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ma1dita · 1 year ago

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said he likes crazy

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> anything you want | next -> play pretend words: 2.1k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's been avoiding you since your first kiss. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader a/n: SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS, BUT HE HATES WHEN I ACT CRAZY guys i didnt sleep for this pls tell me its ok (posted 1/29/24, beta’d by the lovely ellie @lixzey )

—

He’s been avoiding you.

To be specific, Luke’s been running away from you. Typical son of Hermes, and a typical teenage boy at that. But if anyone’s asked you what’s up (which, they all have, after almost 4 years of seeing you two not go a day without bickering), it’s just easier to say you’ve been busy.

Okay, so perhaps you’ve been avoiding him too.

Annabeth clocked you as soon as you turned tail after almost bumping into him after archery practice. Damn children of Athena; it’d be nice if they weren’t so perceptive sometimes.

“What did he do this time?” she pipes up, filling the silence of the Big House. It’s late now, and the cabin counselors’ meeting just ended.

“Seeing as you’re the one helping me with the paperwork tonight and not him, you can take a good guess, Annie,” you sigh.

Honestly though, who the fuck kisses someone senseless and then runs away? (Luke Castellan, that’s who.) You weren’t sure what to make of it. You’re a daughter of chaos, after all, not love. But if there’s anyone who can read your emotions better than yourself, it’s him.

Annabeth stares at her idiot brother through the window as he wanders in the grass outside the Big House.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s just…being Luke,” you say, blinking slowly as you shuffle through the last of the files you need to put on your dad’s desk before you mutter, “I’m just having a bad day.”

A noise of concern makes its way up Annabeth’s throat. You haven’t had a bad day in a while, in all honesty, not one that makes you act like this, admittedly not one that makes you act like you— the daughter of Dionysus, god of insanity, and not the daughter of Mr. D, camp director.

It was just a bad day until it turned into a bad week, and the voices in your head were starting to get loud without Luke distracting you. Because that’s what he ultimately is, a distraction from your camp duties.

There’s so much to do and so little time, however, that you hide away your microexpressions that seem to be clawing at you from the inside. The anger, the mania, the hurt. If you unleash it, only the gods can predict how much of camp would be affected by your ‘outbursts’, as your dad likes to call them. Not like you had a choice in the matter. Your days of wreaking havoc are behind you, now presenting yourself as the stellar star of the Camp Half-Blood show. It’s almost a one-woman production with you picking up after your father and trying to tame the traits he passed down.

Thanks for that, D.

So you give and you give and you give��all your attention and time and effort into keeping camp upright, into being the perfect daughter, that at the end of the day, you’ve drained yourself of who you are with who you try to be.

You look at your tired reflection in the window, before your eyebrow raises at the sight of Luke blending in with the shadows of the tree he’s leaning against. Idiot.

“Annie, would you mind…”

“Yeah, I’ll do cabin checks myself. Might drag your brother to do them with me,” she smiles, patting your arm before grabbing her bag.

“If he complains, let me know. Pollux has heard me bitch enough today.” The small girl raises an eyebrow at that, biting her tongue from responding. You chewed out a lot of people today, acting extra uptight and demanding of the counselors to “just do the right thing.” It was almost insufferable, but despite you trying to hold it in, your emotions bled into their own. Everyone was agitated by the end of the meeting, filing out quickly with biting words and hot tempers. You couldn’t help but notice Luke led them all out of there, and they also somehow got the feeling that he was to blame.

Smiling at Annabeth in thanks, you watch her walk out to Luke before punching him in the stomach as he grimaces, meeting your violet gaze through the window as he raises a hand. It’s hard to tell if it’s to signal a truce or his embarrassment, but he trudges the way up the path and the door creaks open.

“Heard you were having a bad day,” he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. You look at him from the corner of your eye as you continue to write down the weekly to-dos and organize papers for your dad to sign and send back to Zeus.

“Why are you still here, Castellan?”

“So we’re back to that? I thought…” his voice trails off at the sound of his last name, not Luke, not angelface, or anything in between, and both of you are unsure how to proceed. Neither of you have done this before, at least not with each other. You tilt your head to the side, daring him to speak, and it reminds him of a week ago, you bathed in sunlight when he leaned in and kissed you. Though if he did that right now, he’s not sure how you’d react.

“It’s just a bad day,” you whisper in defeat, lilac eyes wilting in front of him like an overwatered flower.

He realizes then that he cares for you more than he knows how to. And Luke knows what it means when you’re having a bad day.

There’s a deranged look in your eye, a subtle eye twitch and clench of your jaw that is almost insusceptible to the average demigod, but he knows you’re on edge, having taunted you mercilessly until you scream, cry, laugh, or all of the above. But most of all you look tired and in need of someone who knows how it feels to be underappreciated.

“D’s a great dad to the twins. But I just feel like… maybe he wasn’t meant to be mine,” you whisper, rolling your tongue against the front of your teeth to push back the sob a 14-year-old version of you would let out deep in the dark of cabin 11, having been there for months and knowing Dionysus was your father and waiting for him to see you. To know you.

“Giving me a hard time about all of this,” you say, hands gesturing to the things you have to prepare for him by morning. You’re overworked, underpaid, and definitely not appreciated— and Luke decides he hates your dad for what he puts you through, not just as a shitty camp director but as a shitty dad. He’s learned to live with the hurt—to use it to fuel his vengeance for how he plans to make the world better. But your ambition makes you change yourself constantly to try to be better. Both fatal flaws are fueled by the ignorance of your fathers. He knows the feeling all too well.

He knows you.

“What do you need?” he asks simply, stepping closer to your form hunched over the desk.

“I can do it, you know. D’s wrong about me,” you whisper, and the words come out sounding so desperate for him to believe the performance you always put on that you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t need to be convinced; instead, he holds his arms out waiting for you to let you make the next move. Luke is neither a fool nor a knave— there are no tricks here, no hidden agenda as he watches you try to compose yourself with a deep breath instead of showing him the real you. The one who’s beneath the mask of being head counselor, your father’s saving grace, and the one who carries her responsibilities like Atlas carries the weight of the sky.

“I know you can. You always have. You really think I’m here to help you file paperwork?”

“Will you let me?” Whether he meant sharing the workload or being there for you, you wouldn’t dare to ask. It’s all the same, anyway—laying yourself bare for someone to peek into your mind and have them not laugh at it.

Suddenly you speak, and the intensity of your tone makes him straighten his posture.

“Sometimes… Do you ever feel the need to just…”

“What?” He reaches out to tug your hair, and in the dim light, he can see the bloom of your cheeks. You’re shy, and Luke thinks you look soft like this, wary of how he perceives you.

“I shouldn’t.” Fuck the gods. He can see the thought form in your eyes, the heat of your stare tearing through his, and his lips pull into a smirk.

“What was that, Trouble?”

“Luke, don’t be an asshole…” You say warily, biting the inside of your cheek. There’s no way you’re going down in the history books for cursing the gods because Luke Castellan of all people made you.

“I thought you liked me like that,” he’s grinning now, and grabbing your chin lightly, mouthing the words to echo your thoughts.

Fuck the gods.

“Fuck.” you whisper, before your voice fails you, your eyes closing both from his touch and the genuine fear of the heavens falling down from the sacrilege falling from your lips.

“Louder,” he whispers, pulling your face up close to his, “come on, you used to be more fun, Trouble. I believe in you.”

“Fuck!” you say louder and he’s whispering in your ear, urging you to toe the line between perfect child and degenerate.

“Say it again.”

“FUCK! FUCK THE…” you yell before you sigh exasperatedly, eyes widening as you feel the breath release from your chest before your head lolls onto his shoulder.

“Gods, you’re fucking insane, Castellan.”

He laughs lowly, and it sounds as sweet as sin. Your smiling lips make an imprint on his collarbone, and he wishes they would sear themselves on there for the rest of eternity.

“Hey, I get it from you. Feel better?”

To be seen is a fickle thing. But to be known is something more intimate, and nothing will be able to erase the connection you both share—fatal flaws and all. There are things you can’t change about people, what they are at their core, and so he takes what you hate about yourself with both hands and pulls you towards his chest until you settle against him with a sniffle. Luke tilts your chin up again, a rough thumb wiping away evidence of your watery smile. He thinks he sees a glimpse of a past you—a younger one that dyed his socks purple to make him feel like he belongs here. And he knows now that he does belong with you, right here as he holds you in the quiet of the Big House.

“Ugh, I’ll kiss you later, I still have to finish up here. You’re not off the hook, angelface.” You sigh, pushing away from him before he tugs you back, your feet stumbling as you roll your eyes at his impish expression.

“Let me make it up to you then, Trouble.”

“What, so you run away again?” you scoff, snickering at the sight of his ego being taken down a notch.

“I’ve just….I don’t know how to do all of this with you. Guess I’m worried it won’t meet your expectations, Miss Head Counselor.” A boyish sort of bashfulness crosses his features, and he’s twirling a piece of your hair in his hands like spinning silk.

“I just hope you never stop surprising me. That’s all I ask.”

Your hand touches his wrist lightly, and he sighs like you’ve already taken his breath away.

“I keep my promises. Do you?”

“Who said a kiss was a promise? I meant it as a threat,” you laugh before he’s pressing your hips into the table, nose nudging against yours and suddenly work is off the table for the rest of the night.

You on the table, however, well... that could be negotiated.

“I knew something was wrong with me when your so-called threats got less scary and more sexy,” Luke teases, running a finger on the side of your cheek. His breath tickles your lips, and you can imagine the rage your father would feel if he caught the two of you in his office like this. Besides the blatant defiance, you briefly wonder if your rebellion would get him to respect you more. An interesting thought.

“You’re absolutely terrible. I need to get this done… The gods don’t wait for us.”

A weak sigh leaves your mouth as your brain is already riddled with thoughts of him and he closes the gap between your lips.

“They can wait until morning. For now, you’re mine.”

—

“You can’t love someone unless you love yourself first — bullshit.

I have never loved myself.

But you —

Oh god, I loved you so much I forgot what hating myself felt like. (via swxrn-in)”

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan fanfic #pjo x reader #pjo imagine #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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hunnysnoops · 7 months ago

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ミ★ 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒦𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓋𝓈𝓀𝒾 𝐻𝒞𝓈 ★彡

(+some general)

MASTERLIST

Doesn’t crush often but when he does, he crushes hard

Hot take- we would not choose a study date as a first date

^ I see him as the kinda guy who dates with a long term goal in mind and would want to get to know someone well off the bat

^ Bro is not messing around- he would want a first date where the two of you talk a lot and he can get to know you before committing

^I think his ideal first date would be a movie then a cafe/restaurant. Movie first so there’s a couple hours to ease the awkward first date tension and then coffee/food to talk about the movie and eventually branch the conversation out

He sends those cryptic texts like “be alert…” when there was mugging in town or something

Tags you in every post he sees. You’ll wake up and check social media to thirty messages in your inbox and they’re all from Kyle

The kinda guy to be like “Did you look at the post I sent you about the guy at the bus stop?”

Got his account banned on Twitter and went absolutely ballistic while you tried to calm him down

Runs Hay Day like it’s the navy

Definitely the type to be hooked on his phone until it dies and then complain that you’re on yours “Bro, let’s just talk about the political and economic state of the world right now…”

This might be another hot take but I don’t think he would want a childish partner, he want to be your boyfriend not your dad

^Having to zip up your coat, tie your shoelaces, or cut your food- I don’t think he would mind doing it a couple times but repeating offences would irritate him

Not big on pet names

^ I think he would be one to call you ‘bro’ ‘man’ and ‘dude’ a lot just out of habit but would probably just call you an abbreviation of your name if anything

^ perhaps babe on very rare occasion

HATES PDA

^ I fear I may have many hot takes in this post

^He would be pretty touchy in private but in public? Hell no

^ talks shit about couples who can’t keep their hands off each other in public and absentmindedly wrinkles his nose in disgust

^ the only PDA he would accept is hand holding or a quick hug

Calls and FaceTimes you out of the blue but will immediately hang up if you’re busy or with other people and call back later

He is either the most sound sleeper ever or he wakes up at the drop a pin- either way, he always ends up slinging his lanky arms around you

He’s weirdly good with hair and would have no problem braiding yours or styling it

Super supportive aspiration wise

^ sports games? He’s the loudest in the crowd. Theatre? He’s on the edge of his seat watching. Art? He’s looking at your creations like they’re in a museum.

If you have bad habits (smoking, drinking, etc.) he would try to ease you out of them but if that fails it would definitely cause conflict in the relationship

Has his moments where he snaps at you

Fights wouldn’t be often but they would be big

He would enjoy playful banter and someone who challenges him to improve

I think he would enjoy a lot of the lower beats of the relationship like staying in to watch movies, cooking together, walking and talking, silently enjoying each others company, etc.

He posts Instagram carrousels and every single one has a picture of you in it

Doesn’t even entertain people who try to flirt with him “No, thanks.” “I’m dating someone.” “I’m good.”

Shows you Reddit posts and complains about how obviously fake they are

Gets irritated by bad acting in movies “He called her Courtney Dove, fucking idiot.” “Why does she chew like that?” “Her accent sounds fake.”

Has a secret TikTok account and doesn’t know that you watch his videos on a fake account

He is well aware of rage bait but it still makes him mad because so many people fall for it so he’ll end up commenting anyways

Easily jealous

^ if he sees you talking to another guy he doesn’t trust he’ll insert himself into the conversation and pretend he knows what’s going on

Checks up on you a lot

^ He just has to know that you're okay, he has to be sure that you're safe and that if something were to happen, you would call him without thinking twice.

He wants to communicate but he’s lowkey really bad at it and can’t get in an argument with you without yelling

I imagine him as a runner

^ he’ll probably run to your house at ungodly hours, drink some water, give you a kiss, and keep running

^also lovvvves to show you his stats

He’s really good at cooking and always takes control when you two are cooking/baking together

Didn’t want to dress up on Halloween but you ultimately coerced him into doing a corny couples costume

Has a longer skincare routine than you do

He’s one of those guys to pretend to hate the reality shows and soap operas that you watch- he’ll peak from his phone, then stand from behind the couch and then he’s fully invested in the plot

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #kyle broflovski #kyle south park #kyle broflovski x reader #south park kyle #sp kyle #kyle broflovski headcanons #kyle x reader

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itsbeeble · 1 year ago

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SEEING STARS

SUMMARY: It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of schoolwork for you.

GENRE: smut, fluff, mild angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Sunwoo x afab!reader (ft. Hoshi, Dino, Sangyeon, Kevin, Eric, Yuta, and Jay (Enhypen))

WC: 9.4k (you'd think i was doing this on purpose)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: mentions of injuries (concussions, Sunwoo gets sucker punched), Eric slander, Sunwoo slander, Hoshi stirring up trouble, Sunwoo being stupid, car sex/public sex, p in v sex, fingering, mentions of face fucking, marking, hair pulling, attempts at dirty talk kinda? idk if you can even call it that but wtv, i think that's really it

A/N: Part 3 of the collab is out! If you haven't checked out Try Hard or Excitement (written by my beloved Fawn) please do! Otherwise, please enjoy this. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

In Sunwoo’s defense, everything that happened was Eric’s fault. It was definitely not Sunwoo’s fault that he believed his best friend when he told him that he should absolutely kick a ball at the girl of his dreams so she could bring it back to him and she would fall for him too and then they could live happily ever after. It also wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault that he forgot that he was their university’s star soccer player and that he had really strong legs.

At least, this is what he tells himself while sitting in the ambulance with you, who is currently passed out with a lump the size of a clementine on your forehead. He’s nervously gnawing at his fingernails, chewing them to nubs with his eyebrows furrowed. The EMTs said that you’re stable, that you just have a mild concussion but they want to take you in and get you checked out to be sure.

“Are you her…friend? Boyfriend?” One of the EMTs looks at Sunwoo with a curious look in his eye.

“Friend, just a friend,” he says, but there’s a dark cloud hovering above his head that anyone could see if they tried hard enough.

“Is there anyone that we can call? Anyone else that we should inform?” Sunwoo shrugs.

“Not that I know of. Her family is across the country so they wouldn’t be any help right now, right?”

“Right,” the EMT agrees. “I suppose you’ll be helping her out the next couple of weeks, making sure no one else is hitting her in the head with soccer balls?” Sunwoo grimaces and nods.

You’re never gonna like me at this rate, he thinks to himself. God, why did he ever listen to Eric in the first place? What made him think that Eric, the man who spends 90% of his time completely bitchless and watching hentai, would give him good advice about women?

Now he’s gonna have to deal with student loan debt, lawyer debt, and being single for the rest of his life.

The first thing you see when you wake up is white. Not, like, a white ceiling. No, your vision is pure white for a few moments, and then you swear that you’re seeing stars. You can faintly, over the pounding of your head, hear someone speaking. The voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place it over the ringing in your ears.

“…Eric, I swear to fucking god if I ever see you again, I will shove my foot so far up your ass— I don’t care if you thought it would be a good idea! I concussed the richest girl in school, the girl of my dreams mind you, because you thought it would be a fantastic idea to kick a ball at her!”

You blink a few times, clearing your vision, and you can see a boy to the right of you. He’s wearing a soccer uniform, the same uniform your university’s team wears. You blink again, and now he’s facing you with a nervous smile plastered onto his face.

“Hi,” he breathes out and you smile at him.

“Hi…Woo…sung?” You wince at the poor attempt. Of course, you know who he is. Anyone would recognize the star soccer player. Maybe you weren’t positive about what his name was, but you knew him.

He laughs, but it’s a humorless one that has both of you cringing after.

“Close,” he tells you with a smile. “Sunwoo.”

“Right,” you nod, but the action causes a painful throb to run through your skull. “Fuck, why does my head hurt so much?”

Sunwoo laughs again, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and avoiding your gaze.

“About that…” his hand combs through his hair, pushing it out of his face despite it not being there in the first place. “I…may or may not have kicked a ball in your general direction, which may or may not have proceeded to hit you in the head and give you a concussion.”

You kiss your teeth, eyebrows knitting together as you look at him. He begins to ramble, talking about how it’s his friend’s fault, and he really never meant for it to hit you. It’s cute, really, the way he practically falls to his knees and begs you to not sue him.

“Sunwoo,” you try to interrupt, but it’s like he doesn’t hear you. He’s speaking too fast, too frantic, and you’re pretty sure he’ll faint if he doesn’t pause for air soon.

“I— I will do anything you want, I swear! I’ll— I’ll carry your stuff around campus for you. I’ll take all your notes so you don’t have to look at the screens. Fuck— I swear, I—”

“Sunwoo,” You reach your arm forward, wrapping your fingers around his forearm and his pacing jerks to a stop, his words caught on the tip of his tongue when you lock eyes. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

“You’re—” his voice cracks, “you’re not?”

“No,” you laugh and wince when your head begins to throb again. “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you helped me out with my schoolwork.”

“I…” he trails off, his heart sinking to his stomach. “Yeah, yeah of course I’ll help you. But— but you really aren’t going to sue me? Because— because I wouldn’t mind if you were that mad at me but I think I would really rather you just have me arrested at that point, you know?”

“I promise, Sunwoo.” You squeeze his forearm, and his cheeks begin to darken with a tinge of pink. “I’m not gonna sue you.”

As it turns out, having the star soccer player around to do anything and everything you want him to is rather convenient. Sunwoo picks you up every day for your first class in his old, beat-up Toyota Corolla. He opens the door for you, hands you a fresh go-cup of your favorite coffee from your favorite cafe (which you aren’t sure how he knows, to be honest), and brings you to each and every one of your classes. It’s almost weird how you’ve gotten used to having him around.

“By the way,” you look up at Sunwoo as you’re getting into his car after your last class of the day. Sunwoo looks down at you, smiling brightly and you can feel yourself starting to melt at the puppy-like look in his eye. “Are you even taking classes this semester?”

Sunwoo tilts his head. “I mean…yeah? I kinda have to, you know, to play soccer.”

“But…you’re always with me these days. Are you not missing your own assignments? Your own exams?”

“I don’t have any exams during your classes,” he informs you and then shuts the passenger-side door, gently to not hurt your head. You let your body rest against the tattered fabric seat you’re in, waiting for Sunwoo to get to his side of the car. “Plus, I have friends in my classes that send me shit when I’m not there.”

“You skip your classes often?” Your lips curl into a sly smile, one that he returns quickly.

“You know it, babe.”

Your body tenses just slightly, not enough for him to notice. It was likely instinctive for him to say that, and you would never admit to anyone how the words had butterflies forming in your stomach, pushing against your flesh, and threatening to tumble out of you if he made one wrong move.

Sunwoo slams the door of the frat shut and presses his back against it as soon as he enters the building. His eyes are squeezed shut, so tightly that he can see stars and it starts to hurt.

“You alright?” Eric is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with a Nintendo controller in his hands. He isn’t looking at Sunwoo, his eyes trained on the fourth Five Nights At Freddy’s game being displayed on the TV in front of him.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” Sunwoo dismisses, dropping his bag on the floor and tossing his keys into the bowl to his right. “Especially not with you.”

“The fuck did I do?” Eric’s eyebrows knit together, and Sunwoo scoffs as he walks behind the couch to get to the kitchen.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you were part of the reason that Y/N L/N is now concussed and probably hates my guts so I’m trying to fix it by helping her out with all of her school work, which is hard as shit, by the way. Did you know that she’s a mechanical engineering major?”

“No shit?” Eric’s eyes flick away from the TV screen for just long enough for him to nearly miss an animatronic approaching him. “I wonder if she’s in any of my classes.”

“Probably not,” Sunwoo sighs, grabbing a glass from the shelf and pouring himself some water. “She’s in Sangyeon’s year so her classes are a bit more advanced than yours.”

“Ah,” Eric bobs his head, tongue wedged between his otherwise tightly sealed lips. Sunwoo watches him play for a moment, wincing at a few jumpscares while he downs his water. “What’s that gotta do with me, anyway? Isn’t this, like, bonding time for you two? Finally land your girl?”

“Well, would’ve been perfect if, a) she hadn’t hated me and b) I didn’t call her babe in the car today.”

Silence from Eric, and Sunwoo briefly wonders if his best friend had even heard him.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Eric pauses the game and tosses his controller onto the couch next to him as he turns around.

“It was an accident!” Sunwoo defends. “It just kinda…slipped out while I was talking to her. A reflex!”

“You called the girl you concussed babe on reflex?” Eric exclaims in disbelief. “Are you stupid?”

“Says the one who suggested kicking the ball at her!”

“Yeah, well at least I didn’t give the girl of my dreams a concussion!”

“It was your fault!” Sunwoo yells, and Eric scoffs.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better.”

“He called me babe, Soonyoung,” you’re laying face down on your friend’s bed, kicking your feet in the air behind you with his tiger plushie tucked under your arms.

“Mhm,” he’s not paying attention, instead focusing on the tiger Lego set that you had given him for his birthday. “Very nice.”

“Ugh, and he’s so sweet too.” You continue to ramble, grinning like a mad woman when you recall the notes he had diligently taken for you despite not knowing a damn thing about Applied Measurements. “Did I tell you about the notes he took for me the other day? The ones that he—”

“—Color-coded and annotated for you?” Soonyoung interrupts, finally slamming down the little pieces of plastic in his hand. You flinch at the noise. “Left little notes about things he found interesting or didn’t quite understand but tried to explain anyway? Yeah, you told me.”

You duck your head, trying to ignore the throbbing. It had mostly gone away, but occasionally loud noises would spike pain through your skull.

“Sorry…” you mumble, letting your legs fall flat on the mattress. Soonyoung turns to face you, pursing his lips.

“Y/N, if you like this kid so much then why not ask him out?”

“It’s not like that!” You protest, but a sharp look from your best friend makes you backtrack. “At least, not for him. He’s just doing this because he feels bad for me! And besides, I’m a few years older than him, so wouldn’t it be weird?”

“How is that weird?” Soonyoung inquires, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “He’s of age, isn’t he?”

“Of age,” you scoff and make air quotes. “What is this, the 1600s?”

Soonyoung glares at you and sits back in his chair. “I don’t care if you’re concussed, I’ll make that lump in your skull bigger if you push me.”

At his warning, you huff.

“Okay, fine, yes, he is. But it’s weird for me! I’m a senior in college, about to enter the work force if I can get my senior project proposal done, and he’s just a sophomore! He’s the university’s star soccer player, he’s just starting to get ahead. I don’t want to, like, stunt that for him.”

“Y/N,” Soonyoung rolls his chair toward you with a sympathetic smile on his face. “I can almost guarantee that Sunwoo will not care if you’re a few years older than him. I don’t think he’ll care if he’s just starting college. If I’m being honest, he finds that all the more reason to be attracted to you. Young men love older women— but you aren’t old!” He quickly backtracks before you can cut him off. “You’re not old, and believe me when I tell you that not a single person in the world would be doing this for someone that they weren’t attracted to.”

“Are you sure?” You sit up, wrapping your whole body around the tiger plushie, and Soonyoung nods.

“I promise.”

“Then…how do I get him to know that I…that I’m also attracted to him?”

Soonyoung grins and you feel your heart drop.

“Boy, do I have some ideas for you.”

Sunwoo is getting worried. The last four days have been ridiculously quiet for him, his days empty and dragging on without you around him.

You were avoiding him, he could tell. Whenever he showed up to pick you up from your dorm, someone else was already there. A man, your age and clearly friends with you if the wide smile on your face said anything. You would lock eyes with him, your smile falling when you saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes. You would turn your gaze away and the man would get your door for you, laughing about something you said.

Then there was the avoidance of his texts. He would ask if everything was okay, how your head was doing, random jokes or comments about things he saw on campus. Things that he would tell you had you been with him during the day. It wasn’t like it was unusual for the two of you to text now. In fact, it was weird when you weren’t messaging each other about something but now…

It’s like you’re trying to block out his existence.

“I’m telling you,” Kevin hands Sunwoo a case of beer, cutting into the younger man’s frantic rambling. “She’s probably just busy, dude.”

“Then why wouldn’t she tell me?” Sunwoo pouts, carrying the case into the house. Kevin follows with a case of his own.

“Hell if I now,” he scoffs. “You think I have time to psychoanalyze everything rich girls do?”

“I mean…isn’t that your whole thing?” Sangyeon chimes in. “Psychoanalyzing everything about everyone?”

“That’s not the point,” Kevin waves his hand in the air and huffs. “I’m busy enough with my own classes and practices, I can only do so many things at once.”

“Sunwoo,” Sangyeon turns to the soccer player with a stern look in his eye. “This is gonna be one of our biggest parties yet, I need you on top of your game to make sure people are enjoying themselves.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Kim Sunwoo,” Sangyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulders with an exasperated look on his face. “If I hear you ranting about the girl you concussed one more time I might just lose it. I’m putting you on door duty for the night.”

“What the fuck do you mean door duty?”

Sangyeon scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on a metal detector stick that Hyunjae had bought as a part of his last Halloween costume.

“Here,” He tosses it to Sunwoo and smiles sarcastically. “Use this, make sure people aren’t bringing weapons in or whatever.”

Sunwoo looks down at the metal detector in his hands, eyebrows knitting together.

“You’re serious?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Are you sure that your plan worked?” You’re peering up at Soonyoung with a nervous look in your eye when you roll up to the TBZ party. “You’re sure he’s—”

“I’m positive, my dear.” Your best friend pats the top of your head, squinting at the frat house down the road. “I didn’t think this many people were gonna be here tonight.”

“Sunwoo mentioned that it was gonna be a big one,” you murmur. Soonyoung turns his gaze to you and sighs at the pout on your lips. You look pitiful, to be honest. At least in attitude, that is.

“Y/N,” you look at him again, “if Sunwoo doesn’t fall head over heels at this party and fuck you until you literally cannot walk then I give you full permission to give me a concussion, just like he did to you. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning!”

You find yourself smiling at Soonyoung’s words. He’s not wrong, you do look stunning. A loose, short black dress that dips down at your chest to reveal just enough cleavage. The straps are jeweled, glittering under the lights and highlighting the jewelry around your neck. The dress itself stops just low enough that it covers everything but shows enough to tease, and you’re wearing sleek black pumps with an ankle strap so your feet don’t fly out of them (you’d made that mistake before. Never again…).

“Now,” He claps his hands together and grins. “Let’s go get you your man, and get me a drink.”

In hindsight, you probably should have known that the party would not have been good for your head. Loud noises had never particularly been something you enjoyed. A lot of people assumed you loved parties due to your financial status, but that wasn’t true. In fact, you were a bit of a recluse. You had only a few friends, though you were nice to nearly everyone you met. Sunwoo happened to be an exception.

He wiggled his way into your life with that soccer ball, and you truly don’t think you can see a future without him in it, even if he just stays a friend.

The second you walk up the driveway, your head begins to pound, your vision flashing with stars, and you squeeze Soonyoung’s arm tightly to keep yourself from wobbling on your feet.

Then you see Sunwoo at the door, a large bucket to his right, and a hand-held metal detector in his hand. You can see him scanning people, waving girls in, and then stopping men and pointing at the bucket. You feel a lump forming in his throat when you take in the sight of him. His hair is a mess of curls, the same curls you’d come to love since he gave you a concussion. He’s dressed in a tight-fitting black tee shirt and baggy jeans, nothing fancy but it brings the butterflies back to your stomach in full force.

“What the hell are you talking about?” The man in front of you scoffs at something Sunwoo said, and you blink yourself back to reality.

“$5 at the door,” Sunwoo shrugs, “sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

“It’s your frat!” The man yells. Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah…do I look like the president or something?” The man stays silent and Sunwoo sighs. “Look, I don’t have the time to deal with you. Are you in or not? There’s a line of people behind you, and all of them wanna get in so you should probably pick fast.”

The student huffs, digging into his pocket for a dirty $5 bill, tossing it into the bucket, and shoving past Sunwoo. The soccer player just rolls his eyes and sighs again.

“Who’s up next—” he chokes on his words when he sees you, his eyes widening and his jaw-dropping. You smile nervously, raising your hand in a tiny wave while Soonyoung throws a few ones into the bucket.

“I’ll see you in there,” your friend says to you. “Text me if you need me.” Soonyoung squeezes your hand and nods at Sunwoo before walking into the house. You step to the side, letting people move past you but keeping a little bit of distance between you and the frat boy who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet.

“You’re here,” Sunwoo says, not even looking at the continuous line of people walking into the house without paying. “You’re— why are you here?”

A sheepish smile crawls onto your face. “Do you…not want me here?” Sunwoo panics, shaking his head rapidly and grabbing your hand in his.

“That’s not— that’s not what I meant.” He tells you, and you can’t help the warmth in your cheeks. “I just— your head. This can’t be good for your concussion, can it?”

You kiss your teeth, nodding slowly. “Yeah…Kinda got a little bit of a migraine right now.” You don’t tell him that the concussion has completely healed.

“Let’s— let’s get you someplace quieter, ba— Y/N.” He tugs at your hand, pushing you in front of him and covering your ears with your hand. He leans in close to you, his lips brushing the shell of one ear and you feel your breathing hitch in your throat.

“Cover your eyes a bit and look down, I can’t block your vision but I can shield your ears a bit, babe.” He lets it slip out this time, and you do as he says.

Sunwoo walks you forward, and you can see feet shuffling around the two of you. His hands do more than you expected, the sounds around you fairly muffled and dulling the throb in your skull. His body is so close to yours, his legs bumping into you with every step, but he keeps the two of you steady. Someone knocks into you, and Sunwoo says something to them, something harsh that you can’t make out over the noise of the party. He stops walking for a brief moment, now talking to someone else. You faintly hear a name, Chang-something, and then he’s fleeing the scene, knocking into you on his way out.

Sunwoo steps to your side when you reach a staircase, talking into your ear so you know exactly where each step is. Another person bumps into you, and Sunwoo takes a hand off your ear to wrap it around your waist.

“You can drop your hand,” he tells you. “The lights aren’t flashing over here.” You nod, and you feel his hand drop at the same time yours does. You’re still walking up the stairs and even though you don’t need help anymore, his hand stays on your waist, the touch sending electric shocks throughout your body.

Sunwoo feels like he’s going to throw up.

Scratch that. Sunwoo is going to throw up.

He really hadn’t expected to see you here. In fact, he hadn’t expected to see you at all for the rest of his college days. Had you finally decided to sue him? Are you serving him? He hadn’t seen any documents with you, but maybe—

“I’m not suing you, Sunwoo,” you sit on his bed with one leg crossed over the other. Your dress rides up your thighs, something Sunwoo tries desperately to ignore but he just can’t. “You can relax.”

You can relax, he repeats the words in his head over and over and over again, but he can’t. In fact, his body just grows more tense with the time that passes. Sunwoo tries to look at you, and then he tries not to look at you. There’s a heat in your gaze, and he can’t tell what the emotion behind it is. He hopes it’s not anger, he prays that you haven’t gotten angry with him.

“Are you—” he clears his throat. “Who was the guy you were with?” You tilt your head and he clarifies his question. “I just— I’ve seen him with you a lot these days so I was just— I just thought—”

“Who, Soonyoung? He’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him and laugh when he visibly deflates with relief.

“Good. I— I mean that’s— I just—” his face feels like it’s on fire, his stomach churning when you continue to laugh at him. When you wince and bring your hand up, he practically trips over himself to find an unopened bottle of water for you.

“How’s your head?” Sunwoo asks you, quietly now. You shrug and slide over so he can sit next to you on the edge of his bed.

“Concussion is better, just can’t do loud noises.” Sunwoo nods and you continue. “At the last check-up, my doctor said that I might get some headaches here and there though, at least for a little while.”

“Then why are you here? At a party?”

“I…guess I just wanted to see you?” You had this all planned out with Soonyoung. Why are you so nervous?

Sunwoo’s eyebrows knit together. “Why would you want to see me?”

“You’re joking, right?” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your lips, regretting letting it out when Sunwoo flinches and looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just…there’s no way that you don’t know by now.”

“Know what?” He presses, hoping that you’re saying what he’s been dreaming of you saying since he saw you on his first day at this university. You’re so close to him now, mere inches from him, and he fights every instinct inside of him that says to close that distance. He wants to hear everything you have to say.

You open your mouth to speak again, and there’s a knock on the door. Both of your heads whip around as it swings open, and Sunwoo’s heart sinks when he sees Soonyoung, the man you had entered the building with. He almost looked distraught that he’d entered the room.

“Hi, so sorry to interrupt. Um…” he looks at you with a grimace. “We gotta go.”

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow. “Why? I was talking with Sunwoo—”

“Yeah, sorry again, but we gotta go.” Sunwoo watches you get up, albeit reluctantly, and you turn to him.

“I’ll…we’ll talk later, okay?” You smile at Sunwoo, but you turn away before he can say anything to you.

“Promise?” He calls out, but the door is already shutting behind you.

You really did intend on texting Sunwoo after, to continue your conversation, but ‘after’ turns into two days, and then four, and then it’s been a week, and suddenly it’s almost finals. You know that Sunwoo’s game is today. The last game of the season. He’d raved about it a few times while studying with you. You knew how excited for it he was, knew how hard he was practicing to make sure he was in his best shape.

“What do you mean he’s about to be taken off the field?” You snap into your phone, scanning the lot around you for somewhere to park. It’s dark out, the lights in the lot hardly working so it makes it difficult to see any free spots. “Fuck, why is it always so fucking busy at these games?”

“He’s missed every shot— DAMN YOU DECELIS. YUTA GET THAT DAMN BALL—” You pull the phone away from your ear when Soonyoung starts to yell, hearing the crowd in the stadium erupt into cheers. “Another point to Decelis Uni. Anyway, no he’s been like…really off in his games, the only reason he isn’t off already is because of Lee Chan.”

“Thank god for him,” you sigh as you put your car into park. “Listen, I just parked, so just give me five minutes to get in there. Maybe he needs a good luck charm or something. Fuck it’s cold out here. Why did I wear a skirt to this damn game?”

“Did you just call yourself his good luck charm?”

“No, I just—” you huff.

“No, you’re right. I think you are because when you guys were talking, he’d been playing better than ever. Things went to shit after my plan.”

“Yeah, thanks for that by the way.”

“Any time, best friend. Get here soon. Maybe there will be a time out and you can kiss him or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You shove your phone into your pocket, running toward the stadium as the crowd erupts into cheers again.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Lee Chan grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder when half-time is called. Both boys are dripping with sweat, exhausted from the game. There had been so much back and forth between the two teams, keeping them tied almost constantly for the past 45 minutes. “You’ve been playing like shit for three games in a row, Kim Sunwoo. This isn’t like you. I’m not afraid to get Coach to bench you if you don’t get your shit together.”

Sunwoo huffs, grabbing his water bottle from the bench and ignoring his teammate so he can hydrate.

“I’m fine, just not feeling great.” He dismisses. Chan’s lip curls into a sneer.

“If we lose this game because of you, I swear to fucking god I will get you kicked from the team.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Sunwoo rises to his feet and glares down at the team captain. He may be the star player, but it takes more than skill to hold a team together. Lee Chan has that ability. Morals, respect from his teammates, he has everything. That’s why Sunwoo backs down when Chan straightens his posture.

“You think I fucking won’t? Remember who got you on this team in the fucking first place.”

Sunwoo’s ears start to ring, and he can hear someone yelling his name. It sounds distant, and he swears he’s imagining it so he ignores it.

It happens again, louder this time and grabbing Chan’s attention as well. Both players whip their heads toward the crowd, and Sunwoo’s stomach drops.

There you are, shoving your way through the crowd to get to the barrier. People yell at you, and you say something that shuts them up. He’s in awe, staring at you and the distressed look on your face. You wave your hands to get his attention, and Chan shoves him again.

“If she’s why you aren’t on top of your game, you better fix shit right now. I’m not losing this one, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Yeah, got it.” It’s like he’s running on autopilot, walking toward you and then running. There are three minutes left in half-time, so he needs to make this fast.

“What are you doing here?” Sunwoo grabs onto the barricade and hauls himself up so he’s face-to-face with you, ignoring the people yelling around the two of you.

You grin at him, a mischievous look in your eye.

“You don’t want me here?” The panic in his eyes makes you laugh, and you lean toward him. He smells of sweat and grass and your nose wrinkles.

“I don’t— you know that isn’t what I meant.” He snaps, but you know he isn’t mad at you.

“Soonyoung said you were playing like shit, figured I’d find out why.” You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you so he can’t leave before you talk to him.

“I’m just distracted today.” You scoff and he narrows his eyes at you. “What?”

“You’ve been practicing for this game for weeks now, Kim Sunwoo. What could possibly have you so distracted today?”

He hesitates, and you already know his answer.

“I don’t have time to talk right now, Y/N.” He’s biting his lip, anxiously flicking his eyes to the clock behind him. You roll your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t answer you. You knew he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, knew he was too nervous between the game and having you right in front of him to fully focus.

“Then I’ll make this fast.”

“Make what—” your lips are on his, your hand on the back of his neck to hold him close while you kiss him. His body stiffens and then relaxes, and then his hand comes to your arm to keep himself stable. His face slides against yours, transferring his sweat to your body and you pull back.

“Win this game,” you look into his eyes, but it’s like he can’t focus on you. He looks like he’s in a daze, and you tug at the strands of his hair to get his attention.

“I— yeah, I’ll win.” He promises but he sounds far away. The buzzer goes off. “I— what was—”

“If you win this game, you can take me on a date.” You grin and let go of him. Chan yells Sunwoo’s name and the boy pulls back from you reluctantly.

“Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere.”

“Promise?” His eyes are shining when he looks at you. You smile, placing another gentle kiss on his plush lips.

“I promise.”

He’s running away from you now, a new lightness in his feet that had been missing the past two weeks. There’s fresh energy in his muscles, in his bones, and that overconfident attitude that his teammates and opponents despised returns in full force.

“I take it I’m not gonna have to pull you off the field?” The Coach eyes Sunwoo as he jogs by. Sunwoo slows and turns back with a wicked grin on his face.

“Not a chance in hell, Coach.”

“Can’t believe you kissed him.” Soonyoung nudges you with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No, it’s not that,” he shakes his head and lets out a sharp whistle when Sunwoo steals the ball from the opposing team. “He was covered in sweat and grass. Don’t you hate that shit?”

“Worth it,” Soonyoung snorts when you smile at him.

Since the start of the second half, Sunwoo had already brought their team into the lead by two points. You’d never seen him play before, but everything you’d heard was true. He was fast, agile, and strong. He was a beast on the field, keeping himself just out of reach of all the other players. You can tell the other team is starting to get agitated, starting the get rough with your school’s team.

You bite at your thumb as you watch the game proceed. Two minutes left in the game, and they’re tied again. You can see all the players getting tired, everyone slowing down. Sunwoo seems to be the only one with the energy to keep going, but even he seems to struggle.

30 seconds and Sunwoo has the ball again. The stadium has gone quiet and you could swear that you hear the ticking of the clock.

10 seconds and Sunwoo is almost to the goal, you stand from your seat, and people around you rise as well. Anticipation. Tension. The stadium is filled with it. People start cheering again, the other school starts yelling at their team to move their asses.

5 seconds and the crowd goes silent. Sunwoo is on the ground, a player from the other team on top of him. Players from all sides are running over, trying to see what happened. The announcers say that the opposing player, Park Jongseong, tackled Sunwoo, his hand unintentionally jamming the star player’s nose. A medic rushes over, but Sunwoo waves them away. You can’t see his face very well, but you can tell by his posture that he’s agitated.

Jongseong is penalized, and his coach takes him off the field for a moment. Sunwoo is set in front of the center of the goal, pacing while he waits for the ‘ok’ from the referee. He glances up at the crowd, and for a moment you swear that he looks at you. For a moment, you swear that you can see him smiling at you, through the throbbing in his face and the ache in his body. You could swear that he’s telling you I’m gonna win this. Trust me.

Jongseong is back on the field, the clock is set. The referee raises his hand, an indirect kick. Sunwoo rolls his neck, jogging backwards to get a headstart. Yuta and Chan are both ready to receive a pass.

The clock starts.

Sunwoo is running. You and the rest of the crowd are yelling at him to run faster. He does.

The ball is sailing through the air, Chan and Yuta and all the other players on the field are running for the ball. Yuta gets there first.

Yuta kicks the ball, but another player knocks it out of the air. Sunwoo is already waiting, stealing the ball and moving to an open space.

Sunwoo kicks the ball and watches it sail through the air. He doesn’t stop running, not when there’s still time on the clock

The crowd erupts into cheers, deafening you and you feel Soonyoung grab your shoulders, shaking you and yelling just as loud as everybody else. You feel a yell building in your chest.

They’ve won. Sunwoo is being hauled into the air by his teammates, The other team is sulking by their coach. You can’t go to him. Not yet. The crowd is beginning to clear, some people moving from the stands to leave the stadium and chat with their friends, to wait for the team to come out.

“You coming?” Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow at you but you know that he already knows the answer. A shake of your head confirms his suspicions and he grins. “Go get your man. I won’t interrupt this time.” He makes his way down the stands to the parking lot, and you smile while walking down to the field. The teams have dispersed now, done with talking to their coaches and making their way to the locker room. Sunwoo hangs back, talking with Chan as you walk across the turf. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you fear it’ll burst from behind your ribcage.

Chan sees you first, jerking his head in your direction and clapping Sunwoo on the shoulder. Sunwoo turns as he walks away, and you can see the way his eyes light up when he recognizes you.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He grins at you when you get closer, but you don’t respond. You’re only a few steps from him now, and you take a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Your face is bruised…” you have to force yourself not to jump his bones right there, instead focusing on the blooming bruise on his right cheek. Your fingers brush over it and he doesn’t even flinch.

“It’s nothing,” he reassures you, resting his hands on your waist. “It’ll be gone in a week, I promise. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

You smile back at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“You think my head is pretty?”

“I think everything about you is pretty, babe.” Your cheeks heat up and he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s gentle, far less frantic than the one you gave him on the bleachers. Your hand trails from his cheek to the side of his neck, holding him close to you. Your lips part against his, your head tilting to give a better angle to kiss him at and he inhales sharply. Your body is on fire everywhere he’s touching you. Your waist, your lips, your neck. It feels electric and it pains you when he forces himself to separate from you, his nose brushing against yours.

“All that for winning a game?” he breathes out, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I should win more often if this is gonna be my reward from now on.”

Your lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll give you more than just a kiss if you want, Kim Sunwoo.”

It takes him a moment to process what you said. Sunwoo stares at you, eyes wide and jaw hanging open for so long that you almost consider taking back what you said.

“You’re— what happened to take me to dinner? What happened to hello, how are you?” His grip on your waist tightens and you shrug.

“I have more important things in mind.” Sunwoo’s whole body is tense, so tense that you feel like he’ll combust on the spot if you aren’t careful.

“I’m covered in dirt and sweat.” He tries as an excuse but you scoff. “I don’t think you wanna fuck me while I’m like this, right?”

“Do you really care about that?” He takes a deep breath.

“Me? No. I just…If I go with you right now I swear to god I’ll cum in my pants and I really don’t want that to happen during our first time together—”

“Sunwoo,” You grab his chin between two fingers and he snaps his mouth shut. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. I want you, whether or not you’re covered in sweat.” You reach one of your hands up, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his face and his features soften.

“You really…you like me, don’t you?”

“I figured it was obvious when I kissed you in front of the whole stadium, Sunwoo.” You kiss your teeth and step away from him. His grip loosens on you and eventually falls when you continue to back away from him, that sly grin still on your face.

“Where are you going?” He trails after you like a lost puppy but you just shrug.

“Come with me if you wanna find out.”

You silently thank god when you find the parking lot already half empty. Sunwoo’s car is a distance from most other cars, tucked under some trees that cast shadows over that old Toyota Corolla.

“You’re—” Sunwoo is cut off when you open the door to his back seat and shove him in. You hear some people behind you howling, briefly turning your head to see his teammates cheering him on.

“Get some, Kim Sunwoo!” Lee Chan screams and you laugh before crawling into the car behind Sunwoo.

You turn just enough to slam the car door shut, and then you’re on top of Sunwoo. He tugs you onto his lap, your skirt riding up enough to expose your thighs to him, but you give him no time to process anything, your lips already crushed against his. It’s sloppy, but the whine he emits just from the pressure behind it has heat curling in your stomach again. Your tongue dips into his open mouth, and he pushes against you with more force that you had anticipated. He curls his tongue around yours, sucking and licking at it, and your body begins to shudder against his.

Sunwoo drags your hips down against his own, groaning at the feeling of your heat against his growing member.

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he hisses when he pulls away, moving his lips down to attach to your throat and sucking harsh marks into your skin. You whine at his statement, grinding against him of your own will once he’d set the rhythm. He feels so good against you, pressing against your clit in just the right way to have you curling against him with broken whines spilling from your lips. Sunwoo moves one of your hands to your hair, jerking your head to the side to expose more of your skin to him, and you know he grows impatient when your shirt gets in the way.

“Can I take this off?” He asks you, his eyes glittering when he looks up at you.

“Really think I’d say no to you?” You smile, reaching your hands down and pulling your shirt off and tossing it somewhere in the front seat. Sunwoo looks like he’s in heaven when you unclip your bra and throw it back with your shirt, baring your breasts for him.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, cupping one in his hand and brushing his thumb over your nipple. You force yourself to keep your breathing steady, to let him do what he wants. “You’re so pretty, baby. Wanna drown in your pretty tits.”

“Yeah?” You ask, your voice breathy. “Who’s stopping you, then?” He looks up at you like you’re his goddess, like he’d worship you every day and every night if you’d let him.

“Really?” He hardly waits for a response before he’s shoving his face into your tits, laving at the valley between them before ultimately choosing one to focus on with his mouth. He sucks at the nipple, tugging at it between his teeth and listening to the delicate whines you let out. The other breast doesn’t go unnoticed, one of his hands palming at it and tweaking the nipple for a few minutes before he switches sides to give each of your breasts the same treatment.

You haven’t stopped grinding on him in this time, your eyelids fluttering shut while your roll your hips over Sunwoo’s. You can feel his dick twitching in his soccer shorts, can feel him fighting the urge to jerk his hips into yours.

“Sunwoo,” you choke out, tugging at the strands of his hair. It doesn’t stop him, in fact you could swear that the action makes him suck harder on your tits and your voice breaks into a moan. “Sunwoo,”

This time when you speak, you yank his head back. He whines, his neck now at an awkward angle as he tries to sink back into your chest.

“Whyyyy,” he drawls with a pout. His lips are puffy and covered in spit, similar to your chest and you already know he’s sucked marks into your skin that’ll be visible for days after this.

“Wanna fuck you, baby.” You plead. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your tone, and he pushes you off of him just long enough to shove his clothing off. You do the same, noting the way your panties stick to your slick cunt. With a smirk, you discreetly tuck them into the center console while his back is still somewhat turned to you.

By the time he’s turned back around, you’ve stripped yourself of all your clothing and sunk your fingers into your core. Your eyes have fluttered shut with two fingers inside of you and your thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

“What are— what—” Sunwoo sounds like he’s going to cry, and you force your eyes open. He’s staring at your glistening folds with a look of pure hunger and you can only assume heartbreak as you finger yourself. “Why are you—”

“Gotta get myself ready for you,” you tell him with a pout. “Don’t—f-fuck— wanna make sure you fit i-inside of me.” Your back arches off the door and Sunwoo lunges for you, yanking your hand away from your pussy. The suddenness of the action makes you yelp, your eyes fly open again when Sunwoo sinks your fingers into his mouth. You can’t tell if the moan he lets out is genuine or if it’s for show, but it’s guttural and has your walls clenching around absolutely nothing. His tongue laves over your fingers, sucking them as far into his mouth as he can, getting as much of your taste off of your fingers as humanly possible before pulling them from his mouth and lowering your hand back to your side.

“That’s my job,” Sunwoo hisses, and then he’s lowering his body down so he can be level with your pussy. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance, and your hips jerk toward him against your well. He clicks his tongue when he sinks them into you. “Loosened your little cunt up a little bit already, hm? Gotta stretch you out even more though if I wanna fit inside you.”

You can only whine when he sinks a third finger into you, scissoring them inside of them and curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. The stretch begins to sting, ever so slowly ebbing away and being replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure.

“Oh god, Sunwoo.” You gasp out, your hand wrapping around his wrist but you can’t exactly figure out why. To slow him down? To force him to go faster? “Feels so fucking good, please.” You feel a coil beginning to tighten in your stomach as his fingers punch into that spot time and time again, his thumb rubbing harsh circles into your clit similar to how you were. Fast learner.

Sunwoo grins at the way your face twists and contorts with pleasure, the way you try to control how your hips buck against his hand, the guttural moans you emit.

“Gonna cum, babe?” He knows the answer. He knows by the way you clench against him, the way your cunt tries to force his hand out.

“Yes,” you whine out, “yes, gonna c-cum. Sun-Sunwoo, please.”

“Please what, babe?” He coos. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.” Just to tease you, he slows down. “Do you want me to stop?”

“NO,” you cry out, taking matters into your own hands and fucking down onto his hand. “Ple-please let me cum!”

“Ohhh, I see.” He hums and drives his fingers into you faster, harder. Your whines and whimpers have become broken little sobs. “Fuck, babe, it’s like no one’s ever made you feel like this.” He can’t help but laugh when you clench down on him again.

“G-Gonna cum, Sunwoo!” He just hums, watching as you clench down once, twice, and then your body is jerking against his hand. Your cunt tries to force him out one more time but he continues to drive into you and work you through your first orgasm of the night.

When your body has stopped shuddering, Sunwoo finally pulls his fingers out of you. He raises them up a bit, just enough for you to see the way the mix of your arousal and your cum.

“Look at all this, baby.” He holds his fingers out to you with a broad grin on his face. “Have you ever tasted yourself?” Your eyes come back to focus when he prods his fingers against your lips. You let him sink his fingers into your mouth, nearly gagging when they hit the back of your throat. “Tastes good, doesn’t it?”

You swallow around his fingers, taking in the bittersweet taste on your tongue. Sunwoo watches you with hazy eyes when you take hold of his wrist again, holding his hand close to you while your tongue swirls around his fingers. You know exactly what he’s thinking, know exactly what’s going on behind those hazy eyes of his, and have to force yourself to pull off of his fingers when you know you’ve cleaned him off completely.

“Fucking minx,” he growls and grips your hips tightly in his hands, flipping you over so you’re on your hands and knees. “Did that on purpose, didn’t you? Knew I’d think of you sucking my cock, think of you gagging on it as I fuck your pretty little face?” You don’t have a response this time, only moaning when he shoves his cock into you with one harsh thrust.

He gives you no time to adjust, gives you no time to work through the sting it brings you but you don’t mind. Not when the stretch feels so good. Not when his cock is fucking into at a pace so harsh it has your body sliding across the seats. Your arm reaches out, hand desperately trying to find purchase on something, anything to hold you steady against the roughness of his hips slapping against yours.

His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair and yanking on it to pull you against him. Your moans become louder, harsher until they’ve turned into screams and cries of his name. You can feel the fabric of his car’s seats digging into your knees, feel the old Toyota Corolla rocking back and forth while the windows fog up with the heat of your sinful behavior.

One of Sunwoo’s legs slips down to the floor of the car, but he doesn’t slow as he adjusts his position. It gives him a new angle, new strength to fuck into you harder and faster, bruising your insides as he practically punches into your cervix from the force of his thrusts.

“How does this feel, hm?” He coos into your ear, his breathing heavy from overexhertion. “Does this feel good? Am I fucking you good, baby?”

“S-so good!” You cry out. “Fuckin’ me s’good, Sunwoo!”

“Yeah?” He bends you over again, this time hunching over your body and humping into you like a dog in heat. Your back arches into him, your body shaking with seemingly neverending pleasure. “Gonan cum f’me?” Sunwoo’s arms are all over you, pinching at your nipples, squeezing your waist, gripping your ass. His lips place firm kisses onto your spinal cord, sucking hickies into your skin that no one but him will see.

“YES!” Your voice breaks and you cum again, squeezing so tightly around his cock that he emits a moan so loud and sharp that you fear you’ve broken him.

Sunwoo pumps white hot cum into you in thick ropes that spill out while he continues to fuck you, overstimulating you both. The mixture of your cum drips down your legs and onto the fabric seats, and you pray that whoever sits back here after you doesn’t notice the white stain in the middle seat, doesn’t think to ask about this mystery stain and that Sunwoo refuses to give them an answer.

When his hips finally slow, when his dick finally softens inside of you and he slips out, you let your body sag against the seat. Sunwoo grimaces at the sight of you, dark marks littering your skin. He hopes that Soonyoung doesn’t ask questions about the way you limp into your classes the next few days. You hope he knows better by now than to question it.

“For a sophomore,” you wheeze out while you roll over. Sunwoo runs his hands up and down your thighs, smiling thoughtfully. “You sure seem to have lots of experience.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, babe.” He squeezes just above your knee, running his tongue across his lips when he sees more cum dripping out of you. You catch the fiery look in his eye and groan while you squeeze your legs shut. He groans when you use one foot to kick him back against the door opposite you.

“No,” you scold him. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“Whyyyy,” he reaches for your legs again and you push him back even more.

“I’m tired, Sunwoo.” You say but he just crawls on top of you with a mischievous grin.

“You won’t have to do anything,” he bargains. “Jus’ wanna taste you a little. That’s all!” You glare at him.

“One time.” His eyes light up and he pries your legs open again. “You get one more from me tonight, Kim Sunwoo. You hear me?”

“Mhm!” He dives straight into you, knowing that this was far from the last time he’d get you to cum in his car tonight.

“I still think that you should be thanking me,” Eric shuts the door of Sunwoo’s car with a sly grin.

“For what?” Sunwoo asks exasperatedly.

It had been less than 24 hours since Sunwoo had fucked you in his car and officially made you his after a long year and a half of pining. He was tired. His body was tired. He didn’t have the energy to deal with his best friend this early in the morning, or at all really.

“For getting you guys together! It was my idea, anyway.” Eric clicks his seatbelt into place and runs a hand through his dyed red hair. “Where are your car gummy worms?”

“Center console,” Sunwoo puts the car in drive and has barely begun to ease his foot off the brake when Eric lets a gasp so violent and loud that he slams his foot back down again. “What, what happened?” He slams the car back into park, his face going white when he sees what his best friend is dangling between two dainty fingers.

Black lace panties.

Your black lace panties.

“Sunwoo…you didn’t…” Eric chokes out with a mix of disgust and heartbreak on his face. Sunwoo rips the panties out of his best friend’s hands and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans. His face feels like it’s on fire, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“Do not ever speak of this to anybody. Ever.”

“You fucking FREAK!”

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hotchfiles · 1 year ago

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ too busy being yours ❞ ─ a we could be love blurb

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!rossi!reader. summary: you're pretty much in love with your boss. and he's pretty into you too. but if being your boss wasn't bad enough, he's also your dad's best friend. content warnings: valentine's fluff! no romance involved tho. just friends being friends and sleeping into each other's embrace. as friends do. might not be totally inclusive to full italian girls (?). two idiots in love making rossi seem worse than he is. word count: 2k+. a/n: the bau!rossi!verse begins. i never proof read anything.

Being single during Valentine's Day was already bad, hearing your own father's romantic plans for the evening only made it worse. The humiliating truth of not having the same game as David Rossi was daunting, but you didn't have the Italian vibes to use in your favor like he did, and you were pathetically in love with your boss and that made every single man look awful in comparison.

"What about you Baby Rossi, any saucy plans for tonight?" Your eyes shoot daggers at Derek for making the question, bringing everyone's attention to your warm cheeks.

"Apparently I have to look for a ride home, saucy enough?" Your father shrugs with an apologetic glance at your answer, he usually took you home but wouldn't have the time to today. That's what you get for carpooling.

Between dates and the bar, you were getting out of options and was about to accept your fate: You would have to take the subway. You weren't sure how Spencer did it so often, specially with his particularity with germs and people, you absolutely hated it, it was too tiring, too loud.

You run up the stairs to get to Hotch's office, handing him your reports, slightly out of breath.

"You were quick with these." It's a praise with a hidden quip: You were always the last one to hand yours, not only a natural procrastinator, but you were the last one to join the unit, you still struggled with some of the bureaucracy.

"Trying to avoid rush hour, taking the subway today."

"I can take you home–" He seems surprised by his own response, or by how quick he offered that ride. Your address is somewhere on your files but he doesn't truly know where you live. He couldn't even shrug it off saying it was on his way home.

"Don't you have a date? I mean–Wouldn't this make you late for anything?" You hope dearly that you didn't make it obvious that you just wanted to know if he was seeing someone. It's obviously too much to hope for, he knows.

And he smiles sweetly, softly. He tries his best to keep it innocent. "No plans today, just me, my bed... And some popcorn i think."

You chew on the inside of your cheeks softly thinking about your next move. Hotchner had slipped through conversation earlier that Jack had a sleepover planned, so by that logic, he would be alone, just like you.

He wasn’t exactly subtle about his interest in you, but he somewhat tried to conceal it, asking him out on a date seemed too pushy.

“Those are exactly my plans… You could maybe stay over for a bit, then? Maybe?” Your eyes glow with the expectation as you ask him, fingers busy with your necklace to soothe yourself. “We might have to pick Garcia up at some point of the night, though, if that’s okay.” You were always tasked with drunk Penelope anytime you bailed on them as a punishment.

You didn’t mind, drunk Garcia was fun Garcia, but if Aaron accepted your invitation, you hoped there wouldn’t be any interruptions.

Movies and popcorn are innocent enough, that’s the first thing on his mind, it can be innocent, and even when he tries to talk himself down of what could lead to very bad bad choices, your mention of Garcia tips him over the edge. It was just friends hanging out. Definitely.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah sure, that sounds fun. I have to keep myself awake until later than usual in case Jack calls me anyway.” You nod more to yourself and offer him a shy smile, just before he hands you more papers. “Oh yeah–You’ve got yourself a few more work hours, though.”

The ride to your place is anything but silent. Your phone keeps buzzing, signaling the BAU gals group chat wants details of what’s happening but you and Aaron barely notice it as conversation flows easily between you two.

You ask him about Jack’s sleepover and the sleeping later ordeal and he tells you how on his first sleepover Jack gave up and called him to pick him up at almost 1am. “When the fun was over he just wanted his bed. Driving the moment I woke was a terrible experience.”

That was years ago and he still waits for that clock to hit 1AM before sleeping. Just in case his baby needs him.

You can feel your insides turn into mush, the way he cares always from the smallest to the biggest ways reminding you of why falling for him was so desperately easy. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, Aaron.”

The informality catches him off guard, but he welcomes it, loving the way his name sounds leaving your lips. “He’s a sweet kid, much more cooperative than drunk Garcia, I can assure you.”

You laugh at his joke and it’s silent for mere seconds before he finally asks the question, the one question on his mind since you walked into his office earlier. Why? Why don’t you have a date? Why aren’t you at the bar? How can you even be single?

“I don’t have a lot of free time, Aaron. I’m… Busy.” You both know that’s not a lie. But you could try to make time if you were interested, you could’ve gone out today. Unfortunately, when you found yourself having feelings for someone, you couldn’t bring yourself to look for someone else. All the other men seemed so incredibly dull compared to the one taking you home, and you couldn’t but compare when you were with any other.

“You had free time tonight.” He’s pushing it and he knows it. He shouldn’t be asking so many questions about your dating life, he shouldn’t pry when he knew himself well enough to be certain he wouldn’t make any moves on you. Younger, beautiful, funny, smart… And the daughter of his closest friend. All the reasons he was so smitten were also the reasons he told himself he shouldn’t lead you on.

You deserved someone your age, with no baggage, or at least one lighter than his. Someone with more time to spare, who could take your mind out of the job and not keep you on it. And definitely someone who didn’t go to jazz clubs with your father.

Still, his hands are firm on the wheel, turning left to get to your home.

“I’m not wasting my free time on guys I meet at bars on Valentine’s Day.” He smirks, finding a good spot to park his car without saying anything else. He’s delighted by your answers even though it isn’t fair.

He gets ready to leave the car but you stop him, tapping his thigh lightly (it sends shivers up his spine but he’s getting good at pretending not to feel it). “Better get your go bag.” You see confusion on his eyes and that known furrowed brow directed at you. “You’re not gonna be comfortable in a suit. You can change to your spare.”

He hadn’t thought about that, it would definitely defy the purpose of a quiet relaxing movie night if he was all dressed up in his well known work attire. So he does as instructed and gets his go bag from the backseat, even though he’s getting more and more anxious by the second. The innocent friends movie night he made himself believe looking more and more like he was sleeping over.

You give him the tour of your apartment–a gift from your dad when you graduated from the academy, not that anyone really needed to know how spoiled you were–and show him the bathroom where he could change. Or shower. He has his go bag after all.

You go to your room to do just that, trying not to let the thoughts of him possibly being naked and under your shower flood your mind as you take the quickest shower you’ve ever taken in your life.

As you move from your own bathroom to your closet to get your pajamas you’re suddenly very aware of what’s really happening. You really did invite him to your apartment. This was a date. But it couldn’t be a date, did he see it as a date? Being so very infatuated by him and knowing well he had some sort of interest in you was very very different than acting on it. Your dad would kill you if he knew. And Aaron. And you again, possibly, if he knew it was your doing to initiate it.

Instead of your usual thin fabric short shorts and tank top you wear to sleep, you decide to be decent, black silk loose pants, old university t-shirt, cotton robe, socks and fluffy slippers. Anything that could maybe show you are totally just thinking about watching some fun movies with a friend.

You take two blankets and two pillows with you as you leave your bedroom, the sound of the shower being turned off making your feet almost run to get everything ready. The couch turning into a bed with a bit of struggle to unfold it. You made sure each blanket and pillow were on each side of it, as far as possible from each other.

Popcorn! You need to make popcorn, that’s the first thing you think when you hear the door unlocking, going straight for the kitchen and putting a bag on your microwave. As it popped you got cheese strings and butter out of your fridge. If you couldn’t blow his mind in better ways, you could at least get him hooked to your special cheesy buttered popcorn.

“I’m making myself way too comfortable, I think.” His voice is smooth and relaxed and when you look back he’s leaning into the frame, his hair is wet and he’s wearing matching black sweatpants and a hoodie you’ve never seen him wear.

For a moment you just want to kiss him and forget about any debate morality could bring to ruin it, but instead you laugh and take the popcorn out of the microwave and drop its content into a bowl, spreading some butter on top and dropping a few strings of cheese on it before putting the bowl on the microwave.

“Casa mia è casa tua.” Your Italian is a bit rusty but it still works as a charmer, “Go pick us the most terrible looking romcom you can find while I finish this.”

“Romcom, huh?” He asks and you can just hear the teasing in his tone.

“You didn’t think we were going for some documentary, right?” You use a spoon to mix the popcorn to the melted butter and cheese when it’s out of the microwave, and follow him to the living room, “We’re gonna eat this cheesy, buttered, absolutely heart-swelling popcorn and make fun of some terrible, terrible movie love tropes.”

You do just that, and it’s awkward at first, the both of you wanting to be closer but also not feeling like you should cross that barrier, but as the night went on, the more you shared that popcorn, the more laughs you shared, the closer you got on that couch, specially after he tried to rub his greased fingers on your face, making you do the same to him.

One movie becomes two, and then three, and somewhere in between him telling you about the dates he would take Haley as a teen, making you laugh at how sweet and romantic he always was, and you telling him about your first kiss and how terrible it was, you both fall asleep. Your head on his chest, his arms around you.

Jack doesn’t call, and if Emily tried to get you to pick up Garcia you definitely didn’t see it.

It’s the first time you both share such an intimate moment, and it is just that. Sleeping in each other’s arms. Aaron even wakes up in the middle of the night, 3AM striking on the clock on your wall. He wasn’t even able to freak out and overthink anything about it, the comfort of your smell making him hug you tighter and close his eyes again.

He could deal with it in the morning.

#lari writes sometimes #this took so long that i kinda hate it now #happy valentines day !#aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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cosmicluvcore · 10 months ago

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To be human part 1

Rottmnt Leo x reader, gender-neutral, friends to lovers, jealous Leo

Summary: Leo has the biggest crush on you, but he's afraid that you'd never date a mutant, so with the help of a cloaking brooch, he plans to become your perfect human boyfriend!

Part 2 here

☆

Okay I have to be honest. I saw someone with this idea, but I have no clue where it came from originally. If you know who I should credit, please tell me!!

Anyways, this concept gave me way too many ideas hope you enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leo wasn't great at dealing with his feelings.

He'd been crushing on Y/N for far too long, the terrapin couldn't even remember when the whole thing started.

A few loving glances and a flirty joke or two had suddenly burst into the thought of Y/N keeping him up at night. He wasn't great at hiding it either, blushing like an idiot when they smiled his way.

Leo knew he needed to tell them sooner or later, but he hadn't worked up the courage yet. A part of him hoped they secretly felt the same way and would confess to him, but there'd been no sign of that happening anytime soon. Leo wanted to confess, he really did, but... what if they didn't feel the same way? What if it made their friendship weird? What if he looked like an idiot? What if they never wanted to speak to him again?!

There were just too many 'what ifs' for his liking.

So Leo had decided to take the easy way out, hoping that Y/N would just see how great he was, then he wouldn't have to deal with any uncomfortable conversations. He started going out of his way to impress them, saving them on missions, being overly nice, letting them win in video games, giving them his last pizza slice, (which is very valuable by the way!)

Not that he'd ever admit it, but Leo had spent an embarrassingly long time researching 'how to get your crush to like you back'.

He'd bought a cologne for Pete's sake! But no matter what he did, they never seemed to notice.

It was a ordinary evening. Leo and the others sat in the projector room watching a movie. Raph, Mikey and Y/N were sitting comfortably on the floor surrounded by blankets and pillows. Meanwhile, Donnie and Leo took the couch, popcorn in their hands. They were watching some random action movie. Leo wasn't really paying attention.

He was more focused on Y/N.

Y/N had started fawning over the male love interest and that began to spark a little- scratch that, a LOT of jealously in Leo's heart. Every scene that guy appeared in they were freaking out, gushing over him like he was the best thing since sliced bread.

The blue-masked turtle scoffed to himself as the character appeared again, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

What was so great about this guy anyway?

Leo was twice as charming as him, he was the one with good looks, great one-liners and clearly the best ninja skills. This guy barely spoke a word and Y/N was blushing like crazy. But as he kept watching the film, something clicked in his mind.

He was human.

That's something Leo could never beat. Sure, 'biologically' he was part human, but he didn't exactly look like it. The turtle shifted a little in his seat, the uncomfortable feeling of insecurity settling in.

"Leo? Are you good?" Donnie asked, snapping him out of his thoughts for a moment.

"Me? Yeah, I'm great," Leo replied quickly, glancing away from his brother's gaze,

"It's just that this movie sucks, never letting Raph choose again!" He lied, that playful smirk returning to his face as he saw his eldest brother's reaction.

"Hey!" Raph called out from afar.

As the movie continued, Leo sighed deeply and took another handful of popcorn, chewing the kernels absentmindedly and leaning back in his seat. Was that really why Y/N wasn't interested in him? Because he wasn't human? There wasn't much he could do about that, it's not like there was just some magic spell that could-

Leo's face lit up as an idea popped into his mind, cloaking brooches. Yokai used them, April's slime friend had one, so they must be easy to find. Leo's mind started spinning with possibilities. If he could get his hands on a cloaking brooch, he could be human and finally get Y/N's attention! But, where would he get one?

For once, Leo was distracted as Y/N entered his room. Usually he'd be all over them chatting up a storm, but he was sitting on his bed glancing away from them.

"Leo?" They asked softly, watching as the turtle was startled by the interruption.

"Hey, what's with the jump scares?" Leo joked with a playful chuckle,

"I thought we were friends." He said in mock offense, leaning onto his back and over-dramatically draping his hand over himself.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his shenanigans, "I just came to check on you drama queen, you're being weirdly quiet today."

Leo blinked at their observation. Jeeze, was he that obvious?

"Ohh well you know, I was just thinking about Raphs' riveting movie choice tonight." He replied casually, quick to make up an excuse.

I mean, technically, it wasn't a lie he had been thinking about the film.

Y/N rolled their eyes at that, "You're just salty it wasn't your choice tonight, besides that movie wasn't so bad." They replied, calmly leaning against the door frame.

"Ooh really? You're just saying that because you were all over the male lead," He retorted, grinning smugly as he watched their cheeks flush, "You, my friend, are biased."

"Well- Can you blame me? That guy was a total stud." Y/N blurted out defensively.

"He was alright, I guess. Just totally not as hot as the real stud in the room." He said with a cocky smirk as he gestured towards himself.

Y/N let out a laugh at that.

Normally, Leo wouldn't take such a tiny thing to heart, but his ego took a hit from the way Y/N laughed at him. He was the type to eagerly take any opporunity to see them smile, but this time it felt like they were laughing at him. Scoffing at just the thought of him being attractive to them, it was this newfound level of insecurity that he didn't know how to handle.

"Alright Leo, seems like you're biased too." They said with a chuckle.

"I simply speak the truth." He shrugged in reply, trying to ignore the painful realization.

Thankfully, Y/N didn't seem to notice, "Well, I'm heading home. I'll see you around."

"I'll see you." Leo smiled, waving as he watched them go.

After the coast was clear, Leo let out a long annoyed sign. He leaned onto his back, letting the soft cushion of his bed comfort him as insecurities began to plague his mind.

He needed a cloaking brooch.

#Spotify #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leo x you #rottmnt leo x y/n #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x y/n #gn reader #gender nuetral reader #gender nuetral #rottmnt tbh #To be human #Tbh #rottmnt to be human

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steddiehyperfixation · 4 months ago

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wishful thinking

@steddie-spooktober day 12: graveyard | 1,058 words | T | canon compliant

“Hey, Eddie. Sorry Dustin couldn’t be here, you’re stuck with me today,” Steve says as he crouches down in front of Eddie’s gravestone. “Hope that’s alright.”

Dustin usually comes by about once a week to clean the hate speech off, but he’s on vacation with his family right now, so Steve took it on himself to take up the mantle this week. It’s covered in slurs this time, angry red spray paint scrawled over a headstone that wishfully asserts that Eddie is ‘finally at peace.’ Bullshit, that. The graffiti and the headstone. How can he be at peace when all those witch-hunting dickheads are still stomping all over his grave? “I guess we don’t really give you much peace either though,” Steve muses aloud. “The kids visit you so much. Your uncle too. Kind of crazy - for all the hate you got, you were loved just as much too. Don’t know if that makes you feel better or anything.”

He sighs, dunking a rag in a bucket of soapy water and beginning to scrub the paint off the gravestone. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you can hear me, wherever you are,” he says, though he still continues to talk regardless. It gives him something to do while he works. “I know Dustin talks to you a lot too. He says when he does he almost feels like you’re actually here, like you’re listening to him, sitting with him. He says that he imagines you responding to him, swears up and down that sometimes he really does hear you answering. But I know it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking. I think he knows that too. He just misses you. You dying really hit him hard, you know.”

For all the years of crazy Upside-Down shit they’ve been through, Dustin had never lost someone so close to him before. It hardened something in him, left a hollow behind his eyes and an anger and cynicism in them that hadn’t been there before. Steve worries about that kid now more than ever.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not really there, that you can’t see the way he’s changed,” he tells Eddie’s grave. “I think it would just depress you. It depresses me. But, I don’t know, sometimes when he talks about how he thinks he can feel your presence here some of that old hope and light returns to his eyes. So maybe it’d actually be better if you really were still hanging around, if it’s not just in his imagination.”

He shrugs. “And maybe you are. Who knows, the world we live in these days. It’d make sense, I guess, that your spirit or whatever might come back down here for Dustin. You guys had that, like, nerd bond. Not for me though.” He huffs out a dry laugh and re-wets his cleaning rag. “Either way, I’m still just an idiot talking to myself in a graveyard. There’s no reason you’d come here for me. It’s not like we were really friends. We barely knew each other, we just went through the week from hell together and then you died.”

He frowns as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn line of graffiti and he falls briefly quiet, chewing at his lip. His silence is more pensive than focused, old thoughts now swirled up to the surface in his mind.

“I think we could’ve been, though,” he says after a moment, “friends, I mean. If I’d’ve gotten the chance to know you better. If we’d had more time. We- maybe we could’ve even-” Steve falters, unable to speak aloud what he’s really thinking, not while he’s scraping off slurs that might be hurled at him next if anyone heard. He can’t say that that moment in the stolen camper van when Eddie leaned into his space and called him ‘big boy’ had made something strange and new slither in his stomach and warm his blood. He can’t say how he wishes they could’ve gotten the chance to explore that, all the things it made him wonder about. Instead he settles on, “I think I could’ve learned a lot from you…”

If Steve really wanted to torture himself he’d give into his imagination, picture Eddie standing beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and replying We could’ve, like he knows everything Steve’s not saying and feels the same. Steve can practically feel the touch, hear his voice, could just about convince himself of it if he was enough of a masochist to. He has to glance at his shoulder, has to put his own hand there just to check for sure, to remind himself that there’s no one there. It’s just wishful thinking. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the headstone.

His throat feels tight. “You shouldn’t have died, man,” he mutters. “You just shouldn’t have. I told you- I told you 'don't try to be cute or be a hero,’ didn't I? But you did it anyways. You did anyways and now look at you. Being dead isn't cute, Eddie, it just isn't.”

Steve's voice cracks, eyes stinging. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. He needs to pull himself together. He didn't come here to bare his soul to a chunk of stone for some guy he honestly didn't really know. What ifs don't mean shit to the dead; it's only the living they haunt. It’s only himself who’s here to hear it.

“Well,” he exhales heavily, swallowing down his emotion. He scrubs off the last remaining paint from the stone and sits back on his heels. “At least your grave is all shiny and clean now. That’s something, right? You’re welcome, by the way. My work here is done.” Collecting his cleaning supplies, he gets to his feet, hesitating for a second. Silly as it sounds, he feels like he should say some sort of goodbye before he heads off, like it would be rude not to. “I’ll, uh-” He pats the top of the gravestone, only a little awkwardly. “I’ll see you around, Munson.”

As he turns to leave, Steve could almost swear this time he really does hear Eddie’s voice, a whispery echo following him from the graveyard. See ya, Stevie. Don't be a stranger.

#what do you think is eddie actually there as a ghost or is it just in steve's head?#completely up to your interpretation #steddiespooktober #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #mine

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zedif-y · 10 months ago

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omg!!!! joel + "afraid" maybe???

Joel isn't afraid of water.

He grits his teeth, forces a smile when Grian looks over at him, head tilted in question. He shakes his head.

" 'm good," is what comes out of his mouth, casual as anything. "Don't wanna get wet."

Which is true, you know. He's not lying. He's just... Kinda not feeling the whole swimming thing right now. Even though he said he would. Multiple times.

...Nothin' wrong with that. A guy can change his mind, can't he?

Grian looks unimpressed, "You went to a beach party to people watch?"

Ugh.

"You went over here to judge?" Joel fires back. An itching something creeps under his skin. "I'll put sand in your wings, Grian, don't think I won't." Grian huffs.

"Someone's tetchy today," He mumbles. He stretches his wings, large swaths of red feathers that catch the sun, "Whatever. Call me if you need me, I'll be over by- Mumbo, are you sunburnt already?!"

Joel watches him go, amusement on his lips as Grian runs off. He lets out a breath.

Why'd he agree to this, again?

("Hey," Impulse says. "So, the other hermits and I were planning something, and we were wondering if you'd wanna-")

("Yes," Joel blurts out, then— "I mean no- I mean! What're- what's the plan?")

(Joel fights a wince.)

(Nice save, idiot.)

(But Impulse just smiles—thank the gods—and goes, "Well, it's nothing fancy or anything. Just a hangout at the beach. Grian found this awesome spot-")

And Joel promises he was listening. He was. It's just, you know. Exciting? 'Cuz he's one of the new guys and it's a whole new server to get used to and they actually want him to hang out, and that's great and he's got plans for builds, farms, and, and.

Maybe, just- maybe. He wants this to work out. Really wants this to work out. Wants to be here to stay.

Because like— Joel's a Hermit now. A real, bonafide Hermit, even though it doesn't feel real. Even if it hasn't quite sunk in yet.

So. You know. What's the harm, right?

("I'll be there," Joel says at last, grinning in a way that he hopes is casual and not painfully eager. "When's it happening?")

Joel can't help but wonder if this is turning out the way he wanted it to, though.

The heat prickles at his skin, leaves him sweating and uncomfortable in his rolled up shirt and pants. He fans himself with the front of his shirt, just watching the others pass the time.

Hermitcraft's got a variety of members— Jevin laughs as xB drenches Keralis in a spray of water, halting when sand is thrown his way in return. ("You know that sticks to me!") Xisuma's in swim trunks and his usual helmet, fanning himself with his hands like it'll stave off the heat. Tango doesn't even break a sweat.

Something worms into his chest, an ugly, twisting feeling that curls around his lungs.

Joel grimaces. Oh, what the heck.

Biting his lip, Joel looks down at his chest, under his shirt. He doesn't exactly grimace, but there's nothing happy about his face, either.

Again, ugh.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. He goes back to people watching, ignoring the prickling discomfort under his skin. This is fine. This is fine.

At the corner of his eye— Pearl stands by the side, cracking jokes with Etho. They're both still wearing jackets. It makes something in Joel unfurl, just a little bit.

He tears his eyes away before they spot him.

The thing is— Joel doesn't, like, hate himself or anything. Not anymore, or at least not right now. And he's not afraid of water, despite how intensely he stared at the sea. It's just, it's...

Joel chews on his lip, picking off dried skin. The small tears bleed, droplets of blood on his tongue as he licks them away. He barely realizes he's doing it— and by the end, his lip twinges a little, reddened and sore.

Sweat makes his clothes cling to his skin. Joel wishes he hadn't agreed to any of this at all.

"You got room for one more?" A voice asks, jolting him out of his thoughts.

Joel turns to look— "Zedaph," He says, surprised. He scoots over his (frankly, way too large) beach blanket, "Yeah, I've got- yeah. You can sit."

Zedaph grins, "Just Zed is fine," He tells him, sitting next to Joel.

He's not in his usual getup right now, Joel notes. Not that he'd know. He's only talked to the guy twice, seen him in meetings. But something about the lack of a cardigan, although understandable, strikes Joel as a bit off— it's like seeing your teacher in casual wear outside of school. Makes sense, but it's kinda weird.

"You gonna swim?" Joel asks, just for something to fill the air. By the water, Scar gets pinched by a crab. Joel snickers.

Zedaph watches on, amused. "With how hot it is, I feel like I already am," He huffs. He rifles through his inventory, a pink fan appearing in his hand, "But no, I don't think I will. It's a nightmare on the wool."

Joel hums, makes sense.

"How about you?"

Joel frowns— he doesn't mean to, it just kinda happens— and says, "Uh, dunno. Maybe? I don't-" He makes a face. "I said I would, but now 'm not sure."

After a beat, Zedaph shrugs. "Well, you've got time," He says at last, and that's that.

They settle into people-watching, for the most part. Just watching the other Hermits bask in the sun, laughing and splashing around as the day goes on.

It looks— it looks fun. It looks so fucking fun.

Joel grits his teeth, the hand gripping the front of his shirt tightening without his notice. What the heck. What the heck.

Frustration gnaws at him, eyes caught on the way they all carry themselves, loose and carefree. Not at them, obviously, it's at his stupid, like, brain—

Joel lets out a breath, deep and measured.

He wanted to come. He said he'd come, join in and swim and whatever else. But now he's here and he's sitting in the shade and not even talking to Zedaph because he can't get a hold of himself, too worked up over nothing as he agonizes over the fact that his shirt is clinging to his skin and it's wrong and it's weird and it feels like, like.

Joel lets his gaze drop to the sand at his feet.

It feels like if they knew, if they saw him the way he saw himself, then they'd, like, regret inviting him here. Or something. Here being the server and the world and not just beach party.

Which, which is stupid and he knows this, but it's so hard to shake— like, how did he even get here, again?

Joel bites back a groan. Today is an awful day to have blummin' imposter syndrome.

For goodness' sake, now he's sulking.

After a while, Zedaph speaks up.

"Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrows drawn together. Joel wants to evaporate on the spot.

He shakes his head, then grimaces. Now he's acting like a toddler.

"Oh," Zedaph says, looking a bit lost. Joel can relate. "...Thirsty?"

Joel blinks. "Huh?"

"Sorry," Zedaph's cheeks flush pink, shaking his head, "I'm not very good at this. D'you want to talk? I can listen if you want."

Joel thins his lips, weighing his options.

He thinks that in another world, another time he probably would've just kept this to himself. 'Cuz he can handle this, he's not a kid. But somewhere along the line— the line of repeatedly bottling shit up, having it rattle and shake and eventually explode— he sort of. Well.

Maybe he realized that that doesn't work. Anymore.

So, "It's stupid."

Joel winces. Great start.

"I mean, it's not. I guess. It's just, new guy jitters, you know?" He tries to explain, watching as understanding dawns on Zedaph's face, a knowing smile that puts a balm on the static-y feeling in Joel's veins. "I'm sorta freaking out about, everything? Even the ones that don't make sense."

His cheeks burn red, "Like the way I'm all sweaty and gross and— I kinda don't want people to see, my body—?" He cuts himself off, his face pinched like he swallowed a lemon. "It's, you know. Not just because of gender things, but it is kind of that, but it's... Gods, Zed, just tell me they aren't gonna kick me out."

The last words come out in a rush, high-pitched and not squeaky as they tumble past Joel's lips. Zedaph blinks.

"Before I joined Hermitcraft, I was falling through the sky with my own sick on my head," Zedaph starts. Which. "Before that, the first ever thing I did was dig a hole in the ground and call that my home. And make an egg farm. But mostly the digging."

Joel tries very, very hard to find where this is going. (A fool's errand, from what he's heard about Zed, but still.)

"When I was asked to join Hermitcraft, my first thought was— really? Me?" Then, he laughs. "But they were serious! And I even asked Tango, then, if it was some elaborate prank. But it wasn't! They really wanted me on here!"

Zedaph gestures around them, "It's easy to get caught in your head, I get that. But we know what we're doing—" He pauses. "When it comes to this, at least. When the Hermits invited me, they knew what they were signing up for— vomit and worms and holes in the ground. And possibly a hint of death and malpractice. Of all sorts."

The knot, slowly unraveling in Joel's chest, starts to loosen up.

Somehow. What was that about death?

Zedaph nudges him, "So lighten up, yeah? Nobody's getting kicked out." Joel manages a smile.

"Thanks, Zed-"

"I mean, if people got kicked out for being sweaty and gross, there'd be no one left!" Zedaph leans in to stage-whisper, "What, you think Impulse didn't sweat in season 9? With all that lava?"

Joel snorts, "Point taken."

Zedaph grins. He leans back, resting on the base of the palm tree they've settled under.

"Take your time to figure out if you're swimming or not," Zedaph tells him, purple eyes glinting under flecks of sunlight. "But nobody will mind if you just stay here. Promise."

Joel nods. This time, smiling comes easier.

"Okay," He replies. He lets out a breath, watches as the sun shines down on the beach, "Thanks, Zed."

"Not a problem."

---

(Joel doesn't, in fact, end up swimming.)

(He watches the sun set on the horizon, eats barbecue at the makeshift grill Skizz brought. It's only the best thing he's eaten all day.)

(Joel laughs at something Gem said, so hard that his lungs kind of hurt.)

(Sitting around a bonfire, shirt smelling like smoke, his anxieties lay forgotten, for now.)

(Joel doesn't swim. Maybe he won't for a while.)

(But there will be more opportunities to try.)

#THEY ARE NOT ALL GOING TO BE THIS LONG. PART OF THIS IS OLD WRITING AND I JUST ENDED UP FINISHING IT SKLDJHGSDG #joel smallishbeans #zedaphplays #zedaph plays #hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitblr #mcyt #mcytblr #ryan's writing #ask games #anon #hermitcraft season 10 #hc s10

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actual-changeling · 2 years ago

Text

"Joel?"

Ellie shifts slightly so she can look up at him, cheek squished against his biceps. The movie is long over, but the best part of the night is dozing off pressed against Joel while he reads or whittles away at something. Sometimes he even reads out-loud, voice rhythmic and soft, lulling her to sleep. He glances down at her and lowers his book, arm coming up to wrap around her.

"Yeah, baby?"

She chews on her lip, trying to find the words in her tired mind, and Joel's thumb gently rubbing her shoulder is the opposite of helpful, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"What's Tommy, like, to me? He's your brother but I don't. I don't know where I fit."

Joel stays silent for a litlte bit, seemingly properly thinking about her question, and she curls up tighter against his chest, pressing her face into his shirt somewhere below his neck. She's tired enough to fall asleep like this even with the lights on, and she chose this moment exactly because of that, knowing that the fatigue will prevent her from freaking out too much; so far, it's doing its job.

"Tommy is whatever you want him to be, babygirl, there's no pressure."

"I know", she sighs, answer kind in his typical Joel-fashion, but useless.

"I just don't know what to call him, to other people, I mean."

Explaining her relationship with Joel to the other children and teachers at school was already a task, and while the latter didn't question her answers, she's given up on trying to convince her classmates that Joel isn't her actual dad. The spark for this conversation had been an encounter with one of the newer arrivals, whom Tommy had introduced her to as 'my brother's kid', which, sure, probably the easiest way of putting it. But-

"Someone called him my uncle, and he didn't correct them. I don't know if-"

"If he's okay with everyone calling him that?"

Ellie nods, glad that he understands what she is getting at, and he holds her a little tighter as he pulls her further into his lap. Joel presses a kiss to her temple, her forehead, then her hair before settling with his chin resting on the top of her head, his hands rubbing soft circles into her back.

"You're my kid," he says plainly, "which makes you a part of his family, and since he's my brother, yeah, I guess uncle is accurate. I don't think he minds."

"You sure?"

The last thing she wants to do is upset either of them, and she and Tommy have actually been getting along quite well, bullying Joel and doing all the things he doesn't want either of them to do - in short, making him go grey twice as fast as before.

"Very sure."

(He doesn't want to tell her just yet that Tommy has been calling himself her uncle since day one, introducing Ellie as his niece in turn.)

"Alright."

Ellie wraps her arms around his waist when Joel lowers them onto the couch, safely trapped between him and the backrest, and she holds on tight even while she drifts off, sleep coming easily and gently, closing their eyes with a gentle touch. He will carry her to bed later, enjoying the opportunity to simply feel her breathing and alive against him for now.

"G'night, Joel." (Saying it doesn't sound right, but she doesn't have to, they can both sense it. Her friends calling him that no longer sounds quite as wrong.)

"Sleep tight, baby." (They all know, and Tommy is intentionally driving the point home, but he doesn't need to tell her; she knows. They both do.)

That's my niece, Ellie.

Oh, she's my brother's daughter.

Joel is her dad, idiot.

Must run in the Miller family.

Family, they all know, is way more than just shared DNA. It's the people you trust, who will keep you safe.

It's everyone you come home to at the end of a long, long day.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #joel miller #ellie williams #tommy miller #ellie and tommy #miller family #literally writing this from bed #my seroquel is kicking in full force n my vision is definitely somewhat blurry #so excuse any mistakes pls ill fix it tomorrow #just hadt o get this one out #love to all my mutuals #dying crying throwing up thinking about these characters #uncle tommy strikes again

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mychlapci · 5 months ago

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Episode Two - Darkness Rising, Part 2

Okay so Starscream establishes that the Decepticons have access to multiple energon mines, with the one shown at the beginning of the episode holding the most energon. He also calls one of the vehicons, drone, which implies that they’re not sentient beings. This would make sense since they’re canon fodder and mostly serve to flesh out the actual army that the Decepticons have since making a ton of unique character models would be expensive as fuck.

However, we see in later episodes that the vehicons can speak, a feature I find odd if they’re just meant to be mindless drones following order. This brings up a whole bunch of horrifying implications since the Autobots regularly rip vehicons to pieces in battle.

I’m gonna be 100% honest, I hate the dark energon plotline. Not only because it completely undermines Megatron as a leader and makes him look like a fucking idiot for just shoving it directly into his spark chamber, but also just because TFP is going to have soooo many plotlines down the road and out of all of them, dark energon will just continue to stick out like a sore thumb.

I do appreciate that Ratchet is just a hater. Like he just wants to leave and 100% respect him. So far he’s the only character to have actually funny lines.

God I forgot how ugly Fowler’s model is. Like the other humans look okay, but they did him dirty.

“BULKHEAD I NEEDED THAT!”

Optimus for the love of god put your mask back on. Please man you actually look hot that way.

“Pretty big bearings, for a human.” What did he mean by this? Bulkhead what did you mean by that?

Starscream will continue to be the only right person in this show. Like it will literally be Megatron’s fault that they loose their biggest energon mine because he decided to reactivate Cliffjumper’s corpse in the middle of it. And then, when things start going south, he’ll just order Starscream to blow up the entirety of the mine instead of trying to save it. Like TFP Megatron is a terrible fucking leader and from what we’re told, Starscream was actually doing a pretty damn good job of collecting energon considering in the three years that Megatron was gone, no one even once noticed the cons and their mining operations.

Basically TFP Megatron is a terrible leader and IMO the show would’ve been 10000% more interesting if they actually let Starscream be a competent individual instead of just turning him into Megatron’s chew toy.

Grrrr. Listen Miko, girl, I think you’re fine and all but good lord read the goddamn room. Every single one of the robots are talking about their friend, who has been presumed dead and you’re asking about the fight? I don’t think I would actually mind this behaviour if Miko actually had other things going on with her character. Like we hear about her host family a lot but not once do we actually see them. Perhaps her extreme thrill seeking behaviour is a result of being shipped off to nowhere Nevada by her family back home, or maybe her host family ignores her and she resorts to getting into danger as a method of acting out.

Still sticking with my opinion that TFP Optimus is built like an uppercase T. He’s gonna fucking fall over he’s so top heavy.

God the size shifting in this show is insane. Like Arcee is like 3x the size of her actual altmode.

I really wish Jack wouldn’t compare his fucking girl problems to Arcee’s partner literally dying. Those two things are not even remotely comparable in terms of emotional damage. Also it just makes him sound really fucking childish and petty that she has the audacity to be angry and annoyed about being forced to babysit some human teenager. Maybe they could’ve had Jack say “I know what’s it’s like to loose someone too Arcee…” Instead of just making him complain about girl trouble. That also would set up a potential plotline involving his absent father. Maybe he died?

It’s really funny that June didn’t see Arcee in the garage despite the fact that she’s literally in the driveway when Arcee reacts to her pulling up. Like there is zero way that she didn’t see the massive robot sitting in her garage.

WHY DO THEY KEEP SETTING UP WEIRD ROMANTIC NOTES WITH JACK AND ARCEE?! HE’S SIXTEEN FOR FUCKS SAKE.

ONCE AGAIN COMPLETELY UNDERMINING MEGATRON AS A EVEN REMOTELY COMPETENT LEADER BY MAKING HIM SHOVE AN UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE INTO HIS SPARK CHAMBER!!!!

Other Notes

They should’ve put Megatron down.

Episode Three - Darkness Rising, Part 3

Okay the little gesture Miko does when she pats Bulkhead’s interior and then puts her hands in her lap is so fucking cute. Bulkhead and Miko dynamic my beloved <3

At this point you could replace Soundwave with a piece of cardboard and literally nothing would change. Like… he just stands there, repeating other people’s voice lines. What even is the point of him?

5:22’s Transforming scene between Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead really demonstrates how big the bots are and how fucking ridiculous their altmodes really are.

Ratchet should be allowed to kill I think.

Okay Optimus says ‘Late in the war’ when referring to the energon deposites on Earth but like… it had to have happened before humans became a fully fledge civilization creating species, because Ratchet seems confused about Earth being a potential battlefield. WHAT THE FUCK IS THE TIMELINE MAN?????

I will never forgive what they did to Laserbeak. Like what the fuck is that ugly ass thing? Also adds to the continued problem in TF media where the cassettes don’t get to be actual characters and are instead just tools to be used by Soundwave. At the very least if they actually gave Soundwave a proper personality we might’ve been able to glean information about Laserbeak. Or hey maybe an inverse where Laserbeak acts as Soundwave’s voice, speaking for him in front of other characters. That would’ve given both of them an interesting dynamic.

OH AND THE FACT THAT LASERBEAK IS ALSO AROUND THE SIZE OF A GODDAMN HELICOPTER???? LIKE WHAT THE FUCK???? That cannot possibly be right. And Laserbeak has tentacles… yeah okay fucking whatever I guess.

Gah I don’t like the Agent Fowler kidnapping plotline. It feels out of place when the focus should really be on Optimus and Ratchet trying to stop Megatron. I think it would’ve been better suited for it’s own episode outside of the five pilot episodes.

“About five years ago, the government started microchipping their agents.” As an American, yeah that is something my government would do.

Y’know what, I think I would’ve been 100% okay with Miko throwing herself headlong into danger if she actually got a character arc where she realised how fucking dangerous and stupid of a decision that is. Like obviously TFP isn’t actually going to injure their child protagonists, but like… the show also wants me to be worried about the kids getting injured when they end up in situations and it falls flat when the Cybertronians are constantly telling Miko not to do stupid shit and then she never really learns her lesson, despite it nearly getting her and her friends killed on several occasions.

Honestly if they’d just moved Fowler getting kidnapped to being it’s own episode, we probably could’ve cut down Darkness Rising to four parts instead of five.

I think the showrunners should’ve allowed Ratchet to fucking maul Megatron right out the gate. It would’ve been funny and would’ve put Megatron out of commission way earlier.

Episode Four - Darkness Rising, Part 4

I enjoy the little detail that you don’t actually see Miko getting out of Bulkhead when Raf and Jack do.

Once again good lord I hope the vehicons aren’t sentient. Because otherwise Bulkhead is just killing so many people.

Bulkhead’s voice actor nailed that MIKO?! perfectly.

HOW THE FUCK DID MIKO JUST SLIDE ACROSS THE FLOOR LIKE THAT? HUMANS DO NOT HAVE THAT LEVEL OF TRACTION.

Y’know for as much as the fandom and the show love to hype up Soundwave as this guy who can see everything on the Nemesis and knows exactly what is going on at all times, he’s sure doing a pretty shit job of noticing three autobots breaking into the ship with their human companions.

ONCE AGAIN I REALLY HOPE THAT THE VEHICONS AREN’T SENTIENT BECAUSE OTHERWISE THE AUTOBOTS ARE GOING TO BE SO HYPOCRITICAL WHEN THEY SAY THEY CARE ABOUT ALL LIFE.

Why did they animate Raf putting the backpack on? Literally why did he do that instead of just running with the backpack in his hand?

Y’know what, shoutout to Jack for having the most normal reaction to being put in a life threatening situation. Miko is acting far too chill about all of this and I think it’s really weird how they keep having characters tell her that she could keep dying and then the dialogue serves no purpose because she just turns around and goes ‘Well I almost died too.’ Like girl that is not helping your case. Your actions nearly got yourself and a twelve year old killed. Again this wouldn’t be a problem if Miko actually learned a minor lesson about throwing herself headlong into danger. But she doesn’t learn.

She can still be weird girl extraordinar who loves robots and Bulkhead and metal music and thrill seeking without putting her friends in harm’s way. Like that is perfectly feasible!

LMFAO RATCHET IS SO FUCKING READY TO BE DONE WITH THEM. God he truly is the funniest part of this show so far.

Ugh… yay the first of many Starscream beatings. It is kinda funny how he sounds like he’s being choked but Megatron’s foot isn’t anywhere near his throat.

Okay Miko, your speech is falling on deaf years because you did actually almost get people killed. Like… girl… you did almost die and I don’t think saying ‘Oh well I went to the best school and had a loving family but I was stifled and didn’t get to be as weird as I wanted to be which is exactly why you should come back to hang out in a place that is liable to get you killed with me.’ will the change the fact that the guy you’re trying to convince nearly died.

Other Notes

Honestly, as much as I was ragging on Miko for the last couple of paragraphs, I do not actually hate her. I actually enjoy her moments with Bulkhead and the rest of the human cast in the base quite a bit. What I hate is how the show really wants you to think it’s super dark and gritty and oh my god the characters are at risk of getting injured and dying and then one of the main characters literally runs headlong into danger, nearly gets her friends killed, and then refuses to really sit down and understand why exactly her behaviour is dangerous for everyone around her.

Like genuinely, think about it, what happens if Miko gets injured? Her host family all of a sudden have to deal with the fact that a child they’re legally responsible for has been hurt and then they have to explain that fact to her actual parents. Then the Cybertronians will be liable for Miko’s injuries as well. Like her actions could have genuine consequences for so many other people than just Jack and Raf and if the show actually decided to commit to the fact that she could get hurt, we might have actually had an interesting plot line on our hands. But no, Miko will continue to throw herself into danger because ‘Oh the big robots are so cool and even though they’re literally in a war that’s actually causing them physical and emotional harm, i’m going to continue to talk about it like it’s a video game.’

God girl… I wish you were written better.

Episode Five - Darkness Rising, Part 5

Why does Megatron keep hating on Starscream, he’s literally just standing there 90% of the time. He hasn’t even done anything wrong in the five episodes he’s existed.

I think it’s really funny that Soundwave has to be at the radio array in person to deal with the goal of getting the space bridge to turn towards Cybertron. And also that scene is so funny because he’s just hunched over, tentacles sucking away at a random console, not even in any of the ports, just latched onto the box itself. What is he even doing? How do those tentacles even work in terms of extracting data?

Literally the very next scene shows Soundwave flipping through the cameras remotely so why does he even need the tentacles? And also what the fuck was he doing in the last episode when the autobots were breaking Fowler out of the brig, was he just taking a nap, or does he not have access to the Nemesis’ camera system?

I wish Megatron would’ve stayed dead. The maybe Starscream could be an actual character instead of a punching bag.

RATCHET WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE? TREAT HER DAMMIT?!

Other Notes

Okay so despite my less than stellar reviews so far, I would actually rate the Darkness Rising Arc with a solid 6.5/10. Like they're not bad episodes, especially not as a set of opening episodes to get people hooked on the show. I merely have the benefit of having watched the show before and am therefore able to make judgements based off of preexisting knowledge.

------

alright and here is part two of my tfp watch through! another person recommended that i watch the rest of the darkness rising episodes since they're very much meant to be viewed sequentially in a single sitting. i technically watched eight episodes since i do an initial watch through and then a second watch through where i take notes.

-burnt ice anon

scrolling through this wall of text going Hey what the hell Until i realized we just passed a friday, and we’re reviewing tfp every friday now.

I’ll be completely honest with you right off the bat I will have to disagree, I fuckin love tfp Megatron I think he’s so funny. I have zero notes, his dark energon plotline is also funny to me. I get where you’re coming from about his character and role, but I guess but I love a good crazy bitch. He’s a hater after my own heart.

one thing i guess i just have to dedicate an entire paragraph to is the Jack comparing his girl problems to Arcee’s loss because I also always thought it was weird, but upon rewatch I realized that… he doesn’t? Like if I’m not mistaken, he’s referring to Arcee as his girl problems. Which is, admittedly, still kinda rude, but it makes more sense, considering that she (albeit by accident and unwillingly) dragged him into mortal danger. Sorry, I just thought that was interesting.

as for Miko… I always have to defend her. She’s fourteen, lacks self-preservation skills, and is insensitive at times because her excitement gets her faster than social norms do. She’s got a brand of adhd i sure know well. She IS however out of place with her excitement, considering how like, gritty and real tfp is trying to be, she would actually fit much better in a more lighthearted tf show. The writers never seemed to know where to take her, always keeping whether she’s learnt her lesson semi-ambiguous just in case they have to find an easy reason for the bots to be at a specific place or do a specific thing. But to be completely honest I never had any desire to see Miko learn her lesson. Also, people do need to cut her some slack, all she really wants to do is watch Transformers, something we get to do on tv, but she has to sneak through ground bridges and stuff to get a tiny piece of action. Sorry, this turned into a Miko appreciation paragraph. i can’t help myself.

#hmmm sorry i answered this and then i forgot to post it #i do love reading your notes so much it’s so fun #texty

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leventart-den · 1 year ago

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Ch.02 of Interactive ZoSan fanfic.

AN:

Hi guys! Did I say I'll do 1k word chapters? I lied. This one is almost 5,500 words. Please be careful and look at the tags.

Beta-readed by wonderful @dad-cahoon ! Thank you so much for your help! AO3 link. I hope you will be satisfied with your choice. Without further ado, let's continue.

***

-= My 4am Sun =-

Ch.02 “Good intentions and Nothing's wrong”

Sanji turned off the tap, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and feeling a dry cough creeping up his throat. What the hell is going on with him? All these symptoms are all over the place and do not add up to a single picture at all. If he had been injured or poisoned or something like that, at least he would have felt something specific. But this... this is getting weirder and weirder. At least his modified body has time to react and tries to fix the problem. If you think about it... perhaps that is precisely the reason why he continues to function even when his consciousness turns off. Sanji isn't sure if this is good or bad, though. Not having control over his actions worries him, of course. But at least it's not someone controlling him, it's his own reflexes and knowledge and so he trusts himself not to cause trouble to others. At least he really wants to think so.

Sanji coughs, feeling the familiar metallic taste on his tongue and hearing the door to the kitchen open, so he hastily wipes his lips with his sleeve just in case. His shirt is dark today, nothing will be visible on it. He doesn’t turn around yet, but he hears the familiar sound of footsteps and the subtle chime of metal on metal. He knows it too well.

He knows even before he hears the annoying…

"Oi, cook! Luffy is ready to start chewing his own leg. When's the food?" It's rough and a little too loud for the isolated silence of his kitchen a moment ago. Yes, that's him. Idiot mosshead.

Sanji swallows and exhales, turning to the intruder, ready to snap back. He knows the drill. But at the last moment he changes his mind. He doesn't feel like starting to argue now. He feels too exhausted.

"Tell everyone they can pull up in five minutes." His answer is short and dry as his throat is now, but he doesn’t care. Sanji walks past Zoro, taking plates out of the cabinet and getting ready to set the table. The other is silent. He doesn't go anywhere. Sanji placed the plates on the table and began arranging the cutlery.

Zoro was still there, somewhere behind him.

Staring.

Unnerving.

But Sanji doesn't lash out this time as usual. All he wants is to finish breakfast and be left alone with himself to try to understand what is happening to him. If Marimo wants to hang around here and watch, well, fine, he will finish the preparations and call everyone himself, not such a big deal.

Or so he thought.

Sanji went to get larger plates to put the food into when the silence was broken again.

“Oi, shitty cook! What...” The hand accompanying the voice grabbed him by the elbow, stopping him halfway, but Sanji didn’t let him finish. He suddenly felt a pain under his skin, as if in another second his bone would break. He pulled his hand out in panic, stepping back, but realizing what he was doing, he hurried to cover his own fear by biting in response.

"What, Marimo? What the hell do you want? You asked when the food will be ready - I answered. Now sit down and wait in silence or go get fucking lost!" He found himself almost screaming at the end. He was out of breath. It was nothing new for them to argue like this. But for some reason this time it felt wrong and Sanji regretted giving in. From the moment the battle ended and he found himself “losing time” and this strange state of his, everything seemed too much. It overwhelmed him, confused him, preventing him from thinking clearly. He desperately wanted to hide somewhere in a corner away from everything and everyone and be able to breathe out and process everything.

But at the same time, now that he thought about it, he felt guilty that he wanted to be away from the others. They were his nakama, his family. How dare he think about them like that?

Ungrateful.

Useless.

Weak.

As always.

He felt a mocking laugh escape his throat, choking him for a second.

"What the hell is wrong with you, cook..."

Sanji heard the other's voice cut through the beginning ringing in his ears like a hot knife through butter. It snapped him out of his thoughts and for the first time Sanji was grateful for it.

Regardless, he grimaced, still annoyed, and went back to setting the table.

"Nothing's wrong, shithead." he snapped in his usual manner, although a little too hoarsely. He clenched his teeth, swallowing hard against another cough.

He didn't see Zoro watching him intently; otherwise he would have noticed the gloomy concern so unusual for the one-eyed swordsman.

There was something strange about the cook, Zoro noticed it during the battle. As a warrior, he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings and those around him, and after so many years of fighting with and against the cook, he unwittingly learned enough to notice when something was off. And now, as the first mate in this crew, Zoro is obliged to figure out what the problem is and take care of eliminating it in order to avoid further possible troubles. It was just that, nothing else, he told himself.

Well… More like he reminded himself if he was completely frank. Because despite the fact that they had never been close friends, Zoro increasingly caught himself thinking that he was too used to the shitty cook and their constant bickering and fighting. And he missed it when he was away. And now, when there is even the slightest shift in their routine, he notices it and wants to immediately fix it, to make it as it was before. He doesn't want any changes when it comes to Curls.

He does not want.

And so he will watch. And if he doesn’t admit what’s going on, he knows him well enough to know what points to press. Despite the fact that Zoro is not the type of person who would manipulate and deceive, in this situation he is ready to resort to it. It's for the cook's own good, after all.

So now Zoro opened his mouth to demand an answer, but approaching voices and the opening of the kitchen door, followed by a demand for food from their captain, stopped him. Zoro sighed, heading to the table - it looked like the conversation would have to be postponed.

Sanji breathed a sigh of relief when the kitchen door opened and Luffy burst inside from the threshold, stretching out his raking hands to the food that the cook had not even managed to put on the table yet. He had felt the shift in energy from the swordsman earlier and was sure that he was going to try to ask him a question again, so the distraction was very welcome. Sanji wasn't sure how it would have ended if that interrogation had continued. Right now, though, everything has slowly returned to normal with noisy pirates in the kitchen and a table laden with food. It seems that everyone has already recovered a little from the night battle and regained their former bright mood.

Sanji still felt the unnerving crawl under his skin and only hoped that breakfast would pass without incident. He served and smiled as always, showering compliments on the girls and barely having time to knock on the captain’s hands so that he wouldn’t steal food from other people’s plates.

God, he loved this so much. He did not realize that in this short time he had missed such a carefree routine. Everything else seemed like a bad dream now. Unfortunately for him though, good things don't last.

He almost tripped when his heart painfully skipped several beats and rushed forward simultaneously with a sickening sensation somewhere in his guts. It’s good that at that moment he was busy on the side preparing dessert and his hesitation would not be noticeable. Sanji bit his tongue, forcing himself to concentrate on what he was doing. "Not now. Not now." He thought angrily to himself. Oh he was angry. This is good. Anger is better than fear. He can work with it.

He put the desserts aside, about to return to the table to check if anyone needed anything, when the shitty swordsman spoke again and Sanji felt like throwing up.

Zoro ate, not really paying attention to the conversations of others and what was happening around him. It bugged him, but his thoughts kept returning to the night's battle and the cook. He can't say when things changed, but he remembers the moment he noticed the other wasn't moving and called out. He didn't get an answer, but Curly got back into motion, throwing kicks and taking down one opponent after another. He was efficient and precise in his attacks and Zoro remembered that, for some reason, that made him nervous. It looked too off. Too lifeless. Not like his usual cook.

Their, he meant, their cook.

And now, watching him, he clearly saw strange signs. A barely noticeable pallor, a sheen of sweat above his brow and hair that curled and stuck to his neck. He could see the tense shoulders and the overly heaving chest under his clothes as he took deep, careful breaths from time to time. Was the stupid cook injured? He didn't look like it when the battle was over. Zoro probably should tell Chopper, but then again that would have been hypocritical on his part. At the end of the day, Dartbrow is a grown ass man and can take care of himself. And if he himself doesn’t turn to Chopper, it means nothing serious. Right?

Right. But knowing his pride and stubbornness, the cook, just like Zoro himself, will walk around with a wound until he passes out. Hell, why is this suddenly bothering him so much? Shitty shittcook. If he doesn't want to tell Zoro what's wrong, then he knows what strings to pull. After all, he never backs down from a challenge. They both don't.

And so he lowers his chopsticks and places a smirk on his lips, raising his voice.

"Oi, cook! Why don't you eat anything? Or is your shitty food so shitty that it makes you sick?" Zoro knew that he was deliberately provoking the cook in order to force him to take care of himself and finally sit down and eat. But the second those words left his mouth, he regretted them. The conversations at the table faltered for a second and Nami gave him a look that he didn't quite understand, but suspected that it was hiding condemnation. Although no one commented on anything, returning to previous conversations, that second of awkwardness in the atmosphere was enough for Zoro to understand that he had gone too far. Everyone loved Sanji's cooking and even Zoro stopped using the topic as a reason to fight over the years. So now it really did sound overly rude.

Zoro felt angry at himself and at the cook for making him look like an idiot. Although he forgot about it the second he saw how pale the curl had become. He looked sick. But despite this, he did not argue, but defiantly took the plate, placed it firmly on the table, sat down and began to eat. His whole demeanor screamed "Here you go, you shitty Marimo! My food is great!"

Yep, never backs down from a challenge. Zoro felt himself grinning. It was like everything was okay.

Except that it wasn't. And the cook's strengthened grip on the fork to stop the shaking of his hand spoke volumes.

It sent a pang somewhere inside Zoro and he didn't like it. He didn't understand this feeling, so he didn't like it.

This has to stop.

Zoro will need to talk to him after breakfast, since no one else noticed anything.

It's strange how Zoro can go days without thinking about Curly at all, but once something like this happens, he can't seem to think about anything else. And this is a distraction that he wants to get rid of.

He caught Robin's knowing glance at him and frowned. It made him nervous. Zoro quickly returned to his food. Which, by the way, was delicious as always, but for some reason he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

Sanji's guts twisted at the mere thought of eating. By this moment, he already clearly knew that something was seriously wrong with his body. It felt as if something was constantly torn and broken in him, and now, for the first time ever, he was glad of his Germa modifications, thanks to which his body was able to regenerate at inhuman speed. He probably would have been dead by now if not for that.

And of course, right now stupid Marimo had to insult his food so of course he couldn't help but accept the challenge. So he sat down and began to eat, feeling each bite scratch his parched throat and taste like ash. The food threatened to rise back up, but Sanji stubbornly continued to eat until his plate was empty. He caught Zoro's eye and flipped him the bird. By this point everyone had finished their main meal and Sanji stood up for dessert, breathing through his nose and trying not to stagger. He felt hot and cold at the same time and just hoped that he didn't look as bad as he felt. It was a blessing that his team, as always, was engrossed in conversation and did not pay attention to him.

When breakfast finally came to an end and Sanji began unloading the dishes into the sink, he glanced in Zoro's direction, seeing him rise from the table, looking at him with the clear intention of approaching him. Sanji felt his heart nervously speed up, pushing the breakfast he had just eaten closer to his throat. But thank all the gods, the swordsman was stopped by Franky, who declared that he needed another pair of strong hands in some new project and dragged him away from the kitchen. Zoro didn't protest and Sanji hoped that he would forget about him while he was busy. Stupid Marimo suddenly became annoyingly persistent and Sanji had absolutely no idea why. Did he suddenly start caring about the cook? No. Definitely not. He must have just gotten bored, as often happens, and wanted a fight. Well, unfortunately for him, Sanji had no time for that now and Zoro will have to find other fun.

The cup clinked against the plate in the sink as his hand slipped from the glass as something stabbed painfully inside him. The kitchen was finally quiet again when the last strawhat left it and closed the door behind him. He was alone again and Sanji wasn't sure if he was happy about it or not, because without a source of distraction he was fully aware of how shitty he felt. He had work to do but he just couldn't bring himself to move. He seriously began to think that maybe it was worth turning to Chopper. But on the other hand, if his problem cannot be solved by the usual medical means, he will only bring anxiety to the little reindeer and the rest.

The numb feeling of a handprint on his back suddenly reminded him of itself and Sanji felt like he was going to throw up.This time for sure. He tasted blood on his tongue. He hastily turned off the water and rushed to the restroom, covering his mouth with his hand and feeling the blood seep through his fingers and flow down his arm into his sleeve. He barely managed to close the door behind himself and fell to his knees in front of the toilet when his body trembled with a violent spasm, pushing blood and what looked suspiciously like chunks of his own flesh out of his throat. Sanji coughed and shook and felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

His head hurt from lack of oxygen and tension, but he couldn't stop. The blood continued to rise up his throat and he felt like he was drowning in it. He wasn't sure how long it took until all that came out was dry retching. He spat several times, swallowing, and pushed himself away from the toilet, leaning against the nearest wall while sitting on the floor. Everything was spinning and he forced his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. It was hard to breathe, but he couldn't stay like this, he needed to move and get himself in order. He's not dying, at least not yet. His body, cursed by Germa, is already beginning to heal itself, he can feel it. But for how long and how often. Is there a limit to his regeneration? How damaged his body must be so that he cannot recover. This is so inhumane. It's like he's a thing that can be broken and put back together as if nothing happened. There are not even scars and no one will know.

It's that feeling on his back again, pulling him out of his thoughts and reminding him that he has to move. So he moves. Sanji flushes the toilet, doing a quick job of cleaning up the traces of blood on the floor and tossing the tissues into the trash. He leaned against the door, listening if anyone was nearby, and carefully left the restroom, moving into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

It's a good thing that he kept some spare clothes in a drawer here just in case. They all did, actually. Because it often happened that someone forgot a change of clothes when going to the shower after another game with the captain, which inexorably ended in dirty clothes and bruises.

So now Sanji simply took out another pair of clothes and began to undress. He stopped when he unbuttoned his shirt, inadvertently catching his own reflection in the mirror. He looked terrible. His hair disheveled and stained with blood, as was his face and neck. Thank the gods that no one saw him like that. It’s not that he’s never been seen like this, but it’s one thing when it happens during a battle and quite another in peacetime on a ship.

He doesn't want to make them scared. He doesn't want to upset them. They have enough in their lives for Sanji to add problems to them. That's why he'll try to deal with his own shit himself. He takes a breath and finally takes off his shirt, pauses and then turns his back to the mirror, looking at his reflection over the shoulder. He doesn't know what he expected to see there. Possibly an impact mark or some kind of burn. But definitely not a palm-shaped black ink stain. It also has some runes around the edges. Sanji reaches back and touches the ink with his fingers. It bites back as if full of static. It was weird.

He brought his fingers closer, examining the dark stain on them. It looked dry, like dust, but at the same time did not come off the skin. He looked more closely and almost shuddered when the particles suddenly moved, looking more like miniature needles. The next moment they disappeared under his skin, giving that stabbing sensation again.

"Fucking hell." He cursed under his breath, feeling like he was going to be sick again.

It looks like his situation becoming more and more disgusting. If he got it right, this shit, whatever the hell this is, can move and is migrating somewhere in his body. And worse than that, it can damage him. And kill him, judging by the way his body reacted in the first hours. Was this the work of the fruit user or something else? However, now this is not so important. The important thing is...

"So, you've finally figured it out... Vinsmoke Sanji." It was a whisper, but it seemed that it sounded too loud and was coming from everywhere. Sanji flinched so hard that he almost crashed into the sink. His heart was beating at a crazy speed, he forgot how to breathe. He did not dare to move or say anything, afraid to hear the voice again. Is he really going insane? No, unfortunately, not. Now Sanji was almost sure that he had not imagined the voice, but that it was quite real and that its owner was directly connected with the ink mark. How much worse could things get?

He really shouldn't have asked this question because, as if mockingly, the next second he heard a knock on the bathroom door and a familiar voice.

"Cook! Is that you there? We really need to talk." It was silent for several seconds, clearly waiting for Sanji to respond. "Oi!"

“Fucking, fine!” Sanji barked back, losing his patience completely. Damn Marimo, he has no time for this right now.

"I'll wait here. You won't run away this time." Zoro muttered in response, unusually calm.

Sanji sighed. He's been doing this a lot lately. Well. At least he can still do it, breathe, that is. If Zoro decided to wait for him, then he has no choice but to forget everything and just rush to get himself in order and get it over with.

At least the voice was silent and he's grateful for that.

Sanji hurried to take a quick shower, washing the blood and sweat from his body and hair. Gods, he was disgusting. He brushed his teeth after getting dressed, feeling a little better afterward. He no longer stank and his clothes did not stick to his body so unpleasantly. He could still taste the blood though.

He took a quick look in the mirror to check that everything was fine.

Nothing was fine, judging by his pale face and dark circles under his reddened eyes. He winced as the water dripped from his hair down the collar of his shirt, but Sanji didn't want to waste time drying it.

He wanted to quickly deal with Zoro and leave.

So he opened the door and walked out of the bathroom.

Zoro was glad that he was able to quickly finish with Franky because his thoughts kept returning to the cook and it irritated him. He hurried to the kitchen, hoping that, as always, after washing the dishes and cleaning, he would start making preparations for lunch. But when he opened the door and looked into the kitchen, there was no one there. He looked around the room and found that the dishes were still in the sink and everything remained the same as it was when they all left. It was unsettling, the cook never left his precious kitchen in such a state. Moreover, after standing here for a while, Zoro thought he caught a familiar smell.

The blood.

His gaze ran around and fell down to the floor. There, almost near the door, he saw several dark drops. He crouched down, touching them with his fingers and smearing them. Yes, definitely blood.

Fucking cook.

The Hell "nothing's wrong."

Zoro stood up and hurried to look for him. This time he will force him to confess even if he has to knock it out of the stupid stubborn cook. And he doesn't care how hypocritical it is.

And now, after about half an hour of sitting under the bathroom door, he finally came face to face with Curly. He couldn't do anything other than frown after looking him over. He didn't look good, not his usual self. Not that Zoro thought the cook usually looked good. Of course not.

“So, what do you want from me, mosshead?” His irritated and slightly hoarse voice snapped Zoro out of his thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, Sanji walked back towards the kitchen so Zoro followed, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to be calm. Now is not the time for a fight.

"I want you to talk. As a first mate, I need to know what's wrong with you." Zoro responded, quickening his pace, not allowing him to increase the distance.

"I already said, nothing's wrong" Sanji bit back again.

Yes, sure. Zoro won't back down this time.

"You're lying. You look like crap and I found blood on your damn kitchen floor!" The swordsman could not stand it and barked back. He saw Sanji open his mouth to object again, but Zoro had enough. He grabbed the other man by the shirt and slammed him back into the wall. His eye narrowed dangerously.

"Stop feeding me this crap. Hell.." He growled in his face, his nostrils flared and Sanji suddenly realized with creeping horror mixed with burning embarrassment that Zoro was sniffing like a devil hound. "You stink of blood even though you took a shower. Where is…"

Zoro didn't have time to finish asking where he was injured when Sanji pushed him away from himself, his eyes burning with anger, he looked flushed.

"Get away from me, you stupid fucking idiot!" Sanji almost screamed as he kicked the swordsman into the opposite wall and rushed forward towards the door.

"Oh fuck no, I said not this time!" Zoro growled in response, hurrying after him and again grabbing his shirt, which was already cracking, but the fabric was strong enough not to give in.

The hallway wasn't big enough for them to really fight, so it was more like a bar brawl now, but somehow they ended up on the deck and Sanji high-kicked Zoro with all his might. It didn't land, blocked by the back of Zoro's sword.

"I'm not in the mood to fight, stupid Marimo." Sanji hissed through his teeth, stepping aside. His breathing was ragged. His shirt is crooked with a loose button.

“Then don’t fight, just tell me what’s wrong with you.” Sanji opened his mouth again to answer this but Zoro stopped him. "No. Stop being a stubborn idiot. This is not the place. You are a cook, yes, but you are also a fighter in this crew. You fight on the front lines. You cannot behave so irresponsibly. If you're not at your best, you can become a liability…” Zoro saw the cook flinch at the last phrase. He felt a small voice inside him screaming that he had to stop here. That he shouldn't continue. But he pushed forward. “At best, someone will have to save you, and at worst, your weakness can kill someone. Do you really want that? Be the cause of someone's injury or death because you were too weak, unable to fight and not only protect others but even yourself?"

Zoro barely had time to finish when he had to defend himself from the stream of blows that rained down on him. It looks like he really struck a chord with him. He didn't know how deep though. And if he had known, he would have closed his mouth and never uttered those words.

If he had known how the fight would end this time, he would not have pulled out his sword.

As it was now, Zoro responded to each of Sanji's attacks with equal force. When he remembers their fight later, it was a blur. They kicked and slashed at each other like two wild beasts, screaming and snarling. He remembered how angry the stupid cook was with him, throwing attack after attack, so desperately as if trying to prove something.

At some point, Zoro even forgot what they were fighting about, too absorbed in defense and counter-attack. He shouldn't have though. He should have paid more attention to Curly. Otherwise, he would have noticed that his attacks had become subtly slower and less accurate. Otherwise, he would not have missed this dreadful moment when, during the next attack of the swordsman, the cook suddenly faltered.

With looming horror, Zoro watched as Sanji's legs seemed to become weaker and he lost his support. The cook will not block his attack, will not dodge, he realized. “I won’t make it in time” flashed through his head while he interrupted his own sword strike, trying to divert it to the side.

However, everything happened too quickly and no matter how hard Zoro tried, his blade bit into the side of the cook, cutting through the flesh with the same ease as through the fabric of the expensive shirt that he loved to wear so much and is now irrevocably damaged.

The next moment, Sanji slammed into him with a sudden dead weight, knocking them both onto Sunny's grassy surface. Zoro didn't dare move, feeling the other's blood soaking his shirt. He didn't dare breathe.

He felt that his hand, still gripping the handle of the Wado, began to shake, and he clenched his fingers tighter so as not to cause even more damage to the other. It was becoming slippery, he realized, from the blood running down the sword. The blood of his comrade. The blood of his cook. Their cook, he still corrected himself, with detachment.

Suddenly he remembered the promise made through den den mushi. He remembered that he was ready to fulfill it if necessary because he is a man of his word, but now... he realized, unbearably clearly, that he could never do it. He just wounded the stupid cook. Whether it's accidental or not ,doesn't matter. He shed his blood with the sword, with which he was supposed to protect his comrade as well as the rest of the crew.

He began to suffocate, Zoro realized. So he tried to take air. It was small and not enough.

He didn't care.

The trembling in his hand seemed to spread throughout his body and Zoro clenched his teeth. For some reason he now did not dare to touch the cook. They fought often and almost always ended with superficial cuts here and there and bruises, but not like this. Never like this. They would never fight each other without being sure that the other could handle it and be able to respond equally.

Zoro should have understood, should have realized that the stubborn idiot was out of shape to the point that he couldn’t fight fully. He should have...

He should have.

Zoro drew in a hoarse breath, only now realizing that he had been hearing the voices of the other strawhats somewhere nearby for some time. He couldn't make out the words though. And he didn't care what they said.

He felt hands reaching out to them, about to pull the cook by the shoulders and turn him over, away from Zoro. They didn't seem to understand what was going on.

He felt his sword move, cutting through the flesh above him even more, and in panic grabbed Sanji's shirt, almost growling at the one who tried to pull him away. “Don't...”

The hands stopped instantly and Zoro heard Nami gasp. She probably finally saw the blood underneath them and understood. She probably couldn’t even suspect at first that the sword cut through the other’s side and wasn’t just near him. It was too impossible. Not in this situation.

Not with Zoro holding the sword.

He heard Chopper howl in panic and that's what finally snapped him out of his stupor.

Zoro carefully grabbed Curly by the shoulders and moved with him, changing his position to a sitting one. He forced himself to unclench his fingers, which seemed completely frozen and did not want to let go of the hilt of the sword. His hand shook and he took a breath. It didn't help much.

"Chopper, calm down and get your medical room ready. He's not dying, it's not lethal. It's an accident."

It is an accident. He repeated in his mind, reminding himself that this was not his fault. He wanted to believe it.

He changed his grip on the cook's shoulders, using his other hand to grab him under his knees and lift him off the grass. It was the only way to carry him in this situation. He didn't want to pull out the sword here and risk him bleeding to death. It's better if Chopper does this in his office.

Also, their doctor will be able to examine this idiot and finally find out what’s wrong with him.

Yeah, Zoro, you achieved your goal... are you happy now?

He couldn't help the choked laugh that escaped his throat.

His nakama looked at him as if he had gone mad.

He didn't care.

He tightened his grip on the other man, feeling his breath too hot on his collarbone… his hair too soft. It smelled of smoke and blood.

He didn't like it.

He hurried to the medical bay.

TBC.

====================================

If you were able to read this chapter, thank you very much!

It's time to choose what happens next.

P.S. Read before choosing. The first three options if you want Sanji suffered a little more on the Sunny along with Zoro. The last three if you want the plot to develop faster. Also, the last three options will carry over to the next time if you don't choose them now, with the only amendment being that someone will know about Sanji's problem.

33 notes · View notes

dominimoonbeam · 1 year ago

Text

Wake Up Call - 2

The second part of the Darlin/Milo aftermath fic!

First part here on ao3. Darlin and Milo waking up together after a drunken night.

tags: aftermath of one night stand, opposites attract, idiots with feelings, communication is key

Wake Up Call - 2

Darlin got out of the shower and hurriedly pulled on clean clothes, stuffing the rest of their belongings into a bag and not thinking about why they crammed that shirt of Milo’s they’d been wearing in too.

It didn’t take long to pack up. The only furniture in that dive of an apartment was the junk that had been there when they moved in. The rent was a month to month so if they weren’t back in the next two weeks, the landlord would find a new tenant. No great loss there. Darlin had slept in cozier subway stations.

They pulled their boots on, still wishing they knew where their jacket was. Maybe at the den? They couldn’t go there. They couldn’t go anywhere. They needed to—

Darlin froze, bag in hand.

They felt him in the building even before he left the stairwell and started the march down the hall toward their door.

No. Nonono.

David thumped his fist twice against the door.

Their heart hammered in their throat. What was he doing there?

It wasn’t like he would leave if they didn’t answer. He knew they were there just like they knew he was before he knocked. Darlin walked up to the door, throwing their back against the wall behind it so he wouldn’t see it when they answered.

He took up the whole doorway but Darlin didn’t back up or invite him in. They pitched one scarred eyebrow and waited. “Yeah?”

David narrowed his eyes on them. “Did you forget?”

Darlin blinked, brain rebooting. What the fuck was he talking about? “Umm…”

David sighed. “You’re kidding. You were supposed to help me with this pack barbeque.”

Darlin took a step back, surprise and confusion making them forget their goal to drive him away. “What? No… I…” What had their chore been for that thing? “Shit.”

David nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go. And grab your bag.”

Darlin stared. “What?”

“Your bag. You know how they get. It’s going to be all night. You might as well crash at my place. This rat hole is all the way on the other side of town.”

“Oh… I can get back on my own.”

David shrugged, stepping back into the hall. “If you want, yeah. But you might be too tired and want to sleep. I don’t mind if you use my shit but you’re the one that usually brings that bag of yours just in case…”

Darlin chewed their lip, resisting the urge to glance at their bag on the floor behind the door. They did often bring a bag when they were going over to David’s for something like this… but they couldn’t bring it with Milo’s shirt in there. It would be like a beacon to the rest of the pack. It smelled like him… like them…

They swallowed and pushed forward without it. David backed up into the hall to let them by. “No jacket?”

Darlin shrugged, closing their door but not bothering to lock it. They weren’t sure they ever got a key to it… It wasn’t something they worried about. They would know if someone was in there before they walked in and god have mercy on anyone that was, because Darlin sure as shit wouldn’t.

David frowned like he might say something about it but decided not to, leading the way to the stairs and eventually his truck parked outside.

Maybe they could help him get ready for the barbeque and then take off before most of the pack got there?

They didn’t want to see Milo. They didn’t want that first meeting after where their eyes would meet and he would look… embarrassed? Afraid that someone would find out? Disgusted?

They tried to convince themself that they didn’t care—that it didn’t matter. What did it matter? They weren’t going to tell anyone and neither would Milo.

And if he did? If he told people that Darlin liked being manhandled? Hurt? Pinned?

They closed their eyes to try not to think about the details, because they had all the details… They remembered. It made their skin feel raw with a mix of satisfaction and humiliation. They’d said things… done things… and it had been fucking amazing, but if everyone knew?

Their whole persona had been based on being tough, on being scary and threatening. Without that?

“Are you feeling car sick?” David asked.

Darlin huffed a miserable laugh and turned their head to glare out the window in the other direction. “I’m fine. Can we get some coffee or something?”

Milo knew Darlin was at the house as soon as he pulled up and opened the door. Their scent filled his lungs and tugged at his core. He wanted to forget the pink box of cake in the backseat and make a beeline straight for them. He tamped that down and carried the dessert inside. Asher grinned when he spotted him. Half the pack was already there, in the house and out back. The barbeque was going and the tables out back starting to fill with food.

“You made it!” Asher clapped his shoulder as he put the cake down.

Milo nodded, already turning his eye toward the back of the house, the sliding doors open and Darlin out there with David. Their gaze cut toward him, like they felt the same pull he did, but they kept their eyes down, not meeting his.

Fuck.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” Christian laughed, holding out a beer.

Milo took it automatically. “What?”

Chrissy swigged his. “My head still hurts from last night. I was sure you’d be out.”

Milo blinked, remembering the bar crawl the night before, the one that had led to waking up with Darlin in his bed. “Yeah… Yeah, I almost didn’t,” he said, distracted as he saw Darlin saying something fast to David and David frowning, and then Darlin was heading for the side of the house.

They were running.

Milo had known them long enough to see the difference in the way they moved… plus it looked a lot like how they’d taken off this morning.

He should have stopped them then. He should have made sure they talked it out first.

He handed his beer off to Asher without a sip and went back out the front door to head them off. That asshole wasn’t even going through the house! They were using the side gate to completely avoid him.

Milo threw it open first and they jerked back, their gaze flashing to his for the barest second before going down and away, anywhere but at him. They shifted side to side and he could practically see the calculations taking place behind their eyes, trying to decide if they should double back or try jumping the fence beside him. “Darlin—”

“I’m leaving,” they said fast, like he’d told them to and they hadn’t listened the first time.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he snapped, trying to keep his voice low enough not to have the whole pack noticing.

Their gaze came up to his again, confusion painfully clear on their face.

He stepped closer and they tensed. It hurt every inch of his pride. “It’s okay if you don’t want this to be a thing… But I… I don’t want you to leave, okay? Can we just talk about this like adults?”

Darlin scrunched up their face like that was the dumbest suggestion ever, but they relaxed a fraction.

Milo took another step, right in front of them, and they didn’t tense or step back this time. His gaze flicked over all the skin he could see. The bruises on their wrists and from rough sucking and biting along their neck had all healed and vanished. It eased something in his chest and disappointed something else that had wanted to see them now that he remembered how they’d gotten there and the breathy moaning sounds Darlin had made.

“No fucking way!” Chrissy heaved the words, standing behind Milo in the open doorway of the fence. His eyes were huge, beer still in hand. “Gross! You fucked the chew toy, Milo?”

Milo had still been looking at Darlin when Chrissy said it. He saw the way their expression closed off and their lip curled and he knew it wasn’t because of that cruel nickname… it was because it was being directed at Milo now. He saw it all in the split second before he turned around, rage coiling in his chest. Chew toy. How many fucking times had Milo and Asher told him not to say that? And now? Like this?

Chrissy laughed, oblivious. “How drunk were you to—”

Milo punched him, throwing him to the ground. The bottle shattered on the driveway. Milo ached to shift and put teeth to him, but he felt the rest of the pack moving toward the conflict and Darlin inching back from it.

Asher was there in the next second.

Chrissy rubbing his face, blinking like he’d lost vision for a moment. “What the fuck, Greer?”

“I told you before, that the next time you called them that, I was going to hit you. If it happens again, I’m going to break your fucking jaw.”

Asher curled a lip, instantly understanding.

David had come up on the other side of the scene, behind Darlin. “Called them what?”

Christian looked scared for the first time.

Milo huffed a laugh. He should look scared.

Christian scrambled to his feet, rubbing his jaw like he might elicit sympathy. “Milo fucking lost it because I figured out that he and Darlin bumped uglies… emphasis on—”

Asher grabbed the back of Chrissy’s neck. The gesture looked casual enough, but it somehow choked off what he’d been about to say.

Milo curled his lip at Christian. “I don’t care that you know that we slept together, I care that you’re talking about them like that.”

Darlin froze in what he assumed they thought had been a very unnoticed retreat from the scene. And there it was, right there in their gaze, the thing he’d fucking known would be there. Surprise. He should never have let them bolt from his place thinking he cared about other people knowing they’d slept together—like it was ever something to be ashamed of.

David rumbled a growl. “Let’s talk by the grill, I’m not burning dinner because you’re a dumbass.”

Darlin rolled their eyes and settled into a full sulk, turning on instinct to follow David.

David raised an eyebrow at them. “Not you,” he clarified and then pointed a pair of tongs at Christian and Asher. “Them. You, I’m assuming came over here to talk to Milo because you’re sure as shit not leaving this get together, right?”

Darlin didn’t answer for a long few seconds and David continued to wait.

Milo had seen this strange battle of wills plenty of times. It was impressive, because no one could hold David’s glare that long. Finally, Darlin dropped their head and shrugged defeat.

Asher pushed Christian ahead of him, hand still on the back of his neck and voice pitching into his usual cheer when he joined David.

Milo half-expected Darlin to walk away without talking to him, but they didn’t. They waited.

“I remember,” Milo said.

Darlin looked at him and from the look on their face, he figured they’d remembered too.

He chanced stepping closer.

Darlin sighed. “You didn’t have to stand up for me to Chrissy just because—”

“It wasn’t because of that. He shouldn’t call you shit like that. No one should.”

Darlin fixed their stare on his shoulder, like they were in the process of turning away but stuck.

Milo stepped even closer and watched the ripple of their expression, the way they inhaled deeply and their eyes almost closed, their body leaning just slightly toward him. “I shouldn’t have let you misunderstand,” he said and saw their expression harden again.

They tensed, bracing for something uncomfortable.

He wanted to touch them but he resisted. “I don’t regret hooking up, Darlin. I’m not embarrassed or anything like that. I can’t believe you would even think…” He bit the words off and shook his head. Not the point. Not right now. “It wasn’t bad,” he tried again and then stopped, closing his eyes for a second on just how lacking that statement was. He could still remember the way they’d sounded, the way they’d moaned. “It was amazing. But even if it was awkward as shit, I wouldn’t ice you out or be ashamed it had happened.”

Darlin relaxed a fraction, sneaking glances of him from the corner of their eye. “You… You remember it? Like…” They rolled their eyes at themself, clearly uncomfortable but trying. “Like everything?”

Milo shivered. He remembered the way they’d begged and whined and how hard they’d come. He remembered how good it felt to be the one that brought them to that point, and then how good it had felt to snuggle up together afterward. “Yes,” he answered.

Darlin winced and started to step back.

Milo caught their wrist to stop them, feeling the slam of their pulse under his fingertips and drawing them closer. It was a gentle tug, they could easily break it, but they didn’t, their breath coming a little faster when he pulled them so close they were almost touching. “Do you remember, Darlin? All of it?” he asked, voice low.

Darlin swallowed hard and nodded.

He sighed relief. “Then you know it was good… We were good.” He watched them relax, breath catching and gaze landing on his mouth as he spoke. “If you don’t want people to know what kinks you’re into then they won’t hear it from me, but you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone has things they like, Darlin. And I think you know that what you’re into fit pretty damn perfectly with what I’m into.”

Darlin held their breath for a second, gaze flicking up to his before they exhaled with a nod.

It sent a jolt down his spine and made him want to groan, realizing his hand was still around their wrist, still feeling their pulse under his fingertips. He boldly stroked his thumb against their skin. “So…Don’t run?”

They looked straight back at him. “I wasn’t going to,” they lied.

Milo laughed a little and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Darlin stared back, refusing to admit anything.

Milo nodded.

There was a splash from the pool on the backside of the house and a peel of laughter.

Darlin still wasn’t pulling their arm out of his hand.

“Do you…want to hang out tonight?” Milo asked, trying to read them. They’d been friends and pack mates long enough that it shouldn’t be impossible, but he knew it could be tricky with Darlin and the last thing he wanted to do was assume they were interested in anything more just because they’d had a night together.

Darlin looked at him, something surprisingly vulnerable flittering across their features.

“I don’t think we can bail on the barbeque, so we could hang out and eat and then maybe go back to my place later and talk?”

Darlin’s mouth pressed, like they were trying not to smile. “Talk?”

Milo grinned, his heart soaring at that one word. It held so much playfulness and challenge, like calling him out on bs in a game. “Definitely talking… and then maybe we can talk about something more than talking?”

Darlin hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “I mean, that seems like a lot of talking but we could try it if that’s what you’re into…”

Milo laughed, glancing past them toward the backyard and the party. No one in sight at the moment.

He touched the side of Darlin’s neck, their pulse jumping again and their eyes on him, but they didn’t pull away and the glint of excitement in their eyes seemed like a fog light now. He kissed them, something stolen and quick but far from chaste—far from anything that could be misunderstood.

When he pulled away, letting go of their arm and heading back toward the pack and the grill, he couldn’t help but imagine being able to kiss them openly. They weren’t there yet and he wasn’t going to throw Darlin into the deep end if they weren’t ready, but he could think about it…

#redactedverse #darlin/milo #aftermath of a drunken one night stand #redacted asmr #<3 #fanfic #dominimoonbeam

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amybizarre · 8 months ago

Text

Priest (Room For Rent P1)

(No angst in this one. Priest is just being a wholesome guy, who's always happy to help a college student. :) ) ________________________________________

You were both: Distraught and angry. Perhaps you were also greatly disappointed in society and the people you were supposed to call superiors. It has been proven to you, that even ididots can make their way to high-ranking positions. Through an epic failure of course.

Perhaps the biggest failure in all of college-organizing history. Well, your personal history at least.

You had applied for a college course in literature and creative writing in this town. Which meant you had to move out of your parents' house. Buuuut you didn't have the money for an apartment yet, so a dorm room at college would have to do.

Except some useless twat had fucked up your papers and the organization. In your acceptance letter they had promised you a dorm room at campus. But when you had arrived at your new college, luggage in tow and excited to start the next day, the staff had told you there was no room available under your name. First you had thought it was a simple spelling mistake, which rendered them unable to find your name. Sadly that hadn't been the case. They downright forgot you. And all dorm rooms were full. No capacities for you.

Now here you were. In a strange town, on the street with your heavy suitcase. Not enough money for a hotel room. And the sun setting behind the buildings.

Honestly, you wanted to cry. Instead you forced yourself to stay calm as you called your mom for advice. Otherwise the poor woman wouldn't understand you through your histerical sobbing and call the emrgency hotline for you. The phone rang a couple times, before she picked up.

"Hey honey! Did you arrive well? Is your college room nice?"

"No! These idiotic fools forgot to give me a room!" So much for staying calm.

"What?"

"I'm on the fucking street, mom-"

"Don't fret, love. Get a hotel room for tonight," she advised.

Unfortunately you had thought of that already.

"I already called the open ones in town. They're all too expensive." Your voice wavered a little, threatening to break.

"Oh no-," was all she could say, followed by a beat of silence. You heard her fumble with a few things.

"Honey, there's a church in town, right?"

"Yes..?" You were unsure about where this was going.

"Try ask them for assistance. They're usually very hospitable."

Your jaw almost hit the floor. Of course she would suggest the church! She always had been a very religious person.

"I'm sorry, what? The church is probably closed by now! I'm not gonna find them-"

"Now, now, honey. Each church has a rectory. If the priest isn't in the church, he'll be there."

"Is that, like... His home then?" You felt incredibly awkward just thinking about knocking on a stranger's door, asking for a place to stay.

Your mother hummed in confirmation. "That's right. A rectory usually holds the offices and living quarters for the church staff. Try talking to someone there. If they can't help you, call me again and I will pick you up and get you home."

"Ermmmm... I dunno about this one, mom..." You chewed your lip nervously. You rathered her to just pick you up either way.

"You'll be okay honey. Give it a try now, before it becomes too late. Love you." With that she hung up on you.

You lowered your phone and stared at it in disbelief. Okay, not the best thing your mother has ever done. You sighed in exasperation.

What now? Should you actually follow her advice? Church staff usually is very friendly, right...?

Thankfully you wouldn't have to search for long, because the local priest was coincidentally strolling down the street you were loosing your mind on. He was just on a casual evening walk, when he saw you on the other side of the street, suitcase by your feet.

He wondered why you seemed so distressed. Being the helpful citizen and responsible priest he was, he crossed the street to talk to you.

Noticing a stranger approach you, you looked up alarmed. You eyed the man cautiously, subconsciously grabbing your luggage just in case. He was dressed entirely in black. First this was alarming to you, but then you noticed his dress shirt had this typical collar priests wore. Plus: There was his golden necklace with a pretty elaborate looking cross on it. You raised an eyebrow at him. He however just smiled patiently and introduced himself.

"Good evening, my dear. My name is Wally Darling. I'm the local priest."

Yeah, you kinda guessed that, based of his appearance. Then again, you could never be sure, if you ran into a fraud or not. Trying your best to be polite, you also introduced yourself. Mr Darling nodded and smiled.

"You have a wonderful name, dear. It suits you well."

You smiled back at him. Maybe he wasn't so bad. "Thank you, sir."

"I noticed you were looking a little stressed out here. And I thought I'd come over and talk to you to see if you need any assistance?" He tilted his head slightly, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows.

You sighed before telling him about your dilemma and how you would like to strangle the collage staff right now, guesturing along to your explanations. He only got more worried as you did so. Especially at the strangling part.

"That's a.... Very infuriating situation to be in," he admitted after you were done, shifting his weight onto the other foot, "And your mother advised you to ask me for help?"

You nodded with a solemn expression. "Yup. Sooo... Got any ideas on what I can do-?"

He thought for a moment, tapping his chin. "Mh... In terms of theoretical advice... Not really. In terms of practical help? Maybe? Depends on how comfortable you are with my suggestion."

"Go on..." You prompted him, honestly growing a little desperate to get out of this misery of a day you were having.

"I have a guest room at my house, that's always free for people in a pickle like you. It's not much, but cozy. You could sleep there for tonight or as long as you need to."

Housemates with a priest, huh? Sounds like a reality show waiting to happen, you thought to yourself.

Naturally you weren't keen on sleeping at a stranger's place. Then again, what other options did you have? Going back home and missing the first days of college? Hell nah. You were way to excited for this course.

Mr Darling noticed your hesitance and quickly held up his hands. "Look, I know this sounds a little sketchy. How about this? I can show you my home and said room. You can take a look and back out at any time you'd like. I promise I won't feel offended!"

You squinted your eyes at him. He seemed to be genuine... With another sigh you agreed to his offer. "I guess taking a look won't hurt."

He smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Wonderful, dear. Come now, it's not far." He began leading the way.

You grabbed your suitcase and followed him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw you struggling with it.

"Ah, my bad- Here, let me help." He offered to help you with your luggage, which you accepted.

"Thank you, Mr Darling."

"Oh dear, please! Don't call me that. Wally will do just fine."

He had to assure you multiple times, that it was okay, before you reluctantly gave in.

After roughly 30 minutes of walking, the two of you reached a cozy looking house. Sure, it was a little "old-timey" and on the smaller side, but definitely had its charms.

Also, the church was right across the street.

Okay, noted.

Wally went up the steps to the front door and fumbled around with his keys. You found yourself wondering what a priest's house would even look like. Would there be religious items in every room? Or just a couple?

Your unspoken questions were answered soon, when Wally unlocked and opened the front door for you. Helping you with your suit case once more, he beckoned you inside.

Curiously, you entered his home. The interior was as old fashioned as the exterior. (Meaning it reminded you of your granny's house.) The dark, wooden floors and floral wallpaper, coupled with vintage furntiture and plush carpets however, gave off a very homely feel.

You liked it.

Didn't seem to be the kind of house, where people got kidnapped in-

"Your house is very nice," you complimented the space, while taking off your shoes.

This made Wally very happy. He practically beamed as he closed the door.

"Thank you, dear. I'm glad you like it. This house has been in my family's care for generations now. Not every visitor is appreciative of its style. So, I'm relieved that you are!"

You smiled back at the happy priest. Behind him, you saw a cross right above the front door. Ah, there's the religious decor you've been wondering about. He followed your gaze and chuckled.

"Yes, this house is protected by our loving God. Home."

"Home?" You asked in return. "Haven't heard of him yet."

"Ah, no shame in that, dear. We are a fairly small community after all." Wally waved it off. "I could tell you all about him though, if you're interested?"

You shrugged. "Sure why not? Just... Later, maybe?"

He nodded. "No problem at all. I should probably show you your room first, hm?"

Wally brought you upstairs, where the bathroom, master bedroom and guest room were. You stepped into the guest room and inspected it, with Wally watching you curiously from the door.

The room's style fell into the same category as the rest of the house. All complete with a bed, bedside table, lamp, desk, closet, a plant and a shelf. The window looked out at the church. Perfect opportunity to stalk the church goers on Sunday mornings, you noted with a chuckle. Another thing you noticed was the lack of religious decor. Probably to keep anyone comfortable, who wasn't religious.

"What do you say?" Wally asked after a few moments.

"I like it." You admitted. "And it's really okay if I stay here for now?"

Wally smiled once more. This time with a warm glint in his eyes. "Of course it's okay, dear. As a priest, I am always happy to help those in need." He told you, placing a hand on the cross around his neck.

"Right. There's just two last things I'm worried about." You glanced at him sheepishly.

He nodded, a bit more serious now. "Tell me about it. I'm sure we'll be able to find solutions to each problem."

"Well, first of all, I'm not religious at all."

"Oh."

"And, uhm, I'm not sure if that poses a problem to you..."

He scratched his neck. "Well... To me it's not a problem. I cannot and will not force you to participate in my beliefs. I will however carry out my usual prayers and routines in my house. I guess the question is if you have a problem with that?"

You quickly wave your hands in front of your chest. "Nono! Not at all! I'm fine with that!"

"Then we don't have a problem, dear." Wally concluded.

You were relieved.

"The second thing I'm worried about is rent. How much do I have to pay you per month?"

Wally hummed. "How much would your dorm room have cost you?"

"1.200 bucks a month."

His eyes widened. "1.200?? Per month? For one measly room?"

"Yep. And it would have been a shared room, so the college would have earned double per room and month," you deapanned, making Wally shake his head.

"That's hardly acceptable!"

"Tell me about it."

He sighed. "I'd say we keep it simple, but calculating this won't be simple for me. If you want to stay here, we just split the bills and I'll be happy."

"Soo, that means means half the costs for electricity, water and food?" You asked to make sure.

"Yes. And you help me with household chores every now and then."

You pondered the offer for a little, before nodding. "Sounds fair to me. I'm in."

Both of you shook hands and it was a deal. You officially moved into a priest's house and were his... Roommate? Housemate? Housemate. You were his housemate now.

This surely would be an interesting experience to make.

#welcome home #wally darling #welcome home puppet show #welcome home au #priest au #Priest Wally #Dw Home is a chill god in this one #No sacrificing or brainwashing ppl for Home #Just want to explore the concept of living with a Priest

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