#but blond sung especially

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...

[formulaforza]

— caught in a blue summ. but to love her is to need her everywhere (a gentle kind of love) charles x fem reader, wc 4.1k ish, no warnings, no y/n! fueled by one single praise from @silverstonesainz

You’re three paragraphs into an all-too-lengthy work email when he sits down in the chair next to you silently, one elbow on the sage green tablecloth. He sits in the chair sideways, something you can both see and feel, even without looking away from your phone screen. His presence is accompanied by the gentle thud of two heavy glasses. 

You look over briefly—long enough to suggest to him that his presence is mildly perturbing—and then return your attention to the email. You can hardly concentrate over the jazz band in the corner of the hall, rotating through their collection of love songs sung in different romance languages, and now a strange man has set up camp next to you, only further reminding you why you shouldn’t be responding to emails when you’re out of office. 

“Hi,” he says, after more seconds of silence. 

You finish your email before you give him the time of day. “Hi,” you smile, soft but forced. “Who are you?”

“Charles,” He smiles, holding his hand out to shake yours. You stare at his waiting hand until he takes it away. “Nice to meet you,” he laughs, moving one of the drinks closer to you. “For you. White Negroni. Céline told me it’s your drink.”

You give him a sideways glance before looking past him, scanning the reception hall for your friend. She should stand out in her bridesmaid dress. The wedding invite had specifically requested guests to follow a color code, and nobody was wearing that shade besides the bridesmaids. Your eyes finally land on her, glass of champagne in her hand, long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, leaning over to whisper something to the groom—her brother. No doubt the two of them conspiring, a theory only proved when Mathéo’s eyes land on yours from across the room. You roll your eyes. 

“How do you know Céline?” you ask, as if half the guests here tonight aren’t related to her. 

“I went to school with Mathéo,” he says, and you nod slowly, confusion growing, curiosity peaked. “I suppose technically I went to school with Céline as well.”

“I went to school with Céline,” you say, and Charles furrows his brows. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you laugh softly, picking up the drink he’d offered, pulling the garnish off the lip of the glass and dropping it on top of the ice. “I’m serious!” He says, matching your laugh, taking a sip of his drink. “Because I would remember you. And I do not remember you.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head, bringing the glass to your lips. “Lycée. Première.”

Charles nods. “That is why. I was graduated by then.”

Someone laughs so loud at the next table over that it steals both of your attention. It’s the mother-of-the-bride, and she's visibly drunk in a way that only a divorced French socialite can manage. The sudden attention tones her down, and the room is once again filled with wealthy laughter and crisp clinking crystal glasses. 

You love weddings. You love this wedding; the delicate scent of blooming lavender, the smoked salmon canapés and delicate foie gras pâté that sit half-eaten at most of the tables, the perfectly chilled glasses of champagne waiting to be toasted, and the sun. The golden sun that casts itself across the terraces and into the tall windows, painting the dancing figures in golden hues. 

And then he’s speaking again, and you look back at him, and the sun casts a warm shadow through his brown hair that you're noticing for the first time. “Parles-tu français?” he asks. 

You wince, tilting your head to the side, holding up two fingers pinched together. “Un petit peu. Je suis grec,” you explain, pulling your hair around to drape over one shoulder. 

“Ah,” he says. “How do you say, ‘Would you like to dance?’ in Greek?”

You smile gently, taking another sip of your drink. It’s important to keep yourself paced. Especially when you’re staring at someone who looks like that. “Θα χορέψεις μαζί μου?” You finally say, and he stares at you blankly. The expression forces a laugh from you, which in turn pulls one from him. 

“Again?”

“Θα χορέψεις μαζί μου?”

Charles nods for what feels like a very extended period, before downing the remainder of his drink. “Tha horeps…” he winces at his pronunciation so you don’t have to, “mazi-moo?”

You smile at his hopeful expression, and wonder if he’s more hopeful for a correct pronunciation or an agreement to dance. You shrug, swirling your drink around the glass, looking past him to your friend again. 

She’s watching you this time and wears a grin the size of the wedding. She holds up both her thumbs, and then makes a heart with her hands, pretends to have it beating out of her chest. You shake your head, smiling softly, eyes moving back to Charles. 

“One dance.”

— — — 

Your feet drag across the stone pathway like maybe you’ll slow yourself down and get to spend a half-second longer on the phone with him. You hear it over the voices of drunken uncles pouring from open windows and the radio sat on one of the sills playing a Christiana classic. The air is warm, but dry, and the elastic at the end of your braid tickles the skin on your back while you walk. 

Ahead of your scraping shoes, a cat cleans their paw in the yellow of a porch light. You’re in Paros, and life is so sweet you’re finding porch lights and the smell of your yia-yia’s karidopita to be the most romantic thing in the world. 

“I’m nearly home,” you hum into your phone’s receiver. He laughs on the other end, and you wish all the aunts with the drunken, ballad-performing husbands could hear it so they’d stop asking when you’re going to settle down. It would make sense to them, then, the way you behave about Charles. It would all make sense if they heard him laugh, if they could imagine his dimples. 

“Well, you should probably hang up, then,” he says. You roll your eyes. Your cheeks ache from smiling all evening. Your cousin joked before dinner that your face was going to freeze like that if you weren’t careful. 

“I should,” you agree, but you don’t hang up. You stay on the line, quiet, and stop in front of the resident street cat—he’s small and sweet and purrs against your skin when you run your hand over its sleek black fur, scratch your nails under its chin. You’d bring him home if you knew he didn’t belong to someone, to everyone. “Or you could.”

He laughs again. It’s like honey. You’d swan dive into it if you could, drown all slow and blissfully. “I’m not the one nearly home,” he retorts. I could get far from home again, you think. You could do another lap around the neighborhood. You’d already done it thrice, and then two more times after that. What’s another in the grand scheme of things? “I’ll call you again in the morning,” he says, like it’s routine. You suppose it’s sort of becoming that. 

You take a seat on your porch steps. Voices pour out louder, now. They’ve gotten rowdier with every lap you’ve done. A cousin pulls the old squeaky door open behind you, and you jump in your seat, turning around to see who’s busted you. They hold their hands up defensively, mouth a quick sorry like they’d walked in on you changing, and disappear back into the house. You pull your braid over your shoulder, twirl it around your finger carefully. Nervously, you ask:“Do you think we speak too often?”

“Why do you say that?”

You shrug like he can see it. “We talk too much to be friends.”

“Do we?” You imagine him quirking a brow goofily, based solely on his tone of voice. 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, dropping your braid. “Yeah, I think we do.”

Charles sighs. All you can smell is cinnamon and walnuts. You wonder which one of your cousins ate the heel of the bread while you were out walking. “Well, good thing I would never be just friends with you, then.”

The apples of your cheeks burn like they’d been pinched. You flatten your dress over your legs and a careful giggle tumbles from your lips, teeth biting down on the stupid smile there. “Good thing.”

“Goodnight?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Goodnight.”

— — —

It’s raining in Milan when you pinky promise your best friends that you and Charles aren’t dating. 

The sky has been threatening all afternoon, dull and gray and humidity that was anything but friendly to your hair. It poured through the window like your own personal heatwave every time you walked past the open kitchen window,coated the tiled countertop in an irritable condensation. 

It came wafting through the air with the smell of the impending storm when you opened the door to your friends. Finally, after hours of building up, heavy raindrops patter against the porcelain of your kitchen sink, forcing you to hastily close the window while giggles pour from your friends’ mouths. 

Between your two hands, you can count the number of times the lot of you have been in the same time zone since graduation, let alone the same city. You’d spent the entire humid day wiping condensation off the counters and cutting cheese into perfect cubes and gathering the nicest bundles of grapes you could from the three grocery shops within walking distance. 

The sound of the storm against the glass is drowned out by red-wine laughter and tales of big cities and big dreams, all so vastly different. You sit with your legs crossed underneath you, phone face-up on your thigh, the stem of an empty wine glass pinched between two fingers, twisting the glass around mindlessly.  

Your phone buzzes, for the fourth time in eight minutes. And for the fourth time in eight minutes, you pick it up, abandoning glass on the cluttered coffee table next to the week-old vase of pink anemones. 

Stop texting me, he’s messaged. Enjoy your time with your friends.

You smile softly, your incriminating grin illuminated bright OLED white in contrast to the soft yellow lamp lighting the dim room. You stop texting me, you replied, because you’re a pig-tailed girl on the schoolyard when you talk to him, your normally composed, carefully developed persona melting into a puddle of mush at the mere thought of him. 

Can’t, he responds. I am bored. 

Why? You’re never bored.

“Oh, my God!” your best friend, Roma, teases in broken English, her Italian accent not nearly as light as the cube of ​​Gorgonzola she’d tossed at your head from the other end of the sofa. “Who are you speaking to?” She questions. 

“Just a friend,” you say too quickly, too defensive for anyone in the room to believe. 

Roma quirks her brow at you, curious grin painted on her face. “Yeah? Just a friend?”

“I’m serious,” you insist, turning your phone off. You set it face down on the table, and it vibrates there almost immediately, all of your friends’ eyes watching for your reaction. The corners of your lips tremble, fighting a soft smile, and you shrug, bringing your empty wine glass to your lips, turning your head up to the ceiling, the last few drops of red falling through your lips. And then it vibrates again, the bright colors of your background pouring out in a soft ring of light around your phone. You still don’t flinch, but Roma does, lurching forward and snatching it up before you have time to react. 

“‘Because,” she reads. “‘I’m normally speaking with you at this time,’” she looks over to another friend, grinning,“From Charles. With the emoji that does like this,” she says, mimicking the blushing emoji you have next to his name.“But with the pink on the cheek, yes?” She continues explaining. 

You sink into the sofa, popping that cube of cheese into your mouth before gathering up the baby hairs and bangs that had fallen loose from your ponytail, carefully twisting the hair into a tiny, thin braid coming out from the middle of your hairline. 

“Just your friend?” Roma questions, and you don’t have to look up from your distraction braid to know she’s raising her brows and grinning at you. 

— — — 

You sit next to him in the fourth row of church pews, one leg crossed over the other, desperately wishing the wedding mass program that sat on your lap was a paper fan, not yet having resorted to the lengths some of your fellow guests had gone to and actually using the cardstock to cool down. 

One leg is crossed over the other, the tip of your heel-clad foot threatening to tap the back of the pew in front of you with every awkward, uncomfortable roll of your ankle you attempt. At least your dress is sleeveless, you think. Charles is not as lucky, a formal suit perfectly fitted to his frame, one arm draped behind you over the back of the pew, his fingers mindlessly twirling one of the tiny braids that riddle your ponytail. Neither of you speak nearly enough Spanish or know nearly enough people for this to be any sort of enjoyable. 

“Do you understand them at all?” You whisper, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Because I do not.”

“Absolutely not,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head, his hand finding yours, interlocking in your lap. “And I am about to die from heatstroke.”

You nod. “You, me, and the rest of the church,” you sigh, pretending not to hear the crying baby or the stressed mother in the back of the church. You figure she has the eyes of enough judgy relatives to drown out any soft sentiments from a stranger.  “Can they just kiss and wrap it up?” You ask, and as is on cue, the newlyweds are locking lips under the cathedral candlelight. 

“Oh shit,” Charles giggles, the two of you hurrying to stand with everyone else in the room who understood what's been happening for the last hour and a half. You hastily adjust the skirt of your dress, feeling quickly to make sure you hadn’t sweat-stained the fabric, or worse, the bench you’d been all but stuck to. “Thank God,” he says, just above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The church quickly funnels out of the church behind the couple, filing into the cars that were driving to the reception location. Police officers line the road on either side, cameras and strangers gathered at their barriers. You walk out with your hand interlaced in his, watching every step you take down the steep concrete stairs. 

“Is it like this every time one of you gets married?” You ask, staring at the uniformed officers. They’re a stark contrast to the summer air, to the leaves of the trees drenched in sunlight, and to the flowers buzzing with bees. It feels like you’re at a royal wedding—the ones with professional watchers and ceremonies that get broadcast to millions of people around the world. But it’s not that. It’s just your boyfriend’s teammate. 

“Um,” Charles shrugs. “I’m not sure, to be honest,” he admits. “I don’t think so,” he continues, letting you duck into the black sedan first. “I think it’s just his family.”

“Gosh,” you breathe out, relaxing in the calm of the air-conditioned car. “It’s like a whole production.”

“I know,” he shakes his head, uncapping a water bottle that was waiting in the car door cup holder and passing it to you first. “It’s like they’re Spanish royalty or something,” he laughs. 

You nod animatedly, drinking down the water before passing the now half-full bottle to him. “Exactly like that!” you laugh. 

— — — 

“Three wishes,” you grin, spinning around to face him, antique Arabian oil lamp in your hand. 

The second-hand shop smells like vintage leather and dusty velvet. La Dolce Vita plays from the store radio, and it sounds like it’s on vinyl even though it isn’t. The store is full of gaudy outfits and gaudier decor, and there in the middle of it is you and Charles, the ladder laughing every time the former makes the same joke about twenty different items, each uglier than the one before, being ‘just what I was looking for.’

“I wish for unlimited wishes, obviously,” He says, and you shake your head.

“Absolutely not. That goes against Genie rule number three.”

It’s chilly, the early morning dew still crisp in the air. A gentle breeze pours in from the propped open door, and with it comes the smell of fresh pastries and espresso from the bakery next door. It smells gentle and warm and makes the vintage store feel like your yia-yia’s house on the last morning of your last visit to her house. 

You’re wearing your favorite pair of jeans, a pair of pink sneakers, and a sweater that was your favorite before you shrunk it a size in the dryer the day before. You cover up the fashion faux pas with a tan wool coat and long, hardly managed hair. He’s dressed like you, but elevated. Always more elevated than you, even if the only brand he seems to bring into his closet anymore is his friend’s. 

“Ah,” he nods, pulling you closer by the opening of your coat.  “Of course,” he smiles, speaking softly. “And what are the other rules?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug, dimples digging into your cheeks at the mere sight of his. “No bringing people back from the dead, no making someone fall in love,” you hum, “and no wishing for more wishes.” 

Charles quirks a brow, dropping his head to the side. “Those are stupid rules,” he protests, pouting. “What if those were all three of my wishes?”

You shrug, holding up the lamp to his eye level. “Got to get educated on Genie’s, man,” you tease, cheeks aching. “I don’t know what to tell you,” you giggle, stepping even closer. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules,” he repeats. “How about…” he says, leaning in, still grinning. “Wish one,” he says, pressing a soft kiss into your lips. “Wish two,” he says, repeating the action. “And,” he grins, pulling away momentarily to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You think you could die on the spot, melt right into a puddle on the shop floor. Your face is so hot. “Wish three?” he says, and as a surprise to nobody, leans in to kiss you again. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, desperate for another breeze to blow through the shop, to cool you down, to keep you standing. “I expected better wishes. Very… μη πρωτότυπο.”

“Mi protótypo?” he repeats, and your grin grows.

“Not original.”

— — —

Charles’ apartment couldn’t be more different than yours, and not even solely on a decoration level. Fundamentally, you two come from two different spaces, and trying to merge those spaces has been nothing short of a treat. 

Not that your decor styles are the same either, because you think his are one-of-kind. So one of a kind, that the two of you had gone through each other’s apartment with yard-sale stickers from the corner store, tagging everything you refused to mesh with in red, and everything you refused to part with in green.  Who else can say they have three dozen racing helmets and trophies in the living room, a blown-up shot of a homeless American man on their dining room wall, and a piano that costs more than your net worth in the foyer? That is some perfectly Charles Leclerc decor, and if you had told yourself once that you would be endeared by all of it, you’d have laughed in your face. 

But you do. You adore it, the way it perfectly encapsulates her personality. And you adore him, and the way he put a green sticker on a total of seven things in his whole apartment because he wanted to make sure it felt like your space too. 

“Why did you not label any of these boxes?” He asks, the two of you stood in his dining room. In your dining room. In the dining room. 

“Um…” you hesitate. “You know, I was going to. I really was,” you nod, staring at at least twenty cardboard boxes, each of them completely indistinguishable from the others, not a single identifying marker on any of them. 

“And then?” He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, the herringbone hardwood creaking under his feet with the shifting of his weight. 

“And then I realized I packed my Sharpie,” you nod.

“Mmm,” he hums, scratching his beard, his fingers moving over his face and into his hair, combing through it stressfully. He’s so patient with you. Hopelessly patient with you, and would never admit it. “But you could not find the box it was in?” You shake your head, agreeing with his statement. “Because you forgot to label any of the boxes?”

“Because I didn’t label any of the boxes,” you confirm, an apologetic look painted across your face, eyes soft and sweet, attempting to remind him just how much he loves you. “And suddenly the movers were there. And now I’m here.”

“Oh,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your chest from behind, kissing the top of your head. “I love you so much,” he says. “I love you so much,” he repeats, voice blank, unconvincing. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I was thinking we start in the dining room,” you joke, smiling softly, pulling a chuckle from his lips. You can always count on him to laugh at your stupid jokes. Even when he’s pretending not to be annoyed with you.“I’m sorry,” you say softly, kissing the forearm crossed over your chest. 

“I know,” he hums. “It’s okay. It won’t be too bad.”

— — — 

A soft summer breeze floats through the air, blows through the linen pinned to clotheslines in the neighborhood. It brings with it salt air and the careful wafts of cinnamon and nutmeg and eggplants and tomatoes. You sip a glass of Retsina, ignoring the bitter and accepting the sweet. 

The olive trees are draped in endless strings of lights, and gentle, traditional music plays from the live band and the wooden stage your uncles had built with your dad. Your Yia-yia moves around from table to table pinching the cheeks of your cousins, reminding the single girls to check their shoes for their prince charmings. 

The sun is setting on the water, golden shadows cutting around the soft cement architecture. The air is light. Charles wears a tan linen suit with an evil-eye boutonniere. You wear a white dress and a cold coin in your left shoe. 

“You told them no to the money, right?” He asks softly, sipping a glass of white. 

“I did,” you nod. “Well. I told my parents,” You shrug. “Whether or not they convey the message to the four hundred other people here, I guess we’ll find out.”

“It’s weird, no? A first dance and a last dance?”

You smile softly, watching a stray cat hurry down an alleyway. “My family keeps coming up to us and pretending to spit,” you giggle, “But the second dance is where you draw the line in the weird sand?”

“None of it’s weird” he shakes his head, reaching to tuck a curly piece of hair behind your ear, adjusting your veil accordingly. “It’s all you,” he says, leaning in to kiss you softly. His lips are soft, and he tastes like apples and melon and citrus, as easy to kiss as ever. “And I love you.”

“Ah,” you nod, a teasingly soft smile parting your lips. “He loves me,” you say, pretending to wipe sweat from your brow. “I was worried.”

“You act very worried,” he grins. “Wedding dress and all.”

“Oh,” you feign surprise as if you've noticed the setting for the first time. “This old thing? The one that costs a quarter of my salary?”

Charles nods, humming. “That’s the one. Keeps taking my damn breath away.”

You look down at yourself, an innocent, girlish smile draped over your lips, the pink shades of the sunset painting themselves warm over your cheeks. A gust of wind blows through the space, the breeze gently blowing through your veil, through the fabric of your dress. 

“Are you ready?” You ask, watching the sun creep closer to the horizon, be swallowed up inch by inch into the sea, using your hand as a shade-visor. “No time like the present, right?” You add, downing what’s left in your glass. “Our second dance as newlyweds.”

“Our second dance,” Charles nods, holding out his hand, waiting for your fingers to interlock with his. “Let’s go.”

[megalony]

Don't Worry Darlin'

Okay, so here is my first imagine for Jake Seresin from Top Gun: Maverick. I had so much fun writing this and I really want to write more for Jake if I can.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) joins her boyfriend and his team at the Hard Deck bar. But when someone tries to make unwanted advances on her, Jake steps in.

(If anyone has any Jake! requests I would love to try write them)

Enjoy.

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

(Y/n) looked around the bar she stepped inside with her arms pinned around her waist and her lips pressed together tightly. She didn't like walking into places like this alone.

Clubs and bars weren’t really (Y/n)’s scene, going out at all wasn't really her scene if she was being honest. She loved to be around her friends, especially when she was out with Jake and the Dagger Squad who seemed to be more like a family than work friends. They were fun and inviting and they always welcomed her in with open arms. But going out to a bar that was drastically overcrowded with strangers who had no concept of personal space and no idea how to be polite wasn't typically (Y/n)'s idea of a good night.

Being within close proximity with strangers wasn't something (Y/n) liked to do, and she didn't drink half as much as Jake and his friends. That always meant she was the sober one left to keep an eye on everyone and the situations that always unravelled.

At least the Hard Deck was preferable to a club.

The music from the jukebox wasn't viciously loud and at least all the songs were actually good and ones that could be sung and danced to. And the atmosphere in here was calmer than half the other bars in the area, and with the aviators always frequenting the Hard Deck, it meant if anyone got rowdy, they were always kept in line.

(Y/n) had watched Jake throw countless people out after they started getting disrespectful or tried to start fights.

It was different for Jake.

The crowds, the noise, the closeness and the atmosphere didn't bother him. But since he had met and got into a relationship with (Y/n), a few things had changed. Jake didn't entertain the girls who tried to hang around him and the other aviators anymore. He didn't chat up the girls at the bar or flirt his way into their bed only to leave them hanging and alone the next morning.

Whenever (Y/n) was around, his hand was almost always tangled with hers or his arm was wrapped around her waist, coiling her into his side for safety and comfort. It was a comfort for both of them to always have his hand on her hip or tucked into her back pocket or his arm slung over her shoulders so she didn't stray far from his side.

A grin spread across (Y/n)'s lips when she looked ahead past the bar and her eyes locked onto a familiar frame.

A tall, lean figure with broad shoulders that were straining against the beige button up shirt he always wore for work. Dark sandy blond hair trimmed short but kept long enough on top so that it could just about form into a wave that matched the low tide of the ocean. Those dark blue eyes that squinted badly when he smiled so widely that his grin took over the expanse of his face and made him look cheeky.

The moment his head turned in her direction, Jake's open-mouthed smile changed into a soft but overly charming look that almost had (Y/n) melting on the spot.

He leaned his hips back against the pool table, cue in one hand and his other hand in her direction, waving her over to him and the other aviators scattered around the table.

(Y/n) tucked a free strand of hair behind her ear and scuttled past the bar, hurrying past the nearby people she didn't want to get too close to. Her adrenaline started to course through her system and light her up like a wildfire when she got close and the moment she was within reach, Jake's arm was around her waist.

He reeled her into his chest and smothered his lips against her temple. (Y/n) looped her arms around his chest when she felt Jake's hand curl around her hip, giving her a gentle but loving squeeze. She felt each breath he took as he leaned further back to let (Y/n) slouch into him and his lips only parted from her temple when (Y/n) pressed her chin into his sternum so she could look up at him.

"There's my girl, you okay?" His voice was quiet compared to the roaring voices surrounding them and the jukebox playing a Queen song in the background.

"Hm, are you winning?" Her thumbs brushed over Jake's back while he tapped the end of his cue against her shoulder as if to mark his point.

"Don't I always?"

He wasn't looking for an answer and he didn't give (Y/n) time to try and respond before his head was tipping down in her direction and his lips meshed with hers. (Y/n) could taste the tang of beer on his lips that were oddly sweet and she could feel how he tried not to smile too widely and break the kiss. His touch on her hip turned firm and he leaned forward, pushing his frame into hers and subsequently tipping her backwards in the process.

Her hands shifted round from his back to cling to his shoulders just in case he leaned any closer and set her off balance.

(Y/n) could see stars twinkling in front of her eyes when they finally pulled back for air and Jake's nose brushed against hers.

She heard one or two of the guys in the group let out wolf whistles, but she paid them no mind. They were only joking around. Her fingers brushed against Jake's neck and curved round to pull at the short strands of hair at the back of his neck, causing his lips to mould together, smothering a groan.

"Do you want another drink?" Her breath hitched when Jake pushed forward into her and walked her back a few paces so he was no longer leaning against the pool table.

Jake nodded as he leaned down to capture her lips in another kiss that tasted like the cherry lip balm she always used because she knew he secretly loved the zing it left on his lips. It was that lip balm that always tainted Jake's lips in a pale hue of plum purple that Phoenix had noticed once and subsequently never let him live down.

"Sure baby. We've got a tab open." He nudged his nose against hers when (Y/n) finally stepped out of his embrace.

He could feel her eyes lingering on him as he reached his hand behind him to strum his fingers against the pool table while his tongue darted across his lips that were starting to tingle and taste of cherry.

"Hey (Y/n)."

"Hey Rooster." She dipped her head down as she passed him, feeling his hand on her shoulder while he grinned coyly at her. She could barely see his eyes through his tinted glasses but the way he flashed his teeth through his smile showed he was in a good mood as they passed in opposite directions. (Y/n) towards the bar, and Bradley towards the rest of the aviators to join them in a game.

(Y/n) was sure she could feel her partner's gaze lingering on her, scolding right through her as she approached the bar.

He knew how nervous she got and he hardly ever let her out of his sight because of it. Jake knew that while he could be a party animal, (Y/n) had her limits and if ever she wanted to leave all she had to do was say and he would wrap himself around her and follow her out.

Whatever joke had been said must have been funny for their laughter to follow (Y/n) over to the bar.

Jake didn’t know how infectious his laughter was or how melodic it sounded or how his laugh sent shivers running down (Y/n)’s spine. She had a video on her phone of them all when they were at the beach, and Jake's laugh was the best part. (Y/n) could rewind that video and listen to his laughter on repeat when he was away on missions.

Everything about Jake, his personality, his looks, his signature traits and movements and expressions, all of him was intoxicating to (Y/n). And the worst part was that he knew it too. Before they started dating, Jake liked to see how hard he could make (Y/n) blush and and see how flustered she would get around him because he knew what effect he had on her.

When she reached the bar, (Y/n) pushed up on her toes and folded her arms over the surprisingly clean bar that wasn't lathered with spilt drinks for once.

She caught Penny's eye and put in her request for a round of drinks that she could take back to the group. Her fingers strummed against the bar, nails tapping out a beat that no one could hear over the boisterous voices and the song that was about to end on the fading jukebox.

"How about a dance?"

It took (Y/n) a moment longer than it should have to realise that there was a man on her right who was now talking to her. He seemed to have slithered up from nowhere and he was standing close enough that their arms were almost touching.

He had short greasy hair slicked back on his head with a lot of wax that made him look like something out of a dance movie. His smile was almost charming with a few pearly white teeth shining through, but (Y/n) saw Jake's dimpled grin almost every day and that was worth more than a thousand smiles from any stranger here.

"Oh, no thank you." She shook her head and tried to smile politely, she wasn't here for a hook up unless it was with her very own pilot and she didn't dance with strangers.

"What about your name?" His smile stayed put on his face and he inched closer until (Y/n) could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the faraway look in his eyes. It made her wonder how long he had been here at the Hard Deck and how many drinks he had consumed.

Maybe someone had broken the house rules and had to buy a round for everyone here. Maybe a few rounds had been bought for this man and that was why he looked too drunk for his own good right now.

When she looked him up and down, she noticed he was in the same beige uniform as Jake. He was an aviator, but he wasn't from the Dagger squad and he hadn't worked with Jake, (Y/n) knew most, if not all the people that had worked with Jake since they started dating.

There was no way to respond to his question without sounding rude and (Y/n) didn't want to give him the wrong impression and make him angry. So she settled for a weak smile and a shake of her head before she glanced towards the group, hoping to see Jake's dazzling smile that could always put her at ease and make her feel better. Couldn't Penny hand the drinks over to her and let (Y/n) disappear back to the saftey of Jake?

"Come on, a pretty thing like you should be enjoying a drink with some good company." The stranger had a sturdy grip when he reached across for her wrist and gripped her tight.

He tried to twist away from the bar but (Y/n) wasn't sure which direction he was trying to pull her in. Whether he wanted to take her to a table or find a corner of the bar to have a sultry dance like some of the other couples often did when they came here. Or maybe he had strange intentions and was about to drag her outside if he could.

Whatever he was trying to do didn't work. (Y/n) forced herself not to think about the multiple options that were clearly running through the man's head. She felt her breath snagging in her throat as she yanked her wrist out of his grip and turned back to the bar when a large circular tray clattered down in front of her.

The drinks had arrived.

One look at Penny told (Y/n) she had added it to the tab the boys had open and the wary look in Penny's eyes diminished when (Y/n) shook her head and took the tray. She didn't want to cause trouble and the last thing she wanted was for Jake to rush over here and kick the guy out. As long as he didn't pursue her, (Y/n) would be fine.

She spun on her heels and took the tray, doing her best not to spill any of the drinks or topple the bottles over.

She didn't hear what he shouted after her, all the noises blurred together, the music, the shouting and the people making out in public. Everything blended into static as her eyes turned into tunnel vision, making Jake the only thing she could see.

It felt like she didn't breathe at all as she scampered over towards the group towards the back. One of the beer bottles rattled when she set the tray down on a side table and Bob reached across quickly to take said drink before it spilled. He spared (Y/n) a concern glance until she forced herself to smile and twisted in Jake's direction.

He set his pool cue down on the table with a laugh of triumph when he shot the last ball and won the game. It was always the same, once he was on a winning streak there was no stopping him.

He rapped his hands down on the wooden edge of the table but he paused and stood up straight when a pair of arms suddenly clamped around his waist like iron bars caging him in. He didn't have to look to know who was suddenly attached to him like a monkey, he had her frame committed to memory and her every touch was processed in his mind.

He could feel (Y/n)'s head pressing between his shoulder blades and her warm breaths were fanning through his button up shirt.

He waited a few seconds but when (Y/n) didn't move, he slowly manoeuvred around in her tight embrace. His hand cupped the back of her neck and his thumb swiped up and down her skin while his fingers tangled in her hair and his other arm deadlocked around her waist. When she didn't lift her head or try and look up at him and instead kept her face buried in his tightly buttoned shirt, Jake's brows furrowed.

"Hey, you okay?"

His arms moved from her waist and he gently cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head up so he could actually see her face. He needed to know if she was upset, panicking or crying because if anyone had said or done anything, they would feel Jake's wrath.

"Darlin', talk to me."

"I'm fine… just dodged a weird guy, that's all." (Y/n) hated the worry lines dotted around his face and the concern pooling in his eyes, all because she was nervous that one guy had tried to make some sort of strange advance with her.

A quiet hum vibrated at the back of Jake's throat and he lifted his head to look around behind (Y/n) as if he could magically scout out the person she was talking about. Since he couldn't see anyone watching (Y/n) or trying to walk over towards her, he figured the guy had taken the hint and disappeared. That was good, but if he came back Jake would have no problem telling him (Y/n) wasn't interested.

The concern slowly melted from Jake's face like snow fading on the grass and (Y/n) felt herself calming down immensely when he smiled and kissed her temple. His eyes locked with hers for a few seconds before he dipped down and stole a sweet kiss from her lips.

"Ah, you got a round in." Phoenix squeezed (Y/n)'s shoulder as she passed her and reached out for a drink that Bob handed over since he was closest to the drinks tray as if he were guarding it.

Jake twisted his head to the right when he heard Bradley mutter "My turn," and take one of the cue's off the wrack near the back doors that were partially open to let in the cool night breeze. His lips curved into a widespread smirk because it was clear Bradley was waiting for Jake to play a round against him. It was the way, the winner stayed on and got challenged by a newcomer and Jake did just win a game.

When he pushed away from the table, Jake pulled (Y/n) along with him just a little too quickly, causing her to stumble into his chest. Not that he minded with the catfish grin he flashed down at her. But he set his drink down on the window ledge and tossed his head back when someone flicked his favourite song on the jukebox.

"Ah, I love this one."

(Y/n) paused, tipping her head back to look up at Jake with a somewhat bewildered expression. She wondered what was rattling through his head until he handed his cue to Bob and curved both arms around her waist. "Dance with me." He murmured in her ear.

It didn't matter that there wasn't exactly a dance floor here in the Hard Deck, nor that not many people were dancing to the song. There were a few people swaying or bopping along, but Jake didn't care. All he cared about was the fact that this was his song and he had his girl in his arms.

"Here?" (Y/n) tilted her head to one side while her fingers focused on messing with the buttons on his starched shirt. She messed with the buttons while she felt his thumbs trace up and down her hips.

It didn't matter to Jake that they weren't really going to be dancing, at least not properly. He didn't care that no one else was dancing and he wasn't bothered if the Dagger squad watched. He just wanted to move to the beat with the girl in his arms.

"Yep."

"I don't dance." (Y/n) murmured, even as she looped her arms around his neck and allowed him to lean her back and sway them along to the beat.

“You do when you’re with me.” He whispered the words against the shell of her ear, getting quieter and lowering his tone with each word until (Y/n) could hardly hear him. She could feel his breaths fanning against her ear and it was making her feel hot to the touch, making her skin flush from the contact.

He pulled her closer to him by her hips and rose a brow, but his smile widened when (Y/n) leaned her cheek on his chest and let him twist them round and step from left to right. They were more swaying than actually dancing, and there wasn't room enough to move around and try doing any fancy steps or spins or twists. But this was better.

She loved the way that as their bodies swayed, Jake's head was bopping along in its own rhythm and his gelled hair fell out of sync in the process.

The way he kept murmuring the lyrics under his breath made (Y/n) smile but the way he glided one hand up and down her waist sent her heart racing even faster in her chest. Tipping her head back, (Y/n) rested her cheek on his shoulder, smiling when she felt him leaning his head against hers.

When the song came to an end, (Y/n) pushed up on her tiptoes and stole a sweet kiss from Jake's lips that left him straining his head towards her, yearning for more.

"Rooster's waiting." (Y/n) wasn't sure if her voice was loud enough for Jake to hear, but she couldn't raise it above a whisper when her voice was so close to giving out on her.

Jake pressed a lasting kiss to (Y/n)'s forehead before he took the cue back and spun on his heels to face the pool table.

A soft grin spread across (Y/n)'s lips as she took a seat out the way and focused on watching the boys and drinking her drink. Her eyes followed Jake and she couldn't help but roll her eyes every time he came to stand in front of her to take a shot. He purposely arched his back out and wiggled his hips in her direction, giving her a perfect view of his behind. And one look over his shoulder with his tongue poking between his teeth had (Y/n)'s adrenaline going haywire.

The next time he did it, (Y/n) leaned forward and hit her hand against his backside, causing Jake to lurch forward and mess up the shot. Which also gave Bradley an advantage to maybe get a few shots in and possibly win himself his first victory against Jake.

She grinned cheekily when Jake cast a joking glare over his shoulder in her direction and she pushed up from her seat to move over to him. Her hands settled on his shoulders and her chest pressed up into his back so she could attach her lips to the side of his neck.

"I'm gonna go to the toilet." When his head turned in her direction, he nodded before (Y/n) captured him in a kiss and pulled away from him. Letting him get back to the game he was inevitably going to win anyway.

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, merging through the sea of people until she was back near the bar.

Running her fingers through her hair, (Y/n) advanced past the bar towards the toilets at the other end. She could still hear the laughter coming from the Dagger squad, even if she couldn't make out the jokes being tossed around from this distance.

She tried to keep herself small and weaved through the small gaps she could see between the mix of people everywhere. The one thing she didn't like about the Hard Deck was how popular it was. It didn't matter what night they came here, it was always packed and there was almost always no personal space and a long queue for the toilets.

She was close to the toilets when a calloused, rough hand circled around her wrist with a bruising grip and pulled on her arm until she stumbled.

It was the man from earlier.

"Let go." (Y/n) tried not to raise her voice or cause a scene when she pulled her arm back towards her chest. But it only made her wrist burn in his tight grip and her feet fumbled beneath her when the man tugged on her until there was almost no space between them and he was grinning down at her through a shark-tooth smile that looked deadly.

"I found ya." His voice was more threatening than he seemed to imply and his words made (Y/n)'s stomach drop. She cast her eyes around the bar but she couldn't find the group of aviators she knew. They were still towards the back at the pool table and no one had ventured any closer towards (Y/n)'s line of sight.

"Get off-"

"Come on sexy, come have a drink with me." It was clear he was telling her rather than asking her; she didn't have a choice in the matter.

Did this work on the other girls he tried to pick up? Had he even tried to pick up other girls before, or was he just deciding tonight was the night and he was going to grab anyone he could and force them to be around him?

"I don't want to." (Y/n) could barely speak, she could feel her chest tightening and her breaths were becoming shallow the more he grappled to hold her close and keep her from running away. The way he grinned down at her had her shuddering and trying to back away, but she ended up backing into a wall which only enlightened the stranger and made him move even closer.

His chest pressed down against hers, pinning her between him and the wall and his hand let go of her wrist in favour of holding her hip instead.

"Yes you do."

Everything started to blur. She could barely see his face, couldn't hear what was passing through his drunken lips and no one around them seemed to realise she didn't want to be there. No one helped when she bashed her arms around at him, frantically trying to leave without any coordination in her movements.

When his hand gripped her jaw and his fingers pinched bruisingly into her cheeks, (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and tried again to force her arms out in front of her. She tremored back against the wall and leaned her head to the side, but she couldn't try and slide down when he gripped her jaw tighter and pinned his knee between her legs.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, her brain was starting to shut down, she was going to faint soon.

"Oi! Get the Hell off her!"

Just as quickly as he was grabbing at her, he was suddenly wrenched away from her.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes open, her arms still bound around her chest as she gasped for air when her head started to swim. Her gaze locked onto the stranger whose eyes widened when a hand deadlocked around the back of his neck and another grabbed his bicep. As swift as anything, he was yanked backwards until his legs were swept from beneath him and he was forced to lean against the person dragging him back.

"Mind explaining why you had my girl pinned against the wall? Hm?"

Anger seethed through Jake's voice and venom was raging as pure as silver in his eyes that couldn't stop differing between the stranger and (Y/n).

He didn't like the way (Y/n) was now trembling against the wall and still had her arms cocooned to her chest like she was expecting another unwanted advance. He could see the fright pooling in her eyes and her shallow, rapid breaths made his body shake with aggression.

Who the Hell did this man think he was? What had he been doing, pinning her to the wall like that? In a bar full of people, did he really think that nobody would notice- that Jake wouldn't notice?

"Hey, chill out-"

"Not likely after what I've just witnessed." Jake had the sudden urge to lunge forward and smash this man's face into the wall he had just tried pushing (Y/n) into.

He could feel his body rattling with the desire to push him down, to throw punch after punch into him and make him regret setting his eyes on (Y/n) in the first place. But he could feel the rest of his squad gathering around. He could see Bradley giving him a certain look, a look of worry that told him not to make a bigger scene. He could see Coyote, debating whether or not it would be worth Jake teaching this guy a lesson because they could all see he was in the same uniform as them.

If Jake attacked him, he could get reprimanded for it. If they ever had to work with this guy, beating him up would make that a whole lot harder.

When his eyes glanced to the left and he noticed Bob approach (Y/n), the anger in him started to fade out and be replaced with a mixture of love and sympathy. He watched Bob gingerly take (Y/n)'s hand and steer her a few steps away from the hallway that led to the toilets, reeling her towards him so she was also away from the scene.

"Get the fuck out."

Jake dug his hand so tightly into the back of the man's neck that his nails started to pierce through his skin. His other hand moved from his arm up to clench around his shoulder and he twisted him to the right. There was no way Jake was going to walk him past (Y/n) and through that crowd to throw him out the front door. He could go stumbling out the side doors that led onto the beach.

Bradley and Coyote followed at a close distance and graciously opened the door so Jake could push him over the threshold and watch him scramble to his hands and knees. He relished in the way the stranger landed on the wooden slope rather than on the sand and it clearly sent a shock through his system and grated on his palms and bruised his knees.

The man twisted once he was onto unsteady feet, giving away how drunk he was, and he glared over his shoulder at them. He seemed to debate whether it was worth trying to get back inside the bar. But once Jake took three steps towards him and the guys grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him, the stranger thought better of it.

He turned away from them and stumbled onto the sand, advancing over on the beach in an unsteady manner, uncertain where he was going.

Once he was definitely out of sight and certain not to come back into the bar, Jake spun on his heels and made a beeline back through the crowds who were starting to mutter and chatter amongst themselves.

The music had been turned back on, Penny was serving drinks again and people were beginning to disperse back around the crowded bar instead of lingering near the toilets where the action happened.

When Jake was within her sights again, another round of trembling set in and (Y/n) pulled away from Bob's comforting presence and stumbled ahead until she was in Jake's arms. She felt his arm deadlock around her waist like an iron bar, unwilling to let her stand anywhere but right here, glued up against his chest. His other arm wound around her shoulders and when she felt his hand slide beneath her hair and cup the back of her neck, (Y/n) all but crumbled.

Her arms looped around his neck and her chest merged against his, feeling each harsh, thundering breath that Jake took to try and regulate his system.

She tipped her head down to bury her face in his shoulder, not wanting to open her eyes and see the worried, sympathising glances they were no doubt receiving from the friends gathered around them.

(Y/n) couldn't help the tears that started to soak into Jake's shoulder and she knew he felt them because he turned his head to the right and merged his lips with the side of her head.

She felt him sway them from side to side before he took a few steps to the side, pulling her along with him so they were near the wall and out the way of everyone else.

"Are you okay, he didn't hurt you did he?" He murmured against her temple while his fingers pressed deeper into the back of her neck and his other hand began gliding up and down her waist. He dreaded the answer being no because he wouldn't know what to do with himself. Jake wouldn't know whether to take (Y/n) home or turn around and hurry after the idiot and bury his face in the sand.

"Yeah, he just- he- I don't know. He didn't take no for an answer."

Her words both calmed Jake down and lit him up at the same time. How could that guy work with him? How could someone like that be in the same job role as them and work as one of them if he was so rude and aggressive once they were technically out of uniform?

He didn't deserve to wear the uniform or work with them if he treated people like that. Especially (Y/n).

"Well he ain't getting back in here anytime soon. Don't worry, Darlin' no one's getting past me." His lips smothered (Y/n)'s temple and when she finally lifted her head from his shoulder to look up at him, he curved his hand round from her neck to cup her cheek.

A soft 'thank you' murmured past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned her cheek into his palm, relishing in his touch. He wouldn't let anyone else get close enough to do that again and if they tried, Jake would have no problem chucking them out. She was his girl, and he wouldn't have anyone upsetting her or trying to pin her to the wall like that.

"Come on, let's go home."

[wileys-russo]

Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests, but maybe a sequel to ‘headache’ with Alessia, where this time reader is the one with the headache?

part one headache 2.0 II a.russo

alarm bells had sung out in alessia's head from the very first moment she'd woken up this morning, having fallen asleep with you tucked up beside her she was surprised to find the bed empty.

sitting up and rubbing her face tiredly she'd blinked the sleep from her eyes and checked the other bed, maybe you'd wanted some space.

but no, that one was also empty which further peaked her suspicion.

"babe? are you here?" she called out, frown deepening when she didn't receive a response at first. then after a few beats of silence pass she heard what sounded like the faintest of hums from the bathroom.

quickly kicking off the duvet she tied her hair up and out of her face, padding toward the open bathroom door, heart falling into her stomach at the sight of you laid down on the floor with a towel over your face.

"baby?" she was knelt beside you in an instant, gently peeling off the wet towel as you blinked a few times, wincing at the harsh white light of the bathroom and groaning quietly. "what's happened? are you hurt? sick? did you pass out? throw up?" alessia helped you to sit up, checking all over you as you softly pushed her away.

"i'm fine less." you brushed off her concerns with a sigh that didn't pass as okay. "well i just found you asleep on the bathroom floor, so something is up pretty girl. talk to me!" alessia worried, still fussing over you as you gently pushed away her hands, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"i just have a bit of a headache and i thought the cold tiles and a wet towel might help." you admitted, eyes closed as alessia reached up to flick off the bathroom light. "oh my love." the blonde's face softened, quietly murmuring that the floor was hardly clean and helping you up to your feet and back to bed.

"how bad is it one to ten? don't lie please." she all but whispered, squatted down as you sat on the edge of the bed, still pinching the bridge of your nose hoping it might relieve some pressure. "a six? seven maybe? it was worse before but it keeps going up and down, i woke up around four i think." you mumbled quietly.

"hey why didn't you wake me?" alessia frowned, thumb gently carressing your cheek. "didn't wanna bother you." you grumbled quietly, the obvious strain in your voice causing her heart to break a little further.

"my beautiful girl you are never a bother, we've spoken about this before." alessia assured you with another frown, kissing the crown of your head as you nodded and mumbled a near inaudible apology.

"i'm gonna go talk to sarina babe you cannot train today." alessia decided for you seeing the obvious wince of pain flash across your face once again.

"i'll be fine less! please. we're only in the gym today and i can handle that, i just need some water and some food and a tablet." you argued, alessia biting her tongue knowing just how stubborn you could be, especially when it came to national camps.

"fine. but i'm still telling her you've got a headache so she keeps an eye on it!" your girlfriend warned as you nodded, also not having the energy to go back and forth. "i can go down and bring you up some food baby? give you an extra hour or two of rest." her tone softened again as she looked at you sympathetically.

"no no it's okay. can you get me a bottle of water though please?" you requested softly, a cold bottle from the fridge in your hand within seconds, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth as you pressed it against your closed eyes.

whilst you did alessia raced around the room, drawing the curtains and trying to make the room as dark as possible, swearing quietly as she stubbed her toe on the end of the bed, biting down on her bottom lip to stop her from yelling out she took a few deep breaths.

"come here and lay down baby, we still have some time before breakfast." alessia moved to sit up against the headrest of the bed, tapping the space between her legs as you managed to shuffle over. laying down your head rested in her lap and her fingers carded through your hair.

"is this okay?" she asked softly with a frown, bending down to mumble the words against your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss on the warm skin as you nodded wordlessly, melting into her tender touch.

"i love you lessi." you whispered out as the blonde swooned, ducking down again to this time press a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering those same three words right back.

~

"maybe this wasn't the best idea." alessia mumbled, herself wincing at the sudden change of volume as the two of you entered the dining hall she couldn't imagine how it would feel for you. "it's fine." you dismissed with a small sigh, tucking yourself more into her side.

"what do you feel like you can stomach babe?" the blonde asked quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head, her arm draped protectively over your shoulder as you cuddled into her side.

"whatever you're having, maybe some eggs though please." you whispered, alessia nodding and ordering the two of you eggs the way she knew you liked, grabbing some toast and fruit for the pair of you as well.

"good morning lovebirds!" alessia winced as mary appeared beside her, throwing her own arm over your shoulder as the striker was quick to shove her off. "oi! feeling a bit possessive are we less?" the goalkeeper teased, earning herself a withering glare.

"she's got a headache mary and you're as loud as a foghorn. shut up or go away!" alessia warned sternly, smiling in thanks to the chef as she grabbed your shared tray.

"jesus alright! no need to bite my head off." mary rolled her eyes, staying behind to grab her own food as alessia guided the two of you to an empty table on the opposite side of the room, as far away from everyone as the two of you could get.

"i can feed myself lessi my head hurts not my hands." you cracked a smile as the blonde attempted to offer you a forkful of eggs, picking up your own cutlery.

"just trying to take care of you is all baby." alessia kissed your cheek sweetly, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you ate, your body still tucked securely into her side.

but of course that peace didn't last.

"oi ya left me on read this morning kid, not appreciated!" alessia's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as lucy teasingly smacked the back of your head, taking a seat with her breakfast and missing the pain which flickered across your face.

"lucy!" alessia seethed, fussing over you as you mumbled you were fine, gently prying away her hands.

"what? she's not made of fine china less she hits me about all the time." the older girl rolled her eyes unknowingly. "she's got a fucking headache and you just smacked her right where it hurts!" alessia growled protectively, lucy's face paling as she paused mid mouthful.

"shit! sorry kid." the northerner winced apologetically as you waved her off wordlessly, the pain starting to set in behind your eyes now from the harsh light of the hall, training your gaze down to the table instead.

"good moorning england!" alessia winced now as ella, grace and georgia joined the three of you, ella screaming at the top of her lungs as she dropped herself down across from you, grace and georgia chattering away.

"what no good mornin back? where's ya manners gone then!" grace teased as she greeted you and you remained silent, pulling you into a headlock as alessia was on her feet within seconds, yanking the younger girl off who paled at the sight of the scowl on her face.

"i was jokin round with her less honest!" the blonde apologised with her hands in the air, wide eyed and terrified of the striker who suddenly sent a mean glare to the entire table, stood protectively behind you.

"whats in your shorts this morning then less? why do you look like somebody pissed in your cereal." ella sent her a toothy grin, lucy stamping on her foot and shaking her head as the mancunian frowned in confusion. "what?"

"she's got a headache would all of you please shut up and keep your hands off of her and to yourself!" alessia warned firmly, dropping back into her seat and tugging you tighter into her side, arm again wrapped securely around your shoulders.

"a headache? aw poor baby!" ella teased, lucy sighing with a wince as even georgia shook her head to signal ella to lay off.

"tooney would you like to get through today being able to talk? because i'll personally shove my hand in your mouth and tie your tongue in a knot if it means you shut up!" the blonde threatened seriously, rendering her best friend speechless.

"lessi it's fine love, eat your breakfast please." you murmured knocking your knee against her as she fixed the girls with one final glare, kissing your cheek and going back to eating, an awkward silence settling around the table.

"so less would you prefer we call you nurse russo or doctor russo?" "right thats it come here tooney!"

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— through the storm, there’s always you + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — the one in which katsuki bakugou hates the winter, until you bring him a gift that changes his mind for the better.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, fluff, strangers to lovers, mentions of injury, mentions of hospitals, pregnancy & birth ( non - descriptive ), winter babies, wholesome family content, not beta read ! - fem!reader, pro-hero!bakugou.

⭑ words — 1.8K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! merry christmas if you celebrate and happy holidays to those who don’t !! i hope you’re all keeping well and safe. here’s a little drabble for your troubles since i’m working on something longer that’ll hopefully be out in the new year !! so this isn’t beta read and i hope you enjoy !! mwah - m.list ✩

katsuki had always hated the weather around christmas time. 

as a kid it meant being stuffed into itchy, scratchy sweaters that matched with stupid deku’s and being forced into what seemed like hours of pointless christmas card photo shoots tucked in next to the green haired, green eyed wimp. it meant mitsuki dragging him out of the comfort of his all night sheets early on December 25th to swap presents— her loud, irritating voice booming out Christmas carols with the words sung wrong as his pops set up a hearty breakfast and plucked wrapping paper from between the spikes of a young bakugou’s blonde hair.

back then, mitsuki would pull the cruel joke of putting coal in the younger’s stocking for a laugh and in response katsuki would hide all of her hurts to make it look like she had none. 

in middle school, katsuki spent most of his winter break running over school choices— learning the curriculum inside and out so that he could get into U.A. friends, family gatherings, festive…none of them mattered to him as much as his aspirations did, but he still helped masaru decorate the house and put up the tree— lit the fire because he didn’t run as hot as other people during the colder season. he hardly saw his friends, his posse, his entourage, whatever they were. they didn’t understand what it was like to work for something, to want to succeed…to make sacrifices. these were people katsuki didn’t need.

when christmas roll around at UA, katsuki felt like he was really part of something for the first time. his friends, kirishima and kaminari especially, begged him to cook the dinner— getting permission from aizawa after school to buy the ingredients, clinging onto his arms to keep him warm while asking him what went in what, affectionately pissing him off. 

there’d been a gift exchange too, and he’d tried to brush it off when his group of little misfits had presented him with a few exclusive allmight merchandise that hadn’t been collectible since he was a kid. ‘thanks,’ he’d mumbled, brushing an arm over his eyes in away that covered up the tears brewing in them. ‘idiots.’ aside from the celebrations and the small twinkle of happiness being surrounded by his classmates brought him— winter still sucked for bakugou. he’d discovered his quirk didn’t quite work the same, that he’d need to train a hundred times harder to be just as efficient as his peers during the flu season if he were to succeed and become a top hero like he’d promised himself as a kid. his hero costume required form fitting sleeves and a collar up to his neck that made him think back to that time where that villain had almost ended his life and he wasn’t quite strong enough to escape its reach. 

bakugou fucking hated the winter because of it.

the Christmas season starts to become even more intolerable once katsuki breaks onto the scene as rookie pro hero dynamight. he gets stuck with all the bullshit patrols like the Black Friday sales and Christmas eve last minute rushes for gifts because he’s not quite high enough on the ranks for the ‘real’ work yet. it’s fine, the blonde tells himself, anythin’ to get higher up  in the ranks. spreading the holiday spirit isn’t exactly his forte but the singles without families to go home to for the festives seemingly love spotting the desirable and explosive hero stalking the city streets, and it does wonders for his reputation too.

after bakugou’s first year as a rookie, do things pick up. he gets his first villain attack on december 24th, a simple robbery that he gets to handle all on his own— the prick’s quirk is fast moving, strong and nearly wipes the blonde out in one clear shot, sending him flying into the nearest building while other rookies evacuate the scene. 

“m-mister…uh, dynamight? a-are you okay?” 

your voice had been soft, your face the first thing he had scene when his vision realigned. blood trickled down the roundness if your cheeks, features aglow from the fires his quirk had set to your building— your humble little tailoring shop that he’d noticed was usually buzzing with customers  on patrol. “i uh— you hit your head pretty hard sir a-and there’s a villain outside— i don’t think you can fight it like this—“ you’d tried to explain in a hurry, the situation now obvious as bakugou’s head lay in your lap. 

groaning, he’d wanted to pull away from you get back up and take the damn villain down but before he could even move it’s quirk had sent another blast in the direction of your precious shop. one minute, bakugou’s life is flashing before his eyes and the next an invisible shield flies up in front of you both, protecting you from whatever impact had been coming. “‘m goin’ back out there,” bakugou told you sternly, gathering himself back up. there was no way a civilian should be doing his job, he should be protecting you, not the other way around. “stay fuckin’ put, till i get back. then we’re goin’ to a hospital.” 

turns out, you were great at following orders, by the time bakugou had taken out the perpetrator— you were more than willing to go with him to the hospital to get your injuries checked out. he stayed with you the entire time, he owed it to you at least. you’d saved his life, and sacrificed your shop but uttered not a word of complaint in response. and in the winter days that followed the incident, he visited and brought flowers and sat with you— learning about you, learning to love you right into the new year. 

bakugou’s spirits towards winter and Christmas had certainly changed since then. well into his thirties with achy joints, silvering hair and a stomach that’s a little less toned than it used to be— dynamight sits perched on the highest of buildings, a com mic pressed into his slightly muted ear. “ai’ght fuckers, let’s get this over with. the wife’s given me only a couple hours b’fore she can’t hold on any longer.” he grunts to his fellow heroes, ready to take down their annual Christmas robbery. 

it couldn’t have come at a worse time, katsuki promising you that he wouldn’t be working on the holiday for the sake of your kids— who needed their father just one day out of the year. you’d wrapped him up extra tight, a homemade scarf you’d worked on in the last few months slipped softly around his neck as you scolded him for taking up over time when he should have been with you, with his family.

“you got it kacchan,” izuku chuckles from his end of the line— positioned some ways away, his eyes also on the target. “operation kacchan’s home for Christmas is a go.” 

“agreed. i do not like it when mrs.bakugou is angry.” todoroki chimes in plainly, also accompanying the childhood duo on their mission.

“then keep yer eyes on the fuckin’ target— the sooner we can get my ass home t’what really matters this Christmas!” the blonde scolds his long time friends, rolling eyes eyes fondly as he sets his eyes on the target who‘d ripped him away from his family.

“daddy! you’re late!” 

katsuki’s oldest just barely looks up from her phone— a gift from last year— as he rushes into the hospital waiting room still decked out in his ashy hero gear. kayako bakugou still accepts the kiss to her forehead from her father and the ruffle to her blonde curls once he’s close enough. she has his hair, the colour of his eyes but the shape of her features are undoubtedly yours— the perfect blend of two people completely and utterly in love. 

his vermilion gaze shoots to his son, kuzki— a quiet little boy who’s not quite like the rest of the bakugou bunch but equally as loving and as precious to dynamight himself. “sorry ya guys have to be here on Christmas Day, s’late too,” the man pinches his kid’s cheek, kazuki squirming happily, albeit a bit sleepy. “we can open presents later, after i see momma.” 

“s’okay papa! nana mitsuki got us candy!” he squeals, the eldest bakugou hiding her nose in her magazine at her mention. 

“ma!” 

“what?” she huffs back, nodding her head towards the door. “you don’t have time to have a go at me, katsuki. your wife is waiting for you.” 

both of the bakugou kids get a smooch on their foreheads, and mitsuki the middle finger ( discreetly and in his head because he won’t risk getting his ass kicked by his own mother in front of his offspring ). he stalks his way into your private hospital room, keeping his clunky steps unusually quiet as he spots you resting in your bed. 

“you’re lucky, she just fed and was about to go down for a nap, but it seems like she was waiting for a certain someone.” you coo but you’re not looking at your husband, instead at the tiny bundle of joy wriggling about in her swaddle, laying in your arms. 

the elder blonde approaches the two of you, curling an arm immediately— soothed by your warmth which sends the chill of winter straight out of him. “she?” bakugou questions, too tentatively for a man with such a misshapen and rough exterior. you pass the little baby girl off to him, letting him take in the scent of baby powder and fresh linen. “god, she’s pretty. just like her momma, huh?” 

“think that’s all you, kats, you know these bakugou genes wait for no one,” you breathe your words out in exhaustion, but a smile stays strong in your face like the blistering winds outside. “thirteen hours of labour and she still couldn’t wait for daddy.”

“‘m sorry i couldn’t be there, stupid fuckin’—“ the baby stirs in his hold, growing fussy as if she already knows the signature forbidden word of the bakugou household. “stupid freakin’ deku held us up at the mission ‘n i tried my best t’get here..” bakugou loses his words, staring at his his newborn princess with so much love in the world— she’s tiny in his arms, gargling sleepily as he bounces her, standing to walk the room with his new little girl and showing her the snowfall. 

the three of you are entranced by the first glimmer of the crystalline weather— the room swimming with a contrasting warmth that katsuki can bear to stand because it’s not a frosted winter. it’s a perfect love. his own oasis away from the cold. “s’okay kats, she just wanted to be the best christmas gift you could have asked for,” you murmur. “our perfect little christmas gift.” 

katsuki bakugou hums in agreement, watching eyes the colour of your own but the shape of his flutter with tiredness for the first time being out in the new world. and now with his little treasure, his darling daughter and absolute labour of love— katsuki bakugou is able to state his reason for finally finding appreciation for winter after all this time.

“merry christmas, princess.” he says to her wistfully. “and to you too, m’love.” 

“merry christmas, kats.” you whisper back, your voice to him like a call through the storm.

[sl-vega]

♫ 07; ↠ SHITS AND GIGS   

↳ my heart beats for you-a scaramouche smau

Scaramouche sighed as he walked to the main area of the building, passing by the studio hall, later into the music store, and right by the front desk, quickly telling the lady at the counter that he would be back soon.

He picked up one of the umbrellas lying by the door, with no incentive of returning it in all honesty, and he opened the door, the faint door chimes ringing as Scaramouche walked out into the downpour.

He didn't know why Aether didn't jump at the opportunity to have some alone time with you, but the blonde wasn't the type to put his own personal feelings or biases over the ones of his friends, or in your case, crush.

Scaramouche had sensed some underlying tension between the two of you, mainly radiating off of you. He didn't bite though, he knew better.

The so called "rivalry" between the two of you was more one sided, you seeing it as competition, and him seeing it as a mild, but persistent, annoyance.

He didn't know why Aether liked you so much, even someone as bitter as him could see the light and kindness that radiated off the boy, so why'd someone like him waste all those feelings on a little pest like you?

But then again, even Scaramouche had to give you credit where credit was due.

You were, for lack of a better (and more insulting) work, were passionate. He was aware of your tenacity, especially towards your band and your performances.

He'd never admit it if someone asked him about it, but he's actually been to one of your shows, and Scaramouche (he'd rather die than actually admit to this) enjoyed it.

Long story short, Aether had dragged him to one of your shows, and it felt so surreal, seeing a glimpse of who you really were outside of competing with him and being a pain in the ass.

You looked, ethereal almost, with the way you smiled and how the spotlight shone on you and your instrument. The way you looked when you played and sung with the rest of C✧LESTIA.

In all honestly, that was probably the reason he even considered Venti's offer in the first place. Being able to be happy like that. Being able to belong.

Scaramouche stopped in the middle of the street for a quick second, wincing at how sappy he was being in his own mind. He shook his head to snap himself back to reality.

Looking around, he noticed you fixing a few things by a wooden bench on the sidewalk. Probably cleaning up a mess or spill. Your hair and clothes were drenched, you'd definitely get sick. Not to mention how you weren't dressed for the weather at all.

He approached you, and hovered the umbrella over your head. You turned around from the bench to face him after you realized that you were finally provided with shelter.

"Oh thanks-"

You looked so grateful for a brief second.

"You?!"

But then the ever so iconic look of annoyance and disgust came back.

"In the flesh."

You rolled your eyes, and picked up two plastic bags, presumably holding the drinks, and handed one to him.

"What're you doing here?"

You emphasized the you, almost as if his very being was supposed to be an insult or something.

"I came to help you."

You were about to open up your mouth to retort but Scaramouche just shot you an unimpressed look that could easily be taken as "don't act like you don't need it."

Next thing he knew a plastic bag was being shoved into his chest.

"Walk."

And so a very long and awkward walk in the rain had commenced.

The walk from your current location to the live house should be no less than twenty minutes, but mixing in the rain, and the several people who were stuck out here, that number bumped up to half an hour.

Not to mention how you were stuck with the person you despised the most.

You guys were basically playing the silent game at this point.

Aether had told him to make an effort with you, and for some reason he felt the incentive to make you see that he wasn't the absolute dickhead that you made him out to be.

"You're gonna get sick if you stay like that."

"Why do you care?"

Archons, why did you have to be so difficult?

Before you knew it, a black raincoat had been placed on your shoulders. He had slipped it off quickly and had basically thrown it onto your drenched frame.

You seemed almost flustered at the action, but you were shivering and the jacket was rather cozy so you couldn't refuse.

"But then you'll get sick!"

"Good, then neither of us will have to see each other."

You paused, the two of you continuing to trod throughout the rain, a brief interlude of silence between the two of you.

"...Thanks."

"What was that?"

You glared at him, and you swatted his shoulder.

"I'm not saying it again, douchebag."

"Ever so creative with the insults I see."

"Like you are either!"

You huffed and crossed your arms, pouting like a child. The two of you continued walking, and Aether's words from earlier continued to ring in his ears.

"This'll be a good chance to bond!"

The two of you stopped by the crosswalk, waiting for the traffic light to switch, and suddenly, a thought came into his mind. He didn't want it any less than you, but it would probably make Aether happy, and he deserved that.

"Hey."

"What do you want now?"

Scaramouche still couldn't believe that someone like Aether was so smitten with your sorry ass, but he would still follow through with this.

"We have a gig tomorrow night."

"So?"

"So you should come watch us."

He said it with the most nonchalant tone possible, didn't want you getting ideas in that empty head of your's. He glanced at you, you looked taken aback at the offer, caught of guard even.

Suddenly the light changed and the two of you started crossing the road. The two of you walked side by side, the silence between the two of you deafening the pitter-patter of the falling rain.

"...I'll think about it."

The silence returned.

God he was so going to regret this...

additional notes:

shoutout to @ectomotive for giving me the ideas to this part (they are such a treasure among my readers I genuinely just wanted to say how much I appreciate you <3) i'd also like to dedicate this chapter to them!

ALSO FINALLY SOME ONE ON ONE SCARA INTERACTION

THE PLOT IS PLOTTING YOU GUYSSSS

lowkey so proud of this

so yea

i'm happy :3

back on that consistent upload grind 💪

masterlist

<prev ll next>

MY HEART BEATS FOR YOU

Pairing: [BASSIST!] Scaramouche x [GUITARIST!] Reader

Genre: rivals/enemies to lovers, rivals to friends to lovers, fluff, crack (?), comedy, angst (?), slowburn, high school au, band au, modern au, social media au, smau

Synopsis: You're the lead guitarist for your band, C✧LESTIA and Scaramouche is the bassist of 5WIRL. The two of your bands have a friendly rivalry, but you and Scaramouche don't. On top of being academic rivals, you and him have never been on good terms. Always one-upping each other in grades and in music. Even your bandmates have grown tired of your constant bickering with each other. But when your usual practice hub gets flooded, you and the rest of C✧LESTIA are forced to find a new place to rehearse. So when 5WIRL offers to share their studio with you who are you to refuse? Of course, this forces you to spend time with your sworn rival whether you like it or not. But maybe the two of you can overcome your differences and actually be friends?

Or maybe even more?

(OPEN) TAGLIST: @featuredtofu, @levianamor, @danfelions, @thatoneswordgirl, @lolmeowing, @bananasquash, @xiaosantenna, @twilightclouds, @kaitfae, @mujiwuji, @zestyseggsydaddy69, @peaceindreams, @freyao7, @rinquin, @justpeachyteastea, @cobraz, @b2ne, @skyoverkill1, @scaradooche, @morallyrainyday, @adres-tia, @justadvena6, @agaygothicmushroom, @aiher, @kyon-cherri, @aether-darling, @ukinya, @sketcheeee, @ibawa, @shutingstar, @eutopiastar, @kunimix, @wonderful-worlds, @ectomotive, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b4tm4nn, @animegirl-12s-world, @h3xi2g0n3, @lalaloveallmydays, @st4xs-3

[maehemthemisfit]

𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖, 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: manjiro sano x gn!reader

synopsis/prompt: "despite your aching heart, you continue to see him. an ocean of words left unsaid, how long before you drown? tomorrow, you promise, you'll tell him tomorrow" + ❄️ cold, 🌃 night, and 🧣 them giving you an article of clothing

warnings: pinning, fluff, sprinkled angst, comfort, reader being cold, proofread partially, op running on 3 hours of sleep, it's 1am, help, should i make a part 2?

wc: 1.8k | taglist: @youatemylollipop

Japan had always looked beautiful in winter, even though it was a time that withered life. Plants darkened and shriveled, animals curled away in their dens, and sickness became a common factor. Despite the season being a high time for death and diminish, many good things flourished from it as well.

For starters, the low temperatures seemed to bring people closer together; hands locking in a small exchange of heat, shops switching their menus to warmer delicacies and enticing couples, and people shared their umbrellas to shield them from the elusive flakes of snow that descended upon them. 

Your boots crunched beneath the powdered flakes that blanketed the ground, obscenities being expelled from you in protests of the cold.  Internally, you mocked yourself for making the awful decision of not wearing something more heavy on your shoulders, but by now you couldn't turn back.

Being more than halfway to the shrine, you continued on your trek and swallowed down your discomforts, though it wouldn't take a scientist to discern you were pretty much fighting for your life at this point.

The cold was merciless as it caressed your face, its unyielding breeze spawning goosebumps over your skin and made your lungs blister from each breath you heaved. It hurts, you bit back a whimper, second guessing all your life choices that led up until now.

Some gloves would of been nice as well.

You felt like hell frozen over as every exposed part of you ached, especially your ears, and at one point it felt as though you were breathing from your head. Your mind became a fuzzy blizzard of uncertainty and regrets yet your body moved on, not ready to give out yet.

"Almost there", you'd whisper, urging yourself through the night.

It was a miracle when his voice finally graced your ears, granted everything ached but still his presence managed to warm your heart, albeit figuratively.

"Hah, [Name]-chan? You're here?" The middle school gang leader questioned, looking over his shoulder. His smile widened as soon as the two of you locked eyes, and before you knew it, his hurried footsteps were drawing near. "Weren't you planning on staying home?"

Your brain lagged for a second as his hand lightly touched your shoulder, and your eyes took this moment to admire the way his skin soaked in the city lights, in a way that perfectly framed his dimples. He looked so warm and cozy, his neck tucked beneath a scarf while the rest of him was layered in winter clothing, unlike you who garnered nothing but a sweater and a thin jacket.

His cheeks were slightly tinted red from the cold and a few droplets of snow were sprinkled over his blonde locks. You had to resist the urge to reach out and comb the speckles of frost from his hair and also restrain yourself from cupping his cheek, even if it was only to keep him warm, though you're sure you had little warmth to offer.

"I was but..." You mumbled, thinking back on the real reason you were here while Mikey quirked a brow.

'I wanted to see you'

Truly, you couldn't help yourself, not when he smiled so sweetly and sung your name like it's been on replay for hours in his head. It hasn't, you'd have to remind yourself, but there were some days that left you questioning reality. Days where he felt so close, yet every time he was near his name never rolled off your tongue as fear ebbed your voice away at the prospect of being more than what you were to him and how unlikely it was that he saw you as such.

That never stopped you from hoping though.

Tomorrow, you'll talk about it tomorrow.

To your dismay, the temperature took a dive and your words died in your throat as a pout twisted your face. Why now of all times? You were already freezing your ass off, what next? An internal organ? You held back a groan.

Your eyes slightly watered from the cold, threatening to become a stream of tears. With the hiss of the wind you quickly turned away, huffing as you tried your best not to sniffle or sneeze in front of him. Discretely, you tried to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your poorly insulated jacket.

Mikey could be dense sometimes, damn near oblivious, but when it came to you it was a completely different story. From the moment you spoke he could instantly tell something was off. Judging from your lack of winter attire and trembling self, it wasn't rocket science to figure out what was wrong, yet there seemed to be something eating away at you, something he only caught a glimpse of but never dared to comment on.

He saw it in your fleeting gaze, the frown you'd wear whenever he bid goodbye, and the way you brushed others off whenever they mentioned his name. He'd have to ask Emma about it when he gets the chance.

You tried to offer him the bag, an easy distraction from your struggling self, but of course your plans were foiled as Mikey grabbed your wrist instead, pivoting your towards him as a new set of fresh tears dripped from your lash line. 'No, wait!' You panicked, trying to escape his grasp but he only pulled you closer.

"M-Mikey," You stammered, lightly tugging at your wrist. The bag of taiyaki slipped from your hand, long forgotten over the snow.

It hurts seeing you like this. Was this how you felt all the other times you scolded him about taking care and prioritizing his health? His stomach tied itself in knots and his chest ached for reasons he had yet to understand. You were sure to catch a cold if you already didn't have one, but that just means he'd have to take care of you instead, and who was he to refuse?

Your breath caught in your chest as Mikey's hands cupped yours, his thumbs caressing warm mesmerizing circles into your aching knuckles. It felt... good, almost mind numbing you had to admit. It was ironic to think, one of the most strong and feared kid was here lovingly tracing your bruises. Your heart just might stop.

Something festered beneath his pout, flickering like a golden flame behind his charcoal eyes. Concern? Sadness was it? 

"You're cold," He stated, almost matter-of-factly, and you shuddered from how... distant his voice sounded, like he was far in the depths of his mind. 

You sniffled, looking away and taking interest in a nearby streetlight, which did little to help your eyes. Your lip curled in guilt and you almost wanted to laugh from how pathetic you probably looked.

His expression visibly softened, a faint smile soon painting his features as he wiped your tears, the pads of his fingers running gently across your skin. You blinked as the wind blew harshly, blinding you for a few moments. When you finally came to, you found something heavy being tugged over your head.

"What, h-hey!" You struggled against whatever was over you, only to be stopped by Mikey.

"Shh, be still!" He warned, attempting to curb your movements but you didn't relent, scurrying away from whatever force was over you.

"I can't see!"

"I'm almost, ah- stop moving before you-"

You muffled a few more protests before your thrashing around gave you a date with gravity along with a ticket that sent you both tumbling towards the ground. Mikey's arms instinctively snaked around your waist, his chest successfully breaking your fall when he landed in the snow.

He sighed and you groaned, the hoodie- his hoodie- you found yourself in finally slipping past your head.

"The hell was that!?" You let out an exasperated huff.

"Oh, so I'm to blame?" Mikey deadpanned, puffing out his cheeks. If he could cross his arms he would.

"You're the reason we're on the ground."

"You're the one on top of me."

Oh.

You tried to move.

Oh no...

It appears your hands unfortunately didn't make it into the sleeves, leaving you tangled in the thick fabric of your best friend's hoodie.

At the sight of this new revelation, Mikey couldn't help but crack a smile. "Ah! [Name]-chan~ don't tell me you're-"

"Shut up," Your face burned and you buried yourself in his scarf, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

You were engulfed in his laughter, his chest rising up and down with erratic breaths. You couldn't escape it, not that you wanted to leave. Mikey was thankful you couldn't see him, his face sprouting a deeper red that he would blame on the cold given the opportunity. He held you closer, supporting you so you wouldn't fall off since you couldn't hold yourself up. A part of him didn't want you to slip away so soon.

It was then you became hyper aware of your surroundings. His arms were tightly wrapped around you and your face was nestled in the crook of his neck. He was warm and soft and you couldn't help but relax and melt into him, cocooned in his hoodie that smelt of rose vanilla and pine. You breathed him in and it made you sick with nostalgic dreams of him and you, together and close like this. Those days where you were younger, sleeping over and waking up to tangled limbs and drool that wasn't yours on your neck.

You missed it.

You missed him.

But no matter how far you strayed from Mikey, he always brought you back into his arms, safe and secure. Just like this.

His hum brought you to the surface as one of his hands traced the small of your back.

"Hey," He called, urging you to look up.

"Hi," You greeted back, more weakly than you intended.

"Somethin's on your mind," Mikey spoke without question, sincerity in his eyes. A beat, then another passed by as you watched him. Silence. "You can... you can tell me anything, y'know? Whenever you're ready that is. Just," His hand went up to hold your cheek before moving to your head and hugging you back into his chest. "Don't let it tear you apart, away from me, okay?"

Seconds slipped passed as you registered what he said. Words bubbled in your chest, a confession on the tip of your tongue, ready to be poured out into the open snow. Your noses were nearly touching, your breath condensing into a small streams of mist and mixing with each others, dancing away into the night air and fading like a distant dream. 

You remembered some phrase about actions speaking louder than words, and you had the golden opportunity. His eyes, his attention, his lips inches from yours.

You leaned in, swallowing everything down.

And then, you hesitated.

That split second of vulnerability was easily snatched away by doubt, whispering fears into your head and sealing your lips from doing and saying anything further. All that courage down the drain.

Instead, you hummed, falling back into his chest to calm your racing heart. You had to tell him eventually. Your heart just wasn't ready. For now, you'll lay in his warm embrace and pray he couldn't tell, holding onto him for as long as you could without ripping at the seams. He was right though, this feeling was tearing you apart.

Tomorrow, you'll tell him tomorrow.

[word-wytch]

warm vanilla sugar.

Little Eddie and his mom, Elizabeth, bake Christmas cookies together.  [2k]

CW: tooth-rotting fluff, depictions of poverty, angst over paternal absence

December 24th 1971

Philadelphia Street was quiet on Christmas Eve. It was always pretty quiet in the dead of winter, especially once the sun went down. Nothing but the wind rustling through the glittering branches under the street lamps.  

But if you listened closely just outside the smallest house—the Munson’s house—there was music. There almost always was. Crackling and popping, the spinning record warmed the house with carols sung by Ella Fitzgerald this time. Tinsel glittered in the light of the colored bulbs on the little fake tree by the large front window. Behind the house there was a light as well, glowing warmly from the small kitchen window in front of the sink.

Perched on a chair at the counter with hands barely as big as the plastic cookie cutter, Eddie made his first big impression, stamping the dough in the shape of a snowman. He peeled it back with wondrous satisfaction, eagerly stamping another in the middle of the flour-dusted canvass, and another above it in frantic succession. 

“Easy there, big guy,” came a voice from beside him; warm and sweet like honey on toast. A pale hand blotched with green food coloring intercepted, lifting the plastic from the dough before Eddie could get his grips on it again. “Gotta keep ‘em close together, we’ll get more cookies that way,” Elizabeth said with a wink. “Like this.” Gingerly, she lined the snowman up beside one of its kin, upside down so that the large bottom tessellated snugly beside the top hat of the other. 

Sudden laughter erupted out of her son: bright, bubbling, and contagious. 

“What’re you gigglin’ about?” She punctuated the question with a teasing poke at his ribs.

Eddie pointed a trembling little finger at the scene, biting back his snicker enough for words to make it out. “His butt’s in his faaace!” He doubled over at his own joke, as if saying it out loud made it twice as funny. 

Elizabeth shook her head with a soft smirk at her son—the comedian—whose laughter was sweeter than any song she’d ever heard. His cheeks were pink from it, dimpled and squishy like the dough under her rolling pin. Tempting enough to take a bite. 

“What, like this?” She dove in, blowing raspberries against his chubby cheeks as he squirmed in her arms. His laughter erupted in squeals. “MmmooO—HAHA—mmmm!” Eddiesqueaked in a few gasps between laughs. It was a merciless onslaught; locked in a bear hug while fingers tickled his ribs. When Elizabeth was finally satisfied, she loosened her grip, pulling him into a hug with a soothing hand at his back to calm him down. 

Sucking in deep, ragged breaths, his chin nestled into her shoulder, into her long, strawberry blonde hair. She’d styled it extra today; half-up in a clip with those swooping curtain bangs framing her face. It was rare she had anywhere to be but at home, but that wouldn’t stop her from feeling like Bridgette Bardot on Christmas Eve. Hairspray was her secret weapon. It was cheap and always on hand. With it, she could transform into whoever she wanted. 

The scent of hairspray—of her—enveloped Eddie just like her arms. Warm like sheets freshly dried in the sun. More comforting than anything on Earth. Her hand rubbed loving circles into his green sweater while his own sticky fingers tangled into the oatmeal knit of hers. Finally Eddie let go, hands trailing the belt of her belled blue jeans as he steadied his stocking feet on the chair.

All calmed down, she nodded toward the cookie cutter. “Ok, go on and press it now.”

White plastic sunk into the dough, and Eddie beamed up at his mom with a smile that could outshine the moon, even with a few missing teeth.

“Good job! See it’s cold out there so they’ve gotta snuggle up real close to stay warm,” she said with a giggle, giving Eddie a side-squeeze. Before his hands could press another cookie, hers found the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling the flour and crumbs of dough caught in the knit up and away until they sat snugly below his elbows. “There you go, much better. Think you can handle it, big guy?” Elizabeth asked, turning back to her bowl of frosting on the counter. 

“Okay Mommy,” he said, gripping the back of the chair for balance before finding the cookie cutter again. With careful precision, he hovered the snowman over the dough close enough to touch mittens with the one beside it before pressing down. “Good job!” He heard her coo, and that was all he needed.

It was good to see him like this, so preoccupied with the project in front of him that he hadn’t even glanced at the front door. He’d been watching it a lot lately. Even more as the days grew closer to the big one. Green blotches of food coloring stretched into trails beneath Elizabeth’s spatula as she blended the dye into the crisco and margarine mixture, tucking the metal bowl against her chest for leverage. When blended to a smooth, pale green, she set it beside the red and white ones. Sighing sharply, she glanced over her shoulder at the porch light shining through the glass. Still no shadow, no sound of heavy boots. Only the crooning of Ella Fitzgerald, swinging along with her band to “Sleigh Ride” in the living room.

“I goooot it!” Eddie chirped proudly, holding up a snowman by the hat in his small fist as its doughy body drooped towards the floor. 

“Oh sweetie! Here, let’s get a pan.” Rushing to the oven, she snatched a well-loved baking sheet from atop the burners, pivoting to bring it under Eddie’s outstretched arm just in time. The dough hit the pan with a dull thud. The snowballs had stretched to droopy ovals, twice as long as all the others. Tiny grip marks dented the hat. Eddie—proud creator—beamed down upon its gooey form. 

“Oh wow, he’s—he’s a very tall snowman now!” Elizabeth exclaimed, sealing her snicker behind her twitching pink lips. She set the pan down in front of her mixing bowls. “Here, let me show you a trick, watch this.” Coming up behind him, she reached around his shoulder to pinch a corner of the dough. With a slow, upward pull, it became lace, leaving only the snowmen scattered on the large wooden cutting board. “See, like magic!”

And it was. Magic to see those umber saucers filled with wonder, to see her own eyes reflected back. But it wasn’t long before his tiny hands grew eager again, grabbing at a doughy body. “Woah—woah,” she clasped his wrist and his clutch slowly released. “We’re gonna use a spatula this time ok? It’ll be safer that way.” For the snowmen.

The oven was already warm. It had been for an hour now, just warming up the kitchen. Cookies were a great excuse for that. Sometimes in the dead of winter, when cold crept in through the single pane windows, Elizabeth would light up the old Magic Chef and leave the thick, enamel door hanging open. It would warm the whole kitchen, living room too. Sometimes she and Eddie would pull up chairs, wrap themselves in blankets, and pretend like they were roasting marshmallows. Cranking the thermostat was too expensive, but they could afford a fantasy.

Snowman cookies went in the oven this time, and by the time they came out, Eddie had a whole batch of Christmas trees ready to go. Steam rose from the snowmen as they cooled on the rack, and Elizabeth rolled out the dough for the Santa ones next. Even in the warmer-than-usual kitchen, it didn’t take long before the snowmen were cool enough to frost. 

Eddie was ready, holding the loaded butterknife tight in his grip. It descended with a plop on a snowman, and a haphazard jerking of the knife left it thick on the bottom and thin on the top. Eddie picked it up, poking out his tongue in concentration as he tried his best to spread it, but the pressure from the knife snapped the head clean off. It fell to the cutting board with a clatter of crumbs. “Noooo!” he wailed.

Elizabeth tossed her head back with a chuckle as sweet as molasses. “Some must be sacrificed,” she said with a wink, picking up the head. Gently, she took the butterknife out of his grip, grabbing a dollop of frosting from the bowl before giving it a generous smear. She handed it to Eddie. “Guess we’re gonna have to eat ‘im, huh?”

He didn’t waste a beat, stuffing it into his mouth in one eager bite. His crumb-dusted smile was enough to warm the whole house. Leaning against the counter with a soft chuckle, Elizabeth took a bite of the body. It was still a little warm, the dough flaking ever so slightly beneath the glob of sweet vanilla that her teeth left marks in. Grabbing her half-full coffee mug from beside a dirty mixing bowl, she chased it with a cold sip. “How ‘bout I frost and you decorate, big guy?”

Eddie was happy to do anything that involved sugar. Happy to lick it off his fingers, happy to bury his hands in the sprinkles—transferred to bowls for more accurate decorating after the plastic shakers left more on the tray than the cookies. Still, Eddie was more than generous, grabbing handfuls and releasing them in hills atop the frosting. 

“Mommy you think Santa’s gonna see my list?” Santa and list were challenging words without front teeth, but he managed. 

She paused as a sinking feeling crept into her stomach. Staring down at the long, half-frosted snowman in her hands—darker than the others and fragile due to its thinness—she took a deep breath before answering. “Yes baby, it’s right on the coffee table.”

Rainbow sprinkles clung to his fingers as he released another pile, leaving behind colored dots on his palms. “We’re gonna have to give him extra cookies so he brings everything.”

Twinging, she glanced at the door. “Baby, you know sometimes Santa and his elves get real busy and gotta make sure they have enough presents for everybody. Means he can only pick one or two things from each person’s list, you see.” Let alone a whole dang person. 

Eddie frowned, gnawing his lip as he stared down at all his hard work. “But he’s magic.”

Elizabeth set down the cookie, folding her arms across her well-worn floral apron with a heavy sigh. “I know, baby.” But he don’t work miracles. Staring into the bowl of frosting, her mind drifted back to the bedroom closet where two wrapped gifts lay tucked away. On the shelf above the coat rack was a dwindling bundle of cash in a brown paper bag. It was all Al had left behind three months ago when he said he’d be gone only one. She’d made it stretch, but barely. Elizabeth Munson wasn’t going to let that dampen the occasion though. Not today, not ever. Brightening her eyes, she turned to face her son. “But you know what? Christmas is really ‘bout appreciating what you got already.”

Eddie looked down at the snowmen, at their white bellies full of rainbow sprinkles. A few sprinkles dropped from his sticky palms as his shoulders began to slump, but suddenly a finger lifted his chin; soft as a peach and blotted with green food coloring. Suddenly he was staring into his favorite set of eyes, warmer than Tennessee whiskey. 

Elizabeth cupped his sweet face, rubbing her thumbs along the apples of his cheeks. “You know what I appreciate?” 

“Wha-?” was all he could mumble from between her palms.

“You.” She planted a big kiss on his forehead. 

Her smile was infectious, and before Eddie knew it, one was cracking across his face too—crooked and toothless. His sticky fingers found her wrists, lowering them softly to free his cheeks. He had something important to say. “I ‘preciate you too Mommy.”

Elizabeth Munson had a smile like the sun; radiant and warm even on the coldest days. Because when Elizabeth Munson was happy, the whole entire world was happy. 

And Eddie was no exception.

______

A/N: I might have gone through half a box of tissues to bring you this.

I might do more little vignettes like this. I just love Elizabeth Munson so much and it was really fun to develop her character more and give her a sweet moment with her boy.

✨ If you enjoyed this, please let me know! Your feedback keeps me writing and sharing helps others find it too! ✨

📖 MASTERLIST 🖋️AO3 ☕️ KO-FI

[cloudninetonine]

A Player's Aid: Chapter 14

Fandom: Legend of Zelda, Linked Universe

A/N: WHAT'S UP FUCKERS- shorter chapter but it's fucking here

Warnings: Bad language, descriptions of panic attack, descriptions of nightmares, descriptions of drowning/choking/suffocating, descriptions of hallucinations, mentions of possible PTSD

In the warmth of the afternoon sun, the people rejoiced.

Some kneeled to kiss the grassy earth beneath their shoes, others hugged and sung thanks to the goddess to see the light of day once more and others merely eased their tense bodies to the welcoming breeze, eyes closed in bliss. Freedom. Finally, they had reached freedom after those terrifying, grueling days stuck in the confines of that age old library.

The Hero of the Four Swords looked towards the castle in worry.

“Any sign of them?” The sailor asked nervously, eyes also trained on the grand palace. “Cook hasn’t picked up on the slate, no matter how much I’ve tried to contact him with the stone.”

The worry brewing in the smithy’s gut only seemed to burn at those words. “Not at all?”

“No.”

The eldest seemed the most panicked of it all. The Old Man held that mask of stoicism well but masks were not made in likeness, their duplicity was still noticeable under a scrutinising eyes and the blonde could see the worry in his gaze. The way he seemed to pace on the spot, how his hands twitched against the hilt of his sword and his eyes stayed fixated on those towers of stone a little too long. Time fought it, of course, and if the ‘accusation’ came that he was fearful in this moment it would be met with a burning glare and swift denial.

“I do not fear when I know you are all capable of holding your ground, especially against that monster.”

But not all of them were his descendant, were they?

Ever since that dreadful day, the Ranch-hand laid in a bed not of his own making, the darkness of the Shadow’s blow seeping into his bloodstream and slowly draining the soul from his weakening body as he edged closer and closer to death. Only a few terrible hours, but enough to air out the grievances with them amidst the worry and frustration. The Four Sword Hero and the Hero of Wild had fought but that had come to pass- however the light shone on the topic of ancestor and descendant could not just be pushed aside.

The Hero of Time had become…stricter with the farm boy. Obvious to them all, the man had taken his role more seriously then. All could see it, the nervous light dancing in his eye when he sent the brunette on an errand or watched him battle a monster with the strength of a Hylian Ox. The very thoughts of fighting the very thing that had nearly sent him to the gates where the Golden Three held eternal paradise was probably eating the Old man alive, concern gnawing at his gut like a dog chewed at its bone.

The Hero of Time knew that the others were capable- but did he think the same of his successor? 

The Four Sword Hero could also see that the question mingled in the mind of the Ranch-hand too, albeit the Old Man did try his damndest to not show it in front of him, especially knowing that stubbornness that seemed to last generations in his family.

The Skyloftian Knight had told him, even when he stood, bleeding out and wobbling, he would not yield his position as hero on that day the Shadow struck.

What an idiot his brother was, sometimes.

“How much longer could they be?” Gilda muttered to herself, the fairy having joined them when she had seen them return from their side quest. “Maybe I should go have a look-”

A huff silenced her.

“Maybe our resident witch has bewitched them,” The veteran’s words came offhanded but he could hear the loathing and wariness in his tone- he did not wholeheartedly believe his accusation but the Vet knew how to weigh down his words. “And given them over to the Shadow just like they probably planned-”

“Veteran now really isn’t the time for such words.” The Skyloftian Knight’s resort sliced through the air and had almost made the Four Sword Hero jump. When had he appeared behind him? “Can you not for the moment?”

“I am just saying-”

“Hey, there they are!”

Necks snapped, Four’s included, in the direction of where the sailor had begun to sprint. Nowhere near the castle gates but instead in the West, five forms appearing in the distance- four walking and the last hanging off the back of one of them.

The heroes plus fairy rushed over without a second thought.

“Are they dead!?” 

Wind had exclaimed those words in a moment of panic, eyes wide in a morbid curiosity as they glanced over your paled face in the light of the afternoon sun- you seemed still too. Not moving an inch.

“No!” Wild cried in similar horror, “They fainted! That’s all!”

Gilda didn’t need her brother’s prompt to rush over, her gentle green glow whizzing around your hair in an effort to heal whatever ailed you in that moment.

“We had to take a shrine, there was no other way-” Twilight’s words had come out slightly slurred, his own face looking pale along with the Captain’s and the Traveller’s- Four couldn’t blame them. The Sheikah’s magic from the Champion’s era was a strange one. No one quite liked their teleportation magic, too disorientating for them all excluding the wild blonde from his excessive use of their devices. “Uh, my head-”

Gilda went over each one of them carefully as the small group were led back to the rest, the people of the settlement offering their own help in the form of potions and such of any kind as they rushed about to make an impromptu camp. After all, the skulltula had torn apart most of their settlement already and left them with almost naught to defend themselves with. You were laid to rest on a bedroll, tucked in under a blanket with the careful touches of the Traveller and Champion before all were gathered to talk.

“I’m glad to know you are all okay,” 

Time’s voice sounded heavy with both relief and concern during the rush, looking over the group after they were tended to by a maiden scholar with knowledge of medicine- she had practically demanded to help in return for saving her life. “And I’m glad to see you were able to rescue our guest- but what of the Shadow?”

The four shared a look. “It…retreated.” 

“Wait. Seriously?”

“Yes, as soon as it reached the light, it seemed.”

“But the light has never stopped it before.” The Hero of the Four Sword brought a finger to his chin in thought, a slight flash of purple dancing in his eyes. “Even when taking the form of a beast, it still stalked the lands when the sun was highest- why stop this time? What could have possibly been the reason?”

The group shared an inquisitive silence.

“Well, the sun has never stopped it but it has seemed to grow weaker under its gleam.” The group glanced over to Sky as he sat himself up on his rocky seat, “Think about it, those many moon cycles ago- The Captain didn’t have much action when he and the Shadow had exchanged blows but when Ranch-hand- I…uh…”

Twilight rolled his eyes, “Just spit it out, knight.”

“Right, uh, anywho- when the Ranch-hand had fought with the monster it seemed to have more power in the oncoming dusk.”

The veteran straightened. “Dusk does bring more shadows than pure light. It would make sense.”

“But what of our time in the forest?” Hyrule asked, “It was darker, more shadows in the shade of the trees- it didn’t seem that strong then either. Angry, but not too powerful.”

Twilight playfully nudged Warrior’s shoulder. “You can thank our Captain for that.”

“Oh hush.”

Sky spoke up once more, “I think Fi’s light may have been the reason, we all see how it reacts to her power. It’s afraid. After all, she was made to seal the darkness and the Shadow is that- darkness.”

They let those words sink in, sharing looks with wild thoughts prancing about in their heads.

“...It didn’t feel that powerful.” The Hero of Hyrule glanced over to your form, situated comfortably in your bedroll and looking much more healthy compared to your earlier sickly expression. “Angry. It was certainly angry and almost suffocatingly so, but the power behind its shifting form didn’t really feel all that…there. I think that’s why it didn’t chase us further and I think that’s why we were able to escape. It’s weak. Too weak.”

“Still strong enough to open a portal?” The eldest didn’t seem all that convinced.

“In the darkness, yes, that’s where it takes its power from.” Confidence bloomed in his gut as the brunette stood a little taller, “The day that (Name) appeared it was late into the night, when it had taken them during our fight the darkness once again overwhelmed the light- these have been the only times that portals have appeared for ages. Don’t you see? It cannot function properly in the sun.”

A sudden wave rolled over the Hero of Time. Dark and guilty, his eyes of ocean blue swirling with conflict as he gaze ran over to your unconscious form. He hadn’t discussed what he had done those few days ago, a secret between both you and his descendant that he wasn’t quite ready to disclose to the group- now was the time however, no matter the look he knew the traveller and (now) the cook would burn into him.

“I have a confession.” Eyes tethered to his form in an instant- no backing down now. “Those days ago, back with the camp at Fort Hateno- I had a plan.”

The Twilight Hero sat straighter- The Old Man continued. “It was intentional, leaving our guest to fend for themself because I had a suspicion that the Shadow was watching us.”

The Hero of Hyrule’s breath stuttered in growing horror and anger. “...what?”

The Wild Hero practically leapt to his feet. “WHAT!?”

The roar grabbed the attention of the nearby settlers, Twilight moving to stand and grab his shoulders. “Champion, please-”

“They told you they could not fight!” The traveller cried, interrupting. “They told us all! They told you and you saw what happened! You did that! That was your fault!”

A few flinched at such a raw blame but the Old Man kept his shoulders squared, face stoic. “And I take full condemnation for such an idiotic plan- but it proved it. The Shadow is watching us.”

The cook ground his teeth, “You didn’t need to see something we all already believed.”

Time would have laughed at the irony of those words- he really did replicate the Ranch-hand in so many ways. To sound like him in this moment would have usually made his heart warm if not for the seething anger behind his tone.

“Seeing is better than believing, we all know that,” He sighed, “But that’s not what I wanted to say- that monster was further proof that the Shadow’s power wavers in the light of the day.”

The smallest hero raised a brow. “How so?”

“It’s positioning- the monster led our guest right towards us, why would it do such a thing? It knew it would take a few of us only moments to cross that river, the Traveller proves that, so why closer? Unless-”

“Unless it wasn’t where it was supposed to be.” The Captain looked up at the realisation, “The Shadow messed up.”

“What does that even mean!?” The champion snapped, throwing his hands up. “The Shadow always messes up- if it were successful in any way it would have killed us all already!”

“It was successful with taking (Name) wasn’t it?” The eldest turned to him. “Both times, both in darkness but when it summoned the Chuchu it messed up. Why did it mess up that time? The only possible explanation is the light.”

The cloud of realisation rained heavy on them all. 

The sailor crossed his arms, “But the Shadow was summoning all those monsters! I understand if it was weak in the light but the traveller is saying that it’s weak full stop. This wasn’t just a small camp of monsters, this was an entire herd. Surely in its weak state it shouldn’t be able to summon that many, right? And if it can, shouldn’t it be able to step into the light? It must have enough power for that if it can make a small army.”

Taking a deep breath to control the rage burning in his chest, the Hero of Hyrule spoke once more. “We might not have all the clues here, not yet. But I still think it’s weak, even in that display of horror and intimidation, the power that it gave off felt smaller than it had been for a while.”

“Let’s not forget that it has been months since we last saw this monster.” The Ranch-hand had finally managed to calm his protégé, the blonde more grumpy than enraged. “So that must mean something.”

Silence finally hung.

Their talk was informative, ideas flowing around them all. The Shadow had been pushed to the back of their mind during this long time of rest with nothing to show from its end. They had travelled all over the Champion’s era searching for monsters, for stories, for rumours and for portals but not a whisper in the wind. This sudden return had certainly shook them all but they knew it had been coming, maybe not that day they had found you at the base of that tree, winded and bruised but it was inevitable that the Shadow would one day return.

It would never give up that easily.

A shaky whimper caught their ears and heads turned to your direction, face pinching and lips shaking as you made more noise of distress.

Hyrule didn’t hesitate to move towards you, as did Wild, brushing past the Ordonian Hero to make his way over.

“Are we gonna go check out the castle again?” Wind asked after a moment.

Time shook his head, “No, however we shall in the morning.”

“Okay,” Wind pushed away from the tree he had been leaning against, jogging over to your position too.

After a few following moments of silence, the remaining heroes decided to part also. Twilight stayed by the side of his ancestor however, watching them all go with a heavy heart before turning to look at the eldest as he rested his head in hands.

Time sighed. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to make this up to them.”

Twilight’s hand rested on the older man’s shoulder- it was almost odd to be his comforter when it was usually the other way around. “Just give them time, ancestor.”

And that was that.

----------

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

Your hands clawed desperately at the ooze, fighting its weight as it dragged you further and further into the expanse of nothing. Kicking your feet had proved useless, you made no distance in your efforts, only continuing to sink deeper and deeper with no knowledge of where you would end up.

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

Where were you? How did you get here? You had opened your eyes and suddenly you were bombarded by the overwhelming feeling of the black sludge surrounding your body. Trapped, no way to fight it. With the consistency of molasses yet versatile like water, you only continued to sink with no hope of resurfacing.

You could not scream.

You could not cry.

You could only wait.

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

Then you felt it- the hand wrap around your calf. Sharp nails digging into the skin of your leg as it captured you within its grasp. You could not flail in panic. You could not fight its grip. 

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind.

You reached your hand out, begging for someone to save you from this horrid fate. You didn’t wish to die in such a torturing way. Unaware of it all. 

But it began to drag you down.

And you were going to die here.

In this horrible, drowning, choking, blinding nothing.

Drowning.

Choking.

Blind-

Your hand was grasped and you spotted it- the light. Seeping through the darkness in smaller beams that grew bigger and bigger as it began to haul you up, up, up- the hand on your calf tried fighting but with this newfound hope in your system you did not yield. Tightening your own hand, you pulled your weight up to greet the surface of the never-ending sludge.

Surviving.

Breathing.

Seeing.

You broke the surface with a heavy gasp, spluttering and coughing. Light surrounded you opposed to the darkness that you had been submerged in and you raised your eyes to look at your savour.

Eyes pooled with kindness looked back.

“(Name)-”

You sat up with a choking gasp, clutching at the blanket encasing your chest.

Eyes wild, you searched the area desperately for traces of that suffocating nightmare only to see that you were laying in a forest, as lush and as green as many were in a scene that slowly brought you back into reality. The trees wavered in the wind, the grass stood tall and you were not drowning in darkness.

Bodies were strewn about the small camp, a fire centring them all. Wild and Hyrule laid only inches away from your sleeping mat in their own, their soft snores light on your ears as you watched them with your pacing heart slowing to a resting thump. Looking around, you could spot a few more of the boys sleeping away with the settlement in the far distance, their torches beacons in the dark.

The dark…

You gulped, glancing around. Surrounded by it, eating away at the borders of your camp, it almost seemed to be watching you, studying you. The light of the fire was the only thing that fought it back, your savour in these desperate times- desperate? Why would it be desperate? Nothing was there.

Unless that nothing was something.

Unless that something was the Shadow.

Cloaked in pitch black, red eyes staring at you from beyond his veil of gloom. Was this what he was waiting for? The night to snatch you up again? Your cockiness would surely lead you to a tortuous death with not an ounce of glory to your name. You had provoked him and now you were destined to die a cruel end.

Something shifted beyond a shady bush.

Your heart kick started with a twisting leap.

You didn’t want to die like this. Not after everything had happened. You had been saved- you were safe! He couldn’t hurt you now! This wasn’t fair! 

You pushed yourself to your knees, hellbent on running.

No, this wasn’t it. Not after escaping your fate. 

The world muffled as blood pumped loudly in your ears, your shaky, uneven pants returning tenfold as wild eyes stayed focused on the shaking bush. You were not in between trees, you were back in that hallway. Winding and dark, as you watched the shadows slowly seep round the corner with its demonic host just only a few paces behind.

You could not fight but by God you could run.

Eyes peered through the darkness.

You inhaled in suspense.

A fluffy dog pushed its way through the bush.

And suddenly, you were back on the outside.

Collapsing back into your bedroll, you shook. Your pillow muffling your terrified sobs as you heaved and wailed into the comfort of the plush cushion.

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real. The castle laid quiet in the background within the darkness, the trees acting as a fence between you and your near murder scene. Your mind may have still pushed that horrible notion but you needed to fight it with logic, with a clear mind. Even as tears cascaded down your hot cheeks you needed to see that you were indeed fine, you were indeed safe.

You did not need to add PTSD to the long list of things already wrong with you.

Something gently made contact with your head, the familiar feeling of a wet snout softly burrowing into your hair with frantic sniffs as the canine studied your shaking figure. Nipping at your skin with careful precision as to not actually hurt you, the animal whined and collapsed into a big fluffy heap right next to your shaking body- a boundary between you and the darkness.

After a few moments, you glanced at it.

“...Wolfie?” Wolfie, or Twilight as you knew under the disguise of Twili magic, tilted his head curiously at you. “...what are you doing here?”

The wolf quietly barked- a squeak with maws snapping.

“Right…you can’t talk…” Sniffling, you hiccuped on a breath and reached your hand out carefully, fingers making contact with the poofy fur decorating his chest. “....you’re soft.”

Another quiet bark, you giggled this time at the noise.

“I’m sorry…were you patrolling?” He hummed a whine that you could only believe was a ‘yes’, your head coming to rest upon his paws in an act of seeking comfort- you hoped you weren’t making Twilight uncomfortable. “Sorry for getting in the way.”

Wolfie rested his head atop yours carefully.

“I just-...” You teared up once again, shaking. “It’s so dark and I just couldn’t-”

A deep sound came from within his chest, not a growl or grunt, but a long soft hum that had you fall quiet with only sniffles leaving you. You were tired, you were scared and you wished you were back home with your Mama. 

Mama.

You wanted your mama.

She would have held you, even through her grump after you woke her.

“I want my mama,” You sniffed, “I want go home- I hate this fucking place.”

Tightening into a ball, you cuddled closer to the canine. The hero did nothing to fight it, in fact, he pushed his body closer to your own as he curled around your frame protectively. Like a blanket of safety, he kept you covered and made an effort to shield you from the horrors of the outside world. You were not alone in this nightmare, you did not have to isolate yourself and suffer.

You cried yourself to sleep.

[airandyeah]

By The Beach Merman Nanami X Reader pt.2

Read Part 1 here ?warnings?: general confusion for all parties, alcohol consumption, excessive use of prescribed medication, let me know if i missed anything?

Y/N's side/3rd person:

Waking up in the morning was always a hassle for Y/N, especially after it already took long enough to fall asleep. She couldn't sleep, those hazel eyes burned into the back of her eyelids every time she closed them. She got up at 8AM, at least according to the bedside clock. She got dressed in simple black shorts and a white tank top, bypassing shoes. As she walked into the kitchen she turned on some music... Heaven knows that I'm born too late For these ghosts that I chase With these dreams, I inflate, painted skies in my brain... King of The Clouds by Panic! At The Disco... What a silly little song. Y/N danced around the kitchen, grabbing a bowl and filling it with cereal to eat, but not before pouring a glass of whiskey and throwing in a hand full of her medication that's supposed to help her depression. She's also supposed to take it with water, but whatever... I don't trust anything Or anyone, below the sun And I don't feel anything At all Feelings are complicated, she decided that a long time ago. So why not take these pills and down these drinks? Why not just... remove the feelings? She closed her eyes and danced around the room... I'm king of the clouds, of the clouds I get lifted, I get lifted King of the clouds, of the clouds I get lifted, I get lifted She was leaning back so far she was about to fall over, getting lost, until that pair of hazel eyes appeared before her closed eyes, she opened them, but they were gone... It had to have been some sick hallucination right? Mermaids don't... exist. Yeah. They don't exist. She drops onto the couch. Imagination, take me somewhere I don't know I'm lost but I better find it alone King of the clouds, of the clouds I get lifted, I get lifted Soon she feels sleep creeping into her eyelids, her last thought is those hazel eyes and that blond hair... I keep searching Oh, I keep searching I keep searching..... ~~~ It was a few days later that she began walking the beach in search of any trace that the night happened. She had her headphones blasting... Just One Yesterday, by Fall Out Boy... Her feet padded through the sand, bare as she walked along the shore, her eyes glued to the line where the water met the sand. "I thought of angels choking on their halos Get them drunk on rose water See how dirty I can get them, pulling out their fragile teeth And clip their tiny wings" She sung the lyrics aloud as she searched. She had bypassed any alcohol when she decided to search. And even took her prescribed 2 pills a day with water in the morning, she was taking this seriously. She didn't want to be clinically insane. " Anything you say can and will be held against you So only say my name, it will be held against you Anything you say can and will be held against you So only say my name" She still remembered every detail... That blond hair, those hazel eyes.... That... that... fire orange colored fish tail.... "If heaven's grief brings hell's rain Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (I know I'm bad news) For just one yesterday (I saved it all for you) oh" She kept walking, and walking.... she new she was out of it, deep in depression and her own thoughts when it happened.... but she couldn't have walked this far right? " I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way Still, I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (I know I'm bad news) For just one yesterday (I saved it all for you) For just one yesterday" It was soon after she thought this that she noticed something brown near where high tide would've dragged something... She ran towards it and picked it up... "Letting people down is my thing, baby, find yourself a new gig This town ain't big enough for two of us I don't have the right name o-o-or the right looks But I have twice the he- Suddenly it was like the music stopped, like time itself stopped. In her hands was her old brown T-Shirt with a four leafed clover and a... blood stain. This was it. She used this shirt to treat him! It had really happened! ~~~ Thoughtsss?

[elliesmainhoe]

Protector

Knight!Ellie X Princess!Reader

Summary: After sneaking out, Ellie protects you from some unwanted attention.

Contents: sneaking out, getting drunk, reference to prostitution, Ellie murdering a creepy man, violence, comfort and fluff.

My Masterlist

You were bored. So unbelievably earth-shatteringly bored. Life as a princess fucking sucked, every day the same. Sit on the council, talk to suitors who you had no interest in and then see your perfect girlfriend. It was getting so bad that lines would blur and you would forget what day it was.

But, you never felt comfortable complaining about it. You were a princess for fuck sake! Gold, jewels, dresses, palaces, banquets, you had it all. The only person you had to talk to about anything was Ellie.

Ellie was a knight and a damn good one at that. She had fought in wars, killed people, almost been killed herself, it seemed ridiculous to complain about your champagne problems to her.

But your head felt as if it was about to explode and it got worse every second you stayed trapped inside the confined walls of the palace. And that's how you found yourself here, saddling up your horse, wearing a deep blue cloak and ready to ride into town by yourself... In the middle of the knight.

Maybe not your brightest idea. But you were too commited now anyways, no turning back. You put your feet in the horses stirrups and hoisted yourself into the saddle and your horse, who you had called peanut, began to trot out of the stables.

The sound of your peanuts hooves hitting the dirt ground were drowned out by the ambience of the many taverns that lined the streets. Laughter, cheers and people singing echoed through the streets and you felt like you could finally breathe.

You continued down the dirt road u til you stumbled across a small rundown tavern, there were a few people inside but nothing compared to the hoards in the neighbouring bars.

You tied up Peanut nearby, grabbing your satchel and tugging the hood of your cloak down to hide more of your face. You entered the warmly light alehouse and took a beeline for the bar.

"One larger please" you said, trying to speak up, to put on the facade that you were confident and definitely not out our of your element.

" 15 shillings" a gruff deep voice said to you. Sending you a conspicuous look. You opened the brown leathers satchel before fishing out what he had asked for sliding it towards him, silently.

He grunted in acknowledgement before he turned around to fix up your order. Your eyes drifted towards a group of loud people, dancing and cheering at a bard who was plucking his lyre and singing about adventures he had been on.

You loved this. Your people, being people. Laughing, dancing, talking. It reminded you that they weren't just your subjects. They had stories, they lived lives, they had families and friends.

You heard your larger being pushed towards you, so you turned around and began sipping still looking over at the group of people.

"Hey you girl!" An older woman's voice came from the group of people she looked around 40 years old. "Come join us!"

You picked up your pint and walked closer to the group who were laughing at something the bard had sung. The older woman that had a kind face, dimpled cheeks and dull blonde gestured for you to sit on the stool next to her.

"Hello dear, what are you doing out here hm? It's dangerous for a young girl like you to be out and about at this time, especially while wearing such a fine cloak." She said gesturing to the plain but rich and clean material.

"oh-uh, thank you... But I assure you I'm safe, I shan't stay out long anyways." You mutter, a smile finding its way easily onto your face.

"hmm that's good, you mustn't be older than 20, are you? " You shake your head, agreeing with her. "I take it your a lords daughter trying to get away from life for a moment? No working man could buy his daughter such a beautiful cloak"

"yeah, something like that anyways" "Well, let's make sure that it was worth sneaking out for then, huh? Play my favourite Barry" she stated to the bard who was now looking at her with a sweet smile. Only now noticing the two had matching rings. Huh, cute.

"course Angela..."

******

You were drunk, so so so so drunk. It had only been two hours, but the drinks became stronger and you downed them quicker. You had danced with the group of people for a while and learnt that Angela and Barry owned this pub and lived on the floor above it.

"Honey, I think you should get going now. You have to sneak back in before someone notices your gone" Angela's smile didn't reach her eyes, a little sad that you had to depart. But you knew you had to.

After bidding them all goodbye, you left the small cozy tavern and trekked towards Peanut, who was now laying down next to the post he was tethered too.

"Hey sweet boy~ miss me?" You hummed and nuzzled into his mane before mounting his saddle. Your head began spinning when peanut began trotting home, your eyes blurred and went in and out of focus.

You felt sick, the motion of peanuts movements combined with the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed was a lethal combination. A large group of men laughing and joking stepped out Infront of your horse, startling both you and peanut.

"Oh I'm sorry miss. We didn't see you there" one of them slurred coming too close to you.

"How much for a night with you sweetheart?" One yelled, "I'm not a whore" you whispered back a little out of it due to your intoxicated state.

"Oh come on darling~" one cooed at you trying to push past the other men and tried to touch your leg. "We'll pay you double what your usual clients-" a cough erupted from his throat as blood filled his mouth.

Ellie had slit his throat. Thank God for her. The other men seemed to get the message and scattered of quickly.

"You alright my love?" She spoke softly to you, she hummed when she only got a nod in response "men are pigs." She scoffed and rolled her eyes, her eyes light up when she saw a slight twitch in your lips.

"cmon, scooch forward baby. I left shimmer in the stables, can be more stealthy that way." You did as she said, Ellie quickly mou ted from behind you, her lean body pressed up against your back as she wrapped her arms around you to grab the reins.

"y'know love, you don't have to sneak out, you can just tell me and I'll come with you. Promise I won't tattle on you."peanut began to trot and one of her hands let go of the reins so she could Interlock her pinky with yours before picking them back again.

"You drunk a lot love. I was watching from outside, making sure you were alright and all that. And my god! You were downing drinks like a champ. Very impressive, I should sneak you into a party that the knights throw, bet you could drink them under the table."

The ride continued on like that, Ellie making one sided conversation, complimenting and talking to you like usual, even when you slowly drifted in and out of sleep she kept talking.

By the time she reached the palace stables you were fast asleep, she lifted you off the saddle and Into her arms as she carried you back into your chambers and layed you on the soft mattress.

She quickly got out of her armour and creeped under the blankets next to you, her arms draped over your stomach and she kissed your forehead sweetly.

"Goodnight, my love."

NOT PROOFREAD

[weaveandwood]

The Bard and The Blade Chapter 1: What a Day

Wyll/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3

Summary:

What if you met your favorite hero and they fell in love with you?

He stuck out his hand to shake hers for an introduction. “Wyll Ravengard, Blade of -”  “- Blade of Frontiers, I know. Big fan here.” Rosalind interrupted as she shook his hand, actually shook his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted, that was rude. I’m Rosalind Sunlark,” she introduced herself. She thought she saw a flash of recognition cross his eyes, but it passed in less than a moment before their minds connected, which meant The Blade had also been on the mindflayer ship.  “Seems like we’re in the same predicament,” he said, his smile replaced with a serious countenance.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy my new fic!

Rosalind Sunlark was having a weird as hell day. 

Waking up on a mindflayer ship? Having a tadpole in her brain that will turn her into a mindflayer? Somehow surviving a fall out of a crashing ship that should have killed her if not for some magical force? 

Pulling a wizard out of a rock?

Fine - just another day on the Sword Coast, if she was being honest. Weird things happen here on the daily. She had sung about most of them, it felt like, when she performed at her favorite coffee houses and taverns in Baldur’s Gate.

But seeing The Blade of Frontiers? It was too much. Her brain was having trouble reconciling what her eyes were seeing. She recognized him immediately, and even if she hadn’t, he did that thing that folk heroes do and introduced himself to his enemies while brandishing his rapier. He was the folk hero she sang about the most, the subject of stories she wanted to pass on to everyone in her vicinity whether they wanted to hear it or not, the person who legends should be written about. He was The Blade of freaking Frontiers.

In front of her. Wielding a blade. Taking down goblins without getting so much as a scratch.

She needed to sit down. 

An arrow shot past her, the draft causing strands of her hair to rustle as it flew by. She shook her head and blinked twice, remembering she was in the middle of a battle, helping the Blade of Frontiers. She aimed her crossbow at a particularly ugly goblin and amplified her voice. 

“Pernicious, putrifying pissant!”

The goblin winced and was distracted as her crossbow bolt found its mark, taking the goblin down completely. 

“Nice shot!” she heard from across the clearing. From The Blade himself. She smiled and gave what was potentially the most awkward wave she had ever given. She was going to pass out.

What a great day Rosalind Sunlark was having. 

******

“Nice shot!” 

Wyll did a double take when he saw who shot the bolt that took down a goblin in one fell swoop, having to stifle a chuckle at the vicious mockery the bard uttered from across the field before shooting. The bard looked familiar, somehow. Something tickled at the back of his mind, and he was positive it wasn’t his brain’s new houseguest, courtesy of the mindflayers. Was that…surely it couldn’t be The Sunlark? Not all the way out here. She was a firm fixture of the Baldur’s Gate music scene. And yet…

Clang! The sound of his steel against a goblin’s brought him back to the task at hand. He needed to focus, the Blade of Frontiers didn’t get distracted by a pretty girl who was a good shot. 

He saw the flash of bright, almost white-blonde hair as the bard assisted one of her party, a wizard from the looks of it, with a healing spell then rammed a shortsword into the nearest enemy’s stomach with a shout of desperation. 

He smiled to himself as he ran his rapier through the last of the goblins. He most definitely would get distracted by pretty girls who were good shots and absolutely brutal in battle, even if her fighting skills were a little raw. 

Especially this one, if she was who he thought she was. 

He was transported back to Baldur’s Gate on a warm summer evening when he was almost seventeen, walking through the streets with a few of his friends, sons of other nobles. He didn’t get much time to himself after his studies - his father, newly promoted to Grand Duke, thought his time was better spent training with the sword to eventually take his place as a Flaming Fist, then as Grand Duke in the future, so he relished the time he got to spend with them, being as normal as sons of nobles could be - swimming naked in fountains, wandering about the lower city, participating in minor mischief that only sons of men with privilege would be able to get away with. If he was being honest, though, they were mostly looking at pretty girls and talking about adventures they wanted to have outside of the city.

Strolling down one of the larger plazas in the lower city, they were all laughing and joking about some prank they had just pulled when he heard the faintest melody of a lute, a soft mezzo soprano voice drifting over the din of the crowd who were all absorbed in their own conversations and cups of wine. He looked around and saw a bard sitting at the far side of the plaza. The dancing lights surrounding her cast a warm glow, like she was illuminated by fifty candles. Her light white-blonde hair was practically incandescent as she sang, and her voice made him want to move closer and closer. There was a small crowd, maybe twenty or so people, standing around her, watching and swaying back and forth to the music. 

He was transfixed, even at that distance. A hand waved in front of his eyes, drawing his attention back to his friends. 

“Wyll, you there, man?” He said with a laugh. “We’re going to go get some drinks at the Elfsong, you in?” 

He looked back at the bard. “You guys go on without me, I think I’m going to stay here a little while longer. I’ll meet up with you there.” 

******

“Wow, that guy was a prick,” Rosalind remarked, reaching out a hand to help Zevlor to his feet after getting clocked by Aradin despite her attempts at defusing the situation. “You okay?” 

Zevlor affirmed he was fine and started talking about the tensions in the grove between the tiefling refugees and the druids. Rosalind tried to pay attention, she really did, but when she looked over Zevlor’s shoulder, she saw a glimpse of a training platform with small tiefling kids being taught how to swordfight. It looked like they had a guest teacher - it was him. Now was her chance to introduce herself. Gods, what if he - 

She startled as Gale elbowed her in the ribs, bringing her attention back to where it should have been. Zevlor looked at her, confused. She definitely should have been listening instead of daydreaming.

“I’m so sorry, what was the question? I must have gotten hit in the head during that battle,” she laughed, trying to play off how rude she was being. 

“I asked your name,” the tiefling said, smiling warmly at her. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I’m Rosalind. And this is Gale, Shadowheart, and Astarion,” she smiled as she made introductions. Gale was the most exuberant of all of them, eager to learn more about the tieflings and their journey out of Elturel. Normally, Rosalind would be eager to learn more too, to add to her lore as potential material for future songs. The journey of the tieflings would actually be pretty epic, but…him. She felt her gaze drifting back to the training session.

Astarion leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Have your eye on a certain handsome hero? It looks like Gale has this under control by not shutting up so now is your chance - go.” She nodded and slinked off, attempting to be discreet about it. She smiled to herself. She knew it was a good idea to invite the pale elf on their journey, she liked him already. 

As she got closer to the platform, her heart started beating faster and faster. She hadn’t felt nerves like this since her first paid performance in that large plaza in Baldur’s Gate all those years ago - gods she must have been only seventeen. She shook her hands and exhaled, trying to calm herself before stopping a few feet away to watch for a minute. 

“You don’t have to be as good as me, you just have to buy yourself enough time to be able to run,” she heard him tell a child. Such a frightening scenario for one so small, but a strategy she knew all too well from her own childhood. 

The Blade of Frontiers noticed her standing near the platform and smiled at her. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, she thought. 

“You had some pretty great shots out there, any advice for these kids?” He said as he beckoned her to come closer with a nod of his head. After looking around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else, Rosalind stepped up onto the platform and put on her cool, calm, and collected face, even though inside she was a storm of nerves and excitement. 

“Alright,” she crouched down to be at eye level with the kids. “Be sure to back up your friends. You’ll only get through a fight if you stick together. And then you can tell all your other friends stories about your heroics. Then they tell their friends, and they tell their friends, one of whom happens to be a bard, and that’s how legends are started.” The kids cheered and raised their wooden swords before their instructor urged them to take a break and get a drink of water, leaving her alone on the platform with The Blade. She smiled as she stood up. 

He stuck out his hand to shake hers for an introduction. “Wyll Ravengard, Blade of -” 

“- Blade of Frontiers, I know. Big fan here.” Rosalind interrupted as she shook his hand, actually shook his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted, that was rude. I’m Rosalind Sunlark,” she introduced herself. She thought she saw a flash of recognition cross his eyes, but it passed in less than a moment before their minds connected, which meant The Blade had also been on the mindflayer ship. 

“Seems like we’re in the same predicament,” he said, his smile replaced with a serious countenance.

“Indeed it does.” She took a deep breath. Now or never. “I know you’re The Blade of Frontiers and all, but my party all has the same affliction. We’re looking for a healer and you’re welcome to join. If you want. If not, that’s alright. Totally fine. I’m sure you’re busy.” She was rambling. Why did she ramble when she got nervous? Singing in front of hundreds of people was easier than talking to him. 

“Actually -” The tadpoles connected their brains again, interrupting Wyll. The image of a devil’s advocate flashed through their linked visions. Wyll laughed softly, “As I was saying, actually that sounds great, but I am currently hunting down a devil who will lay waste to the Sword Coast if not dealt with.”

“Hmmm…two big problems at once. How about you join us and we can help you hunt this devil down? We may not be seasoned heroes, but I do have a wizard that seems to know what he’s doing most of the time. That has to count for something, right?” She smiled at Wyll. Why did that name sound familiar?

He gave her an easy smile. Gods, that smile already made her weak in the knees and she only knew him for five minutes. “That sounds like a plan. I have some things to take care of, but I will meet up with you in a few hours. Until then, please, explore the grove and speak with these tieflings. I imagine their stories would provide a bard with plenty of material. Maybe help spread a kind word about the refugees.”

“How did you know I was…right! The violin strapped to my back,” she laughed. “Obviously.”

“And your fighting style. Very impressive insults - I almost felt bad for those goblins. Almost.”

“Well, growing up in the Outer and Lower Cities of Baldur’s Gates does wonders for one’s vocabulary,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gale, Shadowheart, and Astarion attempting to haggle with the merchant at the entrance of the caves. Poor guy. “I better go see what they’re up to. Meet outside the grove in a few hours?” 

“Absolutely. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rosalind,” he smiled at her and gave a half bow with a funny little flourish and walked away. 

She exhaled deeply, puffing out her cheeks as she watched him leave. Not only was he handsome, compelling, and good with the blade, he was kind, a good teacher, and going to join their party?

Oh, she was in trouble.

Big trouble. 

Worse trouble than the tadpole.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

baby spencer who definitely is NOT regressed on the jet ride back to quantico and garcia, morgan, and big sis jj can’t help but notice. after lots of coddling and a meltdown from spencer, he starts to warm up to the rest of the team. (i really love the idea of fatherly hotch and regressor spencer :(( ) but less sad and more just spencer getting the love he deserves. n garcia is the coolest of cool aunts and she most definitely is waltzing over with her ipad and a whole folder of new games for spencer to play!! sorry m rambling i hope u have the best day/night <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Big Sis Duties ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| jennifer jareau x spencer reid

a/n: this more so turned into big sis Jj & lil bro reid sry

warnings: talk of rosslyn/when Jj was a kid, reid being insecure about his regression

Jj kicks her foot lightly against Reid’s leg, he’s curled up in the corner of the couch on the jet while Jj is sprawled across the rest of it. She might be annoying him, but she’s regressed to around fourteen and that’s the best age to be annoying her younger brother in her humble opinion.

“Reid?” She sing songs his name and grins when he huffs at her, she’s pretty sure he’s regressed or at least starting to.

“Let’s play cards I’m bored.” Bored and keenly aware that there’s over four hours left on this plane ride, she hates cases in Alaska for this exact reason.

“Not now Jj, I’m tired.” A small pout appears on Jj’s lips, Spencer’s never too tired to play cards with her, especially when she’s regressed and she knows he knows, the entire team does. She had accidentally made it very apparent when she waltzed down to the lobby of their hotel in black skinny jeans and her rock music playing loudly in her headphones. Whoops.

“Are you okay?” Reid lets out a small sigh when Jj slides over to his side and lays her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah I’m okay.” The assurance sounds fake and Reid drops his eyes to the floor as he says it, only furthering Jj’s concern.

“You know you can regress if you want to.” She makes a point not to say ‘need to’ as she remembers before she got more comfortable in her regression she had it in her head that if she didn’t absolutely need to regress, she shouldn’t. It took a while for her to realize that regression is how she copes and she’s allowed to regress when she wants to, and she knows Hotch has been trying to make Reid understand the same truth.

“I don’t.” It’s meant to have a snap to it but it doesn’t, Spencer’s too tense to show that much emotion. He’s so curled in on himself Jj wonders if it hurts to sit like that with his tall frame, and if he realizes how outwardly stressed he looks.

“Can I nap with you?” The question must take Reid off guard as he turns his head and furrows his brows at Jj.

“You said you were tired, we can nap together.” After school she remembers throwing herself onto Rosslyn’s bed where her older sister was probably already half asleep since the higher grades got out a little earlier than the younger ones. It’s a memory she clings onto, the sunny afternoons she’d spend in her sisters room half awake giggling at Rosslyn’s playful teasing and badly sung pop songs are some of Jj’s favorite moments she had with her sister.

“Um…” Spencer trails off and chews his bottom lip while his hand fidgets with the corner of his shirt. He’s definitely falling into his headspace, Jj can practically see it stamped across his forehead.

“Or we can play games on Penny’s ipad if you want, or ask Rossi to tell us war stories, or have Hotch read to us, or Em can play poker with us…” Her shoulder bumps into Reid’s with a smile on her face as she lets her voice go quiet, waiting for Spencer to be the one to decide what they do. Rosslyn used to do the same thing with Jj, it feels like something a big sister has to do.

“Can we um… play games on Penny’s ipad?” Jj immediately nods and ruffles Spencer’s hair before standing to walk over to where Garcia is sat next to Derek.

“Hi there pumpkin, need something?” The blonde instantly greets Jj, ignoring whatever banter she was just having with Morgan.

“Could me and Spence use your ipad to play games?” A chuckle comes from Derek with a mutter about Jj using the ipad more than Garcia herself which Jj promptly sticks her tongue out at. Until Penelope tells her to stop asking or the games get boring, she’ll be using that ipad anytime she can get her hands on it.

“Course sweetie, here you are. You remember the password?” She nods, the password is Unicorns123 which is very easy to remember even when Jj’s regressed.

“I’m back!” Reid lets out an oof when Jj thumps into his side and clicks the ipad open to the folder of games Garcia has downloaded for her. There’s a few she only uses when she’s regressed really young and others reserved for when she’s a tad older, she isn’t sure what age range Spencer falls into right now so she goes with a block stacking game since that seems safe for about any age.

“Here, you play and I’ll watch.” A beaming smile gets sent Jj’s way as Spencer takes the ipad from her hands, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration and a low hum of contentment coming from his throat. Jj can’t hold back her own grin, settling against Spencer’s side to watch him try to line the blocks up, and a warm feeling spreading through her chest. She thinks she’s getting pretty good at big sister duties.

[singto-prachaya]

Did I make a banner specifically for this post? Yes I did. This is a post to introduce you to Offroad Kantapon and Daou Pittaya who are currently starring in the BL Love In Translation. Get to know these two and their close soulmates bond through this post.

Let's start first with a short history lesson: Both participated in the survival show Lazicon (started airing October 9, 2021) and it was the first time they met each other. They became close in a short amount of time and you would often see them holding insta lives together. For a compilation of how they acted with each other during those lives as well as some Lazicon clips I made a fanvideo a while back. I never published it because it was just something I wanted to make for myself and one other person.

Now since the post will be long you can find the rest under the read more link.

One thing Offroad wanted during Lazicon was to perform in the final with Daou and some of his close friends from Insight Entertainment. This would have happened if Daou was fully recovered from having covid but he wasn't. So the performance was without him. Daou however was present through a video call. During a performance were all Lazicon contestants sung together Offroad looked at the screen, saw Daou and started crying. A timestamped video were you can see Offroad getting emotional.

Not in front of my salad! Straight to this point. If you watched my fanvideo or at least a part of it skinship between those two is pretty normal. However if you are contantly all over each other it can cause people to want you to get a room! Especially their band members. There is this behind the scenes clip of Rak Diao in which they made an appearance and check out the timestamped part. Watch for about 20 sec.

Close friends! Daou has some close friends. A couple were from Insight and they had no problem with spilling some tea sometimes. Frank who is now DVI said during a live with the boys and some other contestants "It looks like they are flirting". Daou is also close with Joong Archen and he also had some things to say. "What everyone sees is just a little bit. Joong saw a lot more than that". And he mentioned once how Daou has never taken care of someone like this before not even his close friends. Also during a live with Joong and Daou, Daou got called. Joong then was like "Who is calling? Is that handsome boy. The blond haired one".

The part with Joong starts at 1:45

Jealousy what's that? Anyone who has been in the fandom long enough knows how they talk to each other on twitter and IG. One thing is pretty clear, Daou doesn't like it when Offroad shows to much skin. And he will let it know pretty clearly. Ban hammer gifs, talking about how he has the full sized picture, trying to pull Offroad's shorts, you name it. When the trailer of Our Days was released Offroad appeared half naked in it a couple times and fans then took screenshots and put shirts on Offroad to cover him up. Atime26 even released an edited trailer with those shirts on twitter. The inpact! Most recently Offroad wore a shirt with tiny holes in it and Daou called it see through. And during a recent twitch stream of Daou a fan asked if they could buy a see through shirt for Offroad. They could, but fans can only look. Another recent jealousy example here!

Talking about each other! They talk a lot about each other. Good things but sometimes things can also get sad. I will start here around the time Daou posted that he had to go into the army (he had to enlist 1 November 2022). Offroad commented and said "Eat well. I wish you luck, no suffering, no call, no disease. 👏❤️ Send your heart to me. I love you so much. I will do my best here. Let's go". The last day before Daou's enlistment a podcast was posted by The Modernist with the Laz1 boys. There was also a written version and let me copy a part. One question that was asked was "Choose one person and tell him your innermost feelings".

Offroad: But if I want to talk to another person who is very special, that is, I want to talk about P'Wu. Because he was the only person in the group who saw me from the beginning. I want to say that my place is like this. What I want to say is that I want him to see that I'm getting better. (Crying so much that he couldn't breathe) I wanted to tell him that. I have been with him for a long time and he is another person who has fulfilled me to be here as well.

Offroad has said a couple times before that he felt like he was a burden to Daou because he felt like he wasn't good enough.

During the last day they also had last fanmeet. And when Daou grabbed the microphone to talk he put his arm around Offroad's shoulder. And then when he started talking Offroad broke down (video linked there).

And here someone made a tiktok about the enlistment.

They had to work in pairs after the first round in Lazicon and Daou picked Offroad.

Special person talk during EMF fandom live today.

Couple rings! Daou lied to Offroad and said his fanclub wanted to buy a ring so they needed Offroad's ring size. Turned out Daou wanted to buy couple rings. A fan found out it were Cartier rings worth 1500 euro's each. And Daou isn't even rich. During EMF fandom live today there was more couple rings talk.

This was for an interview with Mint Magazine. Full trans for the interview here. As a long term fan I was confused by their answer because for me it's always been a 10. Not sure how it could have gotten more.

Daou talking about how in BL series the characters at least have to love each other but that they don't have to force themselves since they already have a close relationship. Full interview here and you can use google trans on the webpage.

Couple song! Last part. Daou and Offroad's fandom name is Nubdao and they have a song called Nubdao which was written by them and which is about each other. Nubdao means counting the stars.

Translation of this song in a comment here

Edit: Since we have new people joining the fandom and not so nice comments have been made let me throw in a part of a interview they did for MayaTV this year as well some older statements made.

More than just a 'Ship'

Credit: yourstar_94

[l0vedove]

This post is simply to state what my taste in everything is because I’m bored and need a list to reference when someone asks what I’m interested in and I completely blank, fair warning it’s really long and semi controversial (/j on the last part)

Music artists:

Destory Boys

Will Wood

Nine songs from musicals sung by Christian Borle

Tally Hall

Ricky Montgomery

Los Campesinos

NOAHFINNCE (idk it’s capitalized on spotify)

TV shows 🤷‍♀️:

Bones

The good place

Lego ninjago…

B99

Modern family

Gravity falls

Young justice

The finder

Backstrom (the rainn wilson one)

Totally spies…

Taskmaster

Avatar the last air bender

Game changer

The hollow (someone please know what this is)

Heartstopper

Mystery files and ghost files (I love my silly ghoul boys)

Movies:

Dead poets society

Princess bride

Mr.Hollands opus

Cruella (the soundtracks awesome okay??)

Free guy

Deadpool

Into the spiderverse

Beyond the spiderverse

Ratatouille

Coraline

Zootopia (DO NOT MENTION THE FIC)

The aristocats

Tangled

Atlantis

Legally blonde

Baby Driver

Ghibli films; howls moving castle and Kiki’s delivery service especially

Musicals:

It’s a really short list despite all my friends being in musical/regular theatre

Falsettos (2016)

Ride the Cyclone

Something Rotton

Guy who didn’t like musicals

Nerdy prudes must die

Anyone who makes it to the bottom, I’m sorry.

Games:

Breath of the wild

Unpacking

Stardew Valley

The Sims 4 (with mods EA just make it a good game plsss)

Untitled goose game

Stuff to watch:

The rest of something rotten

Hamilton if I can get through it without laughing at Lin Manual Miranda

Live action Avatar show

Percy Jackson show

Andrew Garfield spiderman

Toby spiderman

Nimona (I wanna read the book first)

Good job you reached the bottom have a cookie

🍪

This was a really unnecessary endeavour, I have a paper I have to write right next to me rn uuuhh sorry this was so long and probably showed up on some poor saps feed