#Oc reader

[moonbeammist]

The Peasant's Secret (Part 1)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

PAIRINGS: Feyd Rautha x Fem!Fighter!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: I drew heavy inspiration from the Dune Soundtrack, especially the Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Suite by Hans Zimmer (avail on youtube atm)- truly sets the mood and tone for the story if you wanna have a listen. I appreciate this community of writers/readers! Any feedback and thoughts are most welcome! This is going to be a multi-chapter fic.

WARNINGS: (Mostly for 2nd Chapter): (Adults only 18+) profanity, extreme violence, gore, sadism, masochism, dubious consent, erotic undertones, heavy petting, reader is a fighter who get's extremly hurt, bigotry against the poor, very immersive, intimacy, touching, feyd-rautha is his sick self, public humiliation

SYNOPSIS: Hailing from the Planet Caladan as a rice cultivator who somehow ended up at the Harkonnen Arena, You know two things to be true.. 1. You are peasant scum and 2. You are going to try something that's never been done on the battlefield.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k words

You were in a colorless oasis. It wasn't really an oasis in the scenery sense; it was an oasis in the sense that it felt like a bottomless void, a strange, deafening dream. It was an oasis because it didn't feel like reality. A desolate vision to where no judging eyes would befall you as you threw your whole self, your body, into its ultimate test. That’s how they all made their mark here, isn’t it?

You reflect on Giedi Prime's obscure, bone-dry alternate reality to your home planet of Caladan - you were of peasant descent in the lush, grassy, biodiverse settlements. You and your mother had strengths in labour as rice planters, trading their services to the wealthy nobles in exchange for military protection. A life of labour and sweat in the rice fields, the economy depended on their work, as such, they had little free time.

Stepping foot into the outdoors, the crunch of your cheaply-made, scraggly brown boots is heard as you line up with the rest of the prisoners. The earth smelled of crust, rot, and blood. You somewhat know where you're supposed to end up as Harkonnen soldiers round you up, but at the same time, you haven’t got a clue where you’ll be settling before battle. Wide, dark tunnels arch over the sand like a protective roof against the beating black sun.  You've been given the finest privilege to represent your low-status family members in a brutal and bloody ceremony where this pale, ghostly Harkonnen House cuts you down, down into the dirt. A death deemed worthy. 

A death is worthy when you die with passion because you’re trying - kicking and screaming. It's a beautiful way to go because you feel everything.

The height of your human complexities is shown at the forefront - pushing yourself, testing yourself.. You who initially thought fighting was for those who have a reason to fight, like for political gain and power, defending your home and planets among the stars. However, you have never felt so alive, representing the absolute bottom of the barrel. What joy it would be to see an enemy fall from not hand-to-hand combat, not brute force, but peasant trickery. 

This is worth something.

That’s what you tell yourself. What else can you cling to? You were living for the cultivation of rice before you came here.

Horns erupt in a deep, haunting bass. The ground is shaking. Shaking with such strength that your feet stumble forward, knees scraping the grainy, white sand. Your hands bite into the sand. A guttural song emits from the speakers suddenly, the force of it hitting your chest like a bang. Your body stutters.

Your fellow no-name fighters eyes snap at your movements. Hushed chuckles erupt over the heavy bass. You feel slightly embarrassed as you quickly stumble back up and rub the grainy sand away from your knees and palms. Your eyes narrow.

This is all of your first times, all of your fellow fighters' first essential phases into proving yourself worthy to Harkonnens. Granted, you were vermin first, something to gawk at, something like cattle. As far as you heard from your briefing on the way here, this whole spectacle was based on a test round. If you pass your initial testing round, then - maybe, just maybe, you can live in comfort. There was not much more elaboration than that. Either get cut down, sliced down, gutted down -  or prosper. So why do you feel like you're the only one on edge? You’re in your head too much.

Because I might fucking die.

You swallow that thought down, burying it deep in your stomach, where it should stay.

Underneath the arena, there is a place where the Harkonnen soldiers stop - a small, enclosed burrow tucked away from sight, away from the audience members that fill the seats of the large dome-like sphere of the arena. Through the dark, enclosed area you can make out the bleached atmosphere stretched and rounded out, seeing several egg-like craniums darting up and down in the stands. Their eyes were like inky, beady pools of onyx - almost insect-like. They were thrashing in excitement, the low murmur of chatter and whooping heard.

You look around to your peers. There is nothing really notable about any of you. Dressed in meek wool, burlap, or loin cloth. Prepped with various weapon satchels latched onto waists or knees. You have no advanced shields or armour, that is true. As suicidal as that may seem against these elite brutes, It’s what you represent that really matters. The peasant trickery you have up your sleeve.

You were an only child born to common people. In the small moments, you would take to the hills with your mother and run and play. Your mother's long, flowing hair would crack like a whip against the wind behind her, in a game of “cat and mouse," as she would call it. You would try to grasp at the ends of her hair - your mother's high, sing-songy laughter echoing in the distance as you chased her.

You did not know your father - just that he was a passing tradesman who fell in love with your mother’s quirks and tenacity for adventure; in the odd breaks she could have them between planting rice grain. They spent 6 months together, you heard, and it was passionate. But he could not stay on this planet.

Your mother did not know if he was alive. But despite him leaving, she spoke fondly of him.  “He defied appearances. They thought of him as a simple, dull man in the trades, a grunt. But his intellect was his greatest secret.”

You supposed that maybe you were that small reminder of him to her, as her description of your father shadowed your mother’s slow moulding of your personality over the years. A weak, feeble rice labourer by appearances, always dressed in brown, murky colours to disappear. She did not want anyone to notice you at first glance; let that be your first safety. If they must stumble on you or pester your forgettable existence, you must keep up the act at first glance. You were scared, you were begging for your life like a common peasant. If they continue to prod and seek to damage or harm you, they would pry open the bottle of secrets that came spilling out of you in this fight-or-flight scenario.

You had a lot to learn and a lot to process as Caladan civilians. The threat of Caladan’s as well as other planets' potential hostile nature was something you were keenly aware of, a foot on your back of sorts, as you couldn’t do anything formidle to stop an enemy. 

The peasants, not permitted to use weapons or obtain shields or anything of the sort, could only offer you certain wisdom that was passed among the peoples. One they passed to your mother’s watchful eye and then onto you. They call it the peasant’s secret.

The art of dodging.

“Remember the game of cat and mouse?” You remember your mother’s voice barely over a whisper as she lay beside you one night in woolly sleeping bags on the soft greenery beneath you. The weather was hot enough to enjoy a night outside.  The flow of the river’s stream is heard against her.

You haven’t used the peasant’s secret in awhile. You primarily used it against your mother and your fellow people, as they would take turns throwing you into mock battles. They didn’t have any weapons, but they did collide, push, and throw themselves into your body at full speed, so you had to react quickly. 

They did push you to the limit. Bless them. Until you were an exhausted heap of limbs on the ground and had the wind knocked out of you.

You knew that wasn’t as valuable as practicing it against someone who genuinely wanted to kill you. You didn’t know if the peasant’s secret had successfully saved someone’s life against a brutal attack or if it was just used as a quick get-away.

So yes, you could fall into the trap of thinking you knew what you were doing when, in reality, it was based on instinct. Of course, the arena was a circle. A never-ending loop. Eventually, even though your stamina was now crafted to be well above average, you would eventually get tired. The peasant community of Caladan had a careful, pinpoint focus on the art of dodging rather than hand-to-hand combat or brute force, which made for a very interesting opponent, if you could even call it that. Most of the time, if you could, you were told to outrun them first. So your speed heavily improved. If they were just as fast, then you could begin your dance.

Now, you could finally put it to the test. To see how you fare, to see if it could actually prevent you from getting sliced and diced by the Harkonnens in the arena—albeit for a while. The main thing to keep in mind, as your mother had warned, was to keep your opponent on their toes, snapping not only their mental state but their body. Then, when the time is right, you steal their weapon and use it against them. Today you were permitted a small dagger, strapped and holstered on the outside of your thigh. Although you weren’t concerned about it, you told yourself you would use it as a last resort when they weren’t suspecting you to. You didn’t know how to dance with a weapon; you only knew how to bob and weave without one.

Count Fenring, the Siridar-Absentia of your homeworld Caladan, while the Atreides occupy the planet Arrakis, had dealings with the Harkonnens prior to your descent here. You were never meant to come here. But Count Fenring had called upon the rice labourers one day for a strange proposal. Gathering in the high-esteemed buildings and feeling out of place, your people had looked upon Count Fenring’s narrow, proud face. You knew him to be conniving and manipulative in nature, a renowned assassin, and the Emperor Shaddam’s right-hand man. He was neutral toward the labourers; as long as they kept up on the plantation of their planet’s rice, he had no issues. He would often make dealings with the noblemen and women of Caladan; it was very rare that the rice labourers were added to any conversation.

“House Harkonnen of Giedi Prime is seeking entertainment, to those willing-"  Count Fenring’s voice boomed, sitting atop his makeshift throne. 

His voice is cut off by your thoughts at the Planet’s name. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen of Giedi Prime, called your Count “The ambassador to the smugglers” in spice production. 

He continues. “I know you do not get to leave your trusted duties among the fields very often, but consider this a gift of sorts - whoever is able, and willing to be “battle entertainment” to the Na-barron of House Harkonnen, Feyd-Rautha, will be permitted to win your chance at freedom to travel to a new planet, a new experience.. You don’t ever have to return.”

An audible chorus of gasps are heard amongst your peoples. Hushed angry whispers fill the room. You gape at the vagrant display of lack of remorse for human life. You knew little, but House Harkonnen enjoyed pleasures in gore and sadism, is what you did know. What’s in it for your Count? This has to do with spice dealings.

“Freedom to die?”  a male voice questioned loudly. “You dangle freedom in the air as if House Harkonnen has any, and to dangle us in front of the Harkonnen brutes like meat!”

The crowd got louder and louder in frustration and opposition. The Count’s voice bellows as his army hits their swords to the ground in a clang to signify the rice labourers to quiet their naysayers. “Enough. To those who are not interested, you may leave. You are not forced to stay. To those that are, please remain.”

A number of your people shuffled out in a hurry, their bodies a large mass squeezing through the royal entryway. You blink. This is downright morbid.  You had never considered such a thing before, as you only knew your planet to be worthy of laying down your roots until the end of time.

You feel your mother reach for your hands. They are warm, and so is her eyes as she peers into the core of your being.

Your planet is beautiful -  access to bodies of lakes, rocky mountains, majestic trees and budding flowers, delicious rice... 

“You should go.” she mutters. “Live for us.”

Her words a grim truth. Brutal honesty. And that was enough for you.

A handful of the peasants stay alongside you. Your mother places her lips upon your cheek in a chaste kiss.  Your tear ducts well with water as her hand leaves your grasp. Somehow, you know it’s too late to turn back now. You don’t know what made you follow Count Fenring onto the ship and not look back. A chaotic chance for something other than field work? A plunge into absurdity?

You could try absurdity for a while, you decided.

#feyd rautha harkonnen #2nd pov #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune fanfiction #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd #dune x reader #dune x you #pov second person #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #dune fanfic #dune imagine #fanfic #my writing #dune part 2 #dune part two #x reader #female reader #oc reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #feyd rautha x y/n #fanfiction #feyd rautha x fem!reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader

[poisonlove]

Lust +18 | Jenna Ortega

Martina Smith, a university student passionate about soccer and casual encounters, follows an inflexible rule: no emotional commitments. Meanwhile, Jenna Ortega, a writer married to a successful but distant entrepreneur, seeks to revive her creativity by accepting a job as an English literature teacher.

In an intertwining of worlds, both women face the challenge of staying true to their principles, exploring the trials of life, love, and authenticity. On this journey, forbidden feelings might challenge their self-imposed rules, leading them to question the barriers they've set in their hearts.

This is a fanfiction and will have many parts.

"Alright… when do we make things official?"

I look at Jessica with a raised eyebrow, tired of her constant requests. I sigh and light a cigarette, closing my eyes to savor each puff.

"What are you talking about?" I mutter distractedly, letting the smoke slowly escape through my nostrils.

Jessica smiles with a touch of challenge, placing her hand on my abdomen and tracing her finger along my skin to my jaw. Her blue eyes meet mine, and her delicate gestures elicit sighs of pleasure.

"You know…" she whispers, leaning towards me to gently kiss my neck, "we've been seeing each other for a while."

"Jess…" I start with irritation.

Jessica is trying to elevate our casual encounters to a more official level. I don't want to hurt her, but my heart doesn't flutter when I see her, and I don't feel the classic butterflies in my stomach. Jessica only offers me shivers of excitement for her beauty and the extraordinary sex we share.

I extinguish the cigarette on the ashtray on the nightstand.

"Come on, Marty… the sex is fantastic." Jessica interrupts, smiling broadly. The head cheerleader of our school in Miami frees herself from the sheets to straddle my legs.

My eyes burn as I watch her slender figure, biting my lower lip at the perfection of her breasts. Jessica's touch on the rose tattoo on my right arm distracts my attention from her body.

"You said it right…" I begin, smiling slightly. "Sex is fantastic, why ruin it with a relationship?" I ask curiously, biting my lower lip with mischief.

"Because you know I want to be with you…" Jessica looks at me through her long lashes. "Be your girlfriend," she concludes, emphasizing the last word.

I scoff and lean my head against the pillow.

"I love you, okay?" She confesses, and my body tenses hearing these words. Instinctively, I make Jessica slide off my body, her eyes showing a mix of pain and confusion.

I grab my jeans from the floor and put them on quickly, buttoning them before pulling up the zipper. "Jessica, we need to be clear. I don't want anything serious."

"But… I thought there was something more between us." Jessica looked at me with teary eyes. The sheets wrap around her body as she gets off the bed.

"You misunderstood everything. Sex is what I'm looking for, nothing else." I say seriously, putting on the jacket around my shoulders.

"You can't treat people like this, Martina." Jessica looks at me with glassy eyes and trembling lips, her voice broken by my words.

"Sorry if I can't fulfill your romantic dream." I reply with a bitter smile.

Jessica, visibly angry, walks towards me. "Don't talk like that! I love you, and you're just a… a selfish jerk!" My eyes curiously observe her face, and then my face turns to the other side due to the slap I received.

"Screw you," she adds with a broken tone, and I just stay still, sighing loudly for her psychotic crisis.

"Enough," I take her hands and move them away from my body. "My idea won't change," I mutter distractedly.

Jessica lifts her face and looks at me with confusion, blue eyes reddened from crying. My hands rest on the sides of her cheeks, my thumb playing with the entrance of her mouth.

I lean slowly, and my lips brush against her ear, a moan unconsciously escaping from the depth of her throat. "If you can't continue fucking without seeing me as a girlfriend… maybe it's better if you find someone else," I smile against her skin and move away from her body.

Jessica looks at me with fury.

I quickly bend down, seeing a brush flying towards me. "GET OUT," Jessica breathes loudly through her nose, flushed with anger. "Damn daughter of…AHHH" the girl takes a notebook from the desk and throws it at me, but fortunately, it hits the wall.

I pick up the backpack from the floor and open the door.

"So… see you tomorrow?" I say playfully. Jessica opens her mouth in disbelief and grabs the lamp from the desk.

"I think that's a no," I quickly say, closing the door behind me, later hearing the sound of the lamp shattering against it.

"She's crazy," I say, smiling in disbelief. "But she'll change her mind," I say smiling maliciously, walking down the stairs.

I take out my phone and call Jackson, my best friend.

"Hey, sweetheart! How did it go?" Jackson's voice sounds excited, and I smile pleased. "Actually, I got slapped… but it was worth it," I say tilting to the side to let an elderly woman with groceries pass and walk out of the building.

"I called you…" I start hesitantly, "to ask for a ride, I know," Jackson concludes, laughing.

My eyes look at the surrounding environment, the cars passing peacefully on the streets, and the sounds of passersby exploring the city, increasing the lively atmosphere. A smile paints on my lips seeing a child walking hand in hand with his mom.

"Exactly…" I clear my throat and close my eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that were going through my head. "Did you also take the bag? I have practice in a bit," I bite my lower lip nervously.

"Of course, sweetheart," Jackson chuckles, and I roll my eyes at his comment.

"It's a shame you don't like football," I mutter, walking absentmindedly on the sidewalk, occasionally kicking a small pebble that was in the way. "I couldn't play anyway, I'm a man," Jackson laughs. "You have nothing of a man, at most, you like them," I comment, and Jackson sighs slightly.

"Come on! Move it," I smile hearing Jackson curse at someone honking incessantly.

While I walk absentmindedly on the sidewalk, lost in my thoughts, someone bumps into me, making me lose balance.

"Watch where you're going!" I exclaim a bit irritated, clutching the phone tightly. "Sorry, I'm really in a hurry. I hope you're okay," says the woman with a conciliatory tone, her gaze expressing a mix of apologies and concern.

"Okay, no problem," I reply, trying to hide my irritation. The woman quickly moves away. "Bitch," I whisper to myself, shaking my head as I continue my way. The city's frenzy continues around me, and my phone vibrates again, a sign that Jackson might be around the corner for the ride to practice.

After the collision, I sigh lightly, and as I walk away, I notice something on the side of the road, near a small tree.

I squint my eyes, curious, and approach. I bend down to get a better look and discover a bracelet with a heart. "How cute…" I whisper, selfishly thinking it might be a perfect way to make amends with Jessica. Maybe the owner despairs, but in the end, who cares? Life is full of opportunities, and this could be mine.

I casually tuck the bracelet into my hoodie. A car honks, and I smile seeing Jackson's perfectly restored 1976 Ford Torino.

I get into the car, and we start a conversation as we drive through the city streets.

"Do you have any idea how magnificent this Torino is?" I ask, admiring Jackson's car.

"It's a true beauty, I know," he responds proudly. "So, spill… what happened? You have a nasty mark on your cheek." Jackson absentmindedly points his hand towards me, and I nonchalantly fasten my seatbelt.

"I had a little incident with Jessica." I shrug. "She can't accept that I just want sex from her," I confess, and Jackson opens his mouth in surprise. "Well… can't blame her," he comments, raising his eyebrows, starting the car.

"But look what I found along the way." I quickly change the subject and show the bracelet. "Free! Not bad as compensation, huh?" I chuckle. "A girl bumped into me, and she lost it… but who cares," I comment timidly.

Jackson laughs. "Maybe it could be useful to patch things up with Jessica," I add with a smile. "Maybe," he comments absentmindedly, shifting his attention to the car window, admiring the external landscape.

We almost immediately arrive at our university's sports field after the short journey. The 1976 Ford Torino roars to a powerful stop, and I get out of the car thanking Jackson for the ride.

"Good luck with the training," Jackson wishes me with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks, I'll need it," I reply, closing the door. I walk quickly towards the locker rooms, hoping not to attract the coach's attention.

But just when I thought I had gone unnoticed, the coach catches me red-handed. "Smith… you're late," he says with a serious voice, staring at me with a stern look.

"Traffic mystery, coach," I try to joke, but his look clearly indicates that he's not amused. "For this, you'll do 5 extra laps around the field," he decrees, and my smile fades. I start running towards the locker rooms, trying to make up for lost time and prepare for training, now with an extra load of fatigue to face.

A message arrives on my phone, and I smile seeing that it's from Jessica.

"Hey… sorry for earlier…"

The only thing I think is that maybe this whole affair is resolving itself more easily than expected.

JENNA'S POV

My breath is short, recovering after the frantic run to make it to the interview. Anxiety tightens my chest, but there's a particular reason amplifying the tension: I've lost the bracelet my husband gave me for our fifth anniversary.

Harry, though not the most present husband, is a good person. His executive career keeps him away from home most of the time, and this distance reflects on our marital life. His professional commitments often make him an occasional guest in our home.

My mind is torn between interview anxiety and the regret of misplacing such a special gift. Additionally, my shoulder hurts from the encounter with a grumpy girl. As I try to catch my breath, I realize this day didn't start in the best way, but perhaps it will hold unexpected surprises that will change the course of things.

I take a deep breath before knocking on the door labeled "Principal West."

"Come in," the male voice inside calmly calls for me to enter the office.

I step in and look around, noticing the photos and trophies on the shelves. I quickly observe that the man is surprisingly well-dressed.

"Mrs. Robinson!" The man opens his arms with enthusiasm, smiling with all 32 teeth. "Please, have a seat." He gestures towards the empty chair in front of his desk.

I sit down, and the interview begins. "So, Mrs. Robinson…" Principal West starts, picking up my resume.

"I prefer you to call me by my maiden name, Ortega," I correct gently. Principal West nods strangely. "Why is the wife of a prestigious businessman in my school?" he asks with genuine interest.

The issue is that I'm recognized for my status as a wife, not for my skills as a good writer with a master's in literature. I don't bring up this fact, of course. "I desire this job," I murmur distractedly, playing with my fingers.

In reality, writing makes me feel stuck, and I need a break.

Principal West, with a polite smile, looks over my resume. "I must admit, Mrs. Ortega, that your resume is impressive, perhaps even overqualified for the position of English literature teacher at our school."

I genuinely smile, but with a hint of embarrassment. "I appreciate the compliment, Principal West. I'm aware of my academic experience, but I strongly believe in the importance of contributing to students' growth, regardless of my background."

The principal seems to reflect on those words, then changes the subject, asking about my previous experiences in the field of education. The conversation continues, and I try to convey the passion I have for literature and teaching, hoping that it can overcome any doubts about my excessive qualification for the position.

"Alright, you've convinced me," the principal stands up and reaches out his hand to shake mine.

I blink in surprise and reciprocate the handshake. "Does this mean…" I begin, and the principal smiles.

"Yes, you got the job. You can start tomorrow," he announces, and I genuinely smile, happy for the news. A mix of excitement and gratitude fills my heart as I realize that a new chapter of my life is about to begin.

As he's about to leave the office, the principal stops me. "And give my regards to your husband… I'm sure he'll be proud of you," he says with eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I will, thank you so much, Principal West." With light steps, I leave the office, carrying with me the enthusiasm for the new opportunity and the awareness that even my husband might appreciate this achievement.

I walk through the hallways, looking at various lockers, and sigh for the nostalgic memories those places evoke. I check my phone and decide to inform my husband of the news as I make my way through the corridors.

"Hey, Harry!" I smile hearing that he accepts my call. "Hi, Jen," he responds calmly, his voice distant as if immersed in something.

"I need to tell you something." I bite my lower lip, hiding the excitement. "Is it important? I have a meeting," Harry whispers weakly.

I sigh audibly. "I got the job," I say suddenly, feeling discouraged. "Ah, good," he responds absentmindedly.

My eyes lift from the floor, and I see our car parked at the entrance of the institute. "Did you come to pick me up?" I ask with enthusiasm.

"No, I sent Tom to get you," he answers calmly. "Now I have to go," he mutters weakly.

"I love you," I say with a soft voice and hold back tears as I hear Harry hang up without responding to my statement.

I walk towards the car and sigh audibly, my heart heavy with sadness. "How did it go, Mrs. Ortega?" the driver asks kindly, sensing my melancholy.

"Yeah, good. I got the job," I reply with a faint voice, trying to mask the disappointed tone I feel inside.

The brief conversation with the driver is just background noise as I settle into the seat. I look out of the window, trying to hold back emotions. The landscape passes in front of me, but my mind is lost in thoughts. A single tear wets my face, and I can't help but feel vulnerable. The joy for the new opportunity is overshadowed by the realization of how distant my marriage is.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #oc reader #lust

[cas-kingdom]

The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

#ncis #ncis fanfiction #gibbs #jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #reader #reader fic #teen reader #teen!reader #daughter reader #daughter!reader #tony dinozzo #tony x reader #tony dinozzo x reader #gibbs x dinozzo #dinozzo x gibbs #mine #oc reader #oc!reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader

[shegxox]

unsaid | lookism

getting used to being alone until you met your newfound friends at J high.

notes: hella long, unedited e.e fluff, vasco moments bc i love him, friendship moments, and some '👀' moments as well towards the end.

wc:

a.n: decided to turn this into a series with a scattered plot as well, meaning the timeline wouldn't flow in proper order,

previous : next

SOMETHING was off.

It was oddly peaceful today.

Your hand stopped sketching on your canvas, squinting your eyes in suspicion from the sudden realization. Ever since you got here in J high– specifically after meeting your friends here– there was rarely a normal day.

Rare mostly because of Vasco.

There's no such thing as a quiet day when you're friends with that guy.

He usually bursts through the doors of your classroom every morning just to greet you, or whenever lunchtime draws near he'd suddenly pop out of nowhere and invite you to eat with him together with a bunch of burn knuckles members faithfully trailing behind him.

That's just the fifty percent, the other half goes to the guys at the fashion department.

But today, it seemed like world peace has come and touched today's date for a moment.

No loud greetings from the morning nor lunch invites, you didn't even see Daniel, Mira, Zack– or even Jay with his striking blond hair.

It was definitely odd, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps today is a specially busy day? Exams are drawing near too, so that could be the reason. Then again you barely came out of your classroom today as well. You used your lunchtime to cram your deadlines and have barely eaten much, honestly whenever you start working you just go on and on until someone calls you to pause.

Yeah, that's right.

It really must be a busy day today.

Shrugging to yourself with your formed conclusion, you continued on with your sketch.

"Um, [Name]?" You felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Hm?"

"This handsome guy from outside wanted me to give this to you. . ."

Handsome?

You finally turned to look at the person talking to you and found them with their hand out and holding a piece of paper.

Was it Daniel? You looked over at your classmate and to the door, but there was no one there. It's either him or Vasco that often visits your classroom

You flashed your classmate a kind smile, taking the paper.

"Thank you, Yeji."

With that, they left your side and went on with their respective work.

Unfolding the paper, your quirked an eyebrow from the message.

It was merely an address of some location and a time specified– 6:00 p.m

It looked shady, but your trust in the message was validated as soon as you recognized Daniel's handwriting and signature at the bottom.

"Ya," you called out to your seatmate, "Do you know what place this is?"

Your classmate turned to you as you showed the paper, subtly covering Daniel's sign with your thumb.

"Ah, that place." They nodded in familiarity. "That's actually a pretty sweet karaoke place."

Question marks immediately formed on top of your head.

"Karaoke?"

"Oh–! if you ever go there they also serve some steaks as well. You have to try the–"

Your classmate's words faded through the background as you started to question yourself.

'Why would they want me to go there?' You wondered as you finish up on your sketch before pulling out your painting materials. 'A special occasion perhaps?'

Sighing, you tried to put the thought at the back of your mind, shifting your focus once again on your project. Though you have to admit, it perfectly played around with your curiosity a tad bit, catching yourself wondering about it every now and then.

"Alright, that's it for today." Your teacher announced. "You are all dismissed– cleaners for today, you know what to do."

"Bye, miss!"

"Thank you, miss!"

You checked the time, there's still an hour and a half before the designated time of the note, what should you do for now?

"I'll stay a bit behind," You told your friend– who was the assigned cleaner for today. "You guys go, I'll clean up after."

"Ah, [Name], you're an angel!" Your friend exclaimed, giving you a quick hug and a playful smooch on the side of your head making you laugh.

"Ya!"

"I owe you one!"

With that, they were out of the room as you continued with your painting. You thought it'd be better to finish it now so you wouldn't have to do much tomorrow since it's the weekend.

"I'll go at 5:30," you uttered to yourself, "Takes 30 minutes to go there anyway. . ."

It was a good plan, except you forgot one thing.

You suck at directions.

And here's one more–

The street where the Karaoke place is?

You've never been there before.

"Fuck." Your eyebrows scrunched together as you look at the GPS on your phone, you're supposed to be facing some shop right now but instead you're facing a dark alleyway.

Timecheck, it's already 5:55. If you don't figure out where you're at right now, you're definitely gonna be late for. . .whatever this is.

"Dammit," You clicked your tongue in annoyance. "How hard is it to find a Karaoke hub with literal neon lights flashing at the front???"

You scratched your head aggressively in irritation, "Where the fuck am I??"

Looking around, the street looked like some scary setting for a horror movie, even worse– it's already getting dark.

You sighed, prompting to call Daniel about your whereabouts. What's the best thing to do when you're lost? Inform your friends, they'll definitely come and find you. . .hopefully.

As you punched in Daniel's number and place the phone on your ear, you just so happen to look up to the skies. Your left eyebrow quirks up from the uncommon sight that you see: balloons.

To be precise, a couple of pink ballons tied together at the end floating away in space.

'Man,' you thought pitifully. 'Whoever kid that let that slip must be crying right now.'

Just as those thoughts came to your mind, you suddenly heard distant cries coming up behind you

"NO! THE BALLOONS!"

"YA! DON'T CHASE THEM, THEY'RE SO FAR UP ALREADY!"

Two voices– the first one sounded so distraught while the other sounded more panicked. They're probably the owners of the balloons that you just saw floating away.

But. . . why do they sound like grown men–

"I CAN'T!" Their voice were getting nearer, they must be right behind you. "THOSE WERE FOR [NAME]!"

Instantly, your eyebrows shot upwards and eyes widened upon hearing your name.

'[Name]?'

Now that you think about it, their voices sound familiar. . .

You whipped your head in their direction, only to be caught in surprise.

"Vasco??"

He was running in your direction as you ended the call on your phone.

"[Name]??" The person behind Vasco cried out your name in surprise.

"Jace??"

"Balloons!" Vasco yelled tearfully as he stretched out his hand–as if doing so would make him able to reach them. Jace finally grabs a hold of his friend's tanktop, making him stop.

"Vasco, [Name]'s here!" He hissed in a hushed tone. "Stop it!"

"But–" Vasco turned to you with a tearful look, pointing at the distant balloons flying higher and higher. "The balloons. . ."

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey– it's just balloons," You assured, soothing his arms with your thumbs. "It's okay. . ?"

"[N-Name], what are you doing here??" Jace intervened. "You're supposed to be at the Ka–"

"But the balloons are for you." Vasco suddenly revealed, tears falling down his face, "And I let them slip away–"

By now, Jace's mouth fell and his eyes turned white from Vasco's words.

"What?" You huffed a laugh, "For me? Why?"

"Cause–"

"AHAHAHA–" Jace slapped a hand over his friend's mouth harshly. "Oh, Vasco! You know him, he has a little crush on you and wanted to get you some!"

You gave Jace a look, ". . .Really? You could do better than that. . ."

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Vasco sulked. "I remembered you saying you wanted them. . ."

Ah.

Your lips parted as realization slowly started to dawn on you.

Surprise. . .

Balloons as something you wanted. . .

But that's for–

You hastily checked your phone and felt your heart pound heavily against your chest.

"You. . ." You uttered under your breath as you gaze at Vasco with wide eyes.

"My birthday. . ."

Jace facepalmed at the background.

Vasco's eyebrows furrowed as he stood up straight, taking your hands with his.

"I'm sorry, [Name]." He says sincerely. "I'll get you more balloons later."

You were still in disbelief from what was happening, "What– When did you–"

"We were supposed to surprise you." Jace sighed, finally deciding to reveal everything. "You said that you never celebrated your birthday so we came up with this."

"Why. . ?"

Why would they ever do this to you? Is your relationship with them even qualified for something like this–

"Why? Cause you're our friend!" Jace said, scoffing a laugh.

A friend.

They consider you as. . . their friend.

Huh.

Your heart throbbed painfully against your chest.

All those years of being alone and being treated like some product instead of a normal human being– they're suddenly flashing in a fast forward motion in your head.

Why now?

Vasco released your hands before taking out something from his pocket.

"Here, these are for you–" Vasco held out a couple of hibiscus in his palms. "The flowers at the store were expensive, so I uh– I just picked these off the street. . ."

Jace sweatdropped, "Vasco. . ."

Weakly lifting your hands in a cupping position, Vasco then placed the flowers on your palm. Most of their petals looked squished–probably because he stored them in his pockets, nevertheless, still beautiful.

You could feel a lump in your throat starting to form, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

Is it proper to feel like this?

Are you allowed to?

You looked up to Vasco, eyebrows furrowed.

"Vasco. . ."

The man's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, [Name], are you okay?" He asked worriedly, noticing how your eyes suddenly turned glassy. "Do you not. . .like them?"

Jace looked at you as well, concern wrapping his expression.

"[Name]?"

Vasco started to panic, his hands hovering over your form, not knowing what to do.

"S-Sorry! If you dont like them I could just–"

The man's words were cut off as soon as you suddenly threw yourself to him. Wrapping your arms around him, engulfing him in your embrace. You stood on your tiptoes with your face buried on his chest.

For the first time in your life. . .

Are you allowed to feel this happy?

"Thank you." You uttered, before pulling away to look at him once again.

"[Name], you're–"

"This is my first time receiving a gift." You smiled brightly. "The first gift I ever had."

Vasco's eyes soften as he gazed at you, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"So this is what it feels like," You laughed. "I feel so happy."

The two men shared a look before mirroring your smile.

"I'm glad you're happy," Vasco said, placing his big hand on your head, patting it gently.

"I love your gift." You added, holding the flowers close to your chest. "I will treasure it forever."

After all that event, Jace gave Daniel a call and updated him of what happened. Shame that the surprise party was kind of ruined, but even so, it continued.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [NAME]!" Your friends screamed happily as soon as the door to the karaoke room opened.

Almost everyone was there, giving you bright smiles and genuine expressions on their faces, you could feel butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

"You guys. . ." Your lips curved into a downturned smile, feeling like crying again.

Is this what it really feels like to have others care for you?

You cry either way like before but this time, they were tears of joy.

"Awe, [Name]." Mira approached you with open arms. "Come here."

"Oh, let me join in!" Joy chimed bouncing on her heels before aproaching the two of you.

Daniel stepped forward as well.

"Everyone deserves to be celebrated every once in a while." He smiled. "Thank you for being here, [Name]."

Your lips quivered at his words.

"Ah–" Zoe playfully hit Daniel. "You made her cry!"

"E-Eh???"

"Oh cut the emotional shit!" Zack cried out, standing up on his sit with a mic in hand, smirking.

"Let's get this party started!"

To say that you're happy with today would be an understatement. You're way happier than happy. If you were to describe what you were feeling, it would probably be a mix of all the synonyms of the words happy to form one great word.

You were over the moon.

You felt like you're the sun itself.

It felt too good to be true.

This happiness you feel is something you will hold on to for a long time.

To be surrounded by people who actually care about you makes your heart swell. You've never felt this way before.

"Don't mess this up, you got this." Zack coached you from the side

Jace started to hover his hands on his ears, "Oh god, it's coming."

"Sing from your stomach!" Daniel advised with an excited grin.

"You can do this, [Name]!"

You readied your voice as you held onto the mic tighter.

One, Two–

"–I'M IN MY DREAAAM!"

"WOOO!!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

Chorus of laughter and cheers filled the room, even Jay was dramatically clapping along with the group.

"IU WHO?"

"That was amazing!" Vasco excitedly exclaimed before repeatedly pointing at the songbook. "Let's duet this next!"

"Huh??" Zack made a face. "You can't take that, Mira and I will sing that!"

"Eh? Then just chose another song?"

"No, I can't just do that, it has to be that!"

"Zack. . ."

"Mira, that's our song, right??"

The door to the room suddenly opened and revealed Jay.

"Oh, Jay–" Daniel greeted with an endearing smile. "You're back!"

Jay had stepped out for a moment earlier and has finally returned. The blond gave a small smile and a nod.

He then turned to you, grabbing your attention.

"What is it, Jay."

Suddenly taking something from his side that was out of view, he then held out something and revealed–

"OH MY GOSH!"

You exclaimed, your mouth dropping as you fanned yourself slightly before eagerly making your way to Jay.

"Is this for me??"

The blond nodded.

In his hands, he held a big Alpaca plushie dressed in Gucci that was literally half your size.

"Thank you so much, Jay!" Wrapping your arms around him, you gave him a big hug with the plushie in between the two of you.

"That's so adorable!" Zoe commented, coming in as you pulled away and Jay handed you your gift.

Joy had a look of realization in her face, "So that's what you've been making calls for last night."

"Is this custom-made?" Daniel asked and Jay nodded in reply.

"Ugh, it's so soft!" You exclaimed, hugging the plushie tight.

"Since you're not singing, Mira and I will sing our song!" Zack announced, snatching the mic from Vasco.

"YA!"

The night went on for a few more hours and you're just in complete bliss. Your first birthday celebration is definitely something to remember.

You didn't want it to end, but, alas– some good things come to an end.

As soon as the party was over, half of the people were already drunk–of course, you're one of them.

You didn't know exactly how you even managed to get into your apartment when everything went like a blur to you, you just woke up in your room bedroom and. . .

"What the hell. . ." You murmured to yourself, eyes squinting from the sunlight that was seeping through the window. The hangover– you expected, but your room to be filled with pink balloons floating on your ceiling? You had to check if you were still drunk or dreaming.

Did they do this?

Definitely not, no one can acces your apartment but you.

They can't just decorate your room so suddenly like this?

". . ."

There's only one person you could think of.

As you looked to your side, a large bouquet of roses sat neatly on your nightstand with a black card sticking out in the midst of reds.

Suddenly, you heard a noise just outside your room, and it sounded like someone. . . cooking?

Your eyes widened, hastily getting up from your bed– stumbling on the floor as you did so, you went for the door and almost ripped the hinges from opening it so aggressively.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as soon as you saw the person in your kitchen.

"I see you're awake." They said aloud through the sizzling noises of the pan, not even bothering to look up from their work.

"Did you like the balloons? I remember you liking them like an idiot as a kid."

Your face fell blank. He just had to find you after your birthday huh?

"The roses weren't as fresh as they were yesterday, but they should still be good."

Ah. . .

Since yesterday, huh?

If you your friend's hadn't planned out your party then. . .

"What are you doing here, Gun."

#lookism #lookism anime #webtoon lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism fanfic #oc reader #lookism park jonggun #park jonggun x reader #lookism gun #gun lookism #daniel park #vasco x reader #vasco lookism #lookism daniel #lookism vasco #lookism zack #jace lookism #park jonggun #lookism imagines

[lynn-w3st]

MK1: For Till College

Modern MK1 AU

Pairing: Lin Kuei brothers x sister oc reader (platonic)

Other Characters: Kimiko Hasashi ( @khaotic-kris ). Rhea Carlton (my oc reader)

You were the only little sister of the Lin Kuei brothers. Your parents passed away when you were only ten years old in a car accident. Your older brothers became extremely protective.

“Make sure you guys study your test review as tomorrow we will have an exam on it.” Her math teacher said as the bell rang and she began to clean her white board. You began to pack her things away since her lovely best friend Rhea was waiting for outside of your classroom.

“You seem kind of zone out there Lia.” Your best friend said as you met her outside of the classroom and you both began to walk towards the college doors. “Oh no I was just thinking about some stuff.” You said with a tired smile.

Rhea Carlton is the niece of the famous start actor Johnny Cage. Her parents divorce when she was little and later her mother passed away from cancer while her father remarried again.

“Apparently my aunt Chris wants me to go live with her in Canada. You know to pursue my nursing career.” Rhea said in a sad tone as she was in a bit turmoil on what she wants to do.

The both of you sat down in a bench that was underneath a tree while waiting for your guys ride to arrive. Rhea offered you a snacks that she had on her bag that she brought today.

“And are you going to?” You said as she sigh and shook her head. “I don’t know yet? I just feel really lost.” She said you frown and stop walking and grabbed her hands into yours. Rhea gave you smile as you began to explain.

“Hey you’ve always wanted to be like your mom and work as a nurse. I think you should really do it. Don’t feel bad! You can do it Rhea!” You said. Rhea gave you a smiled and nodded in firmly.

“Thanks Lia! I don’t know what I’ll do without a best friend like you. Say I heard your older brother Kuai Liang recently got a girlfriend .” She said as you nodded and smiled brightly.

“Yes her name is Kimiko Hasashi and she is very sweet and kind. Bi Han kind of doesn’t like her because she can be very mischievous but I think she’s awesome in my book.” You stated.

Rhea rolled eyes in a joking manner. “ I’m sorry but Bi Han has a massive stick up his ass. He’s the embodiment of the Grinch. Bro has beef with everyone.” She before taking a bite of her matcha roll cake that she bought at the store.

You began to eat your delicious chocolate bread roll with Rhea in silence. Someone lightly tap your shoulder as you turn around to see Takeda Takahashi. He was holding something behind his back. “ (Y,N), I have something to tell you. Will you give me the honor to be my prom date for this year’s winter ball event.” He said softly.

Rhea stared at the situation with wide eyes as she was speechless in shock. She regained her composure and face palm herself on what her cousin got himself into. She made a quick mental note to make his lovely funeral soon.

Takeda presented you a bouquet of flowers and a beautifully made letter with hearts on it. You were taken a back and open your mouth to tell him your answer when a very loud aggressive honk broke the moment. You turn around to find your older brother Bi Han waiting for you.

He had an intense death glare at Takeda who wanted nothing more than to disappear. You sigh and turn to face Takeda and gave him a smile. “Of course I’ll be delighted to be your prom date.” You said taking the bouquet from his hands and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Bi Han’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly as his body shook in anger and frustration. You got into the car and waved goodbye to Rhea and Takeda as she turn to face him and slapped him upside his head.

The drive back to the house was silence as Bi Han was gave you a quick glance in the rear view mirror before continuing driving back to the house. You knew you were in big trouble.

You were silently eating dinner with your older brother as Kuai Liang and Tomas were happily chatting away about work and other things. Bi Han stared at you when Tomas spoke up. “ So how was school today, little flower.” He said as you look up and gave him a smile as Bi Han just stared at you with a stern face and arms cross.

“It was fine I got ask out to the winter prom by Takeda Takahashi.” You said with a smile but it seems Bi Han was angry and soon spoke up. “You aren’t going and that’s final. You are too young to party.” He said sternly as you sigh.

“Brother…” Kuai Liang began but Bi Han sent him a glare. “No she is too young to go on a date. Especially with an Takahashi.” He stated. Tomas sigh as he knew Bi Han was at it again.

“I think you should allow Li Hua to go to prom. You know let her experience it, besides this is her sophomore in high school.” Tomas said hoping that Bi Han can allow you to go.

“My answer is still no. She will not be in a dating relationship for….. for till college!” He said as you gasped in shock at his statement. “For till college!” You said in shock as Bi Han nodded. “For till college.” He said sternly.

Kuai Liang face palm and shook his head. You were left flabbergasted as Bi Han went back to eating his food. Tomas place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You gave him a small smile as you resume eating your delicious food again.

It silent was silent for a moment before Bi Han stood up and place his dishes on the sink. “I’ll think about it but in the mean time my answer is still no.” He said before going upstairs to his office to work on a new project for his company.

You let out sigh as you stood up and grabbed your dishes. “Leave them there, I’ll wash them for you. Why don’t you go relax.” Tomas said.

You nodded and walk upstairs to your bedroom. Tomas and Kuai Liang watch you leave before they got up to clean the kitchen and have a very private conversation among themselves about trying to convince Bi Han to let you go to prom.

Dear diary,

Welcome to my normal and chaotic life as the only little sister of the Lin Kuei family. Where my brothers are overprotective mama bears.

Sincerely,

Liu Hua

Hope guys enjoy this wholesome fanfic of the little sister of the Lin Kuei brothers. I grew up watching iCarly as a kid and Spencer was one of my favorite characters in the show. Sorry if this came out as cringe, I tried my best 🥺.

As usual if you guys have any questions or concerns please don’t hesitate to message me. I’m more than happy to answer them.

#mk1 fanfic #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat #lin kuei #scorpion kuai liang #bi han sub zero #smoke tomas vrbada #mk ocs #takeda takahashi #modern au #oc reader

[patscorner]

SILVER LININGS PART1

Summary: Amari Hansley and her twin brother, Anthony Hansley's friendship with the Sturniolos is stronger than ever. But what happens when tragedy strikes Mari's household, and causes emotions to rise, as well as feelings for one of her closest friends?

TW: mentions of a hospital, mentions of death, mentions of depression, mentions of panic attacks, and anxiety. Nothing too much, no depictions, just implications. Not bad, it's only the beginning 🙃

______________________________

"Anthony, put some pep in your fucking step, Jesus. We're gonna be late." Amari yelled from downstairs. It was already 7, school started in 30 minutes, and it was a 25-minute drive. They were gonna need to stop by the office for a tardy slip.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm moving as fast as I fucking can." Anthony shouted back, as he stuffed his computer into his backpack.

"Why are you guys yelling? Your mom is asleep." Mr. Hansley spoke softly as Anthony ran down the stairs.

"How is she doing today, Dad?" Anthony asked as he bent down and tied his shoes, grumbling as he fucked up the first knot.

Mr. Hansely sighed. "Not too bad. She's doing better."

For some background, Mrs. Hansley has Huntington's disease, which is when nerve cells in the brain start to break down. It's a progressive disease, and while it was slow at first, it escalated quickly. She and her husband told the twins about a year ago, and they were heartbroken. While she could undergo treatment to slow it, it was incurable, especially because they caught it too late.

As if that wasn't enough, their dad seemed to take it the hardest, even while they were all struggling. He felt like he was nothing without his partner in crime, and the thought of her not being there with him scared him so much.

He'd stopped going to work, forcing Anthony and Amari to get jobs so they could take care of the house and food, and he'd get unemployment money to pay for the hospital bills. They were 16.

Over the weeks, Mr. Hansley spent most of his time at the hospital, staying with his wife. He didn't eat unless the twins forced him to. And he didn't shower until he was forced out by the nurses. Their grandfather helped out a little, but not much as he lived two hours away.

Meanwhile, Amari, who was the oldest of the two, drove her and her brother back and forth from the Sturniolos. She thought it'd be better not to let Anthony shut everyone else out. He never failed to shut everyone out during an episode after seeing his mom. He'd lock himself in his room, and he wouldn't eat, drink, or shower. He'd get all in his head, and he'd let his thoughts take over.

It was either that, or he'd take it out on Amari. She was the only other person he could. He was angry. Angry with his dad, for forgetting about his kids, angry with his mom, for leaving, even if it wasn't her fault. He was never angry with Amari. There was just nobody else he could yell at, so it was often misdirected. He knew she tried so hard to be strong for him. Even though they were only 4 minutes apart, he looked up to her. She was his rock, kept him grounded when he needed, often pushing her problems and feelings aside for his.

Amari, on the other hand, was struggling just as much as Anthony. She couldn't count how many times she'd cried herself to sleep because even though she and Anthony were the same age, she was still the big sister. She was the backbone, the one who kept it all together. She'd bottle up everything, then every once in a while, she'd fall apart in her bathroom at 2am.

Amari's schedule was always full. She went to school, then immediately after went to work for eight hours, then spent the rest of her time at the hospital. On her off days, she spent it with Matthew Sturniolo. Her best friend, or one of them. Matt had two brothers, and they were triplets, so they were a package deal.

Chris, the youngest of the three, was Anthony's best friend. He kept Anthony grounded as well, calling him out for the stupid shit he'd do and say to Amari, but he was also one of his biggest supporters.

Amari was closest with Matt and Nick. They'd walked up to her one day in 5th grade, asking her for a pencil in sync, and they've all been friends every since.

Even though she was friends with all of them, she and Matt instantly clicked. They went everywhere together, and they told each other everything. They had so much in common, anxiety, love for nature, their style, their music taste, and their humor. They actually let each other speak, unlike Nick and Chris.

And that's how it was for years. Matt and Amari, Anthony and Chris, and Nick. Even though some were closer than others, they made sure to make sure Nick was never left out. He distanced himself, but that all changed when he came out.

So then things went back to normal, and Matt and Amari were still best friends, 6 years later. So during her panic attacks, she'd call Matt, who talked her through them. Since he related to how scary and uncomfortable they were, it was easy for him to tell her what helped him. Mostly, he could do it through the phone, but sometimes, he'd have to drive to the house and call up Anthony to unlock the front door.

They never had to worry about Mr. Hansley finding out because he spent most of his nights at the hospital with his dying wife.

Since Mrs. Hansley was improving, according to the doctor, she was able to come home for a little bit. "Let's go say goodbye." Amari sighed, reaching for Anthony's hand, helping him up.

"Just... be quiet and quick... please." Mr. Hansley spoke quickly, fiddling with his fingers. All this sickness made him so anxious and quite jumpy.

Amari nodded, leading Anthony to the guest, which is where her mother stayed, because she couldn't really make it up the stairs. Amari slowly opened the door, the smell of the hospital must've came with all the equipment.

There, her mother lay, hooked up to NG tube and a heart rate monitor. She was asleep, and soft snores could be heard leaving her mouth.

Anthony looked down, fighting the instant tears that filled his eyes when he saw his mom. Amari reached for his hand, rubbing his knuckles almost instantly.

"Come on, you can do it." She whispered, leading Anthony to Mrs. Hansley. He complied, slowly following his older sister.

"Hey Mom, we love you. We'll see you after school." Amari spoke softly, not wanting to wake her. Anthony nodded. "Love you, Mom." He voice cracking as tears threatened to fall.

He reached for his mom's hand, rubbing her knuckles gently. She stayed asleep, and he smiled at her peaceful state. At least she wasn't in pain.

"Okay, we gotta go. We're gonna be late." Amari spoke, rubbing Anthony's shoulder.

"We're always late." He grumbled as he walked towards the door.

Amari chuckled as she closed the door behind her. "I know, but come on."

And with that, the twins walked out of the house and began their day. They had most of their classes together, except for one: World History.

Amari had every class with either Matt, Nick, or Chris, so she was always with one of her best friends. There were other people too, but they weren't nearly as close as the Sturniolo and the Hansley's were.

As the day progressed, Amari felt a sudden wave of anxiety come over her, just after lunch. She walked into the World History classroom, trying to pinpoint where the emotion stemmed from.

"Hey bitch, so you remember that guy I was talking too? Yeah, he asked me on a date -" Nick sat down next to Amari, immediately rambling about some guy who wasn't good enough for him.

Amari nodded along, not really listening, just trying to figure out where the daunting fear came from. Her leg bounced as her thoughts raced. She was terrified, and she didn't know why.

She was consumed in her thoughts that she didn't even notice that Matt came in and sat down next to her. She only noticed when he put his hand in her bouncing thigh. Butterflies brushed her thoughts to the side, and her face instantly turned red.

"Hey, Mari, did you hear me?" Matt asked softly. She looked up, finally being pulled from her thoughts.

She looked at Nick, who was staring at her. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, not hearing a single thing that was going on.

"No, I didn't, sorry. What'd you say?" She said, quickly.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked, his blue eyes trained on her brown ones. Mari nodded, trying to convince herself as well.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm good, sorry. What were you saying, Nick?" She turned to Nick, who smiled, continuing his rant.

She glanced at Matt, who was looking at her with worry, unconvinced at her answer. It was foolish from Amari to think she could lie to him. He knew her better than he knew himself. She was his best friend.

The bell rang, and the class continued as normal, the teacher asking for everyone's homework and then writing notes on the board.

Suddenly, the loud speaker clicked on, and a voice rang through.

"Can Amari and Anthony Hansley please gather your things and report to the office? That's Amari and Anthony Hansley. Please get your things and report to the front office." And with that, the speaker clicked off.

Matt, Nick, and as well as everyone else's eyes turned to Mari, causing her to feel uncomfortable. "What'd you do?" Matt asked, half-jokingly.

She shrugged as she packed her bag, her hands shaking as her anxiety spiked once more. Nick and Matt sent her a 'good luck' look, and she sent them a small smile.

She said her goodbyes before walking to the office, her heart dropping as she saw her grandfather and her brother waiting for her.

"No." Was all she could say, as she followed them out.

______________________________

#matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x oc character #oc character #oc reader #Amari Hansley x Matthew Sturniolo #Anthony Hansley #Amari Hansley #Silver Linings

[burninggladiatorprincess]

We have a winner! Thanks guys

#yautja x reader #yautja #oc #predator #oc reader #x reader

[blacklesbothatlovestowrite]

Familiar

Summary: Reader decides to release a freestyle that breaks the internet. Her first single ever, produced on her own. Many people aren't thrilled with her because she's too pretty, too thick and too rowdy. Nonsense reasons to hate her because she's herself and authentic. Shuri and Riri the hottest couple and producing duo decide to collaborate with reader. Business and pleasure never hit so good.

Trigger: Angst, Drama, Toxicity, Fighting, Cheating, Drugs and Alcohol use.

Jay (Reader)

Shuri

Riri & Mama Okoye (Yes, Okoye is Riri's mama)

Maya - Jay's girlfriend.

Destiny - Shuriri's ex

Ramonda

Domingo 'Dom' (Jay's brother)

Series Playlist

Which Gyal by Jada Kingdom

On It by Jazmine Sullivan Ft Ari Lennox

IDG1F Jada Kingdom

Before I Do Sevyn Streeter

Party Girls by Victoria Monet Ft Buju Banton

Familiar by Flo

Hate The Club by Kehlani

Touch Me by Victoria Monet Ft Kehlani

Snooze by SZA

Tek Buddy by Skeete

Collide by Justine Skye

Stranger by Jhene Aiko

Selling Dreams by Nana Fofie

Gonna Love Me by Teyana Taylor

Safety Net by Ariana Grande

SOS by SZA

Love Language by SZA

Low by SZA

Open Arms Solo Version by SZA

Leave You Lonely by Summer Walker

Escapism by Raye Ft 007 Shake

S/n: Let me know who wants to be tagged when I post the story. I finally learned how to tag, and I'm excited.

I've been very inspired lately and this story is no different. I have so many ideas for the chapters it's going to be MESSY CHILE 😮‍💨 forgive me in advance but I love me a messy, toxic, circle of back and forth in stories. I have a few drafts to post before I push out this story but stay tuned for the series. 🥰

#Spotify #shuri udaku #shuri black panther #princess shuri #shuri smut #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x black!reader #riri x you #riri wiliams x reader #riri williams #riri x reader #oc reader #jada kingdom #shuriri x reader #shuriri #toxic shuri

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- Sorry for late update but exams got me busy.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

The White Dragon

I Have Seen (Chapter 2)

Summary- Proposal of marriage between Aerea and Cregan has been spelled out and a friendly sparring follows

Tag List- @eliseline, @little-moonbeam-666, @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26-blog, @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy, @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon, @stargaryenx, @hukio, @targaryenmoony, @moon-light1415, @eudximoniakr, @themaze13, @candypurplebutterfly, @5moremin, @yariany02, @issybee0611, @beefbaby25, @shine101, @hopebaker, @andlizeth, @hyacinthus007, @lightdragonrayne, @prettykinkysoul, @mcam623, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon14, @let-love-bleeds-red, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @random-shit-i-like-2

If anybody want their names to be added or removed from the tag list, then leave a comment.

Warnings- Mentions of Arranged Marriage, Westrosi Things, Fencing.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

"I have seen you and Princess engage in conversation at the day of the feast, my lord," Otto said, his eyes watching the wolf lord who sat in front of him. Alicent sat next to her father, watching Cregan with cautious eyes.

"I would like to assure you that it was nothing related to any betrothal," Cregan replied, his mind trying to find a way out of this increasingly awkward conversation. "We have been made aware of that, my lord."

Cregan was suddenly realizing the intentions of the Hightower Lord and the Queen as to why they pressured Cregan into thinking at the first place. Cregan was, after all, the Lord of a Great House of the Seven Kingdoms and the Targaryens were on the verge of a war between two proportions of the dragons.

"Is it what the princess desires?" Cregan asked, watching with interest as Otto looked on the verge of losing his patience. "The princess has approved of the betrothal, if you approve of it, my lord," Alicent said, her fingers playing with the skirt of her gown.

"Who else has been deemed worthy of the hand of Princess Aerea?" The Wolf Lord queried, leaning in. "Lord Baratheon and..." Otto hesitated to say the name of his second grandson, as he was aware of the disgust people felt towards the incestuous marriages in the Targaryen House.

"And, my lord?" Cregan toyed, sadisticaly, enjoying the look on the Lord's face. "And my son, my lord. Aemond Targaryen," Alicent said, making Cregan nod, humming as his mind processed and formulated a plan.

"May I speak to princess beforehand? If you have no offense, My Queen," Cregan asked, his eyes trained at the green queen. Alicent glanced at his father before looking at Cregan, giving him a small nod.

"You will find her in the training grounds, my lord," Alicent informed Cregan who nodded his gratitude before departing. His shoulders squared as he walked straight towards the training grounds.

Usually filled with dozens of guards and young lords and knights, stood empty in front of Cregan's stormy eyes except for two guards guarding the entrance. "I wish to see the princess. On queen's order."

The guards spared a look before nodding, letting the Wolf Lord walk in. The ground was completely silent except for the sound of a steady breathing. The voice of an arrow hitting something solid echoed through the large span of earth's surface.

Princess Aerea stood a few feet away from the wooden target. Three arrows already attached to the target; two around the bullseye and one right on it. Her posture remained firm as she calculated another arrow's path through the air.

She wore a black leather tunic she usually wore for dragon riding. A red dragon stitched on its back. Aerea paired the tunic with black pants, and dark brown boots. Her silver hair firmly set in a bun, keeping the strands away from her face.

Her hands let the arrow go skillfully. Time slowed down as Cregan watched the arrow flew through the air and split the arrow on the bullseye into half. Cregan smirked, slowly raising his hand to clap.

Aerea turned around, surprised. Her violet eyes widened as she found the wolf lord clapping. A light shade of red flushed her face as she looked around with a shy smile. Her fingers caressed the bow to comfort herself.

"Lord Stark," she nodded with a smile. "Princess Aerea, your skills are amazing," Cregan gestured to the target, letting his face soften. "Thank you, my lord. This is all due to my uncle Daemon," Aerea said, her eyes watched as the lord moved closer, yet keeping an appropriate distance.

"I see, he has taught you well, my princess," Cregan commented before turning to face the princess of the realm. "I am here to address an important topic," he continued, his voice firm and unwavering. His hands clasped behind his back, giving him a regal posture.

"I suppose my mother and grandsire has spoken to about..." Aerea left the sentence incomplete, instead, deciding to fiddle with the string of her special bow.

Cregan nodded, his eyes moving to the sword hanging around her waist. "Do you wield sword?" Cregan asked, amused. "Yes, my lord," Aerea smirked, her fingers reached for the dragon shaped pommel. "Would you mind?" He continued to ask, walking casually to a sword lying in the corner.

"I must admit, I am terrifically fantastic, my lord. I hope you don't have a fragile ego," Aerea mocked, unsheathing her sword and letting her body and mind take over, as her uncle had told her. "Then it would be interesting."

Cregan studied the lady before striking first, his movement rough yet fast; but Aerea was even faster. With her elegant moves and quick mind, she dodged every attack landed by the lord, coming up with hers when an opportunity arisen.

"Why did you agree to our betrothal?" Cregan went to attack her left side, but Aerea was smart enough to sense it and block it with her sword. "Why wouldn't I? I wish to leave this place and what other way except for to marry someone."

Aerea ducked underneath Cregan's hand as he raise his sword to attack her. She went for his legs but Cregan quickly stepped back, letting his sword touch hers in mocking.

"Why not someone else?" Cregan stepped back, taking a deep breath. He had surely not anticipated this sort of fight from a princess of the realm. "Why marry someone you don't know?" Aerea huffed, her breath uneven.

"Why not your brother?" Cregan moved his sword and tried to land an attack on Aerea's left leg, succeeding partially as he caught her off guard by his question. Aerea stepped back to avoid the lord's sword but she stumbled back, falling on the ground.

"Not him. At no cost," Aerea whimpered, shaking her head as she looked up. Cregan could spot the faint fear in her deep and beautiful eyes. Her face neutralizing from her usual smiling face.

"What shall I get in return?" Cregan asked, offering the dragon princess a hand to help her stand up. "Whatsoever you wish for, my lord," Aerea said, letting her small hand slip into his larger ones.

"I will let you know when the times come then, princess."

#house targaryen #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #daemon x reader #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x targayen #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #oc reader #the white dragon

[truetogaia]

Why are you blue?

Pairing: Recom!Mansk x Avatar!reader.

Just a small drabble i wrote because i was bored, it lowk sucks but sometimes you just gotta let it suck (OOPS, do not even think the thank.)

Here is my navigation for further exploration ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ♡

All throughout your childhood, he had been right there. During all the heartbreaks, thrills, experiences and sorrows. Mansk had not once left your side, and you had never left his. The two of you were inseparable, always having dinner at each other's place instead of your own, depending on which household made the yummiest food that particular night. You shared your dreams with each other, noticing how you were both interested in joining the army.

“When I get older, I wanna join the military and be a strong soldier like my daddy!” Mansk said, his eyes lighting up. 

“Me too! But I wanna work in the scientific field. It’s so cool how they get to watch the stars” 

As you got older, hitting the teenage years, your friendship only grew, along with something else. You realized it on a warm summer night, surrounded by your friends during a sleepover. They had been talking about their crushes and potential boyfriends, and when they had asked you, your tongue subconsciously formed the word Mansk, but you didn't say it. You couldn’t. They all knew who he was, and a few of them even had crushes on him of their own. The feelings hadn’t presented themselves specifically that night, but that was the first time they became apparent to you. 

Your emotions gnawed on your soul, tearing away pieces from it every time Mansk would accept a date or a flower. But the thread finally snapped when one of your dearest friends asked him to prom. He had gotten many invitations already, his locker filled with bouquets and chocolates, heart shaped balloons and so on, it made your heart ache every time he would open it with you around. He had accepted the promposal, not hesitating once. You knew he had a crush on her, and that it had been a long time since he first interested himself in her. 

At home, you cried, you sobbed and screamed into your pillow. Your feelings had finally decimated the remnants of your heart. You hurt for days, eyes cried numb and red, face puffy and sore. Your best friend had tried to visit many times, worried about the cause of your absence. Your mother never let him in though, always coming up with excuses such as, “Oh she's terribly sick right now.”, “Nono, I can't let you up there, the disease is very infectious!”.

But oh how you missed him, your heart lurched and stung at the thought of him. Many days had passed since you had lost your last chance. The day of prom was approaching rapidly, and before you knew it, you were sent back to school. Mansk had greeted you with a painfully cheery expression laced on his face, hugging you tightly and repeating how much he had missed you. It did not help the agony in your heart, rather making it so much worse you felt physically ill.

The night of prom was an eventful one. You had been given a ride by Mansk’s father to the event as your mother was working the night shift. The place was crowded and you had barely spotted Mansk and your friend over the sea of bubbling teenagers. Mansk was dressed in a marine blue suit, matching the dress of your former friend. 

You had greeted them both, not wanting to ruin your best friend's night by being an asshole. Mansk had praised your choice of outfit, peppering you with compliments, which had made his date visibly irritated. You tried laughing it off, giving her compliments to lighten up the mood, but you were only met with a  fuming expression. Then she started throwing insults your way, criticizing your looks and downright bullying you. Your expression changed to one of great shock, you never knew she could be like this, gobbled up by jealousy. 

The comments were enough to make your mood plummet significantly, tears began to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. Mansk had been silent the whole time, not interfering at all, only “watching from afar”. It hurt to see that your best friend did not seem to care, so you turned on your heel and walked away, night, makeup and confidence ruined. 

Your mind began to wander, of course she was right, I mean, of course! She was the one clutching the heart of your dream boy, not you. How had you been so stupid this whole time, thinking that you at least had the speck of a chance with him, when you knew you didn’t. 

Shouting could be heard from the window of your room, you were snuggled up on your bed, listening intensely to your best friend trying to explain himself.

“I'm sorry, Y/N, you know I would never hurt you willingly..” He tried.

“Just shut up Mansk! You stood right there, right beside her! You were still holding her hand as she literally drowned me in insults for god's sake! And you did nothing, you didn't tell her to stop even when you knew she was hurting me, you could’ve put a stop to her running mouth even before she started running it!” You cried, knuckles turning white from the intense grip you had on your pillow. 

“I-”

You sobbed, “Just get out.” 

“But Y/N-”

“Get out! I hate you!” You were screaming at him, he pulled back, retreating. When you finally saw that he had given up and started heading towards the door, you cried. You cried and you cried and you cried. Your best friend was gone, the friendship which had lasted since baby age was over, ripped to shreds by him and him only. 

You grew older, the memories of a time enhanced by happiness and friendship fading with age. You had shifted all your focus to your studies and worked hard in your field. At last, your hard work paid off as you were enrolled in the scientific team in the avatar program of the RDA. It was a new program and they had asked for you specifically, much because you honed great expertise in the space researcher field and you had come to be a renowned biologist, it was a perfect match. 

Working with THE doctor Augustine was amazing, she was the big inspiration in your childhood. You had great respect for her as she had for you, you had proven yourself to her on the first day while sharing your knowledge and hidden intentions about the planet. When Norm and Jake were added to the team, they quickly became a nuisance to you, Norm always hovering around you, eager to learn from you despite the fact that you were literally his age, if not younger. And Jake, just being Jake. 

Your time was filled with researching the home of strange creatures and humanoid aliens in your new, blue body. On the day of the introduction, the Colonel was assembling his team, presenting them to all aboard the base. One particular individual caught your attention, but it was impossible.

You kept on with your research, occasionally catching a glance of someone you thought resembled a key component of your childhood, until the day finally came when you had to make a decision. Stay loyal to the RDA and their plans to excavate the planet and its resources, or join forces with the na’vi and Jake. You completely let go of the humanity in you, siding with the natives in a heartbeat. 

The fight was brutal, you were mostly tending to the wounds of the warriors, never really going out into battle. You were not a very good fighter, and after the death of Grace, you dedicated your whole being to healing and soothing. You became a very close assistant to the Tsahik, yet always respecting her space and superior knowledge. You also became na’vi, what was left of the human in you was now washed clean away.

You never found a mate though, something was always eating away at your being, a longing for something distantly familiar. There were many suitable options in the clan, but you always excused yourself with having more important things to take care of. 

You lived the post-war years in peace with your clan, now serving under Jake after the devastating death of the former Olo’eyktan, Neytiri's father. You often babysat for Jake and Neytiri, taking care of all the kids. Even though Spider wasn’t really their kid, or na’vi, he was your favorite. You appreciated his enthusiasm to help the natives, often recognizing little pieces of yourself in him. 

On one particular morning, you were babysitting the kids, they loved you, saw you as their own flesh and blood, an older sibling, of sorts. Your avatar form was only a few years younger than Jake’s, but apparently it was enough. When Lo’ak suddenly mentioned that he wanted to explore an abandoned war ruin, you were at first appalled, the thought of visiting something from a time so horrible made your heartbeat quicken. 

But after some very convincing reasoning from the younger na’vis side, you were off. Of course you had to bring all the kids, except Neteyam, he was big enough to venture on his own. 

The forest was eerily quiet, there were no creatures lurking in the underbrush like there usually were, it felt as if the towering trees were throwing more shade on you than usual. Something was off, something had disturbed the peace of Pandora's forests. The kids hadn’t noticed anything yet, maybe that was for the better, you thought. Getting them home at such a late hour wasn’t going to be easy considering how far you had already strayed from the village, so them feeling uneasy wouldn't be a helping factor.

Brushing it off, you caught up to the younger na’vi trying to navigate their way through the greenery. They soon reached the wreckage, Lo’ak was the first climbing up the ruin to check it out whilst Tuk carefully clasped her hand in yours, hiding behind your figure. The wreck resembled an aircraft, neatly tucked away in the plants of the forest, never to move again. 

While the kids were exploring the unknown, at least to them, object, you had a funny feeling. Your ears twitched, picking up a strange noise. Pummeling of boots on soil, chopping of flora and verdure, your curiosity peaked as this sound was nothing forest made. 

Lo’ak also noticed the strange racket, but instead of staying put as he should, he decided to investigate. You quickly rushed after, ushering the kids to stay in place as you went to collect the mischievous child. A sudden rush of heat to your face and gust of wind that carried a familiar scent made you step back, placing your hands on your head. It hurt, a lot, a throbbing sensation spreading throughout your brain. You ran after Lo’ak, determined to get him out of there. 

The scent grew stronger, completely blocking your nose. It was overwhelming, but familiar, the sensation of it. The former Tsahik had described the mate-phenomenon to you before, finding the one true mate, the one meant for you. All the symptoms aligned, the headache, the sudden heat, the abusing scent. You couldn’t believe it, what was your mate doing out here in the lush, unexplored wild of the forest? Lo’ak was gone from your sight, you panicked and turned around, scanning your surroundings for the remaining kids, but they, too, were gone. 

Your legs carried you easily through the forest, it had started to rain, heavy drops of water cascading down from the iridescent leaves onto your rushing figure. Though your nose was assaulted by the irrepressible smell, you could still make out small portions of Tuk’s scent. It was drawing closer the further into the wildlife you ran. A twig snapped unexpectedly, followed by a groan and a hiss. You stopped and crouched behind the roots of a tree. Carefully, attempting to make no noise, you peeked over the wood. There, in the midst of a dead, burnt patch of grass, were the kids. But they were not alone. Each child was restrained by a blue.. Avatar. You could not believe your eyes, rubbing them deliriously, not trusting your night vision. 

The scent was even stronger now, it was clouding your mind, fogging all your senses and making it hard to think. You looked around the circle of bodies, these weren’t regular avatars, they were recombinants, resurrected soldiers. You recognized their faces, as well as the names on their clinking dog tags. 

One of the recombinants stood out to you, your eyes continuously wandered to his form no matter how hard you tried, the smell only increasing each time you caught a glimpse of him. He was holding one of the kids by the arm, restricting their every movement. You growled quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. You got ready to attack, gripping the bow from your back along with a handcrafted arrow. You carefully aimed at the special recoms head, getting ready to fire when he suddenly took his sunglasses off. 

You stopped dead in your track, dropping your bow in the process. Gasping, it came to you, why he was so familiar, why his scent was making your heart ache. 

It was your childhood best friend, Mansk. 

#avatar 2009 #avatar pandora #avatar twow #avatar fanfiction #recom mansk #avatar mansk #mansk x reader #mansk #recoms #recom group #recom wainfleet #recom quaritch #recom squad #jake sully #neytiri sully #james cameron avatar #loak sully #neteyam sully #sully family #oc reader #norm spellman #grace avatar #grace augustine #kiri sully #angsty fluff

[thechaoticdruid]

[The Monster Hunter]

Plot: Another draft from my abandoned long fic. It takes place right before [The Bite Scene]. Basically, it's the encounter between Astarion and Gandrel rewritten to feature my Tav, Winnie. Just thought I'd share it.

C/w: Death, dead animal, Astarion being a bigot, Astarion being a manipulative little shit, dialogue straight outta the game. A wee bit of blood.

Truth be told it was hard to remember how any of this happened. One moment Winnie was on the streets of Baldur's Gate searching for her friend Arva after she and the other members of their gang had gone missing and the next  the human was kidnapped by tentacle faced freaks, and infected with a brain worm before crashing from the sky in an alien spaceship. It's been a complete and utter nightmare and the only saving grace would be the fact that She'd been able to make some allies in the process.  

"Dead pig. Yep that pig is dead." Winnie called out, her fuchsia colored eyes scanning over an oddly well intact corpse of a boar.  "Weird….I don't see any wounds." Cautiously she poked it with her foot.

"Well, do you expect it to come back to life if you poke it enough?" Winnie’s elven companion Astarion, rolled his eyes, "just leave it. You're wasting our time prodding at a carcass." 

The human female sighed, but just as she was about to walk off two small puncture wounds in the boar's neck caught her attention. The first rational assumption that came to mind was that perhaps a snake had bitten into the pig and poisoned it. But surely there would have been a trace of blood left by bite, wouldn't there? 

"Darling, let's go. The brain worms aren't going to wait patiently for you to gawk at every corpse we pass." The elf huffed. 

Deciding it was probably just best to move on, Winnie nodded and followed. Whatever happened to this pig was probably not important for them to worry about, surely. Continuing on, Winnie and her companions wandered off into a nearby forest as they searched for the creche that their gith friend Lae'zel kept insisting they find.  

Winnie trudges through the mud, blowing brown curls out of her eyes before suddenly feeling a sharp sting in the side of her face. 

"Ah! Godsdamn mosquitoes!" She cursed, slapping her cheek before swatting around, frantically. "Why the hells do they keep biting me!?" 

"Looks like they have a taste for you, Winnie." Shadowheart teased. 

"Why me? There are plenty of other people here to bite!"

"And here I thought druids were friends of nature." Gale chimed in.

"I'm friends with nature….Until it starts biting me in the ass." Winnie muttered. 

"You must be quite the delicacy, given the swarm you're attracting…" Astarion smirked slightly, his eyes lingered upon the druid longer than he normally did. Winnie assumed he was enjoying her suffering. (The sadistic little shit.) Though she completely missed the hungry look in his eyes and just groaned in response, unable to resist scratching the irritated skin. Before anything else could be said there was a shouting off in the distance. 

"Tell us where she is!" The voice of a man was heard.

"I told you both already I haven't laid eyes on your sister!" Winnie’s eyes blinked as she'd heard a familiar voice. It was an old woman they'd met in the Druid's Grove. She'd told Astarion and Winnie that she might be able to help with their tadpole problem.  Winnie wasn't exactly sure if the old gal would actually be able to help them or if she was just demented like Astarion said. They hadn't promised anything when she invited the adventurers to visit her home, but Winnie did say they might stop by if given the chance.  However, now things may be a little difficult.

The old woman appeared to be cornered down the hill. Two men had a pitchfork and torch and appeared to be harassing her. As quickly as she could the druid intercepted the scene.

"What's going on here?" Winnie asked in a stern tone, preparing to grab her staff if need be.  

"Thank goodness you came sweetie! I have no idea what's come over these boys!" 

"Shut it hag! We know you were the last to see Mayrina! Now where is she!?" One of the men growled. 

"I already told ya, I haven't laid eyes on your poor sister. I will gladly help you look for her though." Ethel insisted.  

"Enough! Tell us where she is right now!" The older of the two brothers raised his weapon up.

"Okay let's not do anything we'll regret. Leave the lady alone." Winnie stepped in, shooting a glare at the two men. She put her hand on her staff, gripping it tight.

“Sweetie be careful!” Auntie Ethel shouted.

“She's with the hag! Get her!” Without another word the two men attacked. Winnie quickly used her staff to block an incoming pitchfork, knocking it out of the way and then quickly smacking both of the brothers in the head. The two dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“Oh dear, I never meant for this to happen.” Ethel exclaimed looking over at the brothers.

“Can you please explain what is going on?”Winnie asked, eyes scanning the woman up and down. Something was off about her.  Despite her seeming to show guilt and concern for the two men there was something in her tone that sounded off, insincere. 

“It's their sister Mayrina, she's staying with me and she made me promise not to breathe a word about it to anyone. Oh, I do hope the poor boys will be alright…” Auntie Ethel said.

“I'm sure they'll be fine…Well….They probably won't die.” Winnie said with a nervous little cough as she looked at the two boys. Gods, she hoped she didn't accidentally kill them. Sure, they had acted like idiots, but it was clear that it was out of concern for their sister. 

“Well, I can't dally around any longer, I best be going, but please stop by my house. I'd like to thank you proper.” Ethel had an all too sickeningly sweet smile before suddenly vanishing into a puff of smoke.  A look of shock covered the young druid’s face as she began to think that perhaps Ethel wasn't the sweet innocent old woman she had claimed to be.

“Shit…” She cursed.

“I haven't spent much time around helpless old ladies, but was that normal?” Astarion asked, stepping beside Winnie.

“Ah….Well…My grandmother was able to turn into an owlbear at will…but I feel like this may be something else entirely.” Winnie replied, scratching the back of her head.

“Hag was the word the brothers used to describe her. If they're right, then we may have a very dangerous foe on our hands.” Gale added.

“Usually l’d say we shouldn't jump to conclusions, but this was very suspicious.” Winnie said before looking off towards the wetlands below the hill.

She began to walk down, the others slowly following, Her leather boots sank into the mud as she surveyed the area, spying a few sheep roaming around nearby.  It looked pleasant enough, but something just wasn't right. There was this gut feeling that it was some kind of illusion at work. After a moment Winnie attempted to use some magic to dispel it. 

Within seconds the beautiful wetlands turned into a disgusting and dreary looking bog. 

“Oh…Well this is just wonderful…”Astarion murmured. Winnie huffed as the group walked off through the bog, ankle deep in mud and gods know what else. Gale kept his robes hiked up and Astarion seemed to be muttering something about his boots. Shadowheart rolled her eyes at the two of them. Venturing further on Winnie  began to notice the sheep from before had vanished and were now replaced by angry looking redcaps. Many of them apparently making…..sheep noises.

“Baaa!” One said as they noticed Winnie starring.

“Uh…..Baaa?” She mimicked it, eliciting a chuckle from both Astarion and Shadowheart. The redcap glared at Winnie before waddling away.

The adventurers kept wandering through the bog, searching around for any sign of Ethel before eventually stumbling upon a disgustingly sweet smell and a man standing up ahead. He had long brown hair, a beard and a scar under one of his eyes. On his back appeared to be a crossbow and a very nice looking one at that. 

“Ah stranger, forgive the aroma!” The man says as the sickening odor causes Winnie to grimace slightly.

“It's powdered ironvine. It'll make any monsters think twice before trying to make a meal of me.”

Winnie was about to introduce herself before suddenly Astarion cut in.

“You're a monster hunter? I'm surprised. I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats.” 

“Don't be rude.” The druid scolded him then glanced back at the hunter apologetically, “forgive him. The elf doesn't know when to stop talking.” 

“You should listen to your companion. Next he'll warn you that my people can curse your cow to give only sour milk or seduce your daughter to a life of roaming. I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas I am a simple wanderer.  A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I'm no witch doctor or cutthroat.” 

“And what monster are you hunting exactly?” Winnie inquired.

“Something terrifying no doubt. Dragon? Cyclops? Kobold?” Astarion said, in a mocking tone.

“Nothing so dramatic. I'm hunting a vampire spawn.” The hunter replied.

“A vampire!?” The brunette haired druid’s eyes lit up at the statement. Her lips curled up into a giddy grin. “This sounds exciting! I've never had the opportunity to encounter one before!”

“I’d exercise caution friend, these creatures are not something you'd want to encounter unprepared. Nor are they as charming as the stories make them out to be.”

“Oh, I know they’re dangerous. I'm just very fascinated with monsters is all…” Winnie gave a shy chuckle. She seemed absolutely thrilled at the prospect of meeting a creature of the night. Her elven companion however immediately tensed. 

“So, why are you hunting this vampire spawn?” He asked, his voice was laced with curiosity, but his eyes had a look of distress in them.

“You’re asking a monster hunter why he's hunting a monster?” Shadowheart spoke up.

“Why not? All vampires can’t be bad? Can they?” Winnie hummed, her mouth forming a disappointed pout.

“I'm afraid they are. Vampires are godless parasites. There is no reason not to destroy them. But in this case it is a sacred mission from the head of my tribe. My orders are to capture the beast and return it to her.” 

“Capture? And bring it where, exactly?” Astarion asked, his eyes seemed trained on the hunter. 

“Baldur's Gate. My people wait for me there.” The gur explained.  It was then Winnie noticed Astarion’s tension. His hand inched for the dagger sheathed at his side. A fake smile spread across his face.

“You're asking a lot of questions.” She said, turning her head to look at the elf. 

“There's a lot to know.” Astarion giggled, feigning innocence before then approaching the hunter, leaving little room between the two. “I've crossed paths with your people before you know.” Astarion suddenly drew his dagger and before Winnie could even speak he jammed it straight through the monster hunter’s eye. “It wasn't a good experience.” He growled

“Astarion, what the hells!?” Shadowheart shouted.

“Was that really necessary!?” Gale called from behind them.

“Please tell me you had a good reason for that.” Winnie asked, looking at Astarion cautiously as he plucked his dagger from the corpse.

“He was spinning a tale and you were falling for it. Vampires? Sacred missions? Pft. Honestly.” Astarion huffed before turning back at me, the hunter’s blood had splattered across his face and was now dripping down the side of his cheek. “He would have followed us to camp and slit our throats in the night. Trust me I did us a favor.”

Winnie glared at him, crossing her arms. This was conflicting. Astarion could be all too stab happy at times, but he had watched her back in several fights since they'd joined up. 

“Now if we're done here we have more important things to get on to.”  Astarion said as he began to walk off.  Winnie turned back to the corpse, deciding she may as well make use of his belongings. Not like he'd be using them anymore anyway.  She took his crossbow and some magic arrows he had before following after the others. Gale and Shadowheart appeared to be whispering about whether or not it was wise to keep Astarion in the group after this little incident.

After a while Winnie spoke up, stepping between Astarion and the others.

“You dispatched the monster hunter rather quickly.”  

“I know. Wasn't it impressive?” Astarion smirked his eyes looking Winnie over.

“Doesn’t explain why.”

“Don't you worry your pretty little head about why. The gur are duplicitous reprobates. Didn't you see the look he gave you when you mentioned wanting to see a vampire? He was probably going to run you through for it. Claim you were some vampire fanatic. Luckily, you have me to look out for you, you sweet little thing.~” He purred the last few words. Winnie’s cheeks flushed and she mentally cursed. Damn him.  Ever since they'd started traveling she'd found herself very attracted to him. Unfortunately he was able to pick up on it quite easily, and take advantage of the soft spot she had for him.  “He won't bother us anymore. Now I've made sure of it.” 

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion my beloved #astarion bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion romance #astarion #astarion x named tav #named tav #rough draft #astarion x oc #oc reader #oc tav #tav #tav bg3 #bg3 x female tav #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 x oc

[poisonlove]

Lust +18 | Jenna Ortega

Part 1

JENNA'S POV:

I open my eyes and gaze at the white ceiling of our bedroom. Harry came home late last night, and the first thing he did was dive under the shower and then slip under the covers, falling asleep almost immediately.

I sigh loudly at the memory.

It wasn't the first time this happened, but can I at least get some attention when I secure a new job? Apparently, Harry only looked at me when he felt like it.

I turn to the side of our marital bed, but his figure is not in sight.

I nervously bite my lower lip, staring at the alarm clock next to our conjugal bed.

"Well… the time has come," I whisper weakly, carefully lifting myself from the sheets and hesitantly placing my feet on the floor.

I sigh, and with a mental encouragement, I decide to get up to face my first day as a teacher.

Worry grows inside me as I have no clue how to start the curriculum, and the prospect of facing a mass of teenagers, full of hormones or terribly cruel, doesn't help at all.

I head to the bathroom, trying to dispel the nerves building up in my stomach. The shower water flows warm, and as I feel the steam envelop my body, I try to focus on the opportunities this job could bring.

I step out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes reflect a mix of emotions, from fear to excitement. I leave the bathroom and walk to the wardrobe, still with the towel around me, and choose an outfit that strikes a balance between casual and professionalism. I opt for a stylish white shirt paired with a black knee-length skirt. I put on moderate heels to add a touch of confidence to my stride.

I look at myself in the mirror and smile with satisfaction.

I descend the stairs and see my husband in a tuxedo with the briefcase resting on the table. I smile at seeing Harry struggling with the tie.

"Good morning, dear. Do you have an important meeting today?" I ask with a smile as I watch Harry struggling with the tie.

"I have to leave early," Harry replies coldly, without looking up. "I can't be late."

"I understand," I respond, trying to hide the disappointment. "I hope everything goes well in the meeting. I'll call you later to tell you how my first day of work went."

Harry nods distantly, finishing fixing the tie. "Let me know if you need anything," he adds, but the tone is more of a formality than a sincere expression of concern.

"Okay," I say, trying not to let the bitterness show.

I help Harry grab the briefcase, and then I see him walking towards the door. "The driver will accompany you," he starts, looking at his wristwatch. "If you don't want to, you can use your car or go on foot," he says before leaning towards my face.

Harry joins his lips with mine, and I sense something strange in the gesture, as if it were wrong. I try to ignore the unpleasant feeling, but a knot forms in my stomach, making the kiss more of a courtesy than a sincere expression of affection.

Harry sighs. "I know we don't spend much time together… but I'm really swamped with work," he justifies, looking at me with guilt-filled eyes.

"Don't worry," I pull my lips into a small smile, "it's okay, your job keeps you busy all the time." I lift my chin, and I see Harry smiling at me shyly.

"To make up a bit, I've booked a dinner at a restaurant tonight," Harry announces, trying to add a touch of enthusiasm to his voice.

"That's good news," I respond with a genuine smile, although the strange feeling from the kiss continues to whisper in my mind. "It will be a pleasant evening."

"Good," Harry smiles, and then he leaves through the door, letting the feeling of loneliness take over me.

I grab an apple from a basket and take a bite, then, grabbing the bag I left near the door last night, I leave. I stop outside the front door and immediately return, walking towards the cabinet to take the keys to my car: a Porsche.

I smile and head towards the garage.

After the garage opens, I smile genuinely. "Here's my baby," I say affectionately as I approach the driver's side, opening the car door.

I run my hands over the steering wheel, squeezing my knuckles tightly, and start the car, speeding towards the university with a determination that reflects my anxiety and desire to face this new adventure.

The journey is relatively short, and I sigh with relief seeing the outline of the college in the distance. I slow down the car, stretching my neck on both sides to spot a free spot in the parking lot.

A smile unconsciously forms on my face when I notice one almost two steps from the entrance.

As I drive, I notice many students entering school stopping and staring at my car with curiosity, while others seem to pay it no mind. I press the brake when I see a guy skateboarding pass close to the hood. "Reckless," I mutter to myself before parking.

As soon as I get out of the car, I feel many eyes on me, and whispers begin to echo in the air.

"Wow, what a car,"

"Do we want to talk about her? Ugh, I'd fuck her,"

"Bitch"

"But who does she think she is,"

"Cool."

These were just some of the comments I could hear as I walked, comments that I decided to ignore for the sake of everyone. I had no desire to argue at that time in the morning.

I look around, observing the lively surroundings filled with student chatter. I turn the corner, and suddenly, I feel a body collide with mine.

"And what the hell!" shouts a female voice, and my senses activate recognizing the owner of that voice.

"You?" I say unconsciously, slightly irritated. The girl opens her mouth in surprise and then smiles mockingly.

MARTINA'S POV:

The morning had started off terribly, considering that last night Jessica, despite her apologies, didn't want to see me. Well, after all, she and I weren't anything serious, and especially, I could aim for one of her cheerleader friends to pass the time.

I unconsciously smiled at this possibility.

Later, I woke up late; Jackson didn't accompany me to college, and now I collided with someone while in a hurry.

My eyes carefully analyze the body of the girl I knocked down; I must say she was extremely sexy: brown hair gracefully falling on her shoulders, brown eyes piercing the soul, full lips, and freckles surrounding her face.

She must be a new student.

"Look who's back," I smile widely, observing the outfit she was wearing: a white shirt and a black skirt that reached her knees, high heels.

The girl rolls her eyes with annoyance.

"What do you want, kid?" she responds with irritation, and I playfully smile.

The girl has character.

"I'm sorry," I say with a fake innocent tone, trying to get forgiveness from this Greek goddess. "Also for the other time… I was rude," I add, approaching her.

The brunette raises an eyebrow with confusion and lifts one corner of her lips.

"Okay, sorry for calling you that, I'm nervous," she begins, sighing tiredly and walks towards me. My head turns to the left, watching as the girl passes by me, and my eyes ardently gaze at the brunette's figure; figure? I meant, a stunning rear.

I tighten my backpack and walk towards her, putting myself at her side.

"You're new, right?" I ask curiously.

The brunette glances at me and continues to walk down the hallway. "I'm looking for class 5A," she says, turning right without fully answering my question.

I quicken my pace and approach the girl, smiling openly. "Well, you're lucky; I also have to go that way," I tell her, pointing to the hallway. The brunette raises an eyebrow with curiosity as she continues walking.

"And then why were you walking in the opposite direction?" she asks, intrigued. Her tone is polite but informal.

Actually, I had initially intended to head to the bathroom for a quickie with Katia, but my attention was quickly captured by the new student.

"I was going to the bathroom," I simply reply, trying to keep my answer vague. "And not now?" she asks innocently. "No," I confirm.

"Anyway, you can go; I don't need to be accompanied," the girl says, quickening her pace.

The brunette remains firm, with a detached and cold attitude. Even though she seems little inclined to conversation at the moment, my determination to get to know her better doesn't waver.

"At least tell me your name!" I shout to her, hoping she hears me. The brunette calmly responds, "Jenna." I smile satisfied.

Jenna… Jenna… well, I must say it suits her perfectly: a sexy name for a sexy girl.

Well then, I have a mission this year: Jenna must come to bed with me, and I wouldn't be interested in anyone else until I get what I want.

"Let the hunt begin," I whisper, licking my lips as I savor the imminent victory, and I continue walking down the hallway.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #oc reader #professor #lust #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega

[cas-kingdom]

White Flower

A/N: Definitely a long time coming. I've been so slow in my writing since starting university but I'm glad to finally have this one done. Hopefully you all enjoy the introduction of my OC!

Set in the aftermath of Glass Onion.

Title: White Flower

Summary: Fleur Blanc, art student and only daughter of the world's greatest detective, wants to steal the Mona Lisa.

Words: 2336

Despite the alarm and the impassive yelling of “this is a smokeless garden”, Benoit Blanc believed he quite deserved this cigarette, thank you very much. Trying was one word to describe the weekend he’d had. All-round tits up was another.

Besides. The island was pretty much a raging pit of alarms, fire, and general chaos by now. One more addition didn’t make much of a difference, and there certainly was no stopping the activation of the hydrogen fuel now.

“Oh, do shut up,” he said anyway, because it felt good, and because the first yell had made him jump and squish his cigarette between two fingers.

He reached for another and let his sunglasses fall over his eyes, squinting into the distance.

The horrifically neon pink of Birdie Jay’s sunhat stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of the remaining participants of the weekend’s fiasco. They were all fanned out across the beach, as far apart from each other as possible, waiting impatiently for the policeboats to arrive. Ironic, really, considering how they’d arrived, each one a suck up to the next.

Benoit lit his new cigarette and shook his head with a scoff. “Megalomaniac, Janus-faced…” He muttered the words under his breath and took a puff. The alarm and impassive yelling restarted, and the second cigarette promptly joined the one on the ground.

“For the love of...”

He was owed a proper vacation after this, at the very least.

The yelling stopped abruptly with a crackle and a robotic groan. When Benoit turned, he was met with the sight of a young woman, her feet precariously placed between the gaps of the odd white sculpture that the yelling emanated from.

No longer.

After a violent snap, she held a handful of the offending wires, a look of irritation settling on her face. A flick of long hair and a moment later she tossed the wires onto dry land and followed them down into the shallow water with a quiet splash. Benoit rose a brow and fit his third cigarette neatly between smirking lips.

“Why, thank you, my darlin’.”

Fleur Blanc, twenty-year old art student and daughter of the world’s greatest detective, offered a mock bow as she stepped out of the water. She stretched out a leg and shook her foot dry as her father turned his gaze back towards the beach.

It hadn’t been his idea to bring Fleur along on this particular adventure, and he had in fact protested against it when she and that good-for-nothing roommate of his had suggested it, remembering quite well the last time his detective business had taken him on a wild ride. Alas, lockdown had turned Fleur into a firecracker and Philip had eventually boiled Benoit’s options down to “you take her with you, or I take myself out with the shotgun in the safe.” All fun and games, of course. Of course.

He couldn’t say her presence had been unappreciated. Apart from the obvious ease in her company, and the slightest spark of feeling like they were on a proper vacation, she had helped with the investigation, too. His little detective in the making, he’d always teased, though for as much as he was sure she loved the thrill of investigation, he was certain her career path would lead her straight to the arts.

That certainty was consolidated at the unusual silence coming from Fleur. When he turned, she was standing with her back to him, her eyes fixed on what remained of the Glass Onion. The structure that had once been so…not on fire generated quite the backdrop for his obviously preoccupied daughter. Her head tilted, arms crossed, feet bare and loose hair billowing behind her in the summer breeze, one would assume she was the picture of innocence.

Benoit knew better.

The moment she glanced over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes and the—in this case—horrifying beginning of “Dad?” on the tip of her tongue, Benoit pulled his cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at her. His own head dipped dangerously low, and his brows raised in what Fleur knew to be warning.

“No,” he said. Firm and simple. He would not deny she often found herself wrapped around his little finger, but this was one thing he’d be ridiculous to abide by.

“But—”

“My goodness, Fleur, no!”

Fleur narrowed her eyes and whipped her head back around. Benoit saw her fingers tapping rhythmically against her forearm. He remained still, waiting, ready. Because when a thought entered Fleur’s mind, she was hard-pressed to get rid of it.

With a defining nod and not a single glance back, Fleur slipped her flip-flops on and started walking with absolute intent. Benoit rushed after her. He grasped her shoulder and stopped her before she could take another step.

Fleur was ready for him. “I’m doing it,” she stated, “I’ve decided. I have to.”

“You are insane if you truly think—it’s—you are just preposterous, child!”

“But, Dad, it can’t be a crime, right? Most of it’s already destroyed!”

Benoit spluttered. He dropped the cigarette and, with a sudden distaste for the thing, squashed it under the toe of his shoe.

“Jesus, God, Satan, give me strength,” he muttered under his breath, not for the first time concerning his daughter and certainly not for the last. He grasped her by the shoulders, ensuring she couldn’t avoid his gaze, then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Fleur, sweetheart, you want to steal the Mona fudgin’ Lisa.”

“Rehome,” Fleur was quick to correct. “And it’ll have a better life with me! You really think Miles appreciated it as much as I will?” That was a given. “And—and only a small part, Dad, that’s all I want.” She suddenly hardened her stare, that familiar seriousness suddenly reappearing. “That’s all I need.”

The detective’s speechlessness after that closing statement could have been due to a number of things. One, because the pure gall of this girl never ceased to amaze him. Two, because something seemed to blow up behind them, a puff of smoke emanating from the top of what used to be the Onion. Three, the most likely contender, because the moment said explosion had him distracted, Fleur ducked under his hold and made her way intently towards it.

Like father, like daughter, was all he could think. And he wasn’t referencing himself.

Surprising, considering he followed after her with absolutely zero hesitation.

The Glass Onion’s majesty was long gone. The maddest of people would advise anyone and everyone to stay about a hundred feet from its flaming mess, armed with a hard-shell helmet and a fire extinguisher, just in case anything went even more wrong. Which, looking at it, was likely.

Still, as was typically—stupidly—the case, Benoit Blanc stood in the middle of it all.

One hand wrapped around his daughter’s, the other gripping the doorframe for easy escape, his wide eyes darted around the Onion. If he was any less focused on the state of his surroundings, he would have been more concerned at his daughter’s lack of concern. True, the fire had somewhat died down, and the structure itself looked less ready to cave in than it had done before, but safe was still not a word he would use to describe it.

Helen’s stunt had certainly done a number on poor Mona, but the world of aesthetes could decidedly remain relieved with the knowledge that some parts of her were untouched. Surrounded by what had once been her glass refuge, she sat still in the place she had done since Miles had obtained her. One eye was black, the other pristine. A side of her hair reflected the fire, the other had been destroyed by it. Needless to say, the majority of her was gone, and if Fleur had the time, Benoit had no doubt she’d be down on her hands and knees, collecting the ashes in a little pot and shamelessly risking her life in the process. Alas, he would sooner drag her out, kicking and screaming, than have her be here a moment longer than she apparently needed to be.

Benoit watched his daughter’s eyes as they scanned the room before landing on Mona. In less than a second, that tell-tale glint went from inquisition to pure delight. It seemed no amount of staring from outside of the case could prepare her for now. True, the painting was charred more than not, and his watchful eye did catch a spark of disappointment, but it only seemed to spur her determination in getting it safely within her grasp.

Parental instincts ablaze since the moment he’d stepped foot on the island, Benoit immediately tightened his grip on her hand and yanked her back when she made to move forward. “Hold your horses,” he said, waiting for her eyes to meet his before wildly gesturing around them. “There’s glass everywhere, Fleur, and you’re wearing flip-flops. Why would you bring flip-flops to this island and nothing else?”

“We’re on vacation!”

“You knew darn well this wasn’t a vacation!”

Fleur spluttered for a moment before pointing accusingly at his own choice of footwear. “Like you and your boat shoes can do any better.”

Benoit gasped. Audibly. “These have hard, glass-proof soles, I’ll thank you to notice.”

He wasn’t quite sure what it was that spurred him to his next decision. Perhaps it was the urgency of the situation. Or the very distant, but ever-closer, sound of sirens. Or, maybe, it was the pure eagerness of his daughter; eagerness of which had always softened his heart, no matter the circumstances.

Whichever it was, he tried not to think about the guilt that would remain on his conscience for the rest of his life as he turned and bent over slightly, motioning with his hands.

“Get on my back,” he said hurriedly. When Fleur stalled, shock settling quickly on her face, he motioned again. “Come, child, we haven’t got long.”

And, with that, Fleur hopped on her father’s back with as much excitement as a child. Benoit gripped her legs, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her chin on his shoulder, the biggest of grins adorning her lips.

“Look at you, Dad,” she said as he began walking, stepping carefully over large shards of glass.

“We are not to tell your father,” was his only response to her obvious insinuation that he was becoming rebellious in his old age.

“Might be a little difficult when we come home with the Mona Lisa. Ooh! Why don’t we take the Porsche home too? Just the steering wheel?”

Benoit uttered a silent apology to da Vinci.

“Do you see these grey hairs?” he said. “You are the cause.”

Needless to say, through no innate conformism, Fleur’s inner connoisseur had won over her desire to keep a piece of the Mona Lisa in her cardholder. The moment the police had finished detailing the basics of the weekend’s mess with her father and struck up the sensitive question of the possibility of either of them having seen the Mona Lisa’s remainders at all during the night—Benoit believed it was their imploring “the Louvre are simply desperate to get it back” that had swayed her—Fleur had produced the scraps she’d been able to save from her pocket. Handing them over with only the tiniest hint of reluctance, she’d smiled at the gratefulness from the police and watched them go with the bit of longing she could allow herself.

Chuckling softly, Benoit wrapped an arm around her and drew her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, darlin’,” he said, “I’m very proud of you, if it counts for something.”

Fleur breathed a deep sigh and pressed her lips in a thin smile. “It does. At least I cay say I’ve touched her, right, Dad?”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s more than most people can say, after all.”

The police were wrapping up now, gently guiding the exhausted party members onto a boat—one in particular in aptly placed handcuffs. The island itself would take mountains of work to be habitable again, he’d heard a firefighter voice in passing, and for a moment he wondered if Derol had made it onto the boat. After brief consideration, he decided Derol was probably better off here than America.

Benoit pushed his sunglasses down and steered himself and his daughter in the direction of the shore. He didn’t quite enjoy the idea of sharing a boat ride with previously-dubbed megalomaniac, Janus-faced…people, but alas, after today he would no longer experience the displeasure of seeing them again. Though, he would be glad for Helen to attend a few of his dinner parties when the pandemic allowed.

Fleur reached up to grasp her father’s hand at her shoulder as they walked slowly, stepping carefully around anything glinting in the sand. Then, quietly, “Where’re you gonna put your steering wheel?”

Ah. Benoit instinctively glanced down at the duffel bag in his free hand. True, it was heavier than it had been when he’d first arrived on the island, but he had told his daughter that he’d be much appreciated if she didn’t remind him of his rebelliousness at every given moment. Which she had.

“I’m going to lock it away in a safe, so it’s never found, and I’m never arrested for thieving,” he said, finality embedded in his tone. If anyone ever asked: no, he had not stolen the steering wheel of the Porsche 918 Spyder’s wreckage. No, he did not have it in his duffel bag, blanketed by his clothes and second pair of boat shoes. And, no, once it entered the safe he would never look at it again. Except on birthdays. And maybe Christmasses.

He couldn’t say he regretted it.

But he did regret not regretting it.

“And may I just reiterate,” he said, leaning closer towards her, “your father does not need to know a thing.”

Knives Out Masterpost

#knives out #benoit blanc #benoit blanc x OC #blanc x OC #benoit blanc x reader #blanc x reader #oc!reader #oc reader #oc daughter #oc!daughter #reader #reader fic #knives out glass onion #glass onion #mine

[kiki-sleeps]

From the prompt: "Sometimes I am fully convinced you never graduated kindergarden."

Jack Frost x reader 

It was a fresh winter day, the January stereotypical freezy atmosphere. In the crunchy snow, a pair of bare feet could be seen in glittering wonderland, not fazed or even slightly reddened by the cold temperature. The steps they were taking were slow, but no sad aura transpired, just serenity.

The owner of the perfect prints was a white-haired boy, around the age of eighteen. He was humming a melody in the silence of the night, eyes trained on the round silvery moon above his head.

He stopped in a park and with no difficulty climbed on one of the nets that usually sported children upon them instead of spiders, releasing a content sigh. 

As the breath freezed in voluptuous shapes in front of his face, the companion he'd been waiting for stuck out in the white scenery like a sore thumb. 

"Jeez Frost, you couldn't choose a place in spring or autumn, could you?" 

The sarcastic voice came from a girl in a red and orange outfit and hair resembling ardent flames. Currently with goosebumps on her arms, the Spirit of Summer and Guardian of Bravery made her presence known to her counterpart, as if her bright colors weren't enough. 

"Now where's the fun in that? Seeing you trembling is always a pleasure to me."

"Hardy har har, I bet it is, you pile of dirty snow." 

The audible gasp was followed by the creaking sound of the net giving in to the weight of another person. 

"Take that back, you sweaty pile of ash!" 

"Woooow, tonight must really be a bad one for you if that's the only insult you've been able to come up with."

"Alright, I admit that wasn't one of my best come-backs, but that doesn’t mean you've won the war." 

The look he got in return was one he got accustomed to after many shenanigans and quarrels: an arched brow, mouth slightly quirked upwards and a clear aura of superiority exuding from the eyes. In summary, the words were almost written in bold above her head: "yeah, sure, as if. We both know I'm better." 

To this the only answers he ever gave were either a scoff o a victory dance whether he'd actually won the bet.

As of now, he decided with the former and a good old eye roll, just to add drama. 

Shaking her head, the female spirit chuckled and posed the question that had sprouted in her mind ever since he asked her to meet. 

"So? Why did you call me here? You know very well it takes a lot of focus to keep myself warm and not melt your snow in winter." 

The sly smile she knew oh-so-well made its way onto her face and oh boy. This only meant mischief. And consequently punishment from North from disrupting normal life. 

The last time he'd given her that damned smirk, the prank they'd concocted almost resulted in a flood, leading to a very exhausting month of being babysat in training by Bunny. 

The memory of all the push-ups he had made them do, even if she had regarded it useless since they could fly and mostly used their staffs for fighting, was enough for her to shiver. 

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Absolutely not. You're not dragging me into this again." 

"Oh come on! Don't be such a spoilsport! And admit it, last time you had as much fun as me, if not more, especially since you were the one to push me until the last second." 

"True, but I most definitely do not wish to be grounded in the North Pole again, which, might I remind you, was absolute torture for me. I'd rather be on a beach in Australia right now!" 

He flailed his hands in the air, picking up his wooden staff with the left foot. 

"Oh so you're saying you'd rather be with the Kangaroo than with me? I swear on my honor-" 

"Honor that's worth less than any chocolate coin." 

"Ouch. I won't comment on that right now but it's noted- anyways, please, trust me, this time it won't be anything dangerous!" 

She made a strangled noise, clearly in doubt. Their adventures had been fun, no denying, but was that enough?

Reducing her eyes to slits, she stared right at his face, that was making a transparently fake innocent expression. 

"I want a bet then. If you lose and we get caught, I want you to stay a whole week in the hottest place on earth." 

"That's cruel! I'd be melting out there!" 

"An eye for an eye, snowflake. Or are you too chicken?" 

"There's no such thing as a chicken Guardian of Fun. I'm in."

"Great, so-" 

"But- if I win, I want a date." 

The second he said those words, the trickster expected the usual irony out of her. Instead, his eyes widened when she let out a surprised noise, and, even if the blush wasn't visible on her tanned skin, her pressed lips and head turned to the side told him enough about her embarrassment. 

Her confidence faltering was as rare as the rain on a sunny day, and Jack couldn't help but genuinely smile, basking in the action just for him to see. 

Hovering just in front of her, he went closer and sneaked a hand in hers. 

"And…. So?" 

Looking him directly in the ice eyes that she so dearly loved, she squeezed his hand and huffed.

"Fine. Even if you know that you don't have to use bets to take me on dates." 

"Eh, doesn't hurt to have guarantees." 

The shrug and over-confident smirk earned him a playful smack on the arm and a whispered "dork", but she still took off in the air and picked up her own personal magic item, a classic guitar with edges smoothened by the use and the salty air of the sea she usually sang in front of. 

Whenever a moment of idle peace would come upon her, she would zoom to her safe place: a row of rocks diving directly in the sea, perfect to sit and listen to the soothing sound of the waves.

In these special occasions, the presence of her boyfriend was frequent, and it had slowly become an occurrence to stay together to sing or skate in the frozen lake of his favourite woods. 

Now she steadily followed him in the wind, wherever his next prank would get him. 

"So what's the plan?" 

"Ok, we're going to-"

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

"YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT! HOW COULD YOU NOT THINK IT WOULD EXPLODE!" 

"I didn't know hot and cold could create a reaction like that! It's not like I was ever told!" 

"I could've done that if you only told me what you wanted to do BEFORE asking me to throw a flame at the top of the tank!" 

His grin as they escaped was absolutely insufferable. 

"Well at least we got out of that just fine, right? And I don't think North will ever know about that." 

"God, sometimes I am fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten."

"Only sometimes?" 

"SHUT UP."

#jack frost x reader #writing prompt #writing #jack frost #female reader #oc reader #rise of the guardians #winter #summer #idk it just makes me happy #just fluff #pranks #santa claus #easter bunny #tooth fairy #sandman #oneshot #x reader #rotg jack frost #fanfic #fanfiction

[shegxox]

unsaid | lookism

in which you receive a midnight guest in the middle of your stream

notes: curse words , reader is a "rising" streamer, gotta censor some titles like in the manhwa lmao

wc:

a.n: i have no idea what the heck happened towards the end, this red flag is rotting my brain, please send hel–

next :

YOU glared at the large flat screen of your monitor, eyes slowly getting red with bags under your eyes getting darker.

"We're not stopping until I get out of iron, chat." You rasped, looking intensely at your computer. "These fucking smurfs!"

Another round lost for the fifth time.

You started streaming and playing v*lorant four hours ago at 8 p.m and honestly? You were having a blast! But then, you entered competitive.

When it comes to other games, you're as swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, and have the strength of a raging fire. You were deemed a genius in certain games due to your fast critical thinking and strategies.

But then, v*lorant came, and suddenly. . . you're a blind person who dodges on-screen bullets in real life like a complete idiot.

You suck at playing first-person shooting games, and in this one? It was like you were playing a horror game instead. You'd violently flinch whenever the sound of the sniper gun would go off and kill you, the footsteps coming in close to your way were unnerving, and the jumpscares– oh god, the jumpscares.

Though despite all that, this game is hella addicting. Addicting to the point where you even dream about it in your sleep.

"Give me a week, you guys." You spoke to your virtual audience. "I promise to get aces when I finally–!"

Suddenly, you heard a loud bang coming from the other side of your room followed by what seemed to be glass shattering. The sudden noise made you jump slightly from your seat and dart your head towards the sound.

"What." You blurted out, going silent as your chat started to flow with worried messages, hearing the unsettling sound as well.

Yup, that's how loud it was.

Woah what was that

Did someone break in?

Oh no, lock your door!

Please stay safe.

Call the police!!

You narrowed your eyes, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you wondered what the initial noise was. Besides the glass crashing, the first one didn't sound like something falling over, instead, it sounded like–

'Shit'

"Sorry guys." You apologized as you started to exit the game. "Looks like we're not grinding tonight, I'll see you all in the next stream."

Without bothering to look at the responses, you ended your stream and turned off your camera as well as your pc.

Taking off your headphones, you stood up from your seat and quietly made your way out of your room– slowly opening the door as you do.

It was silent, you could only hear the soft ticking of the clock with the hallway leading to the living room shrouded with darkness. You stood on your tiptoes before creeping your way to the living room, and just before you could turn the corner, you switched on the lights.

Immediately seeing a broken vase on the ground, you peeked through the corner and felt your breath instantly get hitched at your throat. Eyes widening from the unexpected sight as you revealed yourself from behind the wall.

It was a man, he was shirtless and sat comfortably on the couch with his arms and knees sprawled out as if he owns the place, head thrown back at the back rim of the couch.

"Gun??" You breathed out in disbelief. "The fuck you doing here?"

"Is that how you greet your guests?" He utters nonchalantly. "No complimentary wine or anything?"

You gave him a deadpan look, "This is my apartment, not a hotel."

He lifted his head from its position and looked at you from his seat. His left eyebrow quirked, glasses turning white from the light's reflection.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He questioned as if offended by your clothes. Even with that stupid anime glasses flare effect you could tell he just eyed you up and down like you were some peasant.

"How dare you," You squinted your eyes as you started to approach him slowly. "You break into my home, smash my precious vase, and dare insult my Pikachu onesie?"

You stood before him, looking down at his face.

"You wanna die?"

Gun feigned a sigh, "You've been away from me for almost a year, and look what happened to your fashion sense."

Your left eye twitched.

'This mother fu–'

"Weren't you the one who told me to always look good on every occasion?" His lips tugged into a smug smirk. "Such a shame."

"Ya." You called out, a vein popping on the side of your head. "If you must know I was just streaming earlier, just how the fuck did you find me and–"

Your eyes trailed down to his bare chest.

". . . Dude, my couch is white what the hell."

It was just then that you noticed a huge slash across his chest with fresh blood dripping from the wounds.

"You care about the couch more than me?"

"Oh, of course not, you're my baby girl." You answered with sarcasm dripping your tone. "Who cares if the cleaner becomes suspicious of me after seeing blood on my couch and started accusing me of murder."

"Damn, you still talk too much."

"And you're still ugly."

You sighed before turning your back, making your way to the kitchen.

"Who did you fight this time?"

Gun raised an amused brow, "Weren't you gonna ask how I found you?"

"What, nooo." You then said in a dramatic tone, "How could I ask that when my baby girl is bleeding to death!"

"Ya, stop with that nickname."

"My baby girl should always come first." You teased in a monotone voice as you pulled out a first aid kit from a cabinet. You then went back to where he was and plopped down on the couch next to him.

"Spill."

"It's none of your business."

"Then why are you even here." You took out the disinfectant, pieces of cotton, and a tweezer.

"Free patch up." Gun replied curtly

You suck your teeth, left eyebrow quirking briefly as you shrugged nonchalantly.

"Touché." You held up the cotton dipped in disinfectant with your tweezers before bringing it close to his wound. "Better start talking to distract yourself, this will sting like a bitch."

". . ."

You dabbed the cotton gently.

"Get this–" Gun started to talk, feeling that familiar sting as you started to clean his wound. Though he had gotten used to it, talking does get him distracted from the pain, he doesn't mind getting less pain from his treatment.

He started to talk about this crew called Hostel, a bunch of runaway kids who live in an old building loving together as a family. Gun then proceeds to rant about this particular guy named Eli whom he tried to take under his wing and make him his potential successor.

"What happens then?" You inquired. "I take this is the part where things go south?"

Gun hummed in reply, "He found out his was pregnant."

"Ah." You threw your head back slightly. "Let me guess, the two of you had a father son fight and in the end you let him go."

"Hm."

"That's one hell of a story." you comment, nearly finishing the disinfecting process of his wound.

"He had the most potential that I've seen," Gun mused. "And he threw it all away just for some girl."

"If he risked even fighting you just to get away, then she's just not some girl." You stated. "She's a girl that he greatly loves."

Gun scoffed from hearing that particular word, his chest heaving up as he did.

"Love, huh." He shook his head once. "What a cliché."

You let out a soft chuckle, finally finished with disinfecting.

"It is cliché," You agreed as you took out the bandages. "But not odd."

"It's stupid." Gun spats, sitting up properly on his seat as you work your way with the bandages. "Wasting an opportunity to get stronger just for that?"

"Hm," You started to wrap his chest. "You seem to forget, babygirl–"

"Stop it."

"Babygirl." You pressed. "There are two things that humans would go crazy for, and that's money and love."

"At least money's worth it, you'd have power."

"That is true," you nodded. "But love gives you power as well, just– in a different way. It's what probably fueled Eli to still try and fight you, heck, he even gave you this."

You gently pressed your wrapped chest, careful to not put too much pressure. Gun looked at you intently through his glasses.

"Love can make you do things that could go even beyond reason, it messes you up on the inside but somehow still becomes your strength." Removing your hand, you continued to wrap the bandages around him. "If it's all for love, you either win or lose. It's what makes or breaks you, all depending on how you wish to face it."

"You talk as if you've experienced it yourself," Gun comments with a scoff. "Did you ever become a fool for love?"

"A fool?" You huffed a laugh as a memory flashed at the back of your mind. "Maybe for a time, but I choose to run away from it."

"Run away?"

"Mhm." You hummed, as you finished the last lap of bandages. "But somehow, it keeps finding me no matter how hard I try to run."

Securing the bandage, you let out a sigh, facing him with a blank expression.

"So, how did you find me, Gun?" Gathering up the bloodied cotton balls, you stood up with the first aid kit in your other hand before going back to the kitchen.

"You slipped up once in your stream." He answered and you clicked your tongue, throwing the cottons away and putting back the kit into the cabinet.

"It was the window, wasn't it?"

"It took a while, but here I am." Gun tilted his head to the side, watching you from afar. "What will you do now."

You turned your back to face him again from the counter, sighing as you say,

"I don't know, probably sleep."

Gun then abruptly stood from his seat and started to approach you.

"Why do you keep running away, huh?" He questioned in a demanding tone, "You could've been living like a princess right now instead of pleasing perverts online."

"Excuse me?" You frowned. "Is that what you think goes on with my work?"

Gun scoffed, smirking cruelly as he reached the other side of the counter.

"You call that work?"

"Yes, and I love doing what I do and it's legal." You firmly state, "If you think what I do is pleasing perverts by just playing games, then it is you who have to change your sick perspective."

"So you're doing this because you love the attention you're not getting from–"

Gun found himself suddenly facing to the left, a stinging pain throbbing on his cheek, his glasses falling on the floor.

He lets out a low chuckle, seemingly bemused. He slowly turned to face you once again, eyeing you firmly like a predator with his dark eyes.

"Good to know you're still strong, princess."

You gave him a cold stare.

"You must have been tired from your fight." You uttered carefully. "You may rest here in the living room if you please, but if not, please lock the door as you go.

You turned your heel to walk away, but a firm hand caught hold of your wrist, pulling you to face him again.

"Why won't you just come back," Gun frowned. "Do you really wish to live like this?"

You stayed silent, glaring into the abyss of his eyes.

"You deserve more than this."

Gritting your teeth, you harshly pulled your hand away from his hold.

"I do." You agreed in a low tone. "From all the shit that wannabe father put me through, I sure as hell deserve more than this."

"You think you can survive on your own?" He challenged in a condescending tone. "He's still the reason why you're still well off."

"I can survive on my own." You snapped. "Even if I end up alone, I will get through this and make a name for myself. Don't you dare show your face to me again. . . please."

With that, you went to your room and locked the door without another word, leaving the man standing alone in the room with his jaw clenched and hands curling into a fist.

The next day, Gun found himself alone in the apartment without a single sight of you, it was as if you disappeared out of thin air.

"Yet another hide and seek, hm?" Gun mused to himself.

"Better hide properly this time, princess."

#lookism imagines #lookism gun #lookism park jonggun #lookism jonggun #park jonggun #gun x reader #park jonggun x reader #jonggun x reader #lookism #lookism anime #lookism webtoon #webtoon lookism #oc reader #lookism gun x reader

[chaoticbeanz]

Sneak Peak Kiddos!!

Here are a few snippets of my wip Eddie x Fem!reader Fic🖤

~Starting my senior year in a new high school on the other hand… blows.

Well, it would have if I cared about fitting in. Back home no one judged. But here? Oh boy did they. I had to keep some of my hobbies on the down low, for now at least. Apparently, Dungeons and Dragons was considered “Devil worshipping”. So much for me trying to find people to teach me how to play.

~“Hey guys, I invited the new girl to sit with us.”

~“You're delusional man!”

~ Once he saw her walking and stop right in front of his table he was speechless. No one ever makes Eddie Munson speechless. 

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #hellfire club #stranger things imagine #x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie imagines #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie fanfic #oc reader #eddie x oc reader #hellfire