beautiful day with clear sunny skies.

Alastor frowned and looked away. "Well if I was the General, the Devil wouldn't be Kidnapping you all the time." He started going on this long rant, Adam learned to tune him out years ago.

All Adam can do is shake his head. Yeah getting kidnapped was annoying but it also got him paid leave. What he didn't notice was the invisible window rolling down. A nozzle was aimed at Adam's face spraying him in the face. "What the-" Adam felt dizzy, he fell back as his world went dark.

Charlie grabbed him before Adam hit the ground and drove off. Lucifer smiled wide as Adam was laid across his back seat unconscious. "We met again, news reporter Adam Kadmon.~"

Adam came to a while ago tied to a chair in Lucifer's lab. He was rather annoyed. "You promised me that you’d get me ribs the last time you kidnapped me."

Lucifer sucked air through his teeth. "Sorry darling, I was in a rush you know, just escaped from prison and stuff. Would the next time be okay?" He said sweetly, honestly they spent so much time together over the years he should have food on hand for Adam.

"Would be but there won’t be a next time."

Lucifer raised a brow at him as he took a seat. "That's what you think. There will be a time after this and another after that."

Adam could only shake his head. "Why though? I don't exactly do much but sit here and look good."

Lucifer leaned back in his chair , grin never leaving. "We all have our part to play and the helpless damsel is yours."

That pissed Adam off. "Fuck you I'm not helpless. And you're not scary."

Lucifer scoffed and stood up getting closer to Adam. "Oh I’m not scary?! So you wouldn’t be scared if you saw these eyes at night?!"

Adam merely smirked. "Why would I be scared by piss yellow? I mean, I guess blood red could work, theoretically, but still." It was always fun getting under this guys skin.

Lucifer heard Charlie try to hold back a laugh. He shot her a look that made her giggles die down. "OH SO THE HORNS ARE SO NORMAL!?" He pointed to the horns protruding from his head.

Adam shrugged. "They look like you stuck two pipes on your head and then painted them red."

Lucifer felt his eye twitching, Adam was very pretty to look at but very sassy in the attitude department. "What about these?" He extended his six wings as far as he could to show them off.

Adam started laughing. "Pfft! Six poofy small wings? Scary? Are you shitting me?" He laughed a little more. "You look like you belong at a Comicon, you'll fit in with all the other short nerds."

"Excuse me!? What about these claws!" He flexed his claws close to Adams face.

The news reporter didn't flinch. "Yeah they look sharp, but they're dirty. Scariest thing there is the infection you could give someone."

Lucifer removed his hand, offended. "Hey! They are not that dirty." He started picking at his nails, sure enough some dirt was there. "You're mean for a news reporter."

Adam smiled. "Growing up on the streets hardens you like that."

Lucifer was taken aback by this, he never would have guessed that Adam had a difficult upbringing. "You grew up...?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "You heard me."

"Right." They say in silence for a long beat. "You know I also had a-"

"I don't care, man."

It was Lucifer's turn to shake his head "Wow okay, trying to have a moment."

Adam ignored him. "We have nothing in common man, you grew up in prison. My childhood may not have been perfect but it wasn't terrible." *

It made him rhinky about when his dad died. Adam didn't like to think about it. "I lived."

Lucifer hummed. "We have more in common than you think. The streets of Pentagram City are rough like prison. Just a matter of a building."

Adam blinked at him. "...... Are you a villain or a therapist?"

"I have time I can do both." He merely shrugged.

Adam groaned, he didn't have time for this. "Ugh, I wanna go home my shows on."

Lucifer looked around. What would it hurt? "I can get the tv for you if you want, we still have plenty of time."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Dad, I broke the tv last week." Charlie admitted nervously.

Lucifers jaw dropped. "Charlie! And you're just now telling me?"

Adam couldn't contain the laugh that found it's way out. "Oh, don't ever change Charlie, you're too funny."

"Thanks Adam!"

Lucifer scowled. "I'm funny!"

"Funny looking maybe."

Charlie giggled at that and earned a glare from her dad. "Sorry."

"Look here mister sassy pants." Lucifer went up and walked behind Adam and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Don't forget you're in my house, at my mercy."

Adam wasn't scared, by now he knew that Lucifer was all bark and no bite. "Oooou I'm so scared. I've been here, what? Maybe two hours? And the most you've done is touch my shoulder."

Lucifer, smirkes as he ran his hands up Adams neck to his hair, the soft brown locks tangled in his fingers before going back. He didn't miss the flinch. "Wait, are you ticklish?" Oh this was rich.

Adam scoffed. "No! Don't be dumb. Hey! Sto- HAHAHA!!"

"Awww." Charlie thought the moment was rather cute.

Lucifer chuckled. "Who's not funny now?"

"AHAHHA! NO- STILL NOT YOU! HAHAHHHHAH!" Adam laughed loudly, he was laughing so hard he was crying.

"Charlie get the camera!" Lucifer wanted to record this. Add to his collection.

"Charlie no! HAHA!"

"Charlie yes!"

Charlie grabbed the camera. "Got it!"

"STAHP!!! HAHAHA!! NO FAAAAIR HAHAHA!!"

Lucifer grinned even wider. "Evil is never fair dear." He moved to tickle Adams ribs.

The brunette howled with laughter. "NOO!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!" Adam tried to wiggle away from the devilish fingers tickling him. He did manage to free his right hand at some point.

Lucifer was elated, never has Adam been so much at his mercy. "HAHA! Now I’m-"

"Ah ha!" Adam reached back to touch one of Lucifer's wings.

Lucifer was stunned. "How’d you-!" He couldn't dwell on it long cause Adam's hand brushed his wing. "DON'T TOUCH-" He couldn't help the cooing sound that left his mouth. He was fucking mortified.

It was Adams turn to be stunned. "What. The fuck. Was that?"

Lucifer turned red, he was glad Adam couldn't see his face. "YOU HEARD NOTHING!!"

Adam giggled, not believing what he heard. "Awww, the big, evil, strong Devil, coos like a fucking bird!? HA!" Adam laughed a little more. "That's rich."

Lucifer would take any victory no matter how small. "Ha! You said I'm evil and strong I have that shit recorded!"

Adam thought if he rolled his eyes anymore they'd fall out if hus damn head. "Whatever man, do it again. These are actually real?" He made a move to touch them again, only for Lucifer to step out of reach.

"Yes they are real! Don't touch. Charlie be a dear and get the handcuffs the rope seems faulty."

"Don't be a baby! Can I get a bottle of water I think I cried all my fluids out." Adam asked her nicely and the girl couldn't help but comply.

"Sure Adam!"

Lucifer slapped himself on the forehead. "Charlie......" Sometimes she was a little too nice.

"Thank you, Charlie." Adam said sweetly.

Lucifer growled. "Handcuffs first!"

"You can’t keep kidnapping me if I die out of thirst right?"

"Meh."

Wow, real nice Adam thought bitterly. Charlie pranced over to them. "Here Adam! And here are the handcuffs dad!"

Adam drank the cool water as Lucifer waited impatiently so he could cuff his hands behind his back. When he was done Adam felt Lucifer click the cuffs on him, he swore it was just his imagination when he felt a clawed hand linger near his.

The sound of a timer beeping broke the moment. "OH! IT’S TIME! IT’S TIME SWEETIE!" Lucifer cheered, he was sure today was going to be the day he bested The General!

"You're such a nerd." Adam commented. Lucifer came over and placed a rag in his mouth. "Mmph!"

"Shhh." Lucifer ran a finger along Adams jawline and stopped at his chin. Adam's honey brown eyes narrowed and he spat out the rag, it hit Lucifer in the face. "Really?"

"Boo. Yes, really."

The General gasped when he saw Adam on the holographic screen. "Adam! Don't worry I'll save you from that evil monster."

Adam merely blinked, used to this. "Not in danger big guy." Lucifer and Michael bantered back and forth until Michael flew for where they were only for it to be empty. Adam braced for impact only to be confused when nothing happened. "Huh?"

Lucifer chuckled and pushed a button opening the wall. "You didn't think you were in the real observatory did you, Adam?"

Well this was a first. "Well shit."

Lucifer grinned he felt so triumphant. "OH SHIT INDEED! Get the death ray ready Charlie!"

"Death ray, readying!" She pushes a button, the death ray up in space got ready.

Lucifer projected himaelf from a hologram in the real observatory. "Over here old friend ~ In case you haven’t noticed, you fell right to my trap!"

"You can't trap justice! It's an idea, a belief, a-"

"Boring! Ugh, you're boring. And now you die! Right...... now!" Everyone blinked when nothing happened. "Charlie dear, shoot him."

"Yes dad just as soon as it's done charging."

Lucifer could not fucking believe this. "Charlie! I told you to have shit ready to go, I've told you countless times."

"Oh look your plan is failing." Adam mocked with a smirk.

"Quiet sassy!"

"Is that my contact in your phone? Sassy?"

"Maybe if you gave me your number."

"As if."

Lucifer sighed, well this was a bust. "This plan really shit the bed. Chao all!" He started to leave.

"Same time next Thursday?" Adam asked half sarcastic. Charlie came over to untie Adam.

"Titty sprinkles!"

Everyone paused. "Did he just say titty sprinkles?" Charlie asked.

Lucifer came back over. "What the fuck?"

Michael hit the walls but couldn't break them. "Fish crackers! I’M TRAPPED!"

"Oh lord. Did you hit your head while getting here or some shit? What kind of tricks are you playing?" Lucifer would nor fall for any hero tricks.

"You devilish maniac! Your dark powers finally paid off!"

"It has?" What the fuck was he playing at!?

Michael laid on the ground. "This dome- Is obviously covered with steel!"

"Yeah so?"

"Umm, dad?" Charlie pointed to the ray that was about to shoot.

"Steel.. It drains my powers..!"

"Your weakness… Is steel? Seriously?" This was hard to believe for Lucifer. The death ray went off and the real observatory blew up, the explosion shook the ground and Lucifer was hit by a flying object which turned out to be Michaels skeleton. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

Adam couldn't believe what he was seeing, The General couldn't be dead. "Oh my god....."

Charlie came over to stand by her dad. "You....... You did it dad."

Lucifer almost didn't register the words. "I did it..... HOLY SHIT I DID IT!! THE PENTAGRAM CITY IS MINE!!" He cheered and jumped for joy. After all these years!

Adam's jaw dropped. "What the fuck just happened......."

Lucifer turned to face Adam and smirked, he walked over to him feeling ten feet tall. "THAT my dear Adam," he grabbed his chin and tilted his head up to lock eyes with him. "Is victory." He grinned wider, for the first time Adam actually looked genuinely worried.

Okay I would be pretty scared if I saw this at night, Adam thought as Lucifer's demonic glowing red and yellow eyes bore into his own sending a shiver down his spine. "W-what are you gonna do now?"

"NOT SO COCKY NOW, ARE WE?! HAHA! Oh are you scared now? Don't worry, I won't hurt you Adam." His hold on Adams chin was firm, his grin never leaving. Adam flicked his gaze away, Lucifer's eyes were too intense. "Awww are you shaking?" Was he? Adam hadn't noticed, he was too afraid.

Good, maybe now Adam would take him and his villianly seriously. "Charlie, be a dear and take Adam home. We have much planning to do."

"Yes dad." Charlie untied Adam and blind folded him and guided him out. He was so numb he didn't fight her.

It didn't take long before he was dragged to the front of his apartment building. Charlie removed the blind fold. "Sorry, we’re just so happy, can you blame us?"

Adam looked at her, still numb. "I..... Can't."

Charlie stood there little awkwardly. "So uh, see ya. Or we won’t, and also we won’t be here to kidnap you this Thursday as I guess." Adam didn't answer her. "Oh and dad made this for you. For your help all these years. We saved it for our winning day." She gave him a rubber duck, it looked like him. Charlie got back in the car and left Adam all alone.

"Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me." As he looked at the rubber duck.

What fresh Hell awaited him and the rest of the city?

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #guitarduck #adam x lucifer #Megamind Au

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undertheopensky · 11 months

Text

We Are But Children 3

Whumptober Day 21: Restraints

Characters: Time, Legend, lil bit of Hyrule and Warriors

Trigger warnings: Violence to a child, mild body horror, minor character death, don’t worry it’s no one you care about, I was going to say it’s not graphic but SOMEONE had other ideas

Read on Ao3!

Late to the party? Read Part 1 and Part 2!

-----

Blinking, the newly-babyfied Time glances around. “Well this is inconvenient.”

Everyone’s tense, almost too afraid to breathe. Four had panicked and cried; Legend had panicked and grabbed a weapon. No one wants to know what Time will do - or accidentally scare him into doing it.

It’s Wars who approaches him. Calm, and smiling, and visibly praying he’ll be recognised. “Hey, bud. Nothing fazes you, huh?”

“Why would it? I’m used to portals and weird wizzrobes at this point.” Baby!Time squints at his own hands. “I admit it’s been a while, though.”

“Okay,” says Warriors. “What’s the last thing you remember, Mask?”

Baby-fine hairs glimmer in the firelight as the child raises one eyebrow. “Been a long time since you’ve called me that, Wars.”

Warriors’ face screws up, losing the steady gentleness that was making Legend’s hair stand on end. “What?”

“I’m fine, Wars, I didn’t lose anything. Weird wizzrobe, not the first time, I’m going to be very short for the next three days.” Adult!Time’s amusement at their bafflement looks creepy as fuck on Baby!Time’s face.

“Wait,” Legend demands, “why the hell does he get to retain his memories while I spent three days embarrassing myself?”

“I am the Hero of Time, you know,” says Baby!Time, with unbearable smugness for such a tiny child.

Legend makes an outraged noise. “Excuse you, I have definitely fucked around enough with the Harp of Ages to –”

Exactly what he was going to say is drowned out by Warriors squawking “LANGUAGE!” and clapping his hands over Baby!Time’s ears.

“He is thirty –”

“Ah-t-t-t! I don’t care! He is like seven and you will watch your language!”

Legend fumes silently but has to drop the argument.

Baby!Time wrestles Warriors’ hands away from his head. “I dunno why you bother, I already learned all the good curses from the soldiers.”

“I’m trying not to make that problem any worse, thank you.” Still, Warriors lets him go. “Now - you sure you’re okay? You’re not sore, or dizzy? You still remember everyone?”

“It’s strange.” Time spreads his arms like a bird. “I still have all my adult memories, and sensations, but they’re less… relevant, somehow. Not as close to the surface.” He takes a few steps, without so much as a wobble. “I don’t feel off balance, or anything.”

“That’s interesting, actually,” says Hyrule, wide-eyed. “When people go through growth spurts they’re often really clumsy until they get used to their new height or reach – I would have thought it would happen in reverse, too.”

Baby!Time nods thoughtfully. “It’s not, though. Maybe all the adult stuff is being held down by the magic too?”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Sky observes.

Baby!Time shrugs. “I did say I’m used to it.”

“I’m not,” says Warriors. He keeps rubbing at his eyes like they’re bothering him. “My brain is not coping with Baby!Time.”

“You could just go back to calling me Mask.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I mean, if it makes you feel better,” Baby!Time says. “A nickname’s a nickname. You all call me ‘old man’ half the time, anyway.”

“Ohhhh, that’s so weird,” Twilight mutters, looking vaguely horrified.

Legend snorts. “All in favour of calling him ‘Mask’ for the next three days?”

“Aye,” comes the chorus.

“Well if that’s settled, can we maybe make a plan on what to do next?” asks Wild. “Because I definitely saw some of the moblins making a run for it while we were distracted with the wizzrobe.”

“Can’t leave those running around,” Wars agrees with a sigh. “Twi, see if you can fetch Wolfie, we’ll need him for tracking - wait, fuck. Mask. Twilight can you introduce Mask to Wolfie while you’re at it? I know he’s great but he’s a wild animal and I do not want any mistakes.”

“Sure thing,” says Twilight, with an impressive lack of inflection. “C’mon, kiddo.”

Baby!Time - Mask - shrugs, and runs after him.

They don’t catch up with the monsters that day, despite Wolfie’s best efforts, and make camp deep in the woods when they lose the light. Wolfie could have kept leading them - he’s not following visible sign, after all - but no one wants to wander blindly into an ambush.

In the morning, Legend rouses to the not-unfamiliar dulcet tones of Warriors cursing. “Why are you allowed to swear and I’m not?” he says.

Warriors makes a strangled noise of surprise. Legend grins, still without opening his eyes. “Because until three seconds ago I thought I was the only one awake!” he hisses. “Goddess above, Ledge!”

“Not my fault you have shitty situational awareness,” says Legend, and sits up. “What’re you swearing at?”

Warriors gestures angrily with the flopping leather in his hand. “My boots don’t fit!”

“They can’t possibly have shrunk overnight, and I doubt your feet have swelled that much, they’re not your head.” Still, Legend leans over to take a look. They… definitely look too small. And too short, actually. Wars has fully fitted calf-length boots with buckles for plates to be strapped on; these would barely cover his ankles even if they were the right size. What the hell?

While they puzzle over this the rest of the camp has started to wake up. Twilight - always up with the sun - is gently shaking Wild, while the champion mumbles a constant litany of ‘five more minutes’. Sky is yawning and stretching. Hyrule, last on watch, is packing away all his gear and making sure Sky doesn’t fall asleep again.

“What are you guys doing?”

They both look up. Wind’s standing over them, trying to look stern and managing something closer to ‘delightedly baffled’. “Where’d you get those shoes, Wars? Why? They’re never gonna fit you! Do you have a kid we don’t know about?”

“What?! No!” Warriors makes a garbled noise, caught between embarrassment and indignance. “Why would you even -? No, they’re not mine! I don’t even know where they came from!”

Wind huffs. “Then whose are they?”

“I suspect they’re mine,” says Four, stumping over in boots that are clearly about six sizes too large.

“How the fuck did that happen?” says Wars. They’d been sleeping on opposite sides of camp, for Nayru’s sake. There’s no way their boots could have gotten mixed up in the dark.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, just gimme my shoes.” Four kicks off Wars’s boots and grabs his own, sitting down to put them on properly and adding, “You better not have split any of the stitching with your massive clodhoppers.”

“I stopped trying when I couldn’t even get my toes in!”

The bickering would probably have gone on a lot longer if Hyrule hadn’t started making anxious noises about getting a move on. It’s not safe to stay in one place for too long in this area, he tells them. And he is the expert, so they get a move on. Wild hands out rice balls. It’s not the first time they’ve had breakfast on the go.

It sends a bit of a jolt down Legend’s spine, every time he glances up the line of heroes and doesn’t see Time’s broad frame near the front. It’s disconcerting.

Mask doesn’t have the same movement patterns, either. Besides the obvious, not being Time, he also doesn’t lead the pack. He follows at Warriors’ heels, or sticks close behind Twilight, or walks so near to Hyrule it’s a miracle he doesn’t get stepped on.

Then Sky turns around to ask Wind a question, spots Mask, and nearly trips over himself with a shriek.

The whole party stumbles to a halt.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew I was there!” Mask says, while Sky frantically tries to apologise for almost stepping on him. “I’ll be more careful, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, it keeps happening.

Legend wonders about that. Mask had said his adult memories were less relevant, somehow. Does he feel more vulnerable, as a child? Like he needs to be closer to the adults to be safe?

Whatever the case, it’s fucking annoying. Four startles badly whenever Mask’s shadow falls on him – towered over by even the literal child. Warriors jumps about a foot in the air when the wind briefly tangles his scarf around Mask and he feels it tug. Wind offers to give him a piggyback ride, since that’s clearly what he wants if he’s standing so close, which lasts a hilarious but short five minutes before Wind admits defeat. Mask is small, but there’s a lot of muscle under his tunic.

Finally, after Wild does an awkward somersault to keep from landing on the boy, Twilight comes up and plops him on Epona instead. Mask seems happy enough with this arrangement. Legend just breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to worry about the kid stepping on his shoes anymore.

They make good enough time that by evening, they don’t need Wolfie dropping in and out to keep them on the right track; the trail left by the fleeing monsters is enough for any Hylian eye to follow. At this point, though, they’re even more suspicious of an ambush.

“Everyone okay with stopping for the night?” Warriors calls, as the sky fades to duller shades of orange.

“I’m hardly going to complain,” Sky says, slumping almost on the spot. He’s nearly grey under the flush of exertion. Their pace has been a little much for him, though he hasn’t said a word of complaint. Legend marks that, and hopes they catch up tomorrow.

Wind also collapses more or less where he stands, and starts pulling his boots off. “I hate walking,” he complains, not for the first time. Unlike Sky, he will gleefully inform the world at large of every small discomfort. “Give me a boat any day. Ugh! I have blisters!”

“Were you wearing socks?”

“No! They’re itchy!”

“For the love of Nayru, sailor…”

While Wars patches him up and scolds him over foot care, the rest of them set up camp. “No fire tonight,” Wild tells them, “smoke’s too much of a risk.”

Legend makes a face - cold dinner tonight - but no one argues. It’s at least not cold cold out here. Their bedrolls will be warm enough without the need for a fire to keep from freezing to death.

As Twilight hauls his bedroll down from Epona, he staggers a bit under its weight. And it’s bulky, for sure, but not heavy, not to someone who slings goats around for a living. He must be tired from running back and forth all day long. Legend keeps an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t collapse or something, but Twilight’s just frowning as he lays out the thick padding, struggling with it more than usual. Then, he flips open the top layer.

His bedroll is full of rocks.

Twilight stares. So does everyone else. “What the hell?”

It’s not easy to read Adult!Time - he nearly always looks placidly amused.

Mask’s poker face isn’t nearly as good. Despite having all Time’s control and experience, the softness of his face gives him away. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his lips go tight trying not to smile.

Twilight spots it immediately. His eyes narrow. As he turns to flee, Mask starts laughing, which both gives him away and makes escaping impossible. Twilight catches him with ease.

“You little gremlin!” Twilight shouts over Mask’s laughter. He shakes him, gently, where he’s dangling him upside down by his ankles.

Mask seems unconcerned by this. He’s still laughing, gleeful and unrepentant in the face of Twilight’s brotherly wrath. “Your face! That was the best, I’m so glad I didn’t do it to Wars he’s so boring about people messing with his bed -”

“What gets me to sleep faster, freaking out about it or fixing the problem?” says Warriors, without looking up.

“See?” Mask complains, giggling as Twilight shakes him again.

“You little gremlin,” Twilight repeats. “I can’t believe you. Come on, then, you’re helping me get all the rocks out.” He flips Mask the right way up and scrubs a rough but friendly hand through his hair.

“‘Kay,” says Mask cheerfully.

It’s not a difficult task - all they really need to do is upend the bedroll and shake it out. Mask hadn’t used any stones smaller than a thumbnail so there was no worry about things getting caught in the corners, and they were all too smooth to damage the fabric. The bedroll is clean and ready to go in less than five minutes. Twilight sighs in relief. “Alright, menace, I’ll let you off the hook - but don’t do it again, y’hear?”

Mask blows a raspberry at him. “It’s no fun doing the same thing twice!”

Then he runs off, jumping on an unsuspecting Wind with a war cry.

Ignoring the wrestling match that breaks out, Twilight asks, “Was he always such a hellion?”

“I think he was actually worse,” says Wars.

-----

This time Legend comes to with a massive fucking headache. Also, the floor is moving, which he does not appreciate at all. It’s making his stomach feel so much worse. He groans in protest, and hears an answering groan from nearby. Fuck, that means he needs to wake up more and be functional.

What had happened? The expected ambush hadn’t been challenging. The moblins were black-blooded, yes, and smart enough to set up shop in the least defensible spot in the region so the Chain had no cover when they attacked, and wound up split off into smaller groups. But between his ice rod and Hyrule’s Thunder spell they’d cleared out the moblins, and the out-of-time lizalfos that showed up to investigate, and he, Hyrule, and Mask had been headed for the last place they’d seen the others when -

Nothing.

So something probably happened in that nothing.

Goddess, his head hurts.

Thinking about it isn’t getting him anywhere, so Legend braces himself to crack open his eyes.

Fortunately, it’s dark, so his head doesn’t do more than thump briefly about the new stimulus before settling down to sulk. Hyrule is the first thing his eyes catch on.

Even in the dark it looks bad. He’s an awkward tangle of limbs in unconsciousness, blood all through his hair and tunic torn over an untreated wound, stirring vaguely when Legend calls his name. Through the gloom, Legend can tell his eyes aren’t quite in focus. Damn. “C’mon, Rulie,” he coaxes, “talk to me.”

Hyrule groans again. “M’head…”

Yeah, that’s fair. Legend looks again at the blood, reminds himself that Hyrule’s at least mostly conscious, and tries to shake off the nausea. Though maybe that’s from the rocking floor. Hopefully Mask at least had gotten away -

“What hit me?” Mask grumbles from behind him, and there goes that hope.

“Fuck this shit,” Legend says, or slurs, rather, and fuck, Rulie’s not the only one with a concussion. No wonder his head is killing him. He tries to roll over - and realises his hands are trapped behind his back, hard-cold-biting-edges pinning his wrists together. His blood goes to ice.

The darkness – the moving floor – the restraints –

It all adds up to captured.

Hyrule’s in the middle of the same realisation – foggy eyes going wide with panic. He thrashes, fighting whatever has his arms pinned, booted feet thumping against the wooden wall.

It’s instinct to lunge forward. Legend discovers too late that his manacles are actually hooked to something, brought up short by the yank in his shoulders. He curses instead, and tries to calm him with words alone. “Easy, easy Rulie, it’ll be okay, we’ll get out of this -”

Hyrule kicks the wall again.

“Please Rulie you’ll hurt yourself -”

The floor jolts to a stop.

Hyrule gasps. Legend’s stomach lurches – partly from the rolling motion ceasing, partly from anxiety at whatever was about to happen. The manacles dig in painfully as he leans back on his arms to roll into a sit. (And ignores the way his vision goes white, then black, then slow, spotty grey, as the pain crests and fades back.)

Footsteps, muffled; crunching on gravel, coming around to the door of the carriage. There’s a long moment of rattling metal. Keys in a lock. Then the door swings wide.

Legend doesn’t let the blinding, nauseating light stop him from barking, “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?”

Shackled to a wall, concussed and listing, he doesn’t make for a very threatening picture. He only gets laughter in response.

“Whad’you even want with us?” he demands, all too aware of the two behind him. Just as trapped, just as helpless. He’s the oldest, here, the veteran hero; it’s up to him to find a way out.

The bandit grins at him, silhouetted in the doorway.

“Knew we’d get a good haul outta you, didn’t we? At first we was just gonna take your magic stuff. One good quality fire rod can go for thousands to the right buyer. Then we saw ya throwin’ lightnin’ around, an’ realised - just how much more would we get, for real live magical creatures? Ones pretendin’ t’be Hylian, walkin’ among civilised folks? We ain’t dealt in live cargo in a while, but we still got the stuff for it.”

Legend’s only half-listening. As he adjusts to the glare outside he’s scanning and assessing, and does not like what he sees.

A least eight people visible, all in the same sort of hard wearing, mismatched clothing. More surrounding the cart; he can hear muttering and laughter from out of view. Everyone’s hard-eyed and alert, and everyone’s armed. Not with the usual rusty shit bandits tend to scrounge up, either. There’s quality steel on some of those backs. Not good.

“You should let Mask go, then,” Legend argues. “He’s just a kid - he’s got no talent for magic.”

The bandit snorts. “Anyone who can keep up with things like you two’ll be worth somethin’. And those marks? If ‘e ain’t fae-touched, then I’m a chuchu.

“We’ve got a long ways to go yet, so just sit back an’ enjoy the ride. An’ quit kickin’ the walls – ain’t no one out here to hear you, an’ I don’t want you damagin’ the merchandise.”

With one last black grin, the door to the carriage slams closed.

“Well that sounds like bullshit.” Mask sits up, and Legend sees that he’d been bound in rope rather than iron. He hopes, vaguely, that that means these fuckers don’t usually capture children-sized people, and so had to improvise. Whatever the case, it meant a flexible, squirmy child was able to wriggle free, before the carriage even lurches back into motion. “Obviously we’re not gonna stick around here, so what’s the plan?”

“I want my shit back,” says Legend, doing his best not to slur the words. “An’ I’d rather not go through the black market for it.”

“We probably shouldn’t leave these guys to steal things and sell people, either.” Mask makes a face. “No offence, though, you two look like shit. You’re in no condition for a fight.”

Legend growls, but can’t really argue. His headache has not been improved by the rising stress of the situation. If he tried to stand up right now, he’d probably fall, and maybe pass out into the bargain. Hyrule has blood running down his face from the blow that knocked him out, and Legend suspects his successor feels even worse than he does right now. The kid’s barely even following the conversation. “So, what? Think you can jump out of here and find the others in time? Don’t even know where we are.”

“Nah, I’ve got a better idea.” Mask frowns, then, chewing his lip in a way that Warriors would definitely have scolded him for, before saying, “Don’t freak out, okay? Wars always does, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“That is the most concerning thing you could possibly have said,” says Legend, but no one can reach to stop him as he shoves a hand down his own tunic to reveal –

A carved wooden mask.

That’s hardly surprising - Adult!Time has quite the collection, after all. Though why Baby!Time had opted to stash one in his tunic is anyone’s guess. It’s also not one Legend’s seen before. Shaggy white hair, the angles of a Hylian face marked with bright colour, and dark voids where the eyes should be.

A chill runs over him. “Mask - what is that thing?”

Mask hesitates. “Don’t freak out,” he repeats, lifting the wood to his face.

“Mask stop!”

Too late. Mask curls in on himself and keens, high and strangled. There’s a crunching sound like bones underfoot, the squelch of raw meat tearing.

Legend’s shouting. Hyrule’s struggling against the shackles to come and help. But they can’t reach him. Mask is alone, as the sickening noises stop, and his stifled cries go quiet.

“Mask?” Legend calls, suddenly and terribly afraid. “Time?”

Slowly, he turns, and Legend tries not to be visibly alarmed. He’s – too tall to be Mask, and too short to be Adult!Time; he looks Legend’s age, despite the shock white hair. But it’s not that, or the hair, or even the newly-mirrored markings on his face that make his stomach turn. It’s the eyes – pure white, and strangely reflective, like polished porcelain.

They’re empty.

The – being – Legend’s not confident calling them ‘Time’ anymore – glances around the carriage as if taking it in. Their head tilts. Considering. Then, they put one hand over their shoulder to grasp at the air like they’re grasping for a sword. And suddenly there is a sword, nearly as long as he is tall, with two blades intertwined in a strange spiral pattern.

Legend breaks out in a cold sweat.

Fortunately, the being’s not even looking at him. All the intensity of their focus is on the door, contemplating it like a complex dungeon puzzle. Legend’s almost too afraid to breathe, lest it draw the looming mountain of their attention.

Their other hand goes up to the hilt, and they draw.

Legend can’t help it - he scrabbles back, feet slipping on the cool wood. The being doesn’t so much as glance his way. They lift the blade, studying its smooth curves, with no sign of the effort it should take to lift its bulk, and their head tilts again.

Then the sword flashes, and wood explodes outward.

Bandits scream in surprise. Legend can’t see; between the blinding light and the splintered remains of the door his view’s restricted to a sliver, but the being is no longer in the carriage with them and there’s all the sounds of a fight outside. He curses and struggles with his manacles again. Legend hates feeling useless, but here and now, all he can do is listen to the screech of metal on metal, the shouts and curses of the gang, and strange, wet-sounding thumps as heavy things hit the ground and don’t get back up.

Something strikes the cart with enough force to set it rocking. It’s followed by the distinctive sound of a blade thrust into flesh, a boot sucking free of deep mud. Hyrule jolts at the noise, and squints across the wagon at Legend to check him for injury. Legend would laugh if he wasn’t wound so tight.

Eventually, things go quiet, except for the nervous stomping of the carthorse. Legend’s heart is thundering in his ears. He feels like he was the one fighting, the way his breath comes in short, trembling huffs. And with the shouting gone there’s no way to tell what’s happening -

There’s a noise of irritation. Then there’s a crunch, and what’s left of the door wrenches free, letting sunlight stream in unimpeded. Legend squints, but doesn’t turn away. (Hyrule does, burying his face in the floor. Kid must have one hell of a headache.)

The being with Time’s face appears. They are, not unexpectedly, doused in blood. More unexpectedly, the flat expression has relaxed into something not quite like a smile.

It is not reassuring.

The being hauls themselves up into the wagon. Hyrule grunts at the vibration of their boots hitting the floor - now that Legend’s looking, they’re wearing half armour, plates over the chest and legs and heavy armoured boots, completely unlike the child’s tunic Mask had changed into.

“Time?” he tests, deliberately rocking up onto his knees.

As planned, the being’s eyes shift from Hyrule to his movement. “I am not the Hero of Time.” Their head tilts, identical to the way they’d looked at the door, seconds before it turned to matchsticks. Somehow, though, Legend’s not afraid. The sense of constrained energy that had set his teeth on edge just… isn’t there, anymore. “You are bound. I will release you.”

Using the massive sword as a cutting tool seems like overkill, but it gets the job done. There’s a shriek and a crack, and some of the pressure on Legend’s hands releases. When he pulls them around, the band of metal holding the manacles together is cut through.

“If you’re not Time, or - Mask, then - where is he? He better be okay.” The last part comes out forlorn instead of aggressive, which pisses him off.

“The Hero of Time is asleep, young one,” the being tells him. Hyrule’s restraints get the same treatment, letting the dazed hero sit up properly without the chains caught up around their mooring pole. “He will not wake until my task is done.”

“And what is your task, exactly?” Legend moves to check on Hyrule - he’s been way too quiet, even after riding out a panic attack.

“To fight until the fighting is done. That is always my task: to fight the battles the Hero of Time cannot win.”

“Wait, so if he’s had you in reserve this whole time, why hasn’t he ever used you before now?”

The thing wearing Time’s face smiles, slow and cruel.

“He knows better than to call on me for such paltry matters. The cost would be far too high.”

Legend’s heart freezes. “Cost?”

“I am a god of war. And war always takes its price. Where it gets it is of no concern.”

“What kind of cost? If you’ve hurt him -”

“The Hero of Time has always been very aware of the price some things demand. For that reason alone, he would have been one of my favoured.” The being sighs, still smiling that terrifying smile. “But… my work is done, and the penance is paid. Farewell for now, heroes.” They lift one hand to their familiar-alien face.

The change back is quicker, somehow. A rush of air and magic power draining away, and suddenly it’s Mask’s hands holding the carved wooden face, smiling up at Legend. He looks tired, but not wrecked, as Legend had feared when he’d heard the enchantment boiling to life through his bones. “So, was he nice to you? He better have been. I yelled at him the last time he scared Wars.”

“I don’t think ‘nice’ is the right word to use,” says Legend, still a little stunned.

Mask groans. “Did he at least solve our bandit problem?” He hops back out of the wagon to check. Legend, after taking a moment to collect the still-unsteady Hyrule, follows.

Outside is sheer carnage. It’s less ‘bodies’ than ‘pieces’, and Legend has to look away and swallow hard. He’s not used to this kind of aftermath - doesn’t usually fight people, just manifestations of hatred that can’t hold corporeal form once killed.

There’s so much blood.

Mask ignores it with an ease that Legend’s going to find upsetting later. He leads them around to the front of the cart, where the carnage is less; the bandits had all rushed to the main source of the fight, not hung around waiting for it to come to them. The bay mare hooked up to the wagon snorts at them, eyes and nostrils wide.

“He left the horse alive,” Legend says blankly. He’d heard it, even after the sounds of battle faded, but somehow hadn’t quite conceptualised it.

“Well sure. It’s not her fault she was owned by assholes.” Mask steadies the mare with a few gentle words and a firm hand on the bridle. “Besides - she can carry us a lot further and a lot faster than we can go on foot. Now c’mon, help me search this thing for our bags, ‘cause if they dumped them somewhere it’s gonna make our lives so much harder.”

Legend does in fact find their packs, in a poorly-hidden compartment under the driver’s bench. Which is great, because now he doesn’t have to go hunting his gear down. It’s even better because there’s still half a red potion in here somewhere with Hyrule’s name on it.

Hyrule’s eyes clear as the potion does its work, though there’s still a visible knot above his ear. “Legend, what - you okay?”

“He’s fine, I’m fine, we’re all fine except the bad guys,” Mask interrupts. “More importantly: how are we gonna get back to the others?”

“I say we head back the way we came and make a decision when there’s a split in the road,” says Legend. He really just wants to be done with this day. Sleep sounds fantastic right now, so it’s a pity he’s got long hours piecing together the bandits’ route ahead of him. He hates backtracking. Backtracking on other people’s bullshit is even worse.

The horse doesn’t care about backtracking; the horse is all too eager to leave the blood-soaked stretch of road behind them, once they get her turned around. In hindsight, Legend’s really glad she didn’t take off when people started dying loudly and messily nearby. He wouldn’t have blamed her, but he also doesn’t fancy being chained up in the back of a runaway cart.

Miracle of miracles, they’ve been on the road less than half an hour when they start seeing flashes of colour through the trees. Hyrule squints. “Is that Four?”

“Aaand Wolfie,” says Mask with a sigh, as frantic barking becomes audible.

“Thank Nayru, Din and Farore,” says Four, flinging himself off Wolfie when the canine skids to a halt. “We were so worried, are you all alright, are those manacles - fuck, Ledge, you’re bleeding -”

“What, still?” says Legend blankly, touching fingers to scalp.

Wolfie glances up from where he’d been sniffing noses with the carthorse and gives a disapproving ‘boof’.

“Shut up, there was more important shit to deal with,” Legend tells him.

Four makes short work of the manacles - someday Legend’s going to ask just how he manages to keep a mini-forge on his person at all times - and he’s just pulling off the last one when the rest of the group comes jogging up.

“Goddesses, Mask, what happened?!” Wild exclaims. “You’ve got -” he gestures to his face - “all over!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he does that when I’m little.” Mask runs an absent-minded finger over one blood-marked cheek. “The markings are protective. In places where they’re known, bad guys won’t risk touching me. Even Ghirahim thought twice, and he was a grade-A creeper. Sorry, Sky.”

“Why are you apologising, you’re right,” Sky protests. “Also what’s this about you dealing with Ghirahim, oh my god-”

Honestly, Legend hadn’t even noticed that when the being faded away to leave Mask in their place, the facial markings had stayed, instead of the half-version he was used to seeing on Time. He touches his head again with a frown.

“Legend needs a potion!” Hyrule calls.

“Hyrule needs another one!” Legend shoots back.

Warriors rolls his eyes and hands them both a bottle. “Things must have been pretty dire if he had to use the Fierce Deity, and to be honest you both look like hell.”

“Fuck you too,” Legend grumbles. In truth, the potion is working wonders on the stabbing pain behind his eyes. He hadn’t even realised how sore his neck and back were until it all starts to fade, leaving him wrung-out and tired. It’s almost worth the horrible bitter taste, not at all hidden by the wildberries Wild had tried adding.

While they were getting medic-ed the conversation had gone on without them, which means Legend is treated to the hilarious and context-free picture of ten-year-old Mask being toted around on Sky’s hip like a four-year-old. Mask is clearly resigned to this, if not exactly pleased.

He’s even less pleased when Warriors starts questioning him. “So what’s this I hear about letting Fierce Deity out to play without a minder?”

“Oh come on, he’s fine!”

Legend thinks back to waiting chained up in near-darkness, wet gurgles and the choked cries of the dying outside with no way to know if they would be next, and has to hold back a shudder.

-----

Inspired by this amazing piece of art!

#whumptober 2023 #linked universe #lu time #lu mask #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu warriors #just a bit #skies writes #as usual not supposed to get this long #i stg NO ONE wanted to shut up #this took FOREVER.#i am not entirely happy with this but i also very much am sick of looking at it #day 22 my beloved here we come!

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his-saiko · 2 years

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If it’s not us in the end, I’ll stop myself from loving again. If it’s not us in the end, should I stop myself from loving you?

timeskip!characters [Bokuto, Ushijima, Oikawa, Tsukishima]

inspired by @quirrrky's post

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

“Kou, I don’t think I can do this anymore…” You confessed to him with your head hung low tears threatening to fall. You wiped your eyes but that didn’t stop them in the slightest.

You felt his huge arms envelop you. You heard him sniff and felt him trembling. His usual cheery self is not here for this moment. He tightened his hug and buried his face on your shoulder, drenching it with his own tears. “It-It’s okay…” he stammered as he said your name. “I… I understand.” He sincerely said.

You hugged Bokuto for the last time. “I’m sorry, Kou.” You cried.

“No, no.” Bokuto broke off from the hug and wiped your tears. “I should be saying that.” He chuckled through his tears. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded. “I’ll still watch your games.”

He smiled. “Sure.” You both gave each other a hug one last time before parting ways.

You focused on yourself for a while. The first time you saw each other again is during a game with MSBY against the Adlers. You noticed how he matured, how he was different from the last time you saw each other.

Bokuto saw a glimpse of you after the game. He was about to call you to celebrate the win with you when he saw you with someone else. His shoulders dropped but he still couldn’t help but smile when he saw your smile, your laugh. It was something he always loved about you and it still is.

“Bokuto-san?” Hinata called out to his teammate. He peeked around only to see Bokuto crying while keeping a smile on his face.

“At least, they're happy now, right?” Bokuto asked. “ But I wish it was still me making them smile like that.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

You asked Ushijima to talk after their practice. You walked to a spot where you both can have privacy. “Toshi… I don’t think we’re gonna work out.”

Ushijima hummed. “Are you tired?”

You shook your head. “I’m just really unsure of everything.” You bit your lip. “I know this isn’t something you wanted to deal with. I also don’t want to hold you back.”

Ushijima was quiet as he reflected on your words. “I see…” He exhaled. “Is there something I could have done for you?”

You nervously chuckled and scratched your head. “To be honest, I kind of wish you spoke your mind more. I couldn’t really understand what you were thinking and I couldn’t help but feel insecure about it.”

Ushijima hummed. “I understand. It’s getting late. I should take you home.”

“Oh, okay.” The both of you walked beside each other in silence. You wished each other a good night before you went in your dorm. You dragged your feet to your bedroom and slowly took your place on your bed. The tears you thought you never gonna come made themselves known.

You wake up early out of habit and got ready for the day, you left your dorm and saw Ushijima by the entrance. You tilted your head at the curious sight, debating to yourself whether you should talk to him or not. “Toshi?”

Ushijima greeted you.

“Are you waiting for someone?” “Yes.” He nodded. “You.” “Did you… did need something?” “No. I came here to walk you to class.” “Oh, I see.”

Nothing much has changed between the two of you. He walks you to and from your dorms and calls you out if you forget something. Even giving you some of his food if you were still hungry after eating your lunch. The two of you stayed as good friends along with Tendou.

The three of you separated after high school and after years. Tendou called you to come to Paris in which you excitedly agreed to do so. You catch them doing a documentary. After that, you gave the two of them a hug. The three of you caught up with each other until your husband came to pick you up. You introduced your husband to them and said goodbye.

Ushijima watched you as you leave them. He could only sigh and hang his head low at the sight of you being happy with someone else and Tendou could only put his hand on Ushijima’s shoulder and comfort him.

OIKAWA TOORU

“Tooru, I really think we should break up.” You huffed your words laced with exhaustion. “What?! Why?!” He protested. “Tooru, I just can’t help but feel so lonely but I don’t want you to stop doing what you love.” “N-no. Babe, we can-we can work this out.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

You smiled gently and shook your head. “Tooru, I don’t want to stop you from playing volleyball. I know how much this means to you. I just…” - you shrugged - “want to prioritize me too.”

“We don’t need to break up over this! Look, I’ll-I’ll make this work out. I can- I can change my schedule-”

You laughed and let the tears fall down your head. “C'mon, Tooru… We both know that we’re both stubborn. I’m just more so than you…” Your voice croaked. “And I’m tired of being alone even with you. I love you… but you love volleyball a bit more than me. And I can’t compete with that.” You picked up your bags and left without looking back even when Oikawa tried to stop you.

He proceeded with his day like nothing happened but when alone he would always find himself on your profile to check on you. He would stay up late just so he could see your face and your smile. He drowned himself in practising volleyball until he became numb.

He finally broke down on his bed one night when he saw you marrying someone else.

TSUKISHIMA KEI

He didn’t know what to do. He looked into your eyes and understood how serious you were about separating for good. You said goodbye and walked away. He can only watch you go farther and farther away from him.

He wanted to chase you. He does. But… he respects you more than anything in this world. He just couldn’t bring himself to contradict your decision.

He loves you more than anything.

This is normal, right? For things to end? But why does it have to be you?

His teammates would notice the small changes in him after you left him and couldn’t do anything but give him space. He is harder on himself thinking that he wasn’t able to do enough for you. He could only replay in his head the arguments you had to understand where it all went wrong but even if he finds out, you’re already gone. It’s already too late.

He knew about misunderstandings. He anticipated the arguments. But he still lost you. What was the point of all this then? He was ready to lose for you but he was never ready to lose you. You both know the two of you were inexperienced with relationships but was everything so useless all along? Was he so useless all this time?

What was he supposed to do? To come so far only to lose you. What next?

If it’s not you… then what? If it’s not you… then it’s no one.

a/n: it really hurts when you have to sit with the pain of losing someone who's not meant for you

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