#it's just so fantastic i can hardly picture it

[kingofdisrepute]

au where zeller goes to therapy

#can you even imagine #the most out there au ever #where zee gets therapeutic help #and becomes a more thoughtful person #toward himself and others #it's just so fantastic i can hardly picture it #idk might be too ooc #|| out of science ||

[charliemwrites]

Part 4

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).

Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort

You didn’t expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure that’ll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.

That’s how it’s been with Brandon’s friends. (Granted, you don’t really care for Brandon’s friends. And you figure it’s mutual based on the “uptight” comments they pretended to think you couldn’t hear.)

You’re starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.

Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.

You’re surprised that you don’t mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, there’s no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear there’s electricity. Which is… well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.

Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story you’re 70% sure they shouldn’t tell you.

You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.

You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.

“Shipping out again,” he explains when you glance at him.

“Will you be gone long?” you ask, shifting.

His brow furrows. “Not sure. They can’t tell us much over the phone.”

You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think you’re getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he can’t answer you, only apologetic.

“Is it gonna be the whole team?” you ask.

“Nah, just me and the cap.” He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. “Probably not too dangerous, then.”

You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. “Bad luck!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. “You’re right.”

You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.

“I’ll miss you too, chickadee. I’ll call if I can, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.

“While I’m gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,” he adds.

The idea is tempting but… “I don’t want to bother him.”

“I promise you won’t,” he laughs. You don’t know what’s so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.

“Maybe,” you allow.

“We’ll take it.” Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. “Now then, about my send off.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.

Kyle’s only been gone three days. You’ve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since you’ve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff you’ve been collecting.

“Good to see you getting back to normal,” Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry you’re folding. He continues, “I was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.”

You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you can’t forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.

“Tell you what,” he adds, hands in his pockets. “When you finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.”

You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.

“We could leave earlier if you helped,” you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. “Maybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.”

He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. It’s almost apologetic, but not quite.

“I would but I’m bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.”

Your smile freezes. “And some late nights, I’m sure,” you try to joke.

He doesn’t laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. “Why would you say something like that?”

Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, come wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasn’t woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.

“I’m ready to go, babe,” you murmur.

He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. You’ve always found it cute.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You laugh a little. “It’s getting late, we should probably head out.”

He groans. “Five. Minutes.”

You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are… a lot. And as you’re looking, a new message pops up, just labeled “blonde” with a peach emoji. Gross.

You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.

It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.

“C’mon,” he yawns. “It’s going to be bloody crowded by now.”

You follow him quietly to the car, knowing he’s not chatty when he’s just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, he’s downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.

“We could go somewhere else?” you suggest.

“This is fine,” he says.

He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesn’t take it again.

Surprisingly, it’s only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like “of course it is” under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.

He doesn’t talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. “We wouldn’t have to wait if you’d woken me up.”

You blink at him. “I did. You asked for five more minutes.”

“Well, why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I set an alarm?”

You don’t know why he’s so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.

“You know I don’t listen to alarms,” he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.

“Okay… I’ll wake you up next time,” you offer.

“Yeah, next time.”

Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and you’re definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandon’s taken you here a million times before.

Wisely, you wait until he’s downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books you’ve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think it’s going pretty well, catching up on each other’s lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“Where was this?”

You frown. “At the grocery store…?”

“You’re still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.”

You don’t bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. It’s like pulling teeth. A lot of “good” and “busy” and “same as usual.” By the time your entree comes, you’ve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

The end of dinner can’t come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.

“Probably for the better,” Brandon tells you lowly when they’re gone to get the check. “I think you’ve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.”

You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnny’s shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish he’s picked and shoving more at you.

As for “how you get”… Brandon’s mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, aren’t much fun to be around.

(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesn’t spend enough time around you to notice if you’re mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disaster…?)

You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. It’s a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. He’s still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.

Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.

“Careful,” you chide.

He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. “I’m just trying to be playful.”

“I know, but I like this shirt.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got three just like it.”

You don’t answer, know it’ll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.

“Hey now, that’s more like it,” he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.

You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.

“I-I think I ate something bad,” you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you - but don’t lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.

He’s finally giving you attention, affection. Why aren’t you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.

“Hey,” Brandon calls through the door, “I’m gonna stay somewhere else tonight.”

You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. “But I’m sick.”

“It’s not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,” he reasons. “And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t something you ate. Maybe it’s contagious. I don’t want to spend the weekend ill.”

Your eyes burn. He didn’t even open the door to check. “Yeah,” you agree, voice robotic, “you’re right.”

Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.

You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, it’s not Brandon you ache for. It’s Kyle. It’s not possible, you know. You just don’t want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.

Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyle’s jumpers. At least it still smells like him. It’s only as you’re trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.

It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.

I know it’s late, but are you free, you text Johnny.

A response comes almost immediately.

Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. What’s up?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.

Would you want to come to mine for movies? I don’t feel good…

He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?

You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.

Ice cream not-good, you reply.

Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.

You watch TikTok’s until there’s a knock at the door. Upon answering, you’re swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.

“Johnny!” you cry, laughing a bit in shock.

“There she is!” he crows, swinging you around. “Been missin’ my best girl!”

You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (It’s a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)

“You're ridiculous,” you huff, “I’m not your best girl.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Oh, yer keepin’ track, are ye?”

“C’mon, you must have a partner or something?” you prod as you usher him inside.

“Kyle must’ve told ye, hen, it’s hard in this line of work,” he explains, shrugging. “Tried before but… usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.”

You hum. That’s why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that you’d still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldn’t be alone if something happened to him.

“Anyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?” Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. “Come look at what I brought ya!”

You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.

“My favorite!” You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.

The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. “Kyle said so.”

“You two,” you sigh happily.

He’s also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.

“Heard somewhere that it’s good for ye, when yer feelin’ down.” You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like “doon.” He continues, blissfully ignorant. “Hope that’s the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.”

You throw your arms around him, chest warm. “Thank you, this is perfect, Johnny.”

He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. “Anytime, bonnie,” he murmurs into your hair.

You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.

“Wanna try this ‘shite’ with me?” you tease.

You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.

“Eh, why the hell not?”

You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, you’re greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he calls.

You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. “Mornin’!”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #Brandon the crash dummy

[azulpitlane]

just pr I ln4

pairing: lando norris x ricciardo!reader summary: after being caught hooking up with lando, you both decide it would be good for your images to fake date. too bad you hate each other. notes: been loving enemies to lovers rn🫣 masterlist

f1gossip

230,421 likes

f1gossip New WAG alert? After a night of partying, Lando Norris was pictured kissing Y/n Ricciardo outside the club! Onlookers claim they then went home together after this👀 He was seen having a private dinner with another girl just a few days ago and rumored to have brought a different girl on his ski trip a few weeks ago.

view all comments

user lando is on a streak LOL

user this is so random?!? i was not expecting this duo but im here for it HAHA

user no cause she rarely attends races but when she does shes never seen with lando?😭

user omg he better not play my girl, I love y/n

user WHAT DOES DANIEL THINK OF THIS OMG

user I wanna read the family gc so bad...

user wait they would be so cute

user is he finally settling down omg

user I hope so, I lowkey see them together

user im here for it!! shes so much better than these other girls hes been seen with

notification center

danny what. were. you. thinking. you're in so much trouble missy call me ASAP!!!

y/bff/n LANDO NORRIS?!?!? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM BEING A PIECE OF SHIT??? girl we need to debrief last night

lando norris we need to talk

Fucking fantastic.

Based on your notifications, you put two and two together and realized you were paparazzi'd with none other than the man you hated the most. You and Lando had a very complicated relationship to say the least. You had met when your brother, Daniel, joined McLaren and from the start he had given you the cold shoulder. You didn't know what you did wrong and tried to be kind to him, but after a while you stopped when he dismissed you like a child. You thought you would get along with him after Danny had told you about his interest in photography. You yourself were a photographer and decided to take the year traveling with your brother to capture some photos in F1, but you had figured the fame was getting to Lando especially after his breakup with his girlfriend. He was starting to bring different girls to the garage in every race and you would never see them again after.

You remember your last interaction with him in the McLaren garage in the final race of the '22 season was when the complicated part of your relationship began.

"What are you doing here, y/n? This is a place for serious professionals, not hobbyists."

"Lando, always the charmer. I'm here to photograph greatness."

"Greatness? You wouldn't know greatness if it lapped you on the track."

"Well, I'm pretty sure greatness doesn't come with an ego the size of your car."

"Watch your tone, y/n. This is a dangerous place, not a playground for kids."

"I can handle myself, Lando. Unlike some people, I don't need a helmet to protect my head."

Both your eyes were filled with hatred as they interlocked, each refusing to back down. As the race begins, y/n continues to snap photos, capturing Lando's intense focus and determination.

After the race, both Lando and Daniel were disappointed they were not able to get into the podium on their last race of the season. Your brother asked for some time alone so you approached Lando, camera in hand, knowing it would be the last time you were in the same garage as him.

"Tough race, Lando. I got some incredible shots, though."

"Don't patronize me, y/n."

"You know for what it's worth, I saw a different side of you on the track this season. It's like you're fighting not just against other drivers, but against something within yourself.

"What are you talking about?"

"I may be the younger sister of your teammate, but I'm not blind. There's more to you than the arrogant facade you put on."

After that conversation, you began seeing Lando less and less considering your brother was now racing in AlphaTauri and you were hardly at the paddock anymore. The few times you did see Lando, the tension had shifted into something different. But it was now winter break and you and Lando were both back in Monaco.

You had gone out last night and you did not believe your luck when you saw Lando in the same club with a smirk on his face. Determined to show you could rise above the tension, you decided to lose herself in the pulsating rhythm of the music. As you moved to the beat, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Lando.

"Surprised to see me, princess?" He looked at you with a mocking smile knowing the nickname would rile you up.

"Surprised to see you alone at a club and not wrapped up with some girl? Yes, actually."

"Didn't take you for the jealous type, I like it."

Against your better judgment, you found herself drawn into banter with him. The tension between you turned into a strange kind of chemistry as you exchanged barbs, each remark escalating in intensity. A few drinks were exchanged and you slowly began to lose your guard around him and eventually ending up on his bed that night.

You groaned at the memory of last night's mistake and decided it was best to text Lando back before anyone else to get your story straight. He quickly replied saying he was on his way and you began to straighten yourself up.

"You know usually when I hook up with a girl I don't see her the next morning. Consider yourself lucky y/n."

"Still arrogant as ever, even when we're both fucked right now."

"Well you're a little more fucked than I am really."

"Just get in here Lando." You opened the door to let him in and quickly shut it afraid you would be pictured together again.

"I've got good news for you sweetheart. My team has made a plan to sort this mess out."

"Go on with it. What is it?"

"Jeez feisty in the mornings, heh? But congratulations, you are officially my girlfriend, we've been dating for a few weeks now and have kept it under wraps to figure out our feelings for each other privately."

"A fake relationship? That's your solution? No fucking way."

Lando sighed and rolled his head back in annoyance. He knew you were immediately going to shut this idea down but he had planned what he was going to say beforehand and knew what to say to convince you.

"You think I want to do this? My team needs me to do this, I haven't exactly looked like a saint these past few weeks and hooking up with my friend's sister behind his back isn't going to make me look any better."

"And what's that got to do with me?"

"Well in case you haven't noticed, this doesn't look good on your part either princess. There's some hateful people on the internet already slut shaming you and saying you betrayed your brother. If we tell people we were already dating prior to these pictures, it lessens the hate. Not only that, are you really going to tell Danny you had a meaningless one night stand with one of his friends?"

You knew he had a point. Danny wasn't going to be happy if he found out about the brewing tension between you and Lando.

"Please y/n, the internet already likes us together. This would be good for us."

"Lando Norris saying please? Wow, never thought I'd see the day." You genuinely were shocked at his desperateness for you to agree, you didn't think about how this affected him as much it did you.

"Yeah, yeah. It's only for a few months then we could go back to pretending we dont exist to each other."

"Okay fine, just for a few months. And I'm doing this for Danny, not for you." You quickly agreed not really thinking it would be that big of a deal. Just a few posts and appearances together and this would be over before you knew it.

"I knew you'd give in." Lando gave you one of his infamous smirks and planted a kiss in the corner of your mouth. "Now come on we need some pictures to make this convincing."

And so it begins.

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3,294,240 others

landonorris secrets out

tagged yourusername

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user OMFG

user im actually so happy theyre so cute😭❤️

user WHAT WAS DANNYS REACTION

yourusername 🧡

danielricciardo on the next flight to monaco btw. maxverstappen1 yourusername ooouuu you're in troubleeee user LMFAO MAX user WAIT DID DANIEL NOT KNOW???

danielricciardo 🫠🫠

user AHAHAH he doesn't seem too happy user 💀

user am I tripping or is he holding y/ns camera🥹

user it looks like the one she always has on her I LOVE THEM ALREADY

user my new roman empire I won't shut up about them from now on

user wasn't lando just with other girls?

user he can have female friends!! its not impossible

part two??

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #f1 x reader #ln4 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo #f1 imagine #f1 fic #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris imagines #lando x reader #lando fluff

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron blurb (+18)

warnings: smart!reader (doesn't take shit) x bimbo!rafe <3; pope being an absolute menace; mentions of sex but no actual p in v okay; this shit is football and y'all can argue with a wall <3 IT PAINS ME TO WRITE SOCCER Y'ALL BETTER APPRECIATE IT !!!

ps: this is just for fun cause someone asked me to post it (it was just a draft😬)

you’ve never been one for academic sports spirit.

what’s the point? okay, your school as incredible athletes, that’s good, but why the fuck would you kiss and praise the ground they walk on? you’re a fantastic student and no one gives a shit. why do they get all the glory while brainiacs get zilch?

the double standards piss you off. somehow academics always take the backseat to sports. maybe that explained your dislike towards jocks like rafe cameron.

up until sophomore year, you’d only heard about him, saw him occasionally around school. it was understandable why people talked about him so often. he looked like he’d just been ripped off a page of an abercrombie and fitch catalog, and apparently – you’d never attended a game to check – he was the best player on the team, playing forward. but, unlike many, you didn’t form an opinion about him until you met him. the veridic? total pain in your fucking ass.

ever since you two were paired in a class project together, an annual class at that, he suddenly took an interest in you, like you were some sort of exotic animal he’d never encountered in his life, only because you wouldn’t flirt with him. outrageous, never done before. for the first four months, it was just him laying on the cheesy pickup lines and you rolling your eyes so hard you thought they'd pop out of your head. eventually, rafe dialed it down and you were able to be civil, perhaps friends. if you could call it that.

wich is why, as his friend, you’re starting to lose your fucking patience. the season was not going well for his team. at all. there’s little to no chance they’re going to be able to win the championship.

not that you care, but apparently the whole school does. everyone seems to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“i swear to god if they lose to standford next week–“

“pope, will you kindly shut the fuck up? it’s just soccer.”

“just soccer?”

you let out an exasperated sigh, glancing over at pope who looks at you like you’ve just shot someone, “can we study? peacefully?”

"it’s not just soccer! it's about school spirit, camaraderie, y’know?"

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "camaraderie? please. more like a bunch of testosterone-fueled egos chasing after a ball," you retort, disdain evident in your tone.

“you don't know what you're talking about. and i'm being dead serious, cameron’s been on edge lately. never seen him like this."

you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. "yeah, well, losing does that to people. don't why you're complaining soooo much" you sigh, "i’m the one who has to put up with all the brooding and pouting.”

pope’s quiet. too quiet. you can picture the gears turning in his brain as he blankly stares at you. nothing good ever comes out of that.

“what?” you press, wondering if you have to break the school spirit out of him.

“you should fuck him. after or before, don't care. but you should."

you recoil, nearly tumbling out of your chair at pope's suggestion.

your eyes widen in disbelief, your mind struggling to process what he just said. for a moment, the room spins around you, and you feel like you’ve been thrust into some surreal alternate universe.

“what?! pope?" you finally manage to sputter, acting like you're about to go into cardiac arrest, "the fuck's wrong with you?"

“don’t look at me like that,” he merely shrugs, “that man is depressed. he needs to get laid if he’s going to win something.“

you hardly think a guy like rafe is not getting laid every other day, but that’s irrelevant. your jaw drops, stunned by his audacity. "are you kidding me? you don’t even like him!”

“but i like winning!” he whines, all but pushing his books aside to place in his elbows on the table, “and he’s so obsessed with you it hurts watching. he’s like one of those little crusty white dogs always running after you.”

you shake your head in disbelief, "he does it to be funny, okay? he’s not actually interested.. t's just a joke”

your best friend only laughs, a raucous, almost maniacal sound that echoes through the room. he clutches his stomach, "just joking?" pope gasps out, his laughter still bubbling to the surface. "oh man. you're hilarious, honestly, wow."

you stare at him, lips set in a straight line, feeling like you missed the entire joke. "what's so funny?"

pope wipes away a fake tear, trying to compose himself. "he almost ripped a new one to jj after he pulled that stunt last semester.”

your eyebrows knit together in skepticism. “and? i still don’t follow.”

rafe and jj couldn’t stand each other. both are incredible athletes and everyone always gushes about how great they are together on the field. outside, however? not so much. they don't mix. ever.

“and?! why do you think jj randomly talked about you in the locker room?”

“because he’s a horny creep and got a kink for fist fights with undressed men?”

you love jj. really, you do. but sometimes he’d win a lot more if he just kept his mouth shut or thought before speaking. you've lost count of how many times that boy has been suspended.

pope leans in, his tone low and conspiratorial, “cameron practically threatened to rearrange jj's face if he ever mentioned you again.”

you narrow your eyes, “nop. you’re making that up.”

pope shakes his head, a grin playing on his lips. "nah, i'm dead serious.”

your mind races, trying to piece it all together. while your brain always clicks instantly in class, feelings...emotions are a little more complicated to grasp sometimes.

"wait, so you're saying he actually cares about me?"

he nods, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "yep.”

“seriously?”

pope chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "head over heels. you’re our school’s only hope.”

your brain's on overdrive trying to process pope's bombshell revelation. rafe cameron, the big-shot jock, actually giving a fuck about you? it's like some twisted plot line from a teen drama. you didn’t see this one coming. but then again, you hardly pay attention to anything outside academics.

“so what? ’m supposed to fuck the mediocrity out of him?”

he grins, clapping you on the shoulder, “there’s that school spirit!”

you slap his hand away, “oh fuck off. ‘m being serious.”

he’s still grinning like he just cracked the code to life. "come on, hear me out. it's like a strategic move, y’ know? boost his morale, boost the team's performance. win-win."

you roll your eyes, not buying into his scheme. "yeah, because my sex habilities are definitely the key to winning soccer games."

he shrugs, undeterred. "it's not like you'd be doing it for him. it's all about the greater good."

you scoff, rearranging your notes for the millionth time, "this isn't some feel-good sports movie."

it’s not like you never thought about rafe. sure, he's a yapping idiot around you most of the time, but every time you need help or an extra hand, he’s always the first one to offer. that has to count for something, right?

“the ball’s in your court.”

yeah it is.

truth to be told, you’ve been sick and tired of rafe acting like a loser over soccer. what was the point in whining about it if he wasn’t going to try and do better? god, you'd never seen him like this before and it's been irking you to beyond. even more now that pope mentioned it again.

at this point, you just want to march up to him, shake him and make it come to his senses. you can’t even remember that last time he tried to hit on you. that’s how bad it is! the memory is buried under the weight of his brooding.

so maybe….maybe pope's onto something, y'know? maybe there's more to it than just you and rafe. and yeah, okay, you're not exactly thrilled about the idea of hopping into bed with him, but only because you’d hate the attention that comes along with his name.

but...a part of you is weirdly intrigued. not because you're dying to be his next conquest, but because you're just done with watching him drown in his own misery. maybe this could be the wake-up call he needs. a swift kick in the ass to snap him out of his funk.

you wouldn’t be doing out of selfish reasons! school spirit and all. you’d be doing everyone a favor. and you wouldn't need to blame it on yourself if things went downhill.

you had pope for that.

which is why you’re standing in front of rafe's room in his frat.

a jock and a frat boy? charming. you’ve certainly hit the jackass lottery. but you’ve been here before. he always saved the day when the library was packed or when your roommate was too busy fucking her boyfriend in your dorm room. this was weirdly your safe place to work.

taking a deep breath, you rap your knuckles against the door, trying to ignore the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach. it's not about you! get a grip.

the door swings open, and there's the fucker, all brooding and rugged, like he just walked off the set of a sports movie. you roll your eyes at the cliché, but there's something weird about the way he looks at you. or maybe the tight wife-beater is doing a number on you.

you still notice the bags underneath his swollen eyes.

there's a flicker of surprise in him, like he wasn't expecting to see you, out of everyone in this school, standing there and you can't blame him; after all, you're not exactly a regular visitor to the frat house, only when your academic needs force you to.

“hey?”

“you look like shit, cameron.”

rafe's eyebrows raise in surprise at your blunt remark, “uh, what?”

you roll your eyes resisting the urge to scoff. "can i come in or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot all day?”

rafe chuckles, stepping aside to let you into his room, “come on in.”

you step inside, taking in the cluttered room with a mixture of amusement and mild disgust. it was never this bad before, you know rafe’s a clean freak and this? this is not him. but it is exactly how you imagined a frat boy's room would look like—dirty.

there’s laundry strewn across the floor, empty beer cans littering the desk, and a distinct musky smell lingering in the air. you shake your head in disbelief, shooting rafe a disapproving look.

"what are you? a divorced forty-five-year-old man?”

rafe laughs at your comment, though there's a hint of embarrassment in his expression as he scratches the back of his neck. "yeah, i know. sorry about that."

he’s doing worse than what you realized and it tugs a little at your heartstrings.

you raise an eyebrow, unconvinced by his apology. "sorry doesn't cut it, cameron. you should be ashamed of yourself.”

"okay, fair point. i'll clean up, promise."

“not just your stupid room. i mean your whole attitude. you've been moping around like a loser!”

rafe's expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his features. "hey, ‘m not—"

"don't even try to deny it," you interrupt, not backing down. "everyone’s noticed. you’re pissing me off.”

you don’t know why you’re suddenly so tempted to give him the scolding of a lifetime, but there’s just something about seeing someone with so much potential and drive wasting it all away without a fight. it’s not like him.

and by the kicked-puppy look on his face, you can tell he's not used to being called out so openly. but you're dead set on breaking through to him, no matter how awkward it gets.

“see! you’re just staring at me like—like, a fucking idiot!”, you fire off, frustration lacing your tone. the irony of the situation isn't lost on you. “will you speak for gods sake? for more than five seconds? i spent months trying to get you to shut up and now you do?”

rafe's stunned expression makes you second guess your approach for a moment, but you push the feeling aside, knowing you can't afford to let sympathy cloud your purpose here.

“why are you mad at me?”

you can't believe he's still clueless after all this time.

"why am i mad at you?" you repeat incredulously, feeling the irritation rising your my chest. "seriously, rafe? have you even looked in the mirror lately?"

he blinks at you, his confusion evident, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"you've been moping around like the world's about to end.”

rafe's brows furrow even further, and for a moment, you wonder if he's playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what you’re talking about. "i don't—uh, i don't understand," he finally stammers out, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

that’s it.

you’re gonna pull the feelings card and hope it doesn’t backfire.

“do you like me?” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

rafe snorts as he lifts his finger to scratch his face, “course i do. pretty obvious.”

for a second you get a glimpse of the real rafe and it soothes you inside.

“and you want to fuck me?”

you’ve never seen him look so gobsmacked in his life, you’d laugh in his face if it wasn’t such a serious matter.

“what?” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. you can’t believe the rafe cameron is blushing. over you.

you let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. "do you want to fuck me? do i need to spell it out for you?”

he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out, and you can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at finally catching him off guard, “’m sorry? is this—are you…is this for punk’d?”

"punk'd? seriously, rafe?" you snap, incredulous that he would think this is some sort of prank, “it’s 2024.”

rafe's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, and he stammers again "no, i mean— i just...didn't expect you to— uhh”

“yes or no.”

rafe blinks at you before breathing out, “yes.”

“okay. so win your next match and you will.”

he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, exhaling through his nose, trying to keep his agitation to a minimum. “what?”

“i’m sick and tired of this version of you. i need you to win, and if this” you gesture to the both of you with your hand, “is your motivation, then we’re doing it.”

"y’serious?" he takes a step closer, his demeanor suddenly more serious, “me and you?”

you nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as you tilt your head up to look at his features, “dead serious. and it’s not just you and me. it’s for the team, and for the school spirit or whatever nonsense pope keeps going on about."

rafe lets out a small chuckle, a hint of his usual cocky confident demeanor returning. "is that so? can't say no to that kind of motivation."

“i figured.”

he reaches out a hand, his fingers lightly grazing the strands of your hair, eyes fixed on your lips. "are there any rules?”

you swallow hard, feeling your heart race at his touch. “no, just win.”

rafe's lips curl into a playful smirk— the money-making smirk that makes you want to punch him and kiss him, not necessarily in that order — as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"never would've guessed you'd be the one to offer yourself as my motivation, though," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, "i'm surprised."

you try to maintain your composure, but his proximity is making it increasingly difficult to think straight. "just doing what needs to be done," you manage to stammer out, trying to sound perfectly unaffected by his words.

rafe chuckles softly, his hand still lingering in your hair as he leans back slightly to look at you. "my pretty prize, huh?" he says, his tone teasing as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you feel a flush spread across your features at his boldness. you blame him entirely for this side of you. without thinking, you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek, tips pressings against his skin lightly.

“just win the fucking match, cameron."

rafe's nasty smirk widens into a heart-stopping, soul-gripping grin as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.

"consider it done."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe imagine #bimbo!rafe #smart!reader #soccer!rafe #frat!rafe #rafe blurb

[ghouljams]

A Fair Trade (A First Date) Word Count: 2.7k Tags: Price x oc/reader, minor descriptions of reader but only if you really squint, fluff, first date awkwardness Summary: The Witch promised Price dinner and by God he's going to be fed. Price promised her a date, and that makes this whole thing a little harder.

You are trying and failing not to think of tonight as a date. 

You've been on dates. Not good ones, and they never came to your house, but you've been on dates. You were never this nervous before. You smooth your hands over your apron, trace the embroidery with your fingers before you pat your thighs to stop your fidgeting. You're going to change while the meat is still cooking, your usual work clothes feel too plain. 

It’s painfully clear you don’t dress up often as you look through your closet. Actually it might be more accurate to say you have no concept of dressy vs too dressy. Your usual uniform is casual to you, but you often have clients tell you, you look nice. Whatever that means. You shake your head and grab whatever is clean, staring at the coven clothes in the back of your closet. Too fancy. You twist the little pearl buttons on your blouse into their holes, and make a face in the mirror. It’s all too obvious you’re trying to look nice for someone.

It’s the silhouette, you think, the nipped waist and tight skirt. You huff and don’t bother to do the last few buttons, searching around your drawers for something more casual. You think you have a pair of jeans somewhere. You know your sister has tried to force denim on you enough times. God, this skirt makes everything so much harder, you’re not used to clothing sitting so close to your body. 

Fuck everything you’re changing, you’ll wear one of your dresses it’ll be fine.

There’s a solid knock on your front door, your wards light up excitedly. You squeeze your eyes shut and beg for it to not be Price. You know it is. You’ll just have to tell him to wait while you finish getting ready, slipping on a pair of heels as you make your way to the curved oak door.

You tug the door open, feeling more than a little frazzled. Everything is already going wrong and now you don’t have any time to fix it. Price smiles down at you, he looks the same as always. Fantastic, once again you’re overdressed. You step to the side, bid him a quiet “please come in” and hold the door for him. He slips his hat --your hat-- from his head as he steps inside. His eyes drag over your body in a way that makes you feel far too exposed.

"Did you dress up for me?" He asks, you feel a little silly the way he says it.

"You said this was a date," which makes you feel even sillier to say. 

“I did say that,” Price hums, reaches towards you, gentle fingers finish buttoning your shirt. You tip your head back instinctively for him as he twists the satin ribbon tie at the collar into a neat bow. Your breath sticks in your throat, the gesture far too intimate for a first date. “Are you nervous, sweetheart?” His fingers caress your throat and you snap your chin down, take a step back before your heart can jump out of your chest. You suppose changing is out of the question now.

“No,” Liar, “should I be?”

“Probably not,” You hate how he smiles at you, with just barely contained amusement, it’s far too charming. 

“You know to behave yourself,” You turn away from him to go check on your roast, “otherwise the wards will throw you out just like last time.”

“Last time,” He mumbles, and you feel yourself wince, the ache in your chest at his tone. You shouldn’t have brought it up. Price is quiet, you’re not exactly used to him being quiet. You can feel him, his magic like a still lake, deep dark waters hardly stirring the secrets at the bottom. You still glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s actually in the house when he’s gone too long in silence.

He’s looking around your living room, picking up framed pictures and smiling down at the happy faces. His eyes dart to the wood beams of your ceiling, to the overstuffed couch, the knitted afghans, nothing you find terribly interesting. All of your materials are kept closer to the kitchen. If he wanted to snoop he should’ve chosen one of your glass cabinets, not your bookshelf. You shrug and pull your ceramic pot from the oven, you don’t have anything that needs to be hidden.

You settle your main on the counter and go to grab plates. You figure you can get dinner plated while he’s busy putting his scent all over everything. You can feel his magic clinging to whatever he’s touched. It’ll take you weeks to get it fully out of your house. You try not to think about the magical cleaning you’ll have to do when he leaves, focusing instead on slicing thick cuts off the bread you’d baked earlier.

Your grandmother would be quite proud of you for all the cooking you’ve done. Everything is fresh and cooked to perfection. It’s quite a nice plate if you do say so yourself: warm bread, tender meat with a rich thick sauce, and roasted vegetables with just a hint of char. Everything smells of warm herbs and careful preparation. Cooking is a magic in and of itself, one you’re thankful you had a good teacher for. 

You grab both plates to set at their respective places on your table. Not exactly formal dining, but then again your family has never been a formal dining sort of people. Still, you have the prerequisite candles, wine, cloth napkins and butterflies in your stomach. You look for Price, finally having made his way to your curio cabinet. He turns a pair of dragonfly wings over in his hand.

“Dinner’s ready,” You raise your voice enough to be sure he’ll hear you over whatever he’s thinking. He settles the wings back in their place as he looks at you. His eyes drift down to the table.

“You served me,” Price sounds, almost confused, but- hm, indulgent, maybe. His voice is thick with something you haven’t heard before, deeper in his chest than it usually is. Something about it makes you want to touch him, conjures the feeling of sitting on his lap as you take your own seat.

“You’re my guest,” You tell him, “I’m a good host.”

“So you are,” He pulls his designated chair out to sit, and pauses again, leaning to pick up the fork you’d laid out for him. “This is fairy made,” He twists the intricate wooden utensil between his fingers, you nod.

“You’re not the only fae I deal with,” You pick up your own fork, the wood curves comfortably in your hand.

“Apparently,” Price smiles, finally sitting, “anyone I should be jealous of?” You snort.

“I should hope not. If I had to deal with anyone half as stubborn as you-” You shake your head, clear the sentence from your thoughts, “Besides I rarely cook for others. Too much-” you wave your hand, “idle magic to keep track of.”

Price hums. What you want to tell him is that cooking is such a labor of love, that it’s almost impossible to serve anything to anyone who isn’t going to stick around. That clearing your intent and keeping it clear the whole time you cook is far more than what a normal person has to go through, even if they’re just making toast. That every recipe seems to call for the same herbs that love and health spells call for, and you’ve never been able to shut your brain off from the association. That even sharing a meal with your friends makes you worry you’ll accidentally put a spell on them, and they’ll never trust what you give them again. That even though you love cooking you never stop being a witch, putting magic into everything that touches you.

Price watches you, your faux casual air. You know he has a better nose than your mundane friends, you dread to hear if your food smells like a spell. His eyes are so warm as you meet his gaze. It always surprises you that such an icy blue could be anything but cold, and yet.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me,” He says, picking up his knife and beginning to slice through the meat on his plate. You open your mouth to refute it, and grab your wine to sip instead. There’s no point in lying when it’s so painfully clear.

Wood, ceramic, copper, your kitchen seems almost made for fae comfort in its current state. Not a lick of iron anywhere it could’ve infected the food. 

Instead you flick your wrist, your little record player excitedly switching itself on and carefully setting its needle on your pre-approved vinyl. You let the machine deal with the fiddly bits as your magic works to try and even itself out around the traces Price has left. 

“I promised you a meal, you should be able to eat it,” You finally manage, doing your best to focus on your own food when your stomach is twisting itself into knots. 

“Thank God for that,” Price tells you, “if I can’t eat you, at least I can eat your food.” You both watch the candles burst in crackling flames, bright enthusiastic licks of fire that you do your best to calm down. Magic reacting to your emotions. The record player skips a beat with your fluttering heart. “Cute,” He says it so casually, like your flames don’t crackle with his every word.

“Shut up,” You grumble.

If you’d thought dinner would be the hardest part of the evening you were horribly wrong. Dinner is easy. You’ve taken tea with Price enough times, had enough conversations with him, that you find it easy to fall into your familiar groove. Though you can feel time passing, can hear the soft click and chime of your clocks, you get lost talking. Before you know it hours have passed. Your candles burned down, your plates clean, the previously full bottle of wine neatly polished off. You think your record has reset itself at least once.

It’s nice, comfortable. Price always gives you his full attention, listens without simply waiting for his turn to speak, and you return the favor. Although with how intelligent he is, it would be hard not to give him your full attention. This date thing is easy. You don’t know why you were so worried.

All of your awkward anxiety rushes at you as you stand at the door. You’ve never been good at ending dates, and you’ve never had a date go well with someone you’re- Well you suppose you can admit that you like Price more than you should. Like him enough to hesitate the ending. You stare at him, trying to get a read on his mood, trying to silently ask him to do something. Please tell me how this is supposed to end, you think at him.

“You have to tell me if you want something little witch,” He smiles down at you. 

"Would you kiss me?" You don't know what else to say, how else this could possibly go. You want him to kiss you more than anything. You had it once, and you haven't stopped thinking about it since. Price smiles, and pulls you into his arms.

He kisses you and it's nothing like it was last time. The blind panic is gone for one. It's slow and soft, it's not perfect, you don't know what to do with your hands or really what to do with your mouth, but it doesn't matter. Price kisses you like he never wants to do anything else, like the world can wait for him to finish. You're warm from the dinner and you can feel it bleed into the kiss. His beard tickles a little but the way he holds you and the soft slide of his lips make everything else melt away. 

When he pulls away you can still feel the phantom press of his lips against yours, and it makes giddy bubbles pop in your ribs and across your cheeks. You want to kiss him again. Price smiles and brushes your hair back, his rough calloused fingers gentle as they skate across your skin. You really must be greedy to want so much more of him. You try to coach yourself, too much of a good thing blah blah blah.

He cups the back of your head and kisses you again. Soft, soft, soft. You didn't know kissing someone would feel like this. You've seen movies, read books, but you'd thought those must be exaggerations. When you'd kissed him before it had been so insistent, all teeth and tongue as he tried to devour you. If you'd thought he was trying to steal you away then you can't even imagine what he's trying to do now. Your chest clenches tight, pulls taught, bursts with gnawing desire, you think you might be trying to steal him, or at least convince him you're worth staying for.

Not that he needs convincing, you are more than worth staying for. You're so sweet and warm from the wine. Your lips are plush against his and your pretty little fingers hold onto him so tightly, he wouldn't leave you if the whole court called him. There's a slight tang of alcohol on your lips that makes your kiss all the sweeter. 

Your hands slide to his shoulders as you press up on your toes, press closer against him. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you flush against his chest. As if he could keep you any closer, feel any more of your warmth. Oh you sweet thing, if he could sink into you he would, each honeyed kiss, each gentle breath, plucking at the last string of his resolve. Precious darling, do you even know how well loved you are?

You pull back, turn your head so his next kiss just catches the edge of your mouth. Price is ravenous for you, sliding his lips to your jaw, he can smell your pulse, the soft powdery rose of your perfume. How could he still be so hungry after eating? He can feel the syrup drip of your magic down his spine, languid and entirely too enticing. Actually, everything in the house seems to tremble just on the edge of your breaths, seems to weigh heavy against his shoulders, anticipatory. 

It’s not just his hunger, is it?

His lips still against your neck. No, it’s yours as well. He can smell it, taste it on your skin, your want. You’re a spell, as much as you try not to be, just begging to be adored. You’re nervous. He pulls back, takes in the pout of your lips, the draw of your brows, wanting but unsure. He can’t. You deserve better than just hungry wanting. You should rest safe in the knowledge that he won’t leave in the morning.

Unfortunately that morning won’t come tomorrow.

Price strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead. It’s the end of an exchange, a decision made for both of you. you thought he’d be pushier. He was getting what he wanted, right? Maybe that was your own inexperience shining through, but you’d thought- Well you’d thought this was why he wanted you.

“What now?” You ask, trying to hide the confusion in your voice.

“Now?” He sighs it like it pains him, “Now, I leave, and you see me tomorrow.” You can’t say you aren’t relieved. Grateful that he isn’t pushing you for more so quickly. Still, you can’t help feeling a small sting of rejection.

"Even if I ask you to stay?" You push up onto your toes to try and meet his lips again, but he leans back to keep you a breath away.

"Especially if you ask." He tilts his head, and you feel like you’ve edged too close to a dangerous line. "When I fuck you," Price breathes, brushes his lips against yours, "and I will fuck you, Sweetheart," he assures you, "I want it to mean something.” He brushes your hair from your cheek, his fingers cupping your face like you’re something precious to him.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You hope. Price smiles, and kisses you a final time. The feeling of him lingers when he pulls away. Gentle magic sticking to your lips as he pulls his hat on.

“And every day after that,” He promises.

#credit for the banner to @cafekitsune #oc: witch #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price x oc #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price #john price x oc #john price x you #captain price x you #cod x reader #cod x oc #wow I am sorry this took so long #now I can queue up all the other witch fic I wrote lol #they kissin #me smushing my barbie's faces together #also wow crazy Ghoul formatted a fic what is the world coming to #1fae1 #fae!price

[linkito]

Kiss Prompt Scarian 30 …as comfort? :3 -🎀

ange asked for this as well, so it’s gotta be hhau, right? ft. some unused dialogue from our Big RP™

Scar hates seeing Grian like this— curled up and miserable, wings tucked so tightly against his back that they may as well be invisible. His hands fidget with the ribbon tied around one of his wrists, body mostly hidden under the length of his cloak. He’s pressed up into the wall in a way that can’t be comfortable and Scar just can’t take it anymore.

He needs to do something.

“Grian,” Scar tries, and though his ears droop slightly when Grian barely twitches in response, he still continues. “Did I ever tell you about my idea for a cookie shop?”

Grian does perk up slightly at that, but it’s mostly to cock an eyebrow in confusion, wondering why Scar would possibly think to bring up such a thing now of all times.

They hardly ever talk about Hermitcraft. And for good reason— it usually results in nothing but pain.

But something about Scar making cookies brings warmth to Grian’s frigid, aching heart, and despite his better judgement, he mumbles, “…cookie shop?”

Scar smiles, feeling successful already and deciding to ride that high. “Yeah, and I was going to bake them myself! None of that villager crap.”

Grian doesn’t reply directly, but he nods, eyes now regarding Scar with renewed interest, glad to tether his attention onto something that isn’t his own self-loathing and despair.

Scar is happy to take what he can get. He also scoots in closer to Grian, craving the closeness, just wanting to be within his orbit. It takes a moment, but Grian returns the casual affection by idly running his fingers over Scar’s knee, which is more than enough to keep Scar going on with his daydreamy nonsense.

“I was gonna grow out my hair and have this whole elven theme going— live in a tree, work right out of my house.” Scar runs a hand through his messy hair, noting that it’s already begun to grow out quite a lot, even if it looks nothing like how he would have intended. He probably looks more like some sort of goblin than a lustrous-haired elf.

Grian chuckles softly, pulling Scar out of his thoughts. “What, like a Keebler Elf?”

“What’s a Keebler Elf?” Scar asks, entirely genuine.

That gets Grian to laugh fully, and even if Scar doesn’t understand why, it makes his heart about melt. He loves Grian’s laugh. He doesn’t get to hear it enough these days.

“You know,” Scar adds, feeling cheeky now that he’s already earned this small victory. “I had a particular cookie in mind that I bet you would have loved.”

“Tell me,” Grian says, eager for more of this delightful distraction.

Now that he’s got him, Scar begins a long-winded explanation, theatrical and exuberant: “Well, I make a delicious chocolate chip cookie, of course, but you can’t have those—“

“I’m not allergic to chocolate, Scar.”

“You’re not??” Scar gasps, earning a small eye roll from Grian (he’s still smiling though, so still a win). “Well no matter! Because I had an amayzin’ idea for incorporating chorus fruit into the icing for sugar cookie.”

“Chorus fruit, really?” Grian replies quietly, now weirdly finding himself craving the odd, purple fruit that he likely would have never eaten otherwise. He feels the edge of doomed nostalgia begin to creep in, but only for a moment because Scar keeps talking, snagging his attention back to this fantasy of a quaint little cookie shop.

“Yeah! A treat and a surprise!” Scar exclaims proudly. “One little bite and zzzzzooooop!”

Grian laughs again, weaker, but still amused by Scar’s antics. He wants to let the daydream linger, to picture bright purple frosting and a fantastical treehouse without feeling a sense of great loss of what could have and should have been. He struggles, but Scar’s smile keeps him grounded, leaves him leaning in, gravitated toward that unbridled joy he somehow manages to hold onto.

But maybe his sorrow still shows through, because Scar leans in closer, presenting that smile so it fills all of his vision. “You know what I was going to call them?”

Grian blinks, barely able to process anything other than the closeness of Scar’s smiling face. He manages a small shake of his head, eyes still anchored on Scar’s bright green ones.

Scar’s smile widens, seeming incredibly pleased with himself and whatever this answer may be.

“Elven kisses,” he coos, closing the distance and pressing their lips together, softly, like a feather brushing over skin.

The name hardly makes sense, if Grian is being honest, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. Something about the prospect of a simpler time, where Grian is surrounded by the fresh smell of cookies and a beautifully woven treehouse and the image of Scar presenting him with that name just as proudly, a shy little blush scattered across his cheeks.

He should have kissed Scar a long, long time ago, he thinks, somewhat sadly.

But Scar’s lips are on his now, and it’s possibly one of the only good things left in this wretched nightmare of a server— an uncomplicated affection, something genuine and pure. Something gentle and loving when everything else is coarse and cruel.

Grian moves, grabbing both sides of Scar’s head with desperate, yearning hands, and kisses him fully, hungry for the comfort of Scar’s breath against his own, lips intertwined, passionate and unwavering.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He feels Scar’s mouth curl upwards into a joyous smile, pressed into his own, private— theirs alone to enjoy— and for a moment, everything feels like it might be alright.

For a moment there’s sweetness dancing across his tongue, and Grian willingly falls into the illusion of its simplicity.

#hhau #scarian #link writes #link answers #ribbon anon

[dira333]

Promise to marry me...

Kankuro x reader through the eyes of Gaara, Gaara as matchmaker extraordinaire

“I don’t think I’ll ever get married.” 

Kankuro’s voice was muffled but the door had not been fully closed.

Gaara wasn’t one to eavesdrop, especially not in his own home, but the words made him stop.

“What makes you think that?” Hearing your voice surprised him even more.

He knew that you and Kankuro got along, but that a conversation like this at this time? Guilt pooled in his stomach as he realized that he probably shouldn’t be listening. But the far more powerful curiosity kept him where he was.

“Ah, you know. I’m a mess. You can’t tie me down. I love the freedom.” 

“Oh, shush.” You tutted at him. “You’re just using empty phrases to cover how you really feel.” There was a moment of silence and Gaara told himself again that he had to move. This was a private conversation and yet, this felt like a conversation Kankuro should have been able to have with him, too.

“Would you want to marry me?” Kankuro’s voice was different now. It had an undertone to it that was raw and vulnerable. 

“I’d marry you in a heartbeat.” You told him, your voice filled with conviction, yet the words sounded soft. “But it’s not about that, is it? It doesn’t matter how many people want to marry you. If it won’t make you happy, it won’t make you happy. You don’t have to be married to be happy, you know.”

“Are you happy?”

“Right now? Very. I have a job I like, great friends and I get to travel places without having to fear getting killed the next day. It’s pretty fantastic if you ask me.”

“Don’t you want children? A husband?”

“Maybe someday. But I don’t have any important genes I need to give to the next generation and I quite enjoy being the cool aunt to Shikadai and everyone else. But who knows, maybe when I’m older…”

“What if…” There was a beat of silence and when he spoke again, Gaara could hear Kankuro as he knew him. Filled with mischief and too many ideas.

“What if we made a pact? When we’re thirty and we want to get married but have no one, we’ll marry each other?”

You laugh. “Sure. I’ll hold you to that, old man.”

At that moment, Gaara pulls himself away. He’s heard too much already.

-

Eight years later, just after Shinki’s third anniversary with them, Gaara decides that he has to take matters into his own hands.

Kankuro hardly speaks about the subject of marriage and if he does, he jokes about it.

But Gaara, knowing what he does, can’t stand by and do nothing, when he can see the way Kankuro looks at Shinki or how he pulls back into himself whenever he notices a couple.

As his younger brother, Gaara has no business snooping around in Kankuro’s business.

As his Kazekage he has no right to do so either.

When he does, he convinces himself he’s doing it as a friend.

-

He’s left Shinki with Shikadai and Temari and has convinced Lee that he’s hanging with Naruto and Naruto that he’s training with Lee.

Kankuro had to stay back in Suna and Gaara’s thankful for that as he knocks on your door.

“What brings you here?” You ask, one of the few people in Konoha who don’t burden themselves with unnecessary politeness. “Tea?”

“I’d like that.” He lets his eyes wander. Your apartment is small, just big enough for one and an army of plants. He knows you’re single but he can spot an array of pictures on the bookshelves. Stepping closer he finds them to be you with different friends, the biggest one having been taken in Suna, eight years ago. 

He remembers that day when Temari and Kankuro had dragged both you and him out for the sunset. 

“How is he?” You ask as you hand him his cup of tea. “Kankuro, I mean? I heard he couldn’t come.”

“Physically, he is well.” He starts and you perk up immediately, watchful eyes focused on him.

“And emotionally?” 

“He would not let me live if he knew that I’m telling you this.” He looks back at the picture and steels his resolve. “But he might be thinking about a certain pact you two made eight years ago.”

Your cup slips from your fingers. If not for his sand it would have shattered on the ground. 

“How do you know-?”

“I was just walking to my room that day.” He tells you quietly. “I overheard only a little.”

“I-” You stutter and he nods.

“I am not saying that I know what he’s thinking. But I can tell that he’s lonely. And if you wanted to come back to Suna with us in a week… just for a short holiday, maybe, I’d be happy to arrange everything for you.”

“I have to think about that.” Your voice is raspy when you speak, breathless even.

He nods. “Do that. Don’t rush anything. Just know that you’re always welcome.”

-

Gaara is the only one not surprised when you decide that you’ll take an impromptu vacation to Suna. He does not tell Kankuro about it and has Temari swear on Shikadais life that she will not tell him.

There are moments where he wonders if he oversteps.

Moments where he thinks he will regret this - especially Temari’s moods.

But then the train halts in Suna and they can see Kankuro waiting for them. 

Gaara steps out first, offering his hand to Shinki who refuses any help. 

With one eye on his son and his other on Kankuro he knows the exact moment when Kankuro notices you.

“I think we’ll get some ice cream.” He tells Shinki softly as he steps to the side. “And let those two have some time together.”

No one protests. 

-

Gaara is the only one not surprised when one week of vacation turns into two.

He is not surprised when you travel back to Konoha only to pack your belongings.

On your wedding day he thinks about telling Kankuro. What he heard all those years ago, what he did for his brother.

But he doesn’t. He just pulls sleeping Shinki a bit closer to him and watches the couple dance, thinking that if no one has to be lonely, the world will be a better place.

#my writing #Kankuro x reader #Gaara #Shinki #Kankuro #Temari #Shikadai #Naruto x reader #Kankuro fluff

[trulycertain]

i'll be your mirror

In which Astarion receives a gift of a portrait. Developing Tav/Astarion. 2k words.

Astarion forgets that little conversation entirely - he's wondered what he looks like now so many times in two centuries that one more occasion, albeit one where he was rather less solitary in his vanity, hardly stands out.

He forgets it until he ducks out of his tent into the morning light, and... Interesting. There's a sheet of paper tucked under his jar of - ugh - slightly congealed blood. He can't help the dread rising at the back of his throat. Some note left to toy with him? (He can almost see it: that hideously neat, tight little handwriting. I know where you are, boy. He focuses on the sun's warmth on his skin, and takes a breath he doesn't need. No. It'll at least be a damn sight harder for the bastard now.)

Shaking off his paralysis, he unfolds it, and finds... a portrait. Hm. He squints, smoothing it and trying not to smear charcoal all over his fingers.

A handsome fellow, certainly - straddling the line between that and pretty. High cheekbones and long eyelashes and an elegant, straight nose. A bit of a wry glint in the eyes. (Impressive, capturing that. For all his talents with a dagger or a body, he's never been that kind of artist.) Crow's-feet around them, too, and lines around the mouth; a man, not a boy. Delicately pointed ears. A head of soft, pale curls.

The realisation drops onto him something like a very large rock.

...Ah.

He touches his own hair, absentmindedly, feeling a texture he'd know like the back of his hand but hasn't seen from that angle in two hundred years. If his hand is shaking a little, no-one else has to know.

He stares at cheekbones he must have traced over a thousand times, trying to rebuild a faint, shadowed picture that was fading in his head by the year. At the bow of this strange, handsome elf's lips. He maps it on his own face, finger tracing over another familiar shape that he could never quite envision. Besides, he'd been preoccupied with the newer, unwelcome shape of fangs.

But it doesn't feel wrong. The picture in his head was more of a featureless shadow with fantastic hair than anything else, but this… this has the ring of familiarity. They've even bothered to capture his moles; he puts a fingertip to his cheek, where one had been forgotten, not raised enough for him to know. 

Someone who sees him often, then, who knows his face. Someone - 

I'll be your mirror. Those hazel eyes tracing carefully over his face, when a night or two ago she caught him craning for a reflection that would never come. 

Lora. 

He's seen her scribbling away enough times; he just assumed she kept a journal. He saw the odd drawing - plants, mainly, things she'd bring to the tree-hugging bores at the Grove and ask about, or discuss with Gale... 

Like she's doing now. They're off in the woods with Gale trying to teach her some spell, and the worst thing? That's not even a euphemism. Even now, they're probably deep in debate. Ugh. 

But it does mean that the little journal she keeps is sitting on a log, temptingly unoccupied. He puts the drawing carefully aside, and then it's a matter of moments to wander over and close his hands on the book. If she didn't want anyone to look, she shouldn't have put it with the communal supplies. 

Making himself at home on the log, he flicks through it. Gods, she hasn't even used a cipher. To-do lists that seem to involve far too much saving helpless idiots, half-scribbled song lyrics and roughly dotted notes - even he can't somehow make those his business, and swiftly moves on - and… there. 

He recognises those roughly-drawn lines, the way they soften out to the curves of the cheeks. Gale, sketching out some mnemonic absentmindedly with three fingers, a faint swirl of magic drawn in a couple of lines. Karlach, beaming and dimpling quite becomingly. Wyll, practising his forms with a rapier. Shadowheart, deep in meditation while Lae'zel scowls at her.

And on the other page… Ah. Hello.

If he'd wondered, truly wondered, whether the other portrait was him, this one confirms it: he's caught in laughter, a wineglass in hand, and... He stares at his own fangs. She hasn't shied away from drawing them, but there's been more attention paid in rendering the firelight on his hair, the crinkling around his eyes. Neither fear nor fetishism. He... honestly, he has no idea what to do with that. Another, in profile view, and something must have rather pissed him off, from the look of it. Little notes cluster around the drawings on what herbs she needs to find, on infernal iron for Karlach, on drow poison for Astarion.

He turns the page, and is greeted by a drawing of the day they were caught in an impressive downpour and took shelter in a cave. Well, they were all caught, but the subject is him, specifically. He looks at half-flattened, sopping hair and his truly unimpressed expression. Is that what it looks like when he glares? He catches his brows pulling tight, in mimicry. This should be mocking, but it feels more… It's not as unflattering as it should be. Almost fond, which is odd, considering the sheer amount of time he and Lora spend arguing.

Perhaps… hmm. One doesn't draw a face that much without being a little enamoured of it, surely. That's probably all she wants, the look of him. She still grimaces at his goblin jokes, still stops to help every fool going and sighs when he complains. He'd thought perhaps they'd had a little breakthrough when she let him bite her, when she speculated on the taste of their companions - she has a streak of dark humour that he rather enjoys, when she's not too uptight to let it out. But then she put them all at risk and wasted time they didn't have to rescue that idiot bard from the goblins, and when Astarion glared at her, she glared back even more fiercely. Sometimes a glimpse of the sunrise is just a lantern, or some other foolish metaphor she'd use. So, seeing as his sparkling personality certainly isn't the draw here, it must be his looks. He can work with that. Hardly the first time. He thought he'd have to try his luck again with the terrifying gith or gods forbid, the wizard, but perhaps all isn't lost with the leader of their merry little band.

There's another drawing that makes him pause: him caught examining his own hand, in the sun. The look on his face - he's smiling, just slightly. He looks… happy. He doesn't look that soft, does he? The kind of soft that he can't afford to be. It's dangerous, it's stupidly complacent, it's… Annoyed, wary embarrassment prickles up his spine - has he been that obvious? When did she see that? How did he not catch her staring?

He flips back to the more general (safer) drawings. "Karlach," he says to his erstwhile red companion, who's currently keeping watch.

"Yeah?" She heads over to his makeshift seat, axe still slung over her shoulder. Her eyebrows raise. "Huh, those are good. Look at me!" She reaches out a finger - Astarion draws back the book protectively, and she remembers, face falling. The sight shouldn't bother him as much as it does.

"Yes, yes, but are they… accurate?"

She sits next to him, axe resting by her knee, and her eyes widen. She squints at him. "Oh shit, mirrors. How much do you remember?"

He shrugs, and if she looks any more pitying he may have to bite her, so he focuses on the book instead.

"These are… yeah, these are definitely you. Ha, look, this one's got the way your hair goes all curly round your ears! Aww, look at your little fangs!"

"'Little'?" he says, offended. He peers at her.

She grins at him, pointedly, with a mouth full of many.

"Hmph. Not all of us can be a hellspawn."

She's nudging the page carefully with a nail before he can protest. Her eyes widen. "Wow, these are really sweet…" Pausing, she looks up at him. "Astarion, where did you get this?"

"It was… communal," he tries, vaguely.

"Please tell me this isn't Lora's."

"She checks it around us all the time! She showed me her list of herbs just yesterday! It's not as if I'm reading her diary." But there's a reason he didn't just ask. They both know it.

"Astarion, sometimes you can be a real shit."

He knows. He stares at the drawings and reassembles his usual lack of care. "Hm? Sorry, I was busy being distracted by how pretty I am."

"I swear -"

He hears the steady footsteps and a creak of leather even under Karlach's words - he's always been a hard man to sneak up on - and looking up, resigns himself.

Lora says, "How come no-one invited me to this party?" Her footsteps stop abruptly when she sees what he's holding. There's the faintest flicker in her eyes, and then she pastes on a resigned, tired sort of smile. "I guess this is what I get for giving you gifts."

That… itches. He's had far worse said to him - had knives under his ribs - so it's not as if it really hurts, but she so clearly means it. She's not trying to posture, or hurt him. Her disappointment simply is.

Karlach and Gale seem to be having some kind of mouthed conversation, with hand gestures. Astarion distinctly catches the words Not getting involved on Gale's side. "Tell me if you need his arse kicking, mate," Karlach says, and stands, ushering Gale away with a hand on his elbow.

"I was looking for soup recipes?" he tries, not even aiming to be convincing.

"Sure." Lora takes her lyre from her back and leans it against the log, then sits to untie her boots. She doesn't look at him once. It's almost impressive.

It should be a relief: a break from her incessant brightness that felt too much like unwelcome sun, back in the pre-tadpole days. Finally not having to listen to how there are kind people, you'll see, now rescue that bunny from under a cart. Gods, somehow even her hair is wilting. It's pitiful. He'd be angry at the manipulation, but this seems too exhausted to be a manipulation. It's… real, he thinks.

Leaning on pity should work - and besides, it's the truth. "Can you blame me, after two hundred years? I just wanted to see if you had any more." He smooths a hand over the corner of the page. "I asked you what you saw when you looked at me. This is it, isn't it?" 

She nods, and that's all. A silent bard - somehow almost as ominous as a loud crypt.

He takes one last look, drinking in the familiar unfamiliarity of his face, and then carefully puts the book onto her lap. "Here. I think this is yours." His voice is quieting before he can help it - too damn soft, he thinks again, though perhaps softness will get her to let down her defences where simple seduction won't. "I can promise you, there won't be any repeats of my little endeavour today." Her eyes slowly raise to his, and he says, "It answered my question." He clears his throat, crosses one leg over another, and tries to look elegant rather than self-pitying. "You've… given me back my face. It was always just one more thing Cazador stole from me. Thank you." The words are far, far too real. He didn't quite mean to say it that bluntly. 

She blinks, seeming taken aback by his little display - and then she nods. The beginnings of forgiveness are in her slackening shoulders, the way she takes the briefest glimpse at him before it's gone again. It won't be a problem, travelling together today, even if she'll be quietly licking her wounds. Good.

The broken mirror is still lying in his tent when he returns. He sighs at the sight of it. And then he shifts old wine bottles and blood jars out of the way. It doesn't need much room, a small charcoal drawing - it certainly doesn't need him to clear a whole corner of his tent. Even so, he does, propping it up and looking at the life in his own eyes for longer than he'd want to admit. 

#astarion x tav #Astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #That Damn Mirror Scene #lora mctavish #Chaotic good punk slight disaster at love bard #My fic #This might become part of something bigger eventually #Still working it out

[taey0ngsvape]

you can hear it in the silence - hwang hyunjin

“i’ll be there if you’re the toast of the town babe, or if you strike out and you’re crawling home”

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff!!

word count: 1.7k

contains: kissing, love confessions, all fluff, no angst

Hyunjin has always considered himself to be a hopeless romantic. It’s something he’s never been ashamed to admit. He wears his heart on his sleeve and romanticizes just about everything, but it makes love feel so much more magical and he wouldn’t trade his romantic attitude for anything.

Hyunjin has plenty of experience with crushes and imagined love stories, but it wasn’t until he met you that he really felt it. With you, it was like experiencing every stereotype in the books. From love at first sight, to believing the two of you had an invisible string tying you to each other your whole lives, that string tugging you in the right direction until you finally met. He believed you were his soulmate in every sense of the word.

The first time you met, he could hardly meet your eyes. He stuttered when introducing himself and his flushed cheeks stayed red long after you left. He’d let Felix do most of the talking then, preferring to stand back and not make a fool out of himself in front of what he thinks might be the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

Slowly but surely, you’d become friends. It had been plenty awkward at first, but over time that initial nervousness had faded and the two of you realized how much you had in common. Hyunjin’s admiration for you only grew and, though he didn’t realize it at the time, you admired him too. 

He’ll never forget the first time he brought you to paint with him. You weren’t an artist like that, preferring to watch him create his artwork instead. He painted a landscape that you told him was breathtaking. He never told you that it was the sunset from the day you met. 

Just after you’d walked away, he’d fled the scene to avoid any questions from Felix or any of the other members. He found himself up on the roof replaying every detail of the meeting over and over. The sunset had been fantastic that night and he knew he'd never forget it. That painting was his way of capturing the moment forever.

The first time you held his hand was three months after you first spoke. It was late at night after you’d gone to get dinner with the rest of the guys. Instead of taking the car back to the dorms, you wanted to walk, so Hyunjin went with you, taking the long way through the park so you could stop in the middle of the field and look at the stars.

You adored the stars and always looked at them with a sense of wonder. The expression on your face was something he knew he could never capture, not even in a picture. It was something rare. That night, you looked at the stars, and he looked at you, your face upturned at the sky, the moonlight falling onto you. That was the moment he knew.

When you two finally decided to keep walking back, you slipped your hand into his. It was casual, something that almost seemed like second nature, but it had his heart racing. He wanted to hold your hand all the time. It felt so right, so normal. He never wanted to let go.

A month after that, you two had a movie night. It was just the two of you, something that very rarely happened, and Hyunjin wanted to make the best of it. He let you pick whatever you wanted to watch and had bought your favorite snacks to share. He didn’t expect you to curl up into his side halfway through the first movie. You were nowhere near being tired, and for the first time he let himself consider the possibility that you might feel something for him too. Maybe you really just wanted to be close to him.

By the third movie, you were in his arms, ready to fall asleep. As he looked down at you, he felt like his heart was going to burst. It took everything in him not to blurt out ‘I love you.’ He’d driven you home after that, helping you back to your apartment and making sure you made it to your bed before passing out for the night. 

After that night, there was a three week period where he overthought every single interaction with you. He would argue with himself over whether you felt something for him, or if you were only being friendly. In the end, he didn’t come to a conclusion by himself. Instead, Chan noticed the way he’d been acting and sat down with him to talk it out.

Chan was the one who had given him the confidence to actually ask you how you felt about him. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say for days before finally mustering up the courage to show up at your door.

Hyunjin doesn’t remember ever being that nervous before. He ran over his speech in his mind as he waited for you to open the door, and the second you did, he forgot every word. He probably should have expected something like that to happen, he can hardly think straight when he’s around you.

He’d stuttered and stumbled over his words, but he managed to confess how he felt and as soon as the words left his mouth you broke into a huge grin.

“I feel it too,” you had said to him. “Us.”

And after that day, you two became an ‘us.’ A unit. And now that he had the reassurance that you felt the same, he no longer held back his feelings. He didn’t need to protect his heart anymore. It was yours now.

He fell more and more in love with you every day. When he left to go on tour he expected it to be hard, and it was, but it was nowhere near as bad as he’d expected. Sure, he missed you in his arms. He missed the feeling of your lips on his own, but most days, the sound of your voice alone was enough to wash away the stress of the day. 

When he returned, your relationship felt stronger than ever and he was proud of himself and proud of you for going through long distance and making it out the other side. 

The first time he said “I love you,” was the day he got back. He’d wanted to say it for a while, but it didn’t feel right to say it over the phone. He wanted you to be there, right in front of him, when he told you. He needed you to be able to look into his eyes and understand how deeply he cared for you. How he wanted to cherish you for as long as you’d let him.

It had been at your apartment after an emotional reunion. It was early evening and you were in the kitchen making dinner. His phone was sitting on the counter playing their music softly and you were humming along to Miroh like it was a nursery rhyme or something. 

“I love you,” he’d said, without meaning to. The second the words slipped out, he froze, wondering if maybe he’d taken it too far.

Then you turned around, a smile on your face. The same smile that gave him strength and brought him so much joy.

“I love you too Hyunie.”

And then there is today, your first anniversary together. He’d tried not to go overboard, wanting something simple, just like the night he returned from tour. This time, you made dinner together, sushi, from scratch. It was an adventure to say the least and it actually turned out fairly well. 

After dinner, you decided to exchange gifts, Hyunjin first. He slides his present across the table. It looks like a book, wrapped in brown paper. You gently peel the paper off and your jaw drops when you see what’s inside.

It’s the painting he made, the very first day he brought you with him.

“It’s the sunset from the day I met you,” he says. “I couldn’t get you out of my head so I sat on the roof for hours. I watched the sun go down. That day with you in the studio… I knew I had to paint it.”

“I love it,” you say, blinking tears out of your eyes. “I love you.”

He gets up and walks around the table to take the seat right next to you so he can lean in and kiss you tenderly. It’s a short kiss, but once you break apart you stay there, foreheads resting against one another.

“This is for you,” you say, handing him a square box.

He opens it up to reveal a delicate silver bracelet. “I thought about getting a watch but this seemed more… you.”

His throat feels dry and he avoids looking at you so you won’t see the tears in his eyes.

“I love you so much,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper. “You don’t even know how much.”

You cup his face in your hands and lift his chin so he’s looking at you. He admires your features, the face he fell in love with all those months ago. “I love you,” you say. He smiles.

You continue. “I don’t tell you enough, but I really mean it. I’m always going to support you. I’m cheering for you every day. I’m here to celebrate the good times and to pick you up when things don’t go right. And I don’t care what mistakes you’ll make or what sort of obstacles life will throw our way. I am always going to be right here, by your side. I’m always, always going to love you.”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother holding back his tears this time. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto his lap, hugging you close. Sure, he knew you loved him, but this was different. This was proof that you felt just as deeply as he did. 

Sometimes he wondered if he loved you more. He never doubted that you loved him, but he loved you so much that it seemed almost impossible for you to reciprocate. But this… this showed that he wasn’t the only one. 

He had you by his side. Always.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fics #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #clare’s fics🌸

[bcacstuff]

My Dearest Gentle Reader....

Sometimes stories are too good to be true, and sometimes they're too good to not be shared. Even though I promised not to waste anymore ink or feathers on what is going on in a particular corner of the Tum where a certain Cinderella is the highlight and the talk of the Tum these last weeks.

You know the best show not on tv, though much to our surprise Cinderella was rudely written out of the books, instead last years summer fling's likings on posts became interesting again.

Then suddenly around midnight (CEST, = abt 6pm ET and 3pm PT) she who always wakes up to DMs or just got a minute rushing in between meetings posted an Anon telling her most eligible bachelor was in the South of France and pictures will be out tomorrow. I had to shake my head as I knew how that message came about.

Half an hour before, I posted a little cryptic message to an Anon that sent me a message earlier that evening (21.50 CEST) about the whereabouts of this supposed vigilante. I did a little research and the message, naming an event, had some merit in it. I tried to find pics or videos, looked at many, but none to be found that could identify him clearly. Yes, several lookalikes with a cap and a shirt far in the distance. But not good enough for me. So I decided to post this cryptic message hoping Anon would come back and perhaps had some more proof than the 'listing' I found and mentioned in my cryptic post.

About 15 minutes later I got this Anon:

I had to laugh as it was far off... and no Idea why H... R....... and him being 'listed' as I wrote could have anything to do with the South of France in the slightest way.... Confirmation bias looking in wrong directions to say the least

You can imagine how I had to laugh even more when I saw the same Anon on the blog of the one that now seemed to have all the time in the world spinning a fantastic story around it. The Anon seemed fairly sure now, not a question mark in it but even claiming there would be pics tomorrow! I had no doubts where this Anon had been reading first and as I didn't posted her message she must have thought she was right and run straight off to Lalaland to please her fairytale writer.

Time for popcorn 🍿 I thought and popped some in the microwave... and boy, I needed a full box of it, cause what happened after that post I can hardly describe. The story that was spun around this 'South of France' you can not make this up. Literally in a matter of minutes, each time I refreshed the page there was another chapter. More 'proof' and 'evidence' on every reblog of herself.

Look Melissa is in Cannes... [right, she was already there for a couple of days... and believe me S isn't the only one she grooms]. And of course it all made sense since, blimey, all of the sudden Cinderella was back on top of the list and magically popped up in the South of France as well! Only days before, she posted about Brigitte Bardot and changed her profile pic to an old one from the time she once must have been on an RC in Cannes and you know she's 'a socialite and a film maker who has lived in France for years' and must be well known in those circles... No, this can't all be a coincidence, now can it? 😂😂😂

More popcorn please... 🍿 🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿🍿

Lists of parties in Cannes were shared and oh bloody hell how could we have missed his latest following of Alessandra, she's there as well... Maybe she was even better than Cinderella (how rude!)

[Did she not notice how he followed her already long time ago, but seemed to have unfollowed her and now re-followed again, as well as the other ones he followed recently, the everydayman and Neil Marshall. Now don't ask me why he does this, but he does]

My head started to hurt from laughing.... but also from keeping up with all the women the Queen of Lalaland had brought up in less than a day. And remind you, she was busy for more that 8 hours straight to finally come up with an Anon who gave her and her readers the wake up call realizing what H.... R.... stood for.

About 8 hours after my cryptic post and 2 more hours after I received my Anon

Yes, of course Hyrox Rotterdam. Not a woman, but a sports event. I found the listing on the website. (why did nobody else took a look there???) And I have to be honest, I did remove some comments working it out and received Anons before it even occurred to the other side what it was all about.

But last night it showed no results and today it is still empty. I was hoping more results would be added today but it doesn't look like it. As said no clear identifiable pics or videos have been found. So it remains unclear if he participated at all. All I can confirm is that at least he planned to stay on this side of the Canal and fill his days with sports.

But do not despair my dearest gentle readers, as I have it on good authority that he's busy preparing for a full week of shooting TCND in which he even might get arrested at the end of the week...

Signed: Yours Truly

[whiskeyswifty]

Hello, we're not mutuals, but I've been a long-time follower of yours, and I've always associated you with New York. So today, when my job told me they're sending me on a mission there next month, I immediately thought of you haha. This is my very first time visiting. I am staying over a week, but I'll be working weekdays up until like 5 PM. If you have time, could you please recommend me some must do/see things in your opinion? Thank you 💕

this is so incredibly sweet and lovely!! taylor swift move over I'M NEW YORK CITY NOW BITCH!! kiddingggggg but i'm still so warmed by you saying that. I'd be happy to be your unofficial tour guide of sorts, and i'll give you a mix of places that you should definitely see since you haven't been before and some fun offbeat places that might not be first on tourism lists but i particularly love. You can peruse the list and pick and choose as you wish! No pressure to do anything of course and i won't be offended if things don't seem interesting to you. Also this is in no particular order, just how they popped into my brain haha.

Grand Central Station - one of my absolute favorite places in the city. It's a architectural marvel from a bygone era (literally we don't build them like this anymore) and is actually as stunning as in pictures! The teal vaulted ceiling painted and lit up with constellations from the night sky, the original chandeliers, the Tennessee marble floors. It's also a fully working transit hub so you'll get to feel the hustle and bustle of the city. Lots to eat here too if you want a bite, like the famed Oyster bar or something quick from the food hall in the basement, which isn't much to write home about but convenient and hardly ever crowded. There's also a bar off the side of the station that used to be the office of a very wealthy financier, called The Campbell. One of the most stunning bars and lounges in the city and if you time it right, you can enjoy a drink or a bite to eat without a huge crowd!

2. The Met (aka The Metropolitan Museum of Art) - my personal favorite museum in the entire world, although i am biased and used to live a few blocks from the steps so it might just be the museum i've been to the most lol. However, it's phenomenal in it's range of pieces and in how immersive the curators try to make each exhibit. Instead of putting objects in cases, they try to display them in the context with which they were used! The Arms and Armor hall is my FAVORITE with several suits of armor on horseback parading down the middle of the whole exhibit, and flags hanging from the balconies that each represent one of the knights of the round table!! i mean how COOL is that!! Also, a must see is the temple of dendur, obviously. moved so Egypt could build a dam in the area it resided, they gave it as a gift to Kennedy for the millions he allocated to help Egypt preserve their monuments. it was accepted on behalf of his wife Jackie, who then was instrumental in *ahem* suggesting quite forcefully to the presidential successor LBJ that it be put indoors and not outdoors (obviously). go to the Met who agreed to pay for an entire addition just for it. It just so happens that the addition they built to house the temple has floor to ceiling windows that look up into the very apartment on 5th Ave that Jackie was living in at the time. Whether you find that a burst of sentimentality for her late husband or hubristic, that's up to you, it's probably a bit of both, but i love that story as it gives the temple a fun bit of context. Another highlight is the furniture collection, which sounds boring but to display them the met recreated entire ROOMS from the eras the furniture is from, including a full transplant of the living room of one of Frank Llyod Wright's most famous homes!! and you can walk IN IT. (i could go on for days, as could you wandering this museum and all of it's fantastic collections)

3. Time's Square - which is loud and dirty and crowded and horrendous BUT is still pretty magical, especially if you've never been. My advice, go late at night if you can for smaller crowds and it just looks so damn cool all lit up, even I can't deny.

4. The West Village - broad i know, but i'm a huge advocate for walking around residential areas when you visit a city. something my mom taught us as kids and it's a great way to get a feel for how people actually live and not just the Disneyland areas. also it provides a bit of a sensory and energy break on your trip as most residential areas are mellow. This is one of the more lively areas, but you'll find yourself wandering around stunning colonial town homes and adorable shops. It's a bit grimy and crowded with NYU kids in some parts, even on weeknights, but i think it adds to the charm of it. It's a lived in neighborhood! Washington Square park is a fun little central area to people watch, but honestly sitting at a cafe table anywhere is really fun just to see people walk by, ranging from 80 year old hippies who have lived there for their entire lives to 18 year old kids who look like the coolest people i've ever seen in my life. Also, you'll always find a swiftie taking a photo under the cornelia st. sign, so if you want a little piece of swiftie new york, that's an easy one to get. (there's a section that is particularly grubby and awful that is a series of blocks below west 4th under Washington square park and above Houston st, bordered on the east and west by Broadway and 6th ave respectively. It's not horrible, but it's super crowded and the less charming chunk of the area for sure. however feel free to venture down there for some trendy food and interesting shops if you're feeling up for it! a fun little store that's cool to peruse is called Chess Forum where they host chess tournaments but also sell incredibly intricate themed chess sets! don't go out of your way, but if you're around, pop in and check it out for five or so minutes)

5. Statue of Liberty (including the ferry itself) - something that should be overrated but really isn't! It's genuinely cool, even to me who's lived here for so long and to my friends who are lifelong new yorkers. It's such a monument in the truest sense of the word and honestly, bigger than you expect. It's not that you think it's going to be small, just the mere fact of seeing something you've only seen in photos, your brain will just be shocked at how big it is. No need to go up in it, imo, but do what you want! I think the last ferries leave around 5 each day so if you can make it out of work a biiiiiit early one day, and you're nearby, you can catch it! Not a must do of course, but if you find the time, it's one of those few things in life i have found that is worth it. Also, the ferry to and from there is a bonus sightseeing element as you get GREAT views of the tip of manhattan! makes for some gorgeous photos and one of the lesser known tips is manhattan as seen by a boat is one of the best views you'll get. If you can't make it to the official ferry tour, here is a pro tip: take the Staten Island Ferry. i KNOW that sounds weird, but the route to Staten Island is pretty much the same as the Statue of Liberty tour route. You won't stop at the island to get off and see the statue, BUT you'll get very close to it! Why the Staten Island Ferry? Well it runs all hours of the day and night and it's FREEEEEE. You can just hop back on the returning ferry and get double the views! You can board the ferry in Manhattan at the tippy tip on the bottom right at Whitehall terminal. The second best view of Manhattan is......

6. Brooklyn Bridge - another great monument that is open to you 24 hours a day if you cannot get out of work early enough. Another architectural marvel (which i'm super into so apologies if you don't care about buildings lol) but also a true monument! You can walk across it at any time of day and be sure to turn around half way for a spectacular view of manhattan. my advice to you, as corny as it is, do NOT turn around until you get halfway at least. the contrast of walking away from the city and turning around and seeing it up close like that is really a delight. I always make people i go with do that and they hate me until they turn around and then they're begrudgingly happy they listened. Also, truly any time of day is great, but if you happen to do it at dusk on a lovely spring day, oooooo boy it's glorious. I have dozens of stories about the bridge, as it's one of my favorite stories in the entire history of the world (again biased sorry but it's SUCH A GOOD STORY) but two anecdotes i'll tell you. 1. the man who was supposed to build the bridge was the son of the man who designed it, and he had everything ready to go but got sick and bedridden shortly after starting. So, his wife, who had been studying engineering alongside him this entire time, was taught by her husband specifically about bridge engineering as he was bedridden for ten years. Over the course of that time, she eventually took over as Chief Engineer on site and technically is the person who oversaw and instructed the construction of the bridge, her husband never really setting foot on the project site. Her name is Emily Roebling and for her work, they awarded her the privilege of being the first person to cross the bridge on opening day, leading the parade. Also, there is a street named after her on the Brooklyn side near the bridge. 2. It was the largest suspension bridge ever built at that time and people were freaked out by it, thinking it would fall. To prove to the public how sturdy it was, Emily enlisted the help of the circus star P.T. Barnum (yes that Barnum) who brought 21 elephants, including his star Jumbo, to cross the bridge!

7. Broadway rush tickets - since you sound like you're traveling alone, or at least with a small group, broadway rush tickets will be very easy for you to get! You can look up the process online, there are lots of resources. It's the only way to see something cheap these days, and even then it might not be so cheap. I'm not a huge broadway person so I can't say what is particularly good or bad, but currently Stereophonic is a hot new show that seems really interesting! It's more dramatic and play-esque than your typical dazzling brassy musical, so if you're into that, check it out!

8. Top of the Rock - most people will send you to the empire state building to see skyscraper level views. and that's good too, but here's the thing, you're IN the empire state building.... so you can't SEE it. people don't think of this and walk away from their new york visit with no photos of the damn thing because they stood on it instead. Also, it's a fenced in balcony for.... obvious reasons and much more limited in scope. Top of the Rock is not only in the very cool rockafeller center, which is fun to walk around and admire, but you can see the empire state building while up there! Also, it has northern AND southern views, all at the same time on the roof deck, with glass walls. So you get no obstructions! It's also situated a bit further north so you get a fantastic view of central park sprawling north. It's open until midnight, so after work you can get some dazzling sunset views or glittering cityscape night views.

Some food recs:

Pizza: the most controversial of all, and sooooooo particular to each person's taste. Most pizza places on Best Of lists are great, you can't go wrong. Word of advice to you though: L'Industrie is great, but the lines are insane and it's not THAT worth it. However, if you want a typical "slice" then look no further than these two:

Joe's - the most accessible since it's all over the city, but is honestly the perfect slice imo. Which means there's not much to it in terms of frills, but that's what tourists seem to not understand. it's just a damn good slice. Crust perfect, crispy and not droopy, sauce to cheese ratio is perfect, sauce has a bit of flavor but not too much. I go for the cheese cuz i'm basic but the pep is great too! Don't get anything else. Carmine's is the original shop but any of the locations are great.

Scarrs - this is my ACTUAL favorite slice, however there's only one location and it's pretty out of the way. It's on the LES, which is a fun place to wander if you don't mind a bit of grit and grime. Again, super simple, but my man mills his OWN FLOUR so he can get the right ratio. as far as i know, nobody else in new york is doing that. Dough is also fermented, so it has the perfect amount of crisp, tang, and saltiness. Also, Scarr is afro-latino which is rare in the pizza world, but a welcome wakeup call to all the italian goombahs slinging mediocre pies. As always, get the plain cheese, but the hotboi is so fucking good, don't miss it. and get the honey on top!!

Bagels: Honestly, anywhere you go will have great bagels. I've gone into the shittiest looking dump and gotten a bagel better than outside the tristate area. (Yes the water is what makes it great, it's been proven and it makes the pizza great too).

Personally, my favorite is Tompkins Square Bagels as i lived next to it for many many years. Bagel purists shut upppppp i don't wanna hear it!! They churn out bagels pretty frequently so you're likely to get a hot one! DONT get it toasted, especially if its a fresh bagel. It'll be perfect on it's own, but do what you must to enjoy it. You MUST however get an everything bagel, scallion cream cheese is optional but it's highly recommended. If they have it, the french toast bagel is wild and kind of sacrilegious, but soooooo fucking good if it's warm. get plain or if you wanna develop diabetes, birthday cream cheese if they got it.

Russ & Daughters - an absolute knockout place, both the storefront/bagel shop and the restaurant. It's incredibly stylized to evoke old school LES bagel counters of yore, but the quality is unmatched. There is usually a line, so i don't really emphasize this as a MUST GO place, as new yorkers don't wait in lines lol. But weekdays you might fare better! If you're a lox person, this is the place to get your bagel and lox. (i'm not, which is blasphemous to my jewish family, but i won't turn down one from Russ and Daughters).

Gonna list my other favs here just so you have some in other neighborhood: Baz Bagels (LES), Murray's Bagels (WV), Apollo Bagels (EV), H&H (UES), Orwashers (UES & UWS), Tal Bagels (various locations).

Other Food spots that i like that are pretty classic new york food!

Daily Provisions - get the BEC (bacon, egg, & cheese) to feel like a real new yorker. it's one of the more gourmet versions, but my god it's a good one. also, go early as you can to snag a cruller. one of the BEST doughnuts in the city.

Magnolia Bakery - GO ONLY FOR THE PUDDING. the cupcakes are mid as hell, you can feel the sugar granules in the frosting, not great. Their signature banana pudding is fantastic though, and if the seasonal one sounds good to you, grab that too! they offer very small sizes so you can try both, or a big tub if you want.

Veselka - another spot i kind of am biased about because i lived near it, but it's a CLASSIC new york haunt that doesn't exist anymore for the most part elsewhere. It's a Ukrainian diner from 50s, and has typical diner food and service, but the pierogis are the star here. Any kind, go nuts. Open 24/7 and always filled with NYU kids, but still retains that city-that-never-sleeps charm somehow.

Pastrami Queen - for.... a pastrami on rye sandwich lol if that wasn't clear. Most people will send you to Katz, which is fine! It's not what it used to be, but it is a very cool experience. The pastrami is still good, and the matzoball soup is good. Knish's are a little greasy for my taste though. Best pastrami though imo is at Pastrami Queen. one on UES and one on UWS (plus a location in the new moynihan train hall) so it's not super easy to get to, but i highly rec it.

Parm - now this is my biggest cheat rec. new yorkers will read this and go, pfffft who cares about Parm? Well, i'll tell you why. You might have heard of the famed rigatoni alla vodka from carbone, which is good! but not worth the hassle of going to carbone. You CAN get it at Parm though, which is much easier to get into, cheaper, and more relaxed. They have several locations and the rest of the menu is really solid! Meatballs are great, garlic bread is fantastic, and the italian sandwich is wonderful. They've always had the rigatoni on the menu for those that knew, but only recently has the secret got out and so they changed the name to say "carbone rigatoni alla vodka." Don't go out of your way, but for a trendy new york dish you can brag about, that's a little tip from me to you.

Peter Pan Donuts and Pastry shop - LITERALLY MY FAVORITE PLACE EVER ok it is just a 50's style donut counter, and yes it is in greenpoint which makes it almost impossible to get to. HOWEVER if you manage to make it out there, you're in for a treat. Any doughnut you get is fantastic, and the pretty green interior and counters are so delightful to sit and enjoy as you get frosting/powdered sugar all over yourself. i try not to hype this place up cuz i don't want it to be even more popular than it is with locals, but for you anon i'll let you have it.

Xi'an Famous Food - a great hand-pulled and hand ripped noodle chain that is somehow still pretty authentic despite it's many locations. Great lunch spot for while you work, which most of these recs aren't lol. If the menu is overwhelming, i rec N1 and N2, or N9 if you don't love spice.

Morgansterns Ice Cream - also something you can't really go wrong with all of the Best Of lists. but this one is my absolute fav. Their traditional flavors are all exceptionally creamy and delicious, but they always have wild flavors on deck! You can't sample them, so getting a scoop is a commitment, but for fun, pick a wild one that you think you'd like and dive in. They're great at balancing flavors and making it actually delicious, not just shocking instagram fodder, so you might surprise yourself!

Los Tacos No. 1 - another trendy place that is actually worth the hype. There might be lines here as well but they move quickly, and there are many locations! A great lunch spot to grab some quick tacos, and one of the first in the city to bring al pastor to the masses. If you're mexican or come from the southwest, you might be underwhelmed or skip it altogether. but for new york, this is a shockingly fantastic mainstream taco place, and more authentic than you'd get most places.

Other than those big things, my recommendation to anyone visiting is to wander! Everything below the 80s is pretty safe, despite what you hear. The financial district shuts down daily after about 6/7 pm so avoid that for evenings mainly because it's boring. If you see something in a store, pop in! Also this list is particularly New York Staples, but it's one of the most racially and ethnically diverse places in the world. Seriously. any kind of food you want, it's here, and it's made by someone from that exact country/community. A quick google and you'll probably find whatever you're looking for.

I hope you have an amazing trip and no pressure to do anything you don't want to, honestly! Pick the things that interest you and go with your gut. It's a bottomless city and there's no definitive list of things that make it a New York Trip. Locals will tell you one thing and ex-pats will tell you another and transplants will tell you something completely different. It has something for everyone, but not everything is for everyone, is what I like to tell people. The city is YOUR playground, so do whatever you want! Just make sure to tip your drivers and servers generously and ALWAYS walk at a steady pace and on the right side of the sidewalk. ❤️

#this is a mess of things so i hope its helpful #and i hope you don't hate everything on here akldfjalsdkfjf #i tried to keep it varied but ya never know #some people come here and hate everything so lol what can you do #also sorry i took so long #but i wanted to make sure i had a good list of stuff! also i ramble as you already know if you've followed me for a long time hahaha

[unhappycylinder]

Hellfire's Newest Member (Eddie x fem!Reader) Pt. 1

Quick note: i got impatient and posted this lol. This has been on my wattpad for months and I wanted to post it here lol. This is just part 1, I've got like 16 more chapters I'll be posting soon! Lmk what y'all think

Warnings/summary: some family trauma, nothing too spicy yet, this is just backstory (and Dustin) so we can get into the good stuff next time

Masterlist

---

You stepped into your new room in Hawkins, Indiana, a town which seemed to have just about as much personality as the bottom of a shoe. Glancing around the empty, but spacious room, you thought about how many rooms just like this you had lived in before. With your dad working some secret government job, you moved around the country a lot and hardly ever had time to really settle into a space or get to know the people around you.

It felt like just when you started to get used to a routine somewhere new - finally started decorating your room and hanging out with people outside of school - your dad would be relocated and you'd have to go with him. Your mom wasn't in the picture anymore, she had been gone since you were 13, and the only explanation your dad every gave you was that "she didn't want to live this type of life anymore, and we weren't enough to keep her around," the last bit always stung when you thought about it.

Dad was quiet after mom left, and he didn't really seem to care what you did with your time as long as your grades came back fine and you weren't gone for an unreasonable amount of time. Plus, working most nights meant he hardly had the schedule to keep tabs on where you were.

Nevertheless, a fresh start in Hawkins felt necessary. The last place you had been was LA, which was waaaay too big and waaay to noisy for your taste. That was another thing that set you apart from people your age: you weren't really into parties and shopping and sports like most high school seniors were. How could you be? You were never anywhere long enough to play anything or get invited anywhere. You kept yourself busy with books, movies, music, and most of all Dungeons and Dragons.

The game which was being shunned as a satanic cult was your escape from reality and the only constant thing in your life. Yes, it was hard to find a group to play an entire campaign with, but you managed, plus your favorite part was creating characters and imagining fantastic new worlds you'd love to explore. In fact, a good amount of the boxes you brought with you, which contained everything you owned, were full of binders, manuals, books, and figurines you had collected in your years of playing.

You started unpacking, throwing your childhood stuffed animals on your queen sized bed in the corner of your room, and stacking your plentiful collection of books and movies on the floor and on your desk. You were about to pull out your favorite books - The Lord of the Rings trilogy - when your dad knocked on your door

"Hey y/n, sorry to interrupt...uh I just got called into work so I'm gonna head out, but I'll leave some money on the counter for you"

"Oh okay, thanks. Do you know when you'll be ba-"

Before you could finish, he was out the door. You shook your head and returned to your packing, hearing your dad's car drive away outside.

-----

By the time you finished packing it was already dark outside and you could hear faint talking outside your window. You walked over, pulling your curtains aside, and looked to your neighbors house to see two young boys, probably around 14-15, standing in between your house and the next. One of them was wearing a hat that said "thinking cap" on it, which you thought was funny, and the other was taller and had wavy black hair. They seemed to be arguing about something

"No Dustin, Lucas said he has his championship game tomorrow and there's no way he's gonna make it to Hellfire"

"Eddie is gonna KILL us man!"

They we're talking pretty loud, and you were pretty tired and didn't want to hear their bickering while you tried to fall asleep, so you opened your window

"Hey, idiots!"

The boys shut up instantly and looked over to you

"Listen, I really don't mean to interrupt, but I don't know who you are or who this Eddie guy is, but your bickering over him is really getting in the way of my sleep and I have had a very, very, long day of unpacking"

They looked at you, wide-eyed, before the shorter boy in the hat moved closer to your window

"Oh um, sorry, our bad. And I'm Dustin by the way, I live just there," he gestured to the house next to yours, "and this is my friend Mike"

"Pleasure, I'm y/n," you didn't want to be mean to them, so you figured you'd go ahead and introduce yourself, "well I'm gonna go get that sleep I mentioned, and please just keep your voices down."

"Aye aye, captain," Dustin said with a salute before he and Mike walked away from your window towards his house.

You closed your window, took off your sweaty clothes, turned off your light, and crawled into your new bed, nervous for your first day at school tomorrow.

----

Part 2

#eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut

[siilvan]

fortuna redux

characters (ocs): mylène "petra" scholten de ridder, freya "mini" mactavish

summary: the medic of the 141 suddenly becomes two.

genre: general, fluff, light angst?, fem!oc

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of blood/injuries, mildly superstitious stuff, they're so sister-coded...

word count: 3k

note: “but navi we want bloodsport” i know babygirls, it’s gonna be my next post 😔 i just need to be cringe with my oc first…

also big shoutout to @sofasoap for giving me the much-needed confidence to write this AND for trusting me with her beloved mini 😌 this is going to get zero notes, but idc, i wrote it for fun lol

you let out a soft breath as you sift through documents, analyzing dossiers and combat records until your eyes burn and beg for a break. it's the season of new recruits, which means late nights, early mornings, and headaches for yourself. why did you offer to train them when price asked?

probably because ghost has a track record of sending new faces running for the hills. as the one-four-one's only other commanding officer, you're the only one fit for the job. fantastic.

after a much needed break – that consisted of you laying back in your chair with a damp cloth over your eyes – you grab the next document off the pile on your desk and scan it like you did with every other. you stop short before you even finish reading the name at the top, though.

freya mactavish.

surely, it can't be...

you flip through the pages of the dossier, blinking at the information that only served to confirm your suspicions. scottish, twenty-two years old, combat medic, has an older brother in the special forces...

"no fucking way." you mumble, staring at the picture attached to the file. you recognize her from pictures that soap's shown you over the years – she is, without a doubt, the "mini" he's told you so much about. why haven't you heard about the transfer request until now?

when you come across the combat records, the reason is glaringly clear. she hardly passed on all fronts; if she was any other recruit, this file wouldn't have even made it to your desk. she can't match the rest of the team in the field, you'd all end up slowing down to accommodate her. it's nothing that can't be fixed with dedicated training, but with how precious the task force's time is, you simply don't have the time to bring new recruits up to speed.

with a quiet groan, you push back from your desk and gather up the files on her, heading out the door and padding down the hall towards price's office.

you round the corner and spot him unlocking the door, his back facing you.

"captain!" you call out from down the corridor, catching his attention. price turns to look at you, pausing with the door held open as you approach.

"you're up early, petra." he comments, reminding you to glance at the time. five am— shit, you spent the whole night pouring over those files. "got something for me?" he continues, pulling your focus back to him.

you nod, waving the document folder at him. "i've got some questions about one of these recruits."

his eyes flick between you and the folder, before a low chuckle escapes him. "think i might know who you're talking about." he mutters, motioning for you to follow him into his office.

he shuts the door behind you and clicks the lock shut before circling around his desk and settling in his chair. you sit across from him and lay the files out, starting when he nods for you to speak.

"i'm assuming you've connected the dots between the surnames?" you ask, earning an affirmative hum. "you've known soap longer than i have, so maybe this makes sense to you, but—" you flip through the pages of the dossier and slide it towards him, pointing out the large boxes of redacted information with two companies logos plastered at the top of the page. "—i can understand mi6's involvement with this, but what does the cia want with a low-ranking british soldier?"

price leans back in his chair and drags his eyes from the document to you. "it's a long story." he shrugs, pulling a frustrated huff from you.

"come on, price, don't give me that." you reply, shaking your head. "soap's never mentioned anything like this. is there something i need to be worried about if we recruit her?"

his tongue darts out and wets his lips as he lets out a noise, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "even i don't have all the information, scholten. all i know is that she's damn good at what she does." he sits up straight and thumbs through the dossier, glancing over it like he's already familiar with the contents. he probably is.

"you've been tripling as this team's commander, medic, and medical intelligence expert since its formation. you've already got ghost and myself to handle most of the leadership, but you need someone to help with the rest." he asserts, unclipping the picture from the rest of the stack and holding it up to face you. "you need the assistance and she's reliable. trust me on this."

you blink at the photo, then at him. "she barely passed any of the physical tests – even her marksmanship scores were average at best. there's other medics with better scores, captain. i know we cherish family on this team, but i'm not willing to send someone unequipped onto the battlefield."

price sets the picture down and sighs, low and heavy in his chest. "did you see what she's called?" he asks.

you furrow your brows at him. "something like... what was it, 'lady fortuna?' what does that have to do with this?"

"lady luck, lieutenant. she doesn't look like much on paper, but whenever she's in the field, people always come back. the only person that serves to suffer when she's working is herself." he smiles as a noise of confusion tumbles from your lips.

"never pegged you as the superstitious type," you start, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching the bridge of your nose. "that isn't reassuring, anyway. i can't risk having a soldier, especially family, die under my watch, even if it means the rest of the team makes it home unscathed."

price places a firm hand on your shoulder, jostling you and forcing you to look at him again. "it's your refusal to let her die that'll keep her alive." he mutters, and the plan in his mind finally clicks with you.

she'll keep you from working yourself to death. you'll keep her from dying in her work.

a mutual safety net.

price, you clever bastard.

"you were never going to let me say 'no,' were you?" you cock your head to the side, slumping back in your chair.

he shrugs, mirroring your position and producing a cigar from one of his pockets. "i always respect your judgement." he lights it and places it between his lips. you move to gather the documents and stand, before he snaps his fingers, remembering something. "a transport just picked her up, by the way. she'll be here in a few hours."

you pause mid-action and glower at him. "guess i should get started on the training schedule, then."

⋆⋆⋆

"corporal freya mactavish, reporting for duty, ma'am."

you eye the younger woman curiously, noticing the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, shrinking a bit under your scrutiny.

bright blue eyes, just like her brother. she's a few inches shorter than yourself, about five-four according to her files, and you feel yourself soften a bit at the glimmer in her eyes – a soldier desperately wanting to be acknowledged. again, it reminds you of soap.

"so, you're the new recruit?" you regard her with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. when she visibly relaxes from her stiff stance, you turn to price. "i'll take care of her, captain."

price uncrosses his arms and chuckles. "don't be so quick to write her off, petra. who knows, she might end up surprising you." he says, tapping your arm and giving mini an encouraging nod, before walking out of the room and leaving the two of you alone.

you turn back to her and rest your hands on your hips, silently studying her again. you don't miss the puff of her chest under her vest when she inhales deeply and opens her mouth to speak.

"you can call me mini, lieutenant," she utters, the stiffness from earlier returning, her shoulders locking up as she stands more straight. "i know i'm not much of a soldier, but..." she trails off, her gaze flitting from yours to the empty space between you.

your brows furrow as you tilt forward. "but?" you repeat, urging her to continue.

she drags her focus back to your face, but still avoids looking directly into your eyes. "my brother's told me a lot of stories about you, and... i swear, i won't disappoint you."

she's sheepish, hands flexing as she confirms her statement, and you almost let the pity you feel flash across your face. she's so similar, yet so different from her brother. every word is said like she has something to prove; to you or herself, you're not sure.

"we'll have to swap stories sometime," you start, stepping closer to place your hands on her shoulders. "soap's always going on about you, he's very proud." you assure her with a gentle squeeze. mini rolls her eyes at it, but smiles nonetheless.

"i hope he hasn't mentioned any embarrassing childhood stories..." she mutters.

you pull back, recalling the many stories the sergeant's told about his family since joining the squad. "just a few. we can share those later, we've got a busy day ahead of us."

⋆⋆⋆

you had hoped the combat records would be out of date, but to your chagrin, they reflected mini's performance well.

her shots are hitting the target... most of the time, at least. you've had to correct her stance and grip more than once, give her several basic tips— so now, you're standing behind her, eyeing the target over her shoulder, your fingers twitching at your sides as you watch her form slip again. before you can correct it, however, she pauses and shifts, fixing her posture and adjusting her grip on her rifle.

it's been three hours, but she's showing some improvement, you think to yourself, the edges of your lips twitching up.

mini lowers her gun after emptying another clip and lifts the headphones from her ears, turning to you. "what do you think?" she asks, searching your face for approval.

you take off your own headphones and step closer, squinting at the target. most of the bullet holes lie around the edges, near misses, or scattered around the torso of the silhouette. there's a handful of headshots, but for three hours of work, it isn't enough.

"you're getting better," you sigh, facing her once more. her face drops and you rub the side of her arm in a small attempt at comfort. "you just need more practice, is all. that's why i'm here."

she huffs and shakes her head, setting her rifle on the counter. "you're supposed to be leading me in the infirmary and the field, not holding my hand through the basics, lieutenant." she complains in a low grumble, crossing her arms tight over her chest. your eyes narrow as your hand drops back to your side; you know her frustration lies with her performance, not you.

mini trails close behind your right shoulder, listening intently as you rattle off the list of activities for the day. basic marksmanship, physical tests, close-quarters combat... things that the rookies even younger than her are working on.

"you aren't going to be seeing as much action as the boys or myself, but you still need to be capable enough to defend yourself if necessary." you say, stopping in front of the door to the shooting range.

she hums, standing in front of you. "i know i'm not as skilled as the rest of you, but i can hold my own." she replies, furrowing her brow.

"i'm not clearing you for duty until you show some major improvement." you assert. her eyes widen, pupils turning into small saucers, before the crease in her forehead returns.

"lieutenant, you can’t—"

"i can," you state, perhaps a bit too stern, as the rest of her rebuttal immediately dies on her tongue. "price put you under my watch for a reason. i can't in good conscience send you out underprepared." you continue, softening to a low murmur.

mini merely stares at you, the gears turning in her head. after several seconds of this, finally, she relents with a barely-audible exhale.

"let's do this, then."

the sound of an irritated groan brings you back to the moment. you look just in time to see mini lean back against a nearby wall, her head tilting back and knocking lightly against the surface. she shuts her eyes and breathes in deeply, prompting you to go quiet as she steadies herself.

once her eyelids flutter open again, you speak. "let's take a break, yeah?" you give her a tight-lipped smile. "we can worry about the physical and close-combat tests later. we have plenty of time."

mini eyes you for a few seconds, deep blue irises swimming with about a hundred different emotions, cascading across the surface like waves crashing against jagged rocks during a storm. you've never seen so much conflict in soap, even in his worst times – whatever she's feeling clearly goes deeper than irritation over slow progress.

"how about we hang out? get to know each other a bit?" you suggest, brushing past the observation.

she seems to ease up at your words, her fingers interlacing in front of herself as she silently considers a response. a short, yet eager, nod of her head brings a more genuine smile to your lips.

you find yourself comfortably settled in on one of the worn couches in the common room after cleaning up the range, leaning back against the arm of the couch to face mini as you talk to her, mug of steaming tea in-hand.

"johnny's never been pleased with me following in his footsteps," she confesses after taking a healthy sip of her tea, her legs crossed under the blanket you haphazardly slung across your laps.

you hum, lowering your mug to rest atop your knee. "can't blame him. once you're in this field, you stop wanting your family close." you chuckle, before adding, "i wasn't particularly happy when my brother joined the forces, so i get where he's coming from."

mini grumbles into the rim of her cup and sends you a half-hearted glare. "i'm perfectly capable, though." she mutters, earning another curt laugh from you.

"i'm not saying you're not – even though there's still a lot to improve on – but, think about his perspective." you lean forward, motioning with your hands as you continue. "his little sister, who sounds very prone to injury and bad luck, going into such a dangerous line of work? i'm surprised he doesn't have you attached to his keychain."

you both pause, waiting to see who concedes in the argument first, before another thought crosses your mind. "speaking of luck," you start, catching the raised brow she sends your way. "ever since i read your files, i keep hearing about this whole 'lady fortuna' thing. even the captain's pretty convinced you're lucky."

another beat of silence passes as you both sip on your tea. you eye mini curiously as her eyes dart anywhere but your face, avoidant, but not nervous by any means.

"i don't want to sound like i'm bragging, especially in front of you," she trails off, only perking up again once you dismiss her concerns with a wave of your hand. "i guess, uh... i've been told that i've got this knack for bringing soldiers home unscathed, even on dangerous operations that should end with casualties. it's become something of an urban legend." she says, eyes settling on the steam rising from her cup.

"and yet, you are always getting injured. guess the luck comes at a price, huh?" you comment off-handedly.

her mug lightly clacking against the table nearby catches your focus, drawing you back to her as she wrings her hands together.

"when one person's fortune rises, another falls," she utters, looking focused as ever as the words leave her lips. "bearing misfortune is the cost of giving good fortune to those around me."

for a second, you almost think she's joking. harmless superstitions exist everywhere in life, but this is a new for you – not only is mini convinced of it, but even the captain believes it to some extent.

when her eyes drag up to meet your gaze, you feel a pang in your chest.

the zero-sum game. one party's advantage is equal to another's disadvantage. mini's misfortune is equal in value to the good fortune of those around her. what could possibly match the value of saving lives, though?

death isn't the opposite reaction; to lose the fortune entirely is a worse fate. suffering is a fate worse than death for the benefactor— it's perpetual, iterative, something that would stick around for the rest of her life. save a life and have your own ruined, it's an equal trade. you set your cup aside and reach forward to wrap your hands around hers, holding them in a loose grip.

"let's split the cost." you murmur.

mini blinks at you, confused. "what?"

you squeeze her hands gently, warming when she mirrors it. "there's no sense in one person bearing the world's misfortune alone. i'll carry some of it and you'll save some of that luck for yourself."

she shakes her head and retracts her hands, sitting up straight and leaving you leaning forward. "i don't think that's how it works, lieutenant. it's not something you can just give or take." she stutters out, stifling a nervous chuckle.

"it works that way if we say it does. you can give out as much luck as you need and we'll bear the burden of it together." you take another sip of your tea and let out a low sigh. "i won't take 'no' for an answer, from you or from fate." you add a moment later.

mini giggles, finally giving in with an affirmative nod and a "yes ma'am" escaping her amidst the giggles.

you don't believe in superstitions about luck or fate. the choices a person makes is what defines them, not a third party pulling the strings. however, if it'll bring her some comfort, then you're happy to bear whatever misfortune you can. at the end of the day, keeping your team safe is more important than shallow beliefs.

as a bright grin crosses her face, you make a silent vow with yourself.

you won't let her suffer.

whatever it takes, you'll bring her home safe.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod fanfiction #cod original character #cod oc #cod ocs #task force 141 #tf 141 #mylène “petra” scholten de ridder #freya “mini” mactavish #sylph.writes

[ateezivy]

minvy from the eyes of ateez pt. 1

minvy take 1: cooking

ivy isn’t a greatest cook in the world, but she isn’t bad. she mostly cooks the easy things like eggs and pancakes. but with wooyoung cooking more and more, she suddenly feels the desire to learn more. and of course her best friend is more than welcome to help.

“you’re doing great so far�� wooyoung complimented while patting her head “i have to use the bathroom, but just keep slowly stirring and don’t change the heat.”

“okay” ivy nods and smiles, feeling proud of herself. the older smiles and leaves the kitchen while another member enters.

“don’t distract her” wooyoung warns so ‘seriously’ that it made ivy giggle. mingi raises his hands in defense and promises not to distract her.

once wooyoung is clear from the kitchen, mingi runs over to where ivy is slowly stirring some special sauce that mingi thinks smells incredible. he wraps his arms around her from behind, and rests his chin on her head.

“i’m here to distract you” he kind of jokes

“mingi, no!” she laughs, trying to pull him away “i wanna do well”

“okay okay” mingi laughs with her “but i’m staying put”

ivy playfully rolls her eyes while they continue small talk with each other. mingis head was now hung down beside hers, his posture probably looked funky but he didn’t seem to care and neither did his girlfriend. “how’s your day been, lovely?”

“good, sleeping in was fantastic” she giggled, making her boyfriend do the same. that’s just something he loved about ivy, her laughs and smiles were just so contagious.

wooyoung walked back into the kitchen quietly, not wanting to disturb the couple. they’ve been through so much, and with their hectic schedules they hardly get time alone together. he didn’t want to ruin that. but, he could not pass up taking a picture. which he will regret in two seconds when the couple here’s his shutter go off. but he doesn’t even care to be honest.

“i’m saving this for your anniversary”

minvy take 2: grumpy

“i told you taking her out when she didn’t want to would just lead to her being grumpy drunk” seonghwa smacked yunho’s arm with a slight smile.

all the members looked at the only girl in the group. she was quite adorable when she was grump. she just sat there with a cute little pout that cause her cheeks to puff, and because of her current alcohol intake her face is flushed and her eyes are dazing off.

“you okay, love?” mingi tries to hold back a laugh while putting a hand on her thigh. “do you wanna go home”

“no, iss fine” she says drunkenly. the group all chuckles while ivy gives them all a hard and obvious side eye.

“why are you so grumpy livvy” jongho questions and rubbed her back.

“‘m nottt” she mumbled.

“okay, let’s leave her be” hongjoong smiled as he got up to get more drinks for the rest of the group and something with bread to help sober ivy up. as he passes the girl he rubs her head and gives her a kiss on the top of it. for a second she almost smiles until she realized her leader was leaving the group

“where he going?” she asked mingi a little panicked. the rest of the group was out in their own world, talking about lord knows what. when ever ivy gets drunk in public, mingi always makes sure to stay sober. his girlfriend always complains, saying he should be able to get drunk too if he wants. but he insists he doesn’t want to and would rather look after her. being an idol that’s drunk in public can be risky, so there’s always one or two members that stay sober in public to keep everyone in check. that’s just how it is.

“he’s just going to get more drinks and food, baby, he’ll be back” he says softly as he cuddles closer to her. his arm wraps around her waist as he kisses her on the cheek. “do you wanna go home?”

“everyone’s having fun. i’ll stay” she said, her words would probably only make sense to the group from how intoxicated she was. “more?”

“no i think you’re done for now, baby” her boyfriend chuckles and kisses her nose when her pout becomes even more prominent.

yunho looks from across them with a fond smile. mingi smothers her cheek with kisses as she sits there with a frown. “min” he gets his best gets his attention while holding his phone up for a picture.

mingi chuckles and puts one hand on one cheek and gives her other cheek and open mouth kiss, if you can even call it that, resulting in her face being squished. yunho takes the picture before mingi moves away slightly to look at ivy, who is giving him a glare.

“i wanna go home”

minvy take 3: skincare

hongjoong, mingi, and jongho were all invited to ivy’s room for a skincare night. in reality, all members were invited but no one wanted to so she forced them to. but that’s besides the point.

“who first?” she smiled as she brought in all her products from her bathroom bag. she had everything from acne treatments to face masks to some type of oils that the boys seemed scared of.

“mingi” hongjoong and jongho said at the same time. mingi looked at them with betrayal but let ivy drag him out of her bed, which at that point might as well been their bed.

“do i have to?” mingi whined

“yes, and they do too they just thought if you were first they wouldn’t have to” she glared at them making sure they stay still.

it’s kind of funny how the strict leader and the strongest member are scared of their youngest and only female member.

ivy and jongho are two of the closest members. they are best friends and have been since they met. so jongho has always been her biggest supporter with everything she does. especially this relationship.

mingi and ivy are laughing about about something as she puts on some type of scream on his cheek. jongho thought it was the perfect time for a picture. so he pulls out his phone and snapped it. the two turn their heads to looks at him.

“this is a good one”

taglist: @atolua @skzfairies @itzy-eve @cixrosie @stopeatread @alixnsuperstxr @smh-anon

#❛ ━━ ✿ ❪ OLIVIA MIN ˗ˏˋ scenarios. ´ˎ˗ ❫ ✿ ━━ ❜ #ivy #minvy #ateez #kpop added member #ateez 9th member #kpop oc #hongjoong #ateez added member #mingi #jongho #san #kpop imagine #kpop addition #kpop fanfic #kpop boys #kpop #oc addition #kpop female oc #ateez female oc #ateez oc #ateez fanfic #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #additional member #added member #addition #fictional idol oc

[cuppajj]

Guy who can't draw environments does their best to describe what the colony and cities look like

So I can't draw landscapes for the life of me (yet) so it would be back breakingly hard to draw what this place looks like, but I'll do my best to explain and also compile a set of pictures that gives you a good idea!

TL;DR: the planet the colony is in is lifeless, rocky, and dry, but deep underneath are caverns filled with plant life where the civilization lies. Towns and cities are a fusion of traditional cybertronian and fantasy elements, with the capital being the fanciest and most fantastical.

There's little to no life on the surface of the planet. It's dry, dusty, and almost entirely flat, save for a few mountain ranges. You'd be forgiven for trusting your radar and believing that there's nothing of interest on this planet at all, but if you were to ignore it and take a closer look, land your ship and explore, then you'd find that situated among the sparse hills and ravines are entrances into deep and intricate cave systems, some marked by a ring of stones.

The caves stretch down and out for miles, and they look how they typically do on a place like Earth. Dark rocks, tight spaces, stalagmites and stalagtites. It's almost enough to deter a regular cave explorer from venturing further. However, The further down you go, the more you begin to see streams, glowing rocks, and eventually, plant life. Moss, ivy, mushrooms, and curiously pretty flowers. Soon the caves are filled with flora, thick trees and fresh air, luminescent rocks placed along the ceiling to illuminate like sunlight through the leaves. There are no longer cramped and tight rooms and tunnels as everything opens up, and when you reach different clearings, you can sometimes hardly tell you're underground at all. You've officially entered the colony; and from there on, the lush caverns will only increase in pure spectacle and beauty. It's like stepping into another world.

Here are ideas of what the lush caves look like:

The towns and cities themselves vary, some fancier, some simpler, some horizontal and some vertical. The colony's architecture resembles cybertronian design, but is also uniquely fantasy-like. Homes can be modeled after flowers, mushrooms, and rocks, and some inhabitants even carve their homes into the cavern walls themselves. Cities similarly have a fantasy-sci-fi fusion, with architecture that blends cybertronian and fantastical elements. Their plans are like the plans of any normal city, divided into districts, with certain sectors having a common category for their businesses. There's an arts district, a textiles and jewelry district, and a science district in the capital, for example. Interspersed are residential buildings and homes, and streets paved with stone in a leaf or floral pattern. Markets and small businesses are everywhere. The main forms of transportation are monorails that run through (and/or up) the city, and canals of groundwater that eventually lead out of cities and into large lakes, which are popular places for residents to visit.

The capital is the largest and fanciest. While its more outer sections have traditional colonial architecture, the closer you get to the heart of the city, the titan herself, the more ornate the buildings become. Colored windows, fancy lampposts, homes and businesses constructed from smooth light stone, covered roof to base in flora. Titan's Guard patrol the corner of every street, and it's here where you'll see the aristocratic class strutting about in fancy silks and ununtrium jewelry. Venture far into this district, and you'll eventually reach a giant, heavily guarded gate that no one is allowed to pass through; because through there are the Sacred Grounds, home to the Titan and her cityspeaker.

Lastly, it’s advised you don’t try to squeeze into any dark or suspicious-looking cracks, though; they’re just out of your sight as you traverse the lush outskirts of the cities, but they’re there. Those ever-changing entrances lead you into what’s known as the Darklands, where the shady, criminal, and deplorable fester in secret, waiting to strike any unfortunate passerby who didn’t stick to the main path.

(some of these aren't underground but imagine that they are)

Cities/Towns: x x x x x

#all this worldbuilding and still no name for anything LOL #unnamed colony world #cjj sayeth #maccadam #transformers #transformers oc #sorry if this doesn’t give you an idea of what this place looks like lol

[kpforpresident]

Ok ok ok one is a peds nurse one is an er nurse and they get huffy puffy about the importance of their specialties

this is probably longer than it needs to be but as a nurse I consider it my duty, ok? ok.

///

Clarke stood in the crowded hospital lobby, silently fuming as she waited to pick up her mobile coffee order. The barista hardly blinked anymore when she picked up her quad-shot latte, having visually scanned her rumpled navy scrubs the first time she showed up and then dashed off again with her extremely espresso heavy latte, needing a pick-me-up four hours into what ended up being a 16+ hour shift. Working in a 24 hour coffee shop nestled firmly within a level 1 trauma hospital, she was sure he’d seen weirder. Clarke threw a quick glance at the watch that hung off the teal stethoscope around her neck- she had another ten minutes before she had to go and rejoin the chaos that was the Peds ER during cold/RSV season. 

Just as she stepped up to the register, a slim hand snaked around her to press her credit card to the card reader, paying for her much-needed caffeine with a quiet beep. The green-aproned cashier smiled at the generous tip as he gave a thankful nod to the woman who stood so close behind Clarke that she could feel the heat emanating off of her figure, the fruity note of her shampoo wafting through the air. Clarke raised an unimpressed eyebrow, already knowing who would be behind her when she turned. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Lex. I’m a big girl, I can buy my own coffee.” Clarke spoke into her drink  as she handed back the tall iced matcha latte that had appeared on the coffee bar next to her own drink, knowing instinctively it was for the brunette next to her. Lexa hastily paid for her own beverage as she chased down the colorful hallway after Clarke, her matte black stethoscope swinging in its holster that sat jauntily on her left hip as she broke into a quick jog. 

A gentle hand snagged Clarke’s elbow, prompting her to slow her aggressively fast walk to a meander. She aquised as she turned back to Lexa, eyebrow cocked sarcastically as she took in the nurse in front of her. 

Lexa looked perfect, as always, despite being halfway through what Clarke knew was a perpetually challenging PICU shift. Black scrubs hung on a lithe frame, braids and a half ponytail pulling dark wavy hair away from a stunning face. Colorful pens were neatly lined up in her thigh pocket, her badge swinging with a rolodex of inotrope doses and insulin dosing windows, a smiling, younger Lexa grinning out from a faded hospital badge picture. A monogrammed Patagonia vest covered her top half, unzipped so a hint of a defined collarbone peeked out from the v of her scrub top. 

“I promised you when we started orientation all those years ago, I would buy your coffee whenever I trespassed on your turf. And I certainly did today.” Lexa smiled as she talked, those gentle green eyes alight on Clarke’s face as she took in Clarke’s sour expression. She took a calm sip of her green drink as she waited for Clarke’s response, a playful smile tugging on the corner of her mouth. 

Clarke scuffed a worn converse against the sparkly hospital floor, chancing another glance at her watch as she worked through her answer very carefully. 

“I don’t know why Kane consulted PICU team on that case, anyway- we had it well in hand.” Clarke spoke sullenly to her feet as she took a seat in the lobby, the emergency room entrance visible across the large, brightly lit space. While Arkadia General wasn’t as new as some of the other hospitals, the pediatric center was bright, well lit, and colorful. Cartoon figures danced down the wall, fantastical shapes dangling from the main atrium ceiling. Clarke still remembered the awe she felt walking through the doors as a new grad, eyes glued to the ceiling as she walked breathlessly into the lobby. And somehow, smack into Lexa. That was four years ago. 

In the present day, Lexa’s large eyes rounded incredulously as she leaned against a nearby wall, crossing her ankle as she slouched slightly. 

“Clarke, that kid had a massive tension pneumo, he needed a stat intubation and double chest tubes secondary to a needle aspiration so he didn’t die in the triage room, in front of his incredibly distraught mother. You already had two intubated patients and two other RSV cases, we have a top level PICU in this hospital so you don’t have to deal with that shit four feet from the front entrance.” 

Lexa peeked at her watch as she finished her sentence, running a frustrated hand across her face. Clarke guessed her lunch break was almost over as well. Deep down Clarke knew that Lexa was right, that the little boy had needed to be rushed to PICU so he could get the care he needed, but something grated across her chest whenever she felt like she needed to be rescued. She was a critical care nurse too, dammit. 

So what if her lines were always tangled. 

Clarke blew out a frustrated breath, glancing to the entrance of the ER where she could see Octavia glaring at her, pointing to her bare wrist as if to say, tick tok, bitch. She could tell by the incrasing furrow in her brow that this wasn’t the first time she had tried to get Clarke’s attention. 

“Damn, I have to go, it’s O’s turn to eat and she has a cardiac kiddo that needs to be watched until your people can come grab him and prep him for consult. I gotta go, anyway- I have a hot date tonight that I need to get out of here on time to get ready for.”

Clarke started walking as she spoke, flipping around so she could still face Lexa as she retreated. Her teasing smile let the intensive care nurse know that she wasn’t truly pissed- just a bit of friendly competition. 

Lexa’s eyes twinkled as she watched Clarke retreat, rounding the corner to punch the elevator that would take her up to the sixth floor, where the PICU resided tucked in next to the NICU. 

“A hot date, eh? Lucky woman,” Lexa called jokingly as she disappeared out of sight. 

“You have no idea,” Clarke shouted back as she entered back into the chaos. 

//

Clarke sighed as she rubbed ruefully at her neck, wincing as the clock on her phone glared accusingly at her- 9:45 pm, almost three full hours later than she was meant to clock out. She sorted through her keys to find her apartment key, treading lightly through the darkened apartment as she shucked off her birkenstocks and peeled off her socks. Clarke had changed into her spare set of clothes she kept in her locker after work today, opting to shower in the hospital locker room. 

She had forgotten how bloody multi-victim MVAs could get. 

A warm muted glow shone from the one green lampshade in the living room, casting a light over the lump on the couch. A smile tugged on Clarke’s lips as she trudged tiredly over to it, weariness gnawing on her bones. She skimmed a gentle hand over the small amount of hair that was exposed from the knit covering, murmuring a hello as the shape moved and eventually emerged, blinking blearily. 

“Hi, baby,” Lexa whispered as she visibly shook off the sleep that clung to her eyes, running a soothing hand down Clarke’s arm as she sat on the very edge of the couch. 

“Hi, love. I’m sorry I didn’t call, my phone died as I was heading out to the car and I forgot my damn charger. All hands on deck were needed and I didn’t want to leave them until the kiddo was stabilized. I’m sorry I ditched date night.” Clarke left her hand on Lexa’s face, needing the contact after a long day. Lexa nodded sleepily as she turned her lips to Clarke’s palm, pressing a comforting kiss there. 

“S’ok. I get it, it isn’t the first time for either of us and it won’t be the last. I ordered Thai from that place you love, your curry is in the fridge and I stopped on the way home from work and got that seasonal beer you like, the pumpkin one. Do you want me to reheat it while you get changed?” 

Lexa swung herself up, tucking her hands into Clarke’s old sweatshirt as she righted herself and pushed off, brushing a soft kiss to Clarke’s lips as she padded towards the kitchen. Clarke smiled fondly at the worn piece of clothing ,white letters emblazoned on the maroon background. 

“Sure, baby, that sounds good. I love you. Thanks for understanding. ” Clarke stripped off her hoodie as she stood, heading towards their bedroom, the promise of PJs and a hot meal before falling into bed so enticing she could cry. 

Lexa leaned against the worn door frame, a smile lighting up her face as she soaked in Clarke’s words, said quietly but no less fervently. The back light danced around her figure, tiny baby hairs haloed around her face. 

“I love you too, Clarke. Thanks for letting me come and play in your kingdom today, I love seeing you at work. My badass angel of death.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes at the voice that floated through the apartment as she changed quickly, taking her wet hair down from her bun as she moved through the rooms to drape herself around Lexa’s frame dramatically. The fragrant scent of curry shimmered through the room, Lexa reheating it in a battered saucepan as she handed Clarke a frosty beer. 

“Don’t you forget it,” Clarke muttered into the toasty hairs that played at the nape of Lexa’s neck, smiling playfully as goosebumps decorated the soft skin. 

Lexa turned again to press another kiss to her tired wife, lending her support for what she knew had been a taxing and most likely traumatizing end of shift. They stood in their little bubble, silently taking comfort from each other as the moon shone brightly through the curtained windows, sole witness to the soft love and support that poured from the apartment.

#clexa #anon prompt #kpprompts #nurse!clexa