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alexiroflife · 3 months

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being married to gojo as an actress while playing the role of a villain...

au, fluff, some suggestive themes, cheating themes

🌟🌟🌟

both you, satoru, and probably the rest of the world can confidently say that satoru is your biggest fan. while he is fully successful within his own career, he can not help but fawn over your achievements like a ten year old boy with one of your movie posters hung up in his room

the world does not associate either of you without the other. yes, you have individually made an outstanding name for yourself within the television and theater industry, but your fans find the two of you so adorable, so iconic that it’s impossible to imagine you without satoru gojo and satoru gojo without you

viewers are starstruck when you arrive to your film premiers with satoru on your arm, beaming pridefully as though it’s his first time walking the red carpet when that’s hardly true. you’re beautiful, and everyone knows it. the second your eyes meet a camera along with satoru’s striking blue ones, his hand wrapped snugly around your waist and your faces adorned with dazzling smiles, photographers go wild. even more so when satoru blatantly grabs your face and kisses you all over, feeding your fan pages’ content as well as his desire to constantly shower you in affection

and when it’s not at premieres, satoru’s supporting you during tours, press conferences, galas, meet and greets, sitting backstage or in the front row of the crowd or at times by your side as though he can’t bear to be away from you. when you’re being showered in appreciation, he’s flicking thousands of pictures, capturing the way you interact with your adoring admirers

satoru's grown rather used to the array of roles you have played. he's seen you in rom-coms, dramas, thrillers, actions, you name it, and though he doesn't necessarily get jealous when you have to kiss someone on screen anymore, he doesn't always appreciate some of the intimate scenes you do. despite so, he trusts you. he knows it's your job and that none of it is real, and above all, he knows the faces you make when you're truly experiencing pleasure. while you're an amazing actor, those faces you make on screen could never begin to compare to the ones he draws out of you

ever the arrogant man, however, satoru always makes it a point to remind you of who makes you feel good- who has you crossing your legs under the table as you meet with colleagues over the computer, his fingers working their way in and out of your sopping cunt off camera as you try your damndest to keep a straight face while your entire lower half is squirming- who makes a point to fuck you over the dresser of your trailer in between shoots after having brought you some coffee to help keep your energy high, rambling on about how one of the tech assistants had been looking at you for too long- who, at any event possible, will never fail to lay you back on the seat of your limo before even stepping outside, scrunching up your obscenely priced gown to eat you out as he gazes up at you over your legs

"you're so gorgeous, pretty. my pretty girl," "how lucky am i to be the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?" "fuck, baby, they have no fuckin' idea how good you feel"

even with his habits, satoru will never turn his nose up at any role you play simply because you're far too talented and simultaneously devoted to him for him to ever feel put off by your occupation. besides, he's managed to bag one of the most famous actors in the world. he truly does not think he has anything to worry about when it comes to you

satoru finds himself rather surprised, yet excited nonetheless, when he hears that you are to be playing a dislikable character in the upcoming film of the summer. you warn him that it's drastically different, that you'll be tapping into a morally poor side of yourself for this role that you have never delved into, nor really favored before

"pretty, you'll do amazing. trust me. do i get to watch you be mean to other guys? do you get to beat anyone's ass? honestly, that sounds like a dream come true" "i mean, yeah, but toru it's more than that. my character is actually a bitch. an unfaithful, abusive one. i don't know how i'm gonna do that..."

satoru knows that behind all the glitz, glamor, and fame, the occupation of an actor can be incredibly emotionally and physically taxing. you don't tell him much more about the role before rehearsals and filming starts, but he can tell over time that you're struggling with this particular film. simply because you're just too kind of a person despite how large your presence is

well into the filming process, he decides to visit you on set to serve as some extra emotional support. he's watching from behind the cameras intently as you go through a scene that's way more intense than he had previously expected, and his jaw practically drops as he watches the scene play out before him

your character is being confronted by her husband about her infidelity, and all the while as your acting partner screams at you in tears to beg you for some remorse, you lay back on a sofa with a cigarette pinched between your fingers, face completely dull and apathetic

"how could you do this to me?! to us? why won't you look at me! I say something!"

"whatever i say won't change the fact that i fucked someone else."

"...do you even care? do you care that you've ruined our relationship?"

"let's be real, there was no relationship to begin with."

"w-what do you mean?"

you stand, stubbing your cigarette into a mug, and walk over to your sniveling scene partner. the camera zooms on your face, your dead eyes, your angled brows. "i never loved you. don't you get it? you're just a pet, and you know it. so don't go crying to me about breaking something that was never promised"

satoru's eyes are wide, completely enraptured as though this scene is a real moment he is witnessing from afar. your fake husband he breaks down, dropping to his knees and clinging to you, but you curl your lips in disgust.

"get the fuck off me," you hiss, shoving him rather aggressively away. he falls, sobbing. "pathetic piece of shit."

you go to turn away, but stop and stumble. immediately you break, and gone is the merciless woman that was acting before the crew seconds ago. the light returns to your eyes as you cover your mouth in embarrassment, looking up.

"sorry, i forgot my next block," you say sweetly, timidly. "how was that?"

"perfect! let's pick up from when you turn away. once you say that last line, you-"

satoru is baffled, the director's notes falling into muffled white noise as he stares at you. he's never seen you in such a position before, one that has him questioning everything about you. and though you claimed to have a hard time with it, you were doing fucking phenomenal

he sees now what you mean about your character being... well, a horrible person for lack of a better term. he doesn't even recognize you, and he's sure your fans are going to have a field day when this film comes out. you're being shown in a drastically different light from your heroine and emotionally relatable love interest positions, and it will surely be a sight for the world to see.

during your break, you walk up to satoru tiredly and burrow your face into his chest. he wraps you up immediately, babbling about how insane you were in your scene. you look up at him with those big (e/c) eyes as he runs his hand over the back of your head.

"you think so?"

"baby, my jaw was dropped the entire time. i don't even know how you did that. you played that a little too well."

he's joking, but you still make a face of slight fear, as though you're scared of offending him. "you think it's too much?"

"no- it's a lot, but no- it's perfect. it's bold, and you do it so well."

"it doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

"why would it make me uncomfortable, pretty? i know you're acting, and it's not like you'd ever cheat on me let alone act like that," he tilts his head as a remorseful look flashes through your eyes. "are you uncomfortable?"

"i don't know... i'm just scared of how people will react... mostly because i could never picture saying this stuff to you, and i've had to do a lot of exercises to get into this toxic mindset that just... eugh. trust me, you haven't even seen the half of it."

"have you been able to take long enough breaks?"

"kinda..."

"alright, let's go chill in your trailer 'til your next call. i don't want you stressing your pretty little head about this, princess. you're doing amazing and remember, it's just a movie."

and yes, it's just a movie. a movie that has satoru twitching in his seat during the premiere at how uncomfortably awful you're acting the entire time in the film. by now, you've eased into the feel of things and are rather proud of the work you''ve done, but also happy that it's all over. you hold satoru's hand tight during some of the worst scenes, sneaking glances at him as the screen flickers intensely over his glassy eyes. you can tell he's rather moved by it all, by seeing you in such a position, and you chew harshly on the inside of your lip

when the lights come up, you're given a standing ovation initiated of course by your rather emotional husband, but in his defense, the entire room has tears in their eyes as well. satoru's clapping harshly, and you try to hide your face as grateful tears spring in your eyes, grateful for this opportunity, for your accomplishments, for the support that surrounds you

satoru wraps you in a huge hug and whispers in your ear "don't ever do what you just did in that movie to me," he whimpers, and you laugh loudly because both of you know the thought is inconceivable. "you did so so good, baby. m'so proud of how far you've come"

that night, you shower each other with love. you're wrapped up in each other's limbs, your lips meeting every part of his skin to remind him that you are still you despite the realism of the character you played, and that satoru will always be your one and only you devote yourself faithfully to for the rest of your life. when the two of you have spent yourselves, satoru holds you in the moonlit darkness of your bedroom, arms wrapped around you from behind with your back to his chest. he kisses your shoulder softly, then your cheek

"you really liked the movie, toru?" you whisper. "i loved it," he mumbles into your skin. "but, god, i thought i was gonna have a heart attack almost fifty times and that one scene with you at the bar didn't help." "i knew you were gonna say something about that!" "i can't help it, baby, you were just so heartless and scary," he pouts

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #anime #jjk #jjk season 2 #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo headcanons #jjk au

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absfawn · 10 months

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hii, hope you are having an amazing day so far. I would love to know how lawyer!abby and reader met, i feel like they met on a library or a coffee shop lmao

love your writing <33

hi baby, my day is okay. i’m just a little sleepy, but i hope yours is going amazing. thank you :(( it makes me happy you enjoy it <3

just something fluffy (i tried)

Definitely would meet you at a library. With how busy her days get, she would probably miss meeting you in a coffee shop by a few seconds because she's always on the go and the second she has her beverage for the day, she’s out of there the minute she’s paid for it.

Your schedules never really meet up, Abby is spending most of her days locked up in an office, working on yet another case while you, are too busy working at your own job, and trying to get through the day without your idiot coworkers making a mess of something or complaining about unnecessary shit that doesn’t even matter.

Thankfully though, Abby was able to have most of her morning free the following week to do whatever she wanted until she had to be at court for her case. She didn’t get free time as much as she liked, but was happy to finally have it. Which is why she enjoyed walking into the quite yet warm library a few blocks from her office building.

The weather is as usual, cold and icy when she steps through the door, her go to cup of coffee in her hands, warming up her freezing skin as her eyes trail around the almost silent library, book tucked under her arm while trying to find that little quiet, peaceful corner she usually sits, to read in.

She was more than ready to read her day away.

Forget about life for a second and delve into the world of fiction.

Until her body turned at the right time and her eyes locked onto you.

You were tucked away in the corner she usually sits in. Earphones shoved in your ears with a book in your hand, and you’re simply smiling at whatever it was that you were reading and Abby felt like she couldn’t breathe as she just stared at you. She’s not even mad you had taken her usual spot, but more just in awe of you and how peaceful you looked.

A part of her felt like she was being creepy in the way she just silently watched you carefully flip the pages of your book and tap your finger against the hardcover protecting the delicate pages. For the first time in her life, she was speechless. Speechless at how calm you looked, how pretty you were, and how you gave so much care to a book, just like she does.

Swallowing the sudden nerve and anxiousness she got just by looking at you, the blonde cleared her throat, making quick strides towards you knowing she needed to at least get your name as this might be the last time she ever see’s you, sat here in her chair, reading something that is having you giggle about.

Her hand tapped your shoulder but it was enough to have you fumbling with the book in your hands at the scare, and almost slipping off the chair when your head snapped up, eyes meeting a set of blue ones quickly. You sucked a breath through your teeth as your eyes roamed her face, to the wispy strands of hair falling from the braid, framing her face and then drifting down the dark green suit she had practically tight around every muscle and covering every inch of skin. But what had you the most? the soft, shy smile on her face as she looked down at you. “h..hi?” you stammered out nervously.

“My name’s Abig— Abby” she corrects quickly with a blush, placing her hot drink on the free space on the table beside your arm. “I was wondering if i could sit here and read my book, with you?”

Safe to say, it’s something you continued to do with her for weeks.

#ೃ⁀➷ mail received #୨୧ anonymous #lawyer!abby #modern!abby #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble

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tanoraqui · 3 months

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Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: "What did [orcs] taste like?" {*distant sounds of tanoraqui going feral*}

I'm enjoying Chilchuck more in the manga because I notice him more, because he's less front-and-center talkative but in the background he's visibly thinking about things. I certainly noticed and enjoyed this moment in the anime, too, but it's a good example: Chilchuck is by far the best in this party at people, in terms of reading a room, understanding long-term group dynamics, and considering larger social questions like morality. His pattern recognition skills are obviously superb, and he applies them to dungeon navigation, trap- and monster-disarming, and social dynamics. He understands and gives practical advice on the relationships within a successful vs unsuccessful dungeon parties, and the skills of leaders thereof. He can often be seen eyeing the terrible new food consideringly before eating it. He's the one most often calling Laios out about No Eating Humanoids, including picking up on the fishmen eggs. When Laios complains that that's just based on a "feeling", Chilchuck does think about it - but still, when Marcille says of the dryads that maybe it doesn't matter if the plant is humanoid, Chilchuck says with concern, "Marcille..." He's the first to wonder how to make money from the dragon, but it's a practical concern, not greed. He's the only who realizes and convinces everyone that they have to turn back.

It all adds up to a guy who's never read a textbook of moral philosophy or the makings of a stable society in his life, but who could probably expound on them in layman's terms while drunk off his ass in a bar. He's responsible, including wanting to look out for his people, and very practical, and genuinely whip-smart. I'm not at ALL surprised to learn that he observed the systemic abuse of halffeet in the dungeon-delving trade and organized a union against it.

Shuro: Just say the highlights, alright?

Laios: We killed the red dragon, got Falin out of its stomach and resurrected her, but then we ran into the Mad Mage ad were separated.

Shuro and Kabru:

...actually, it's interesting how surprised I am, and was when I watched this, to see how...Normal Human Interaction Laios is in this moment? Upon request, he handily gave an efficient summary of exactly the highlights that needed to be shared - both what the others needed/would want to know, and not what they didn't need to know, lest Marcille be arrested for dark magic. Is he more relaxed around his usual crew, and thus acts "weirder"? Is this just a very specific circumstance, ie, it's reasonable to think the whole party has been considering exactly how to describe their adventures to others?

Maybe more notably, he left out monster-eating, which is also a cultural taboo but one that he's shown no sign of respecting so far. One must ask, for a moment: wait, does he respect that it's taboo in polite company? It's true that Marcille and Chilchuck, who'd both dungeoned with him for [mumblemumbletime], didn't know until the start of the story - he's clearly only just started unleashing all this culinary glee, even if he probably did already share infinite useful monster(-killing) factoids. Or is he aware and respectful of the fact that Shuro's definitely of "highlights" definitely only includes What Happened To Falin? This, too, is a level of character insight rarely if ever seen in Laios before.

Laios is like a deer in front of a lion... Yeah maybe I do want to watch Kabru flirt with him and Laios get completely flustered... Only if Laios turns it around by (later, after fleeing the initial scene) bluntly asking if Kabru wants to go on a date and/or have sex, and Kabru.exe stops functioning.

One must ask, for a moment: wait, does [Laios] respect that [eating monsters is] taboo in polite company? -my considerations 10 seconds ago in in-canon time

nvm, he's back on his bullshit! :) <3

Which! Indicates that his summary WAS intentionally geared toward Shuro's known preference, with maybe a dash of responsible dungeoneer team leader-to-team leader "fyi the Mage IS around"!

Ok now for the bit I'm particularly obsessed with...

Shown: man forcibly slamming down an impenetrable mental barrier called "Doing What I Must" in between Traumatic Memories & Moral Qualms and Words, Tone, Facial Expressions, Body Language & Anything Else Someone Else Could Sense:

Shown: Man with aforementioned barrier firmly in place [but still possibly seeing horrors on the backs of his eyelids]:

(Also shown: Man increasingly wishing that this is all some sort of elaborate hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and stress:

Then this!

Until proven otherwise, I'm pretty certain that this last panel is the exact moment Kabru's brain started bouncing like a yo-yo wrt Laios. Because!

Kabru invited himself into this conversation as part of his overall quest: to look for a decent King for the dungeon. [ABBA playing faintly in the background] He's officially given up "finding" rather than "becoming", but he hasn't 100% ruled it out as an option - the goal is to get one.

Imagine that Kabru's brain includes a little hexagon like the food matrix, but for necessary aspects of the new King of the Golden Kingdom. In order, Laios goes...

- up several notches in "Likely Ability to Kill Mad Mage" by having defeated the red dragon and met the Mage

- down probably 1 notch in Trustworthiness/Honesty(/Readability to Kabru Specifically, who is prepared to Manage a mediocre candidate if that's what it takes)

- plunges down in the meta-category of Will Prevent Another Utaya by plummeting like a Boeing in the technically-not-on-the-chart category of Triggers Kabru's Trauma by admitting - bragging! delightedly! - that he eats monsters. Kabru's trauma is centered around monsters eating people. What sort of horror is a person who eats monsters? (Yet, perhaps already starting to yo-yo: if monsters eating people is the ultimate evil, what is this reversal...?)

Then Kabru asks a few innocuous, friendly questions about this Absolute Horror, because that's what Kabru does: he lies through his teeth about his own opinions and discomfort in order to put others at ease and (thus) achieve his goals. Laios gives innocuous, friendly answers.

THEN: ORCS. This whole comic, we've had the debate about whether it's okay to eat humanoid monsters, with Laios begrudgingly agreeing to his party's refusal. And orcs aren't even humanoid monsters, they're full-on demihumans! Second cousins of tallmen!

Kabru actually has to take a moment to process this new depth of depravity which he swiftly assumes Laios has sunk to. I imagine WWII air raid sirens are going off in his brain. Laios is But then he leaps this horrific chasm, too, itchy though his knife hand may be - interestingly, his face isn't shown in the comic, but in the show, Kabru retains the exact same friendly, eagerly interested tone of voice when he asks, "What did they taste like?"

- (Sidenote: truly, in all of this, I'm most obsessed with Kabru's ability, willingness and determination to seemingly-blithely hopskotch and/or outright running-jump over any moral qualm for long enough to get the other guy to dig their own grave and/or let down their guard. Who even are you under your infinitely shifting mask, sir. Do you even know? Because I think some of what we've seen that's more "real" is part of the mask you wear to be the Hero Who Will Be King.)

And Laios realizes what he'd implied and says, alarmed at the misunderstanding (though it's not clear if that's for moral reasons or social awkwardness) but still smiling with excited pride, "No no!! We didn't eat them! Due to circumstances, we're currently working with them!"

With them! Laios is yoinked out of, if not the depths, then at least the utmost depths - while also snapping unexpectedly upward in Alliance-Building (pref. Interspecies, Local-Centric). Laios had already rated a 2, maybe 3/5 for his party makeup, but given his known lack of people skills, I can't imagine Kabru expected him to go any higher than that - and with orcs! Orcs who are maligned by everyone else; for whom the Island Lord regular offers a bounty!

Now, this IS predicated on the assumption that Kabru considers orcs a people who should be treated with like a legitimate, well, people, rather than killed like vermin. But I think I'm on solid ground, considering a) Kuro the kobold being a (mostly) respected member of his party and their secret late-night study-friendship; b) Kabru's harshly learned skepticism of the stories Elves tell about themselves and other races, which is where we've seen the heart of anti-orc sentiment; and c) Kabru thinks the Island Lord is a moron.

Mind you, I think the yo-yo-ing is relatively subconscious at this point, and won't start reaching an audible fever pitch until Kabru learns about the black magic in, oh, another 5 minutes or so.

...but I really need to go to bed, so I'll see what overanalysis I make of that tomorrow!

#dm lb #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #analysis

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roger-that-cap · 1 year

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seven summers

bradley bradshaw x fem! reader

this my first fic in what feels like a century for a completely different fandom. i have been gathering up the courage to do this again, and i've been sitting on this for about two months now. take it easy on me y'all i feel like a sixty year old veteran re-enlisting right now and i have NO idea how to reload my weapon

warnings: absolutely none! well theyre a little sad for a minute but nothing that tumblr can't handle

word count: 5.9k

Loud spaces weren’t really in your list of favorite places. You could tolerate bars more than you could do clubs, though, and your best friend took that into consideration when she planned the night out for you two. The music was loud and the people were starting to get rowdy, but at least no one was grinding on you or begging for a dance. That was always when you would wrap it up for the night, shaking your head at even thinking that it was a good idea.

“Thank you,” you told the bartender, an exceptionally gorgeous older woman who always seemed to have a meddling look on her face. Her hair was lightly waved around her face as she looked you up and down for a second. You thought she was going to say something, but she just nodded at you once with a small smile before you turned away again, facing the crowd of people you were about to delve back into. You were just leaving the bar top with a soda (you were the DD, as always) when you tripped over someone else’s huge shoe.

“Oh, shit,” a manly voice said as you tripped, and hands caught your arm before you fell over all the way. You looked up and saw a blond man in an achingly familiar navy uniform looking down at you, and your eyes narrowed as his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry.”

His uniform nearly brought you to a scene of painful flashbacks. You knew you were bound to run into attractive men in uniforms so close to a base, but there was an air about this man that made you feel like you were almost running right through the mist, right through the shadow of a man that you once knew, and a man that wore that very same uniform as he walked away.

You loved Alexandra, your friend you met through other friends. The only downside was that she was in the Navy, and that meant that you were almost always surrounded with memories of your ex boyfriend when you were with her. Him and that stupid uniform that stole him away.

“No worries,” you said after a few seconds, smiling at him. “It’s crowded here.”

“Oh, nice tattoo,” he said, and your hand immediately went to your collarbone, where the one tattoo you had rested. It was a nicely done tattoo of a honeybee, a mark of your past. Something you probably should have gotten removed, but every time you tried to convince yourself, you gave another reason to not get it removed. Deep down, you knew why you couldn’t go through with it.

“Thank you, I got it a while ago.” That was all you could say as memories flashed in your mind, but you managed to smile.

“You look really familiar,” he said, and you noticed that he also had an air of confidence to him as well as familiarity. He was an attractive man, almost too perfect. And he had a smile that you knew lured girls in far too often to be completely innocent.

“I’m kinda new to the area,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe we’ve run into each other at the grocery store or something? Or if you’re a frequent flier at the hospital.” That happened a lot. People you had never had as your own patients would sometimes recognize you, especially if they were often there.

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked you up and down one more time, almost like he was genuinely trying to figure out what his own mind was trying to remind him, before he nodded his head at you with a small smirk and a toothpick between his lips and left just as quickly as he came. And then your friend was taking his place, jabbering on about something as you tried to clear your own head.

You never wanted to be one of those people that lived in the past, and for the most part, you weren’t. You lived in the moment. You loved to make new memories, find new things to do, and meet new people. You loved meeting new people. However, the problem with meeting new people, especially men, was that there was that one guy from that one specific relationship that you had gotten yourself in that made it feel like everything was all for nothing.

Bradley Bradshaw.

You didn’t even know exactly what it was. You had been in plenty of summer flings that were passionate and fun, but you got over them easily enough. You had met so many people, loved and lost, and they all stuck with you in different ways that all felt sweet in one way or another. But Bradley? There was something about him that stayed with you in a different way. The thought of him kept a lingering taste of something distinct on your tongue.

In a way, he was the biggest waste of time you had ever spent your life on. There were two years that you shared being officially together, but it felt like forever. You should have known he was trouble the second you saw that military-grade mustache, and the confident walk he always had. You should’ve known he would cause you some pain the second his eyes and his smile proved to be a deadly combo. You poured so much love into that man in a short time in the grand scheme of things, and looking back, it was as much of a waste as it was a privilege.

For a while, you prayed for his return. He had broken your heart right before he left for his deployment, but that didn’t mean that you wanted anything to happen to him. You prayed for a while for him to come back safely and then come right back to you, and then that progressed into you praying to never see him again. You wished for his safety, you always would, but you never wanted to hear anything about him ever again unless it was saying that he landed safely back on US soil. After that, you wanted his name to be gone with the wind and buried with the dust of time.

Either way, he was in your thoughts forever and always, regardless of how many summers passed or how many people there were after him, how many you had met to pass the time. And as you stood in the middle of the bar with Alexandra, you were frozen in shock as you realized that you probably manifested the very fighter pilot in front of you.

He had seen you first. He was surrounded by attractive people in uniforms that you knew had to be his friends, and when you caught the eyes of the very blond man that you fell over before pointing at you with the angle of his head, your jaw dropped a bit. The man from earlier looked at you and slapped Bradley on his back, giving a blinding smirk before saying something to him that you couldn’t hear.

You were sure you looked silly standing there, freezing up the second you recognized him with a pool stick in your hand. You felt all the tension in your body work together to keep you as straight as a board. You blinked when your friend nudged you, completely oblivious to the mini panic attack you were about to have, and you swallowed and looked away like it didn’t nearly hurt you to stop looking at him.

You felt like you were drowning.

“You’re not tapping out or anything, right?” Alexandra asked, narrowing her eyes at you. “We’ve barely been here an hour, and you already have that uncomfortable look on your face.”

“What look?” You managed to murmur, completely aware that he was still looking at you. His gaze felt as familiar as it had back then.

“The one where you’re looking for escape routes,” she teased, even though she was starting to look concerned. “You do it all the time. Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah!” You said, way too loud to be normal. “I’m good.”

You prayed he didn’t approach you. He had plenty of distractions on his side of the room, lots of friends to talk to even though it was obvious they were trying to get him to go over to you. You were hoping that he would never come up to you or look your way again, but you were sick to your stomach when you realized that him walking away would mean he didn’t care nearly as much as you did.

You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to understand that none of what you were seeing was a dream.

“Hi!” A woman’s voice from behind you said, and you turned around. You saw a woman in uniform smiling politely at both you and Alex, and you assumed that she knew her, but then her attention was on you. “I’m sorry, I just had to come over and say I love your dress.”

You were a simple creature, and one of your fatal flaws was that you were exceptionally friendly. That easily, the tension left your body as you spoke to the woman. You smiled kindly at her. “Thank you! I got it at a thrift store, but you can check the back to see where it’s from if you want!” She grinned at you, and then you saw her eyes wander to your hand.

“Oh, your ring is pretty, too!” The woman said. “When’s the wedding?” She joked, and you laughed. You wanted a big wedding, back then. Back when you could see the groom in your head, imagine the words he would say, and even imagine your first name combined with his last: Bradshaw. But that was nothing now.

“Thank you! You’re so sweet. It’s from my mom though, she gave it to me a few years ago.” She gave it to you, her big, shiny ring that her first husband had bought her just as a gift. Instead of pawning it, you begged her to have it. It had no sentimental value to you at all. It kind of looked like an engagement ring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It warded off men for the most part, and it was a piece of her.

“Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m Nat! Most people around here call me Phoenix.”

You grinned at her and shook her hand before telling her your name, and you knew right then that you liked her. She was extroverted, but very polite. Just your type of person.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too!” She smiled at you before she continued her walk to the bar, and you didn’t think anything else of the nice girl in uniform.

The next few minutes went without any issues at all, and you felt like you could ignore the situation at hand and have a good rest of the night with Alex before it was time for you guys to head home.

“Hey.”

You weren’t hearing his voice. You just weren’t. You made your next shot in the game and ignored him.

You could feel him get closer to you, so close you could smell his cologne. Your eyes watered when you realized it was the very scent you picked out for him all those years ago. He still wore it.

You heard a very manly throat clear from beside you, and you realized that he wasn’t going to give it up. “Hi,” he tried again, and you breathed through your nose and finally turned around, looking face to chest at him before you looked up.

He was smiling down at you. He was smiling down at you as if nothing had happened, and no time had passed. You smiled back at first like muscle memory, but then your face dropped to a frown almost immediately. His smile fell, too. He nodded at your friend in acknowledgement, but she was too busy eyeing him up and trying to decide if he was a threat to you or the night to know that he was being friendly.

“Bradshaw,” you said, and his frown got deeper when he realized you called him by his last name. He hated that. You weren’t in the Navy and you had been together, you and he always insisted you reserved the rights to using his real name. Not his call sign, not his last name, but the one his parents had given him. “It’s been a while.”

“Bradley,” he corrected gently, almost like he thought you genuinely forgot, or like you threw out his first name from your personal dictionary. As if you could ever forget a detail about him. That was the blessing and the curse that he left you with. “You look-” he stopped talking for a moment, and you could have sworn that you saw an ocean of fondness in his pretty eyes that shouldn’t have still been there. “You’re still so beautiful.”

Your words felt caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that his tan made him look beautiful. You wanted to say that he had filled out so nicely, and that his scars still fit his face perfectly. You remembered kissing them while laying in the summer sun and you remembered kissing them under the tiny Christmas tree you guys had bought together and plugged in. You were both so broke it only had about ten ornaments on it, but that never mattered. Never to the two of you. “You… still have that mustache.”

“You always liked it,” he said, a small smile coming back into his expression, but you didn’t give one back.

“So you’ve kept it growing in hopes to run into me?”

“Maybe I have,” he answered, and you blinked at him. He had always had a flirty personality.

You just blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s nice.” Was it? It was opening every old wound you had ever had. Every wound that was partially healed by another person’s fleeting kisses was being torn right back open by one sighting of Bradley Bradshaw.

“It’s- it’s amazing to see you, how have you been?”

You were becoming more and more confused. How in the hell was he being so chipper? Maybe chipper wasn’t the word, he was being polite. Or, maybe it was that he wasn’t falling apart like you were. How? How was he managing politeness when you were hardly breathing? The thought that he would walk away from the conversation like it never happened made you irritable and defensive at the same time. “Why do you care?”

His brows furrowed, and he was looking at you as if you were saying all the wrong things. “Because I care how you’ve been.”

“Why?”

He took a look at your friend, who was still staring him down. “Uh, can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you pursed your lips together.

“No, she’s good right here,” Alexandra said, and you gave her a small smile.

“No, it’s okay, he’s fine. He’s big, but he’s harmless.” You saw his chest puff up in just the slightest at the mention of his physique, and you rolled your eyes. “We can step outside, but I’m not going home with you.”

“Okay!” He said, a little too loud for the setting, and you fought back a smile at how excited he was just to talk. You squashed the fondness down. “Okay, uh, come with me.”

The second your foot hit the gravel outside, his fingers were touching yours. The touch was innocent, but you still yanked your hand away. He backed away understandingly. “Force of habit, sorry.”

And it was. You remembered his little quirks. You were always pretty independent, and he had always been touchy and protective, so the compromise back then was that he would lay off while you were inside of a building, but he would hold your hand and guide you all he wanted to the second you walked outside.

“I- uh, I wanted to talk about us.”

“The past?” You said, crossing your arms.

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said slowly, like he was just then realizing he was treading on very thin ice.

“We knew each other,” you corrected, fully aware of your friend piecing the situation together by the expression on her face, and you gave her a look that held promises of filling her in.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, coming a little closer, and you felt your eyes burn when you smelled his familiar scent even more. Your tradition of buying men cologne that matched their personalities had died after Bradley. It was something you didn’t really understand why you did it yourself, but it was fun, and Bradley loved it. He was the fourth guy you had done it with, and he was the last. It just didn’t feel right with anyone else, and it was simply something else you kissed goodbye when you and Bradley went your separate ways.

“I’m not being any certain way.”

“I would definitely say that we know each other,” he said, a short chuckle dying on his lips, and you could hear the hurt in his voice. “We were together nearly every day for two years. We’d sit on the river and on the beach and talk about everything for hours. We road-tripped cross-country. I remember everything you ever told me back home, and I remember the last summer we had together like it was yesterday.”

You looked back up at him with eyes that you knew had to be full of sadness. “That was four summers ago.”

You saw it set in with him how much time really had gone by. You watched his eyes widen and his lips poke outwards as he breathed out. “Wow.”

Had time really not passed for him as slowly as it did to you?

All you could do was swallow and turn your head away from the breeze. “Yeah.”

“Do you have a boyfriend now?”

Part of you was so thrown by his question and his lack of tact, especially because he had been such a good flirt back then. Maybe time had changed him. “I’m married.”

Immediately, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re not.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, even though you were enjoying the back and forth. It felt so familiar. “How would you know that?”

“That was the first thing I checked before I came over,” he admitted, and you cocked your head at him. “I looked at your finger and saw the ring before you even noticed me. And then I asked Phoenix to go over to you and make sure it was what I thought it was, and I was right.”

You gasped. You should have known that that stupid nickname was a damn callsign, the glaring beacon of a person that meant that they were a pilot. And pilots were… they were hard to love.

“I knew that if I came over to you, there would be no way I could hold my tongue from trying to win you back, so I had to make sure you weren’t married first, at least. But I’m not even sure that would’ve stopped me,” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your eyes.

You were still a little bitter over him sending one of his friends to talk to you, and how well he knew you. He knew you never would have responded to a random man the same way you did Phoenix. “How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“I’m praying.” And then he sighed. “I don’t have anyone either.”

You would have laughed in his face if you weren’t so gutted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering you broke it off so you could run around and meet other girls, I would be very shocked if you didn’t have one with a ring on her finger by now.”

His eyes widened to a size that was almost comical. “What?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Before you deployed. You know, when you broke up with me so that you could go talk freely with other women.”

His facial expression was so shocked that you almost bought it. He looked genuinely thrown in a loop by your words. “I didn’t break up with you to meet other people, Bee.”

You nearly caught whiplash at hearing your old nickname pouring like straight up honey from his mouth. No one called you that in a long time, mostly because ‘Bee’ was reserved for Bradley after a day he met you in freshman year of college, and you did an entire presentation on conservation of bees with passion that none of the other students had in their slideshows. It was what had drawn him to you in the first place.

“That’s what it felt like.” It still felt like that, four years later.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head slowly. You hated how handsome he looked even when he was confused. But he had no right to look confused. “That’s not what happened at all.”

Your tone said it all for you as you crossed your arms. “Um, that’s what I remember, Bradshaw.”

He ignored what you called him, but you saw it in his eyes that it still bothered him. “I cut it off because I felt awful that you were going to be forced to wait for me,” he said, taking a step closer, and you saw his sad brown eyes begging you to listen. “We were still so young, you were even younger than me. It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to keep waiting for me, especially because I kept going on dangerous deployments.”

His words were bouncing around in your head. You calculated what he was saying, narrowing your eyes and trying to make sense of how it was changing your entire perspective of what happened, second by second.

“Are you fucking stupid?” You blurted, but he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he looked relieved. You never really made a habit of swearing, not even while arguing, but when you rarely let a word slip, it meant that you cared a lot.

Bradley wasn’t quite sure which way you cared and if it was in a good way or a bad way, but he was determined to change the passion to a way that would benefit the both of you.

“If you want me to be,” he rasped, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Did you just say you didn’t want me to wait for you?”

He blinked. “Yeah. You were what, twenty three? Your whole life was ahead of you. It wasn’t fair for you to have to wait for me to come home when you… you’re full of so much life. You had just gotten your dream job at the hospital, and you were so happy. If you were to stick it out with me gone, you would just have to decide between your job and me anyway when I got home. I ended up getting stationed somewhere else not too long after I came back home, just like I knew I would.”

“Bradley, I told you I wanted to travel, anyway. That job was not my forever job.”

“But-”

“I was prepared to wait for- for forever.” It was his turn to look shocked. “I really would have, Bradley. You just never even gave me the chance to. You pulled the rug out underneath me. You didn’t even ask me.”

He ran a hand over his face as the weight of the decision he made for the both of you settled heavy on his chest. “Oh, god.”

“I assumed you were deploying and you wanted to meet new people. I mean, I know that a lot of… you guys are cheaters. The stereotypes are true a lot of the time. I just figured you were sparing me from the cheating and cutting it off before it could get to that point.”

“Oh, god, no.” He shook his head. “You- thought I was cheating on you?”

“Well- what else was I supposed to think?”

“I would never,” he said, using his hands to make a broad “no” gesture. “You’ve always been it for me, ever since we met. There couldn’t have been anyone else, and there hasn’t been this whole time.”

You tried to mask the way you were falling into a puddle at his feet. “You’re so dumb.”

“Is it dumb of me to think you’ll hear me out a little more?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but your skin felt like it was on fire being so close to him again. “You’re plenty dumb, Rooster.”

“You never called me Rooster.”

“Well, I don’t know Bradley anymore.”

“I- why are you saying that?” He asked, and his face grew even more distraught. “You do know me. Nothing’s changed. Nothing is different at all besides the time. I still- there’s nothing that has changed about the way I feel for you.”

“What do you want me to say?” You couldn’t confess your love to him again. You loved him, a part of you always would, but you couldn’t handle him coming out of the blue and telling you everything you had secretly been wishing he would say to you for years. He was coming in like a dream. It was far too good to be true. “We got lost in translation four years ago and there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you and your pilot friends have been smart enough to build a time machine.”

“I would build a thousand time machines if it meant that I could change what I did, I was stupid. I was so stupid.” He stepped closer. “But I never stopped loving you. Not even once.”

A tear ran down your face, and that’s when you knew it was time to go find Alexandra again. “I-I gotta go, Bradley.” Before you could even turn around all the way, he took you by your hips and turned you back around, both pairs of your eyes wide mirrors of the other.

“I have been haunted by the thought of you for four years now,” he said, voice as soft and gentle as the breeze, but the grip he had on your hips was so desperate it almost made you sob. “I haven’t even- I’ve tried, but there hasn’t been anyone else. Not emotionally. Not even close, Bee.”

You couldn’t say the exact same. You tried and succeeded for a time, but they were never complete fixes. Just when you thought you were happy with someone else and free of the clutches of Bradley Bradshaw, he snuck right back. He ripped that rug out from under you every time without fail without even being present. That was your problem with each “relationship”, you were looking for a remedy and closure for a relationship that the next person had no idea about and no obligation to make better.

But you had definitely been haunted by the lack of Bradley Bradshaw. He was there all the time with you in your mind, whether you wanted him or not.

“This,” you said, shaking your head, and judging by the look on his face, he knew he was losing you. “This is a lot.”

“Wait, don’t walk away. I just got you back.”

“I’m not back, Bradley.”

“You’re back in front of me,” he said, and you stopped turning away from him. “That’s all I could ask for. Even if you want nothing else to do with me ever again, I just want to stand here and look at you for one more minute. Please.”

You put your hands over your face the second you felt your eyes start to burn and overflow with tears. You could feel his energy before you even felt his true touch, and the second you felt his arms around you, you broke down.

“I thought- I thought you were so nervous a few days before you left because you were going to propose to me.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving your mouth. You had been so humiliated about jumping to conclusions that you hadn’t even told Alexandra about that part. You never planned on telling anyone that was the reason why you were so hurt, especially not the man who caused you all that pain. It had been sitting heavy on your chest, the humiliation and the sadness alike, for all four summers. You never planned on letting it loose.

But you had already said it.

“You boys get married so fast, and honestly, I was ready. I thought you were nervous because you were going to ask me to marry you, not because you were breaking up with me.”

“Oh.”

“It gutted me so bad when you broke it off. I thought it was going to be the opposite- I thought we were going to start our lives together and then you just…” you looked down at the ground as you tried to swallow back down the memory, even though everything was coming back so strong. “It was gone, that fast. And I realized I loved you a lot more than you ever loved me, obviously.”

“That's not even close to being true,” he said, shaking his head rapidly. “You can ask any of the guys I shipped out with. I was fucking miserable the whole time. And I know you don’t know the new guys I’m with, but this new squad even knows that there’s nobody else. You’re the one that got away.”

“You let me go,” you corrected, and he smiled sadly.

“Because I loved you.”

“That’s so fucking dumb,” you said, but you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him. “That’s for fairytales, stupid.”

You felt yourself leaning into him, and he was letting you. His body language was inviting you in. You could see it in his eyes and you could feel his hands trembling as he moved them from your waist to hover over your back, like he was ready to pull you into him the second you gave in. You knew it was only a matter of time before you did give in, and the longer you felt his hands hover over you like you were stained glass, the more you craved his familiar, burning touch. You felt the pull to him like you were magnets. Like he was the sun and you were Icarus. You were the moth to his enticing flame, but he had always seen you as a butterfly. You were terrified to get burned for the second time, and fall from grace all over again.

“That one pilot said he recognized me,” you blurted, and you felt his eyes on you even though you couldn’t look at him. “I’ve never met him before, have I?” You might have. You used to know a lot of his old friends. He shook his head. “How did he know me?”

Without hesitation, his answer came. “I have pictures of you in my cockpit.”

That was what threw you. “What?”

“Most pilots keep photos of important people in their cockpit. It reminds them to fly safer. In the worst cases, it’s so that they can see a glimpse of family before they go down.”

Your heart was soaring so high that it was breaking with the pressure of it. “You have a picture of me in there?”

He had absolutely no shame about it as he nodded his head firmly. “Yeah, I have pictures of you. In my cockpit and in my locker.” Were you his screensaver, too? You didn’t know.

But you were in his locker. It made your heart flutter and it sent you right back to highschool. “More than one?”

“I have so many that my squad recognized you without me even saying anything. Hangman was the one who told me you were here.”

“Oh.”

He kicked the rocks underneath his foot, and then he was squinting back down at you. “You thought- you thought I was going to ask you to marry me?”

Just like that, your soaring, cracking heart plummeted again. “You don’t have to rub it in, Bradley.”

“No, it’s not that at all. I just- you would’ve said yes?”

“Of course I would have said yes, stupid.” You ignored how his eyes lit up and turned your body away with crossed arms. He was always so expressive, even when he didn’t want to be. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Not too long,” he rushed, and you shook your head.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, especially because it was mostly to get the tears away. “It was a while ago, Bradley.”

“There’s no amount of time apart that would make me not want to be with you, Bee.”

Your head swiveled to him upon hearing your nickname from him again. “It- it doesn’t just work like that, dude.”

“Why not?”

“We were stupid back then. We lived off of blind faith and a whole lot of hopes. It doesn’t work that way anymore.”

“We make our own rules, that’s the glory of being adults.” He took your hands and you faced him, and the hope in his expression nearly floored you. “Who said we can’t pick up where we left off?”

You scoffed, even though you weren’t even close to laughing. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you, but you’ve always known that,” he said with a smile. “You’ve always known how to work with it, too.”

For a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope and you felt the whisper of a smile come onto your face. And then you crashed again, and he must have seen it all over your face because his own smile went away and was replaced by concern. Before he could even ask what happened that fast, you threw your face into his chest and wrapped your arms around him.

He held you back just as quickly, and you knew he had been waiting for you. He smelled like home and he even felt like it, and when you opened your eyes all you could see was that stupid, loud Hawaiian print.

“I-if we do this again you- I can’t handle it if you leave me again. I couldn’t take it. Please, Bradley.”

“Don’t you even worry about that,” he said firmly, holding you so close that it felt like the two of you were physically molding together. “If you give me the chance, I want a shot at forever.”

You pulled your wet face away from his shirt and looked up at him as your heart raced in your chest. “Huh?”

He stared down at you for a moment, and you could see in his ever-expressive eyes that he was thinking about saying something to you that was about to change everything. “I fully intend to become your husband when we’re ready, if you let me. Just the way you wanted, and the way I’ve always dreamed about. I’m not going anywhere.”

The logical part of you knew that he was being ridiculous. Bradley was nothing if not overzealous, nothing if not reaching for goals that were just short of being unattainable. He was the version of Icarus that always managed to get back to earth safely by the skin of his teeth. He always put the cart before the horse, but somehow he always managed to get there.

So, you knew he was being serious. As crazy as he sounded, he was.

“Do you really mean that?” You didn’t have to ask that question. In fact, the words felt like acid on your tongue, but your heart pressed you to ask it anyway.

“Nothing could get me to leave you again, especially not my own stupidity.” He was holding you even tighter. “I promise.”

You were going to hold him to that with the same intensity that he held you with.

*****

oh boy.

so this one i’ve been sitting on forever and i’m tired of looking at it, but i have nothing but love for this fic that is pulling me out of a writing slump. i wrote it out of pure love for rooster though so i felt like i had to share it!! also- this comes from two main things;

two songs (“7 summers” and “ ‘98 braves” by morgan wallen) and then me being dumb enough to get involved with a military man of my own. he’s been gone for a while so i’m manifesting he comes back soon. anyone who is thinking about getting with a person- especially man- in the military (i can only speak for the united states military bc that’s where i’m from), you better be tough. i know they look good. i know they have this energy to them- trust me i’ve been obsessed since i was like 15. way before top gun maverick. but if you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough 💀💀💀 and if you need any guidance to being stupid, i’m always here!!!

if you’re new here thanks for stopping by and checking it out! if you’re from an old fandom of mine but read it anyways i love you so much, it means a lot. 💕💕💕

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #tgm #rooster x reader #my fics #bradley bradshaw x reader #heaven help me why am i writing again #lys’s fics #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff

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sardonic-the-writer · 6 months

Text

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: just wanted to do something in honor of sorry boys going on hiatus. this is entirely based on their last video so watch that to understand the silly headcanon time. cc!wilbur likers will be blocked by the way, thanks. get out of here

↳ warnings: none. just the four members here. four original, and only, members of sorry boys. no one else

↳ song: campus—vampire weekend

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• You'd think that an afternoon shift at a trampoline park would be easy; especially on the down days. Hanging around the snack bar with your employees, blowing whistles at loud kids, and keeping whatever was left in the lost and found bin became something of a daydream to you upon first getting hired

• It was a better alternative to the fast food joint you had worked previously at a crazed food van—you'd rather do anything but that after quitting

• Your first tip that things weren't going to be that easy should have been the camera crew that shuffled in on your second week, lead in part by a blonde guy with a stack of pre-signed waivers in his hand

• "What's up with that?" You turned to your only other coworker at the hour, a lanky guy with a mask and fluffed up hair. You thought you remember his name starting with an R or something along the lines of that, but mostly you referred to him as 'dude' or 'hey you.' He never felt the need to correct you, so you just never stopped

• "Oh yeah." He'd responded with a tired voice while barely even looking around. "Uh, we have a group that comes in every few days and rents out the place. I've seen them bouncing around, and I'm not really sure they're, uh, stable I guess you could say."

• Glancing down from the reception desk and to the play floor below, you caught a glimpse of the three others he spoke of, one being the blonde kid from earlier, surrounded by a few cameras and doing some rather weak jump moves. One in a red fat suit fell over at one point and refused to get up as he rolled around on the floor whining

• "Er," You took a step out of the reception desk area as you pointed a finger down at the scene. "Shouldn't one of us be down there? Supervising, and all that." You neglected to mention that one of the men looked old enough to be your father and should probably be mediating them

• For a moment you thought your coworker would shrug and tell you to go on, but he just sighed and grabbed his whistle like a weary office worker preparing for a morning round

• "At least this time I won't be alone." He looked at you. The eyebags under his eyes made you feel like he'd done this a lot more than he'd ever wanted to, despite only being at work a few weeks more than you

• The next few minutes went by fine. You were mostly ignored by the two fellows in fat suits as they proceeded to say 'dude' and 'bro' far too much, and was only offered a high five by the same blonde— Tungo you now knew. At one point the cameramen pulled you and the other worked over for a small interview, the likes of which you seemed to enjoy more than him

• The first time either of you really had to step in was when the red fat suit one delved into his shell, yelling something about yoinking his pork

• "Chungus? Chungo?" You managed to say his name without somehow laughing. "Please don't do that. We're gonna have some problems if you continue to."

• As Chounce popped his head out like a cartoon character to look at you, you offered a wobbly smile, and was severely relieved when he finally brought his hands out of his suit to cross them

• "For the record dude I wasn't even pulling my plug." He frowned, having the decency to look midly embarrassed. "I was just thinking about my feelings, bro."

• You got a thankful look from your fellow employee at your successful endeavors

• The both of you continued to watch as a competition between Chounce and Tungo occurred, eventually somehow turning into a fight between them as the self proclaimed Master Za watched

• In reality, you were pretty sure their real names all aligned somewhere along the lines of Tommy Charlie and Phil, if the signatures on their wavers spoke for anything, but none of them seemed to call each other anything but nonsense

• At one point, you were compelled enough by the entertainment to purchase a bag of popcorn from the snack desk, earning a look at disappointment from your coworker as he saw

• "Please don't encourage them." He dragged a hand down his face, careful not to knock his mask off

• "I don't think it'd matter if I did or didn't." You smiled through a mouthful. "Just look at 'em." You waved at the kid zone they'd all migrated too in the last hour or two, currently kissing Master Za on the face as he yelped in protest

• "Wait." Your hand lowered slowly as you blinked. "That's not allowed—"

• The two of you took off in their direction, using your whistles for what felt like the hundredth time that day as you ran

• By the time closing hours came around, it was dark enough outside to make you yawn. It took a significant amount of convincing to get the three of them, mostly Chounce, to leave and stop bouncing, but it eventually worked with a few well placed bribes. Namely, handfuls from your unfinished chip bag from earlier

• "You weren't all that bad! Not a wrong'un after all." Tungo eventually confided in you in front of everyone as you went to close up, looking strangely proud about such a mediocre compliment. You grinned at him anyways, finding him to be one of the saner ones throughout the whole ordeal

• "Maybe next time I could judge a match of yours, yeah?" You offered as you thumbed through the cash in the register

• "Please do not encourage them." A familiar voice from outside sounded for the second time that day, making you suck air between your teeth in an attempt not to snort with laughter

• "And remember to check the bathrooms before you leave. One of them likes to hide in them after we close."

• "Sorry, what—"

• You ended up having to drag Chounce out bt his ankles that night and into Master Za's car so he could get home

• "You know what? It's still better than the food truck."

157 notes · View notes

ilguna · 4 months

Note

Piano Sessions: Style + Finnick Odair -- reader x Finnick faking a relationship to gain favor in Capitol, but real feelings develop, maybe have them towing that line in the lead-up to Quarter Quell

☼ style (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, use of the term 'good girl' kinda in a gross way, mention of gore, brief mention of the morphlings.

wc; 2.9k

notes; Piano Sessions: songfic, Style by Taylor Swift.

Finnick Odair is one of those victors that you have never been able to properly figure out, despite knowing him for almost eight years.

Every time you think that you’ve finally got a handle on his thought process and the way he acts, he strays, surprising you. Over the years, his impulse decisions have slowly declined, as his situation with the Capitol and District Four stabilized. However, with recent problems rising, it’s brought back his unpredictability.

For some reason, you don’t have this issue with any of the other victors. In fact, you could read them like an open book, cracking their spines in the process because you can delve deep. It’s really not that hard to sniff out secrets in their seemingly perfect facades when you’ve been doing it for so long.

It’s a talent, really. One that not a lot of people appreciate. What happens is that they find it irritating when you know their intentions before they’ve had the chance to approach you. Most of the time, they have this look in their eye, giving it away. You don’t even need to search half the time because of it.

That’s why you can tell that Finnick is up to something right now, but you don’t know exactly what it is. From what you’ve gathered so far from the stolen glances in your direction, is that it has something to do with you. He’s just waiting for the right moment to talk to you.

Which is driving you crazy. You’re not sure what the right moment could possibly be, especially now that the two of you are on a train being shipped to the Capitol in their custody. This is not just another year of mentoring, where every thought can wait until you’re ready. You’re District Four’s tributes in the Quarter Quell, unspoken words could mean life or death. They can change the trajectory of the Games.

He knows this, of course. Probably better than anybody.

You suck in a breath through your nose, rolling your head in his direction, making eye contact right as he glances at you again. Instead of looking away immediately, the two of you enter a silent staring contest.

It doesn’t last for long. “Are you going to say it or are you going to keep looking at me?” You ask.

Finnick offers you a small smile, getting up from where he’s sitting on the plush train couch to go to you. Where you’re sitting at the dining table, enjoying the bottomless pot of sweet tea that the avoxes provide.

A laugh leaves him. “I was thinking, while we’re in the Capitol, we could fake a relationship to gain more favor.” He says nonchalantly. It’s so relaxed coming from his mouth that you almost feel ridiculous when you choke on your drink. “So that we have nothing to worry about with sponsors in the arena.”

You raise a napkin to your lips, clearing your throat, trying to get the burning pain to subside quicker.

“And it could work out in your favor too, you’ll get allies.” He continues. “Since we both know that you have a special talent for driving people away.”

You raise your eyebrows, blinking, absolutely speechless. This is exactly what you mean when you say that Finnick makes it so difficult for you to pin him down. And you’re not referring to the add-on at the end. You’re talking about the way he just casually suggested for the two of you to fake a relationship.

“Have you hit your head recently?” You ask.

“No.” He lets out a light laugh. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong, especially about the sponsor part.”

You know he’s not wrong. Your ability to anticipate intentions have lost you a good handful of friendships over the years, particularly in District Four. Your former friends saw you as an opportunity for money after your win, despite having plenty of it for themselves. So, you lost them. You told them to get lost.

It’s stunted a lot of potential friendships since, and it’s because you’re entirely too suspicious to let new people in right away. It happened with Finnick, even though he was the one to really mentor you before going inside. You couldn’t quite place your finger on him, which makes sense seven and a half years later. He doesn’t have a consistent personality.

Still, on the other hand, your gut feeling has given you a chance to grow in other areas. Like with the Capitol, for example. You used it to your advantage during your Games, like when you interacted with the tributes around you. You knew what the Gamemakers were looking for with scoring, giving you a higher one than you deserved.

You simultaneously flattered the Capitol while talking about yourself during the interview with Caesar, getting you a step in the door. It truly isn’t difficult to sweep the Capitol off their feet in the first place, but you managed to do it so effortlessly that they held onto you. They cared about what happened to you in the arena.

When you won, it only continued from there. You became the Capitol’s favorite female darling, because Finnick was their male. It wasn’t long before you were the good girl, you couldn’t do anything wrong. Even when your tongue accidentally slipped and you showed some of your true colors.

So, while Finnick isn’t wrong about allies, he’s far off about sponsors. It’ll work more in his favor than it will in yours. Although, with his own fairly decent sized sponsor list, you two could blow the competition out of the water with your combined efforts.

But then again, you don’t really care about having allies right now. They don’t inherently matter until you’re in the Capitol, and even then with the chaos going on in the districts, you need to figure out who will be good to have around. You volunteered knowing full well you were signing up to go blind, which is why your whole plan revolves around analyzing the mindsets of the other tributes.

Especially when it comes to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, but you know how difficult they can be. You’ll be looking at Haymitch for real direction when it comes to the rebels. His teenagers sparked the rebellion, and the rest of you will make sure that it gets set ablaze.

Finnick’s plan is almost meaningless. And so is he, to you, in some capacity. You don’t need him, you haven’t in years. If he’d been paying attention to that recently, he’d know that you’re self-sufficient in the Capitol, and you’ve never been afraid of approaching other tributes. This year will be even easier since you’re all victors, anyway.

Finnick’s proposition is just so bizarre.

Here’s the thing—it’s been a while since you’d heard from him. The last time you held a genuine conversation beyond the formalities was a year and a half ago, when you’d decided that you were done with his whirlwind romance. He would suck you into his own personal vortex, and the only reason why you’d get spat out would be because he wasn’t interested anymore.

And it’s not like this happened once, it was multiple times. The reason why you kept going back was because your relationship before hadn’t been like that. It changed a couple months after Annie Cresta won her Games. One day, you two were stable. Next, there were more issues than you could take care of, which would be the beginning of the end.

Of course, you tried to fix every problem you had, but it didn’t feel like you were making progress. So, the next solution came to be an on-and-off relationship. You would get together, everything would be fine for a couple months, and then you’d break up. By the time he wanted you back, you’d be over the fight, and you’d go right back to him.

You thought that after the last time, he’d be done. Yet here he is, surprising you again.

“Come on, (Y/n), it’ll work out in our favor.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“It’ll work out in your favor.” You correct him. “I don’t care either way, and I think you knew that already.”

Finnick tilts his head with a knowing smile. “You caught me, but I meant what I said about allies. I have an in, and you don’t. You’ll be able to skip the processing time with me.” He winks.

He must be talking about the rebels. It makes you wonder how he’s been talking to them, especially Haymitch, or anyone else that might be involved in higher places, besides District Four. Your home has been making quite the uproar since the news of the Quarter Quell, it’s just gotten worse recently. They’ve basically flooded every possible open space with the Peacekeepers, afraid of the Mayor being overthrown. Or worse, joining in on the rebellion. Which is why they replaced the old Head Peacekeeper with a new one, and she’s a fucking bitch.

“Let me guess, I’ll have to follow your lead?”

He makes a face, “Not exactly. I can’t be in charge of an alliance that large, so I’m sure we’ll all be given a part to take care of.”

You squint at him as the realization that this is a terrible idea dawns on you. You have to admit, it’s a creative way to get you back into his arms after so long, but if it’s anything like the past ten times, you know where this leads. And you know that you should tell him to leave, but you won’t.

“Fine, I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend.” You emphasize.

Finnick gives you a dimpled smile. “I knew you’d agree.”

—

The Capitol has been eventful in its own boring way this past week.

In terms of training and impressing the Gamemakers, there wasn’t anything new. You showed up to the gym, you played around with their toys, and you’d go back to the apartment at the end of the day. From the outside looking in, no one’s been able to tell that there’s more going on in the background.

If they looked closer, they’d see that you’ve been conspiring with victors that you haven’t shown interest in the past. That you’ve been getting along with Johanna and morphlings, when rivalries and distaste haven’t been hidden from the public. That you haven’t been their perfect little darling all week.

With the Games quickly approaching, and happening as soon as tomorrow, it’s been hard to keep the anticipation from boiling over. Especially since Haymitch’s plan has finally been smoothed out, after days of working out the kinks.

At the beginning of training, you scoped out Katniss and Peeta. Truth be told, they weren’t sure about how they felt about you. After some proving, Katniss was able to admit to Haymitch that she knows something is off with you. LIke you can read her thoughts and act on them before they’re fully formed. All Peeta could say was that he thinks you’re nice and looking for peace.

This gave Haymitch an idea, which eventually led to him giving you a role—just as Finnick said he would. It’s pretty obvious how distrustful Katniss can be with Finnick, and so you’re expected to placate her, in hopes that Finnick will be able to keep control of any given situation. You told them that you’d try your best.

If Katniss can already sense what you’re doing, it’s only a matter of time before she fully catches on and shuts you down. Once that happens, there will be no coming back. She’s stubborn, so she’ll go out of her way to ignore you and your advice. You can see it coming.

Until then, you’ll keep your promise.

“And you’re finished!” One of the prep team members sighs. He backs up, hands pressed against his chest with a dreamy look in his eye. “We’re right on time, too. They haven’t been waiting long.”

You get up from where you’re sitting on the stool, watching as your dress glimmers in the soft light. Immediately, someone jumps to fluff out the back, not wanting it to be flat. A floor-length mirror is moved to be in front of you, allowing you to see the iridescent dress. It’s primarily blue, sometimes purple, rarely pink unless you move a certain way.

“Like a soap bubble.” Your stylist remarks. “Clean.”

Of course, the colors were done with a purpose. To continue to project the idea that you’re the Capitol’s perfect darling. Maybe it’s done with the hopes that they’ll take it easy on you inside of the arena, but their opinions will change over time. They’ll smile through the gore and murder. They’ll be outraged when you try to escape.

“Thank you.” You murmur, heading for the door.

The boy seemingly jumps to open the door for you, and then he stops. You look over your shoulder at your stylist, face twisted, hoping he’ll tell him to get out of your way. Instead, you’re met with an open box, and laying right in the middle of black satin is a pair of white gloves.

They’ve got to be kidding, you think. As you force a smile to your face, you reach for the gloves, pulling them on one at a time. They’re foreign, material slightly uncomfortable against your soft hands.

Now they open the door, letting you out.

You leave your room, going down the hall and into the living area to find Mags and Finnick. You’re greeted with a warm smile, Finnick moving across the room to hold your hand as you go down the few steps.

“Gloves?” He questions, rubbing his thumb over the material.

“I’m clean.” You roll your eyes, he lets out a breath through his nose.

“Of course you are.” He reaches to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, eyes fixated on yours.

“You’ve got that daydream look in your eye.” You murmur, stroking the side of his cheek with the back of your finger.

It’s a look that you’re familiar with. It’s sexy, sultry. It’s what your mind clings on to when you think about him, when you dream about getting back together with him. You know that it’s a facade that he puts on for the Capitol, but he’s perfected it over these years. You can’t help falling for it, too.

“You have that red lip, classic look that I like.” Finnick murmurs. “My type in every way.”

Yes, you know. You’re Finnick’s type, because you started it. You’re the girl he loves so much that he can never get enough of, even when you’re not together. So every girl that he dates now has to have some quality of yours, because you’re the blueprint. And all the girls that come after are the copies, second editions. Clones.

But he never really needs them, because when you go crashing down, you come back every time. By your will, or the universe’s, you can never stay apart for long. You thought that the last break up was it, yet you’re here again, back to taking care of each other. You love him.

You think you love him.

“It’s time to go, we’re going to be late for check-in!” Your escort warns you two, coming down the steps. “To the elevator, let’s go.”

You reluctantly pull away from Finnick, offering him a small smile. He motions for you to go first, following behind you casually. Your escort is the last to leave the apartment, but she’s quick to enter the elevator first. She presses the buttons, holds the doors to ensure you all make it on, and then relaxes.

Once you’re on the ground floor, she loses interest in control, pushing you and Finnick to join the rest of the victors, while she takes care of the rest. This is the last time you’ll see your stylist, prep team and Mags for the night. They’ll be in the crowd, somewhere in the front row, where you’ll be able to see them when you’re on stage.

The interviews haven’t started yet, but they will be soon, judging by the giant clock on the wall, counting down from ten minutes. There’s victors scattered everywhere, friends having their own conversations. Johanna catches you two through a brief glance, waving you over to join her.

Your pace doesn’t change. You play with one of the fingers of the glove. “What’s your plan for the interview? I heard an idea going around, and I was thinking of joining in, but I wanted to hear what you’re doing first.”

“I wrote a poem.” Finnick shrugs, “For a girl.”

You blink, face twisting as you slow down. “Why would you do a poem for me when I’m with you?”

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it.

Your body warms as you come to a stop in the hallway. Finnick’s lips are pressed together, head slightly tilted. “It’s for Annie, isn’t it?” You ask. “I heard you’ve been out and about with some other girl.”

Some other girl, you mock in your head. It’s Annie. He’s been out with Annie, part of the reason why you think your relationship has failed in the past. It’s no coincidence it started after she won. You had a feeling there was something going on between them before you left District Four, but you were just going to ignore it because it couldn’t have been true. Finnick wouldn’t cheat.

“What you heard is true, but I can’t stop thinking about you and I.” Finnick reaches to take your hands, squeezing them.

You sigh, “I’ve been there too a few times.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

I’m probably asking too much with this one, but if you’re willing to may I request a second part to see no evil? Where price and reader deal with the aftermath of what happened, just price being overprotective and worried about reader and not wanting to leave her side snd somehow blaming himself for what happened to her, you’re the best💖

Origami Boats

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Wounds of the mind are harder to heal than wounds of the body. But can John ever stop blaming himself?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Referenced past stalking, past injuries & bodily trauma, blood, stitches, angst, protective!Price, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: Loosely connected to See No Evil, can still be read as a stand-alone. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The bandages came off one after the other, but the thick wrappings around your ribs and abdomen stayed. Tight. Constricting. Incredibly difficult to walk around with and even worse to try and sleep on. But the stitches still hadn’t dissolved yet—and thus, there they would stay for two more weeks.

“Erm,” you grunt, struggling into one of John’s old t-shirts and feeling the pull of irritated flesh. Gritting your teeth, your head slips through the top, arms following after like a turtle popping out of its shell as the scent of your boyfriend’s beard oil sticks to your nostrils.

You’d been discharged from the hospital seven days ago; John as well, though he had been able to leave a while before due to the less severe shot to his right shoulder. No one was really surprised when he’d stubbornly proclaimed that he’d be staying behind to watch over you—the doctors and nurses had tried to intervene, though you can only sway a Captain so far from the people he cares about.

Truth be told if he hadn’t been there you don’t know if you’d be as alright as you were now.

“What did I say about straining yourself?” The voice in the bedroom doorway makes you freeze, fingers twitching as a swift inhale causes your lungs to burn.

But the shadow, accented by the hallway light like a silhouette of some old spartan warrior was familiar down to the make-up of his bones. The great size of a wide chest and shoulders—a brunette beard and thick hair.

“It’s a shirt, John,” you whisper, voice still fragile. Doctors had advised it was unwise to raise your tone too high. Muscle tears and injuries to the joints in between your vertebrae were only the beginning of the effects of being strangled. It leads to dizziness some days; facial pain as well as horrible headaches. Smiling, you flatten the fabric and turn. “I won’t break.”

“Hm,” John comes out of the light, stoic facial features subdued in your presence. “Never said you would.”

His warm grip finds your waist, pulling you carefully to him. The man’s shoulder was still sensitive, nothing he’d not gone through before, but Laswell had insisted on him taking Leave. John wasn’t going to say no. Not when it gave him more time to care for you.

He breathes into you now, a great heaving sigh that echoes off the walls of the far-removed safehouse that he’d secured for the two of you.

“You should be in bed. It’s early.” John’s large head nuzzles into yours, and your fingers delve under the loose material of his top, content to flatten your hand over his abdomen and feel the heat of blood. A pulse.

Your digits massage the flesh slowly, and if the Brit could purr he would.

Rolling your eyes at his muffled comment you huff, “I spend too much time in bed. If you had your way you’d have me anchored to it.”

The short bout of deep chuckles makes your eyes flicker shut in contentment; fingers go over the back of your spine, filtering over the bulge of wrappings.

“Negative. I quite enjoy seein’ my girl up and about.” Great muscles move as John pulls back, hand cupping your cheeks. You stare up into his baby blue eyes; shade like a storm at sea with flecks of lighting trapped like mist. His gaze flickers over your old cuts—the tiny ones from pieces of glass that had healed incredibly fast. An expression filters over his face so quickly you nearly miss it as it’s gone the next second. John sighs, speaking lowly. “But you need to heal, eh? Keep your strength.”

“Then I suppose it would be the perfect time to tell you I want to walk around the back trail?” Your digits grip his iron wrists softly, thumbs along the backs as they brush back and forth as if his scarred flesh was made of the most expensive silk.

John’s lips tighten, eyes going half-narrowed in a display of refusal. You’re the only person who he’d let interrupt him, and just so, you do before he can get a word out.

“Ten minutes.” You tilt your head and kiss his palm—hopeful that your wide, melted, eyes will gain favor. The Brit's frown deepens with a pull of his eyebrows, watching downward as his hips trade weight. You lean closer. “I promise.”

The house holds its breath.

“...You’ll be the end of me, you will.” It’s a grumbled reply of gravel and gargoyle speech, but the blue that darts away to your shoes in contemplation was a sign you’d already won.

John could never really say no to you.

Carefully giggles wafted through the open bedroom door, carting over the living room where books and loose paper sit in piles on a coffee table; a week’s worth of activities used to pass the time shown in the dented pillows on the couch. A collection of fresh bandages and gauze in the bathroom. Cleaned plates in the kitchen and forks sitting to dry in the sink, dripping water in the bright light of a morning filled with orange and yellow light.

The Captain pulls a hand away, jokingly pointing it into your face—though his face was serious. You stare with a wide smile.

“Ten minutes on the back trail. First limp I see I’m carrying you back. Willing or not.”

“Deal.” You slither out of his hold and hurry out the hallway, ignoring the stern call to be careful from behind you.

You’d been unable to leave the safehouse for more than a breath of fresh air since being discharged—John himself an ever-present shadow to hold onto your elbow as if a bolder would come and take your legs out. This switch-up wasn’t a surprise to you.

A Captain is still a Captain, on and off the field. He takes care of his own; it was his nature to be protective of the people he loved. Even if John was injured himself and stayed up at night with a sharp eye on the windows and doors.

“Easy with it!” Blue eyes stare heavily at the wall outside the bedroom door, ears twitching to the sound of shoes being grabbed and small puffs of exerted air.

John let his lashes flutter over his cheeks, a hand coming up to rub at the bags that live on his face like black and blue bruises. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been pushing his defense of you to another level—some nights he never fell asleep because the house was settling too much; creaks on the floor or flickering from the hallway’s bathroom light that he keeps on.

But you’d been hurt because he had been too late. Nearly bled out.

“Christ…” John sighs, hand going to brush his bloated shoulder. The reminder of the bullet going through his flesh was but a distant memory like all the others, though the feeling of your dead weight in his arms as he crashed to the ground would never leave him. Like a mountain on his chest. A curse.

He could feel your heartbeat….slowing. Failing like a faulty wire.

His fault.

“John?” Your voice snaps him back—away from pouring rain and a blood-stained puddle on soggy ground. The Captain tilts his head downward and lightly shakes it, glaring at the floor. “Come on! Maybe we can see some of those birds we’ve been hearing.”

“Yes, Love.”

Laswell had given him the location of the most rural safehouse she could under the guise of saying it would help get your mind off of everything. The paranoia of being hunted down in the very city you’d lived in for years like an animal.

As John exited the bedroom and he made his way to the foyer, he silently blessed the Agent with every fiber of his being. Not only did the smile on your face make his own aches and pains fade but this also gave him the opportunity to look for a new house for the two of you to share. No way was he making you go back to the location where crimson was still soaked into the hardwood and brain matter was stuck to the walls.

That just wasn't an option.

“Eager, then?” A flicker of a grin peels back his beard as he grabs a light jacket and his beanie from the coat rack. You only grab into the meat of John’s arm and drag him outside, shouldering open the door with delicate giggles as your eyes watch the brunette’s grunt of surprise and widening lids.

The sun streams with new dawn; long grass copper in a fire of translucent wisps and a fog that stays ankle-high. Flowers in shades of deep mauve and the color of the old blue teapot that sits on the kitchen counter—delicate petals that corral a dirt path and trap the car in the natural driveway.

“C’mon!” You say again, not brushing off the arms that grab your waist and help you down the double steps, but still throwing an exasperated glare into a pair of eyes that narrow right back amusingly.

An infection of joy hits your heart and you’re laying a peck on John’s nose right as his cheeks go red, eyebrows peeling upwards. Loftiness reminiscent of flying lays a sheen over his gaze and a hum of content meets morning-chilled air.

“Hmm. You missed.”

“Oh,” your head tilts, the Captain guiding you slowly down the road where the walking trail extends back into a fairly extensive copse of trees. “Did I?”

Leaning into his chest as he grunts in mock annoyance, your head nudges into John with a heat on the tips of your ears; laughing softly as the scents of dew and dirt get trapped in your nostrils. This far out from the city, you wonder how you ever lived with the sound of cars and construction. People shouting over one another.

A pair of lips meet your scalp, feeling adoring eyes stuck to your form as the trees shroud you in a nymph’s shadow. Delicate footprints walking over the same ground.

“Everything feelin’ alright?” John asks a few minutes in, maneuvering you around a fallen log as you stare off and watch a pair of Roe deer disappear into the foliage, black eyes for a moment locking with your own.

A distant nod is all you give, blinking and re-focusing only to find the leaves rustling from a fleeing body of coarse reddish-brown fur. You turn to John, admitting, “Just a little sore. You?”

“We’ll head back in a bit, eh?” The hand on your waist squeezes carefully for a second, only dull thumps of blood making themselves known to your vulnerable state. “Change the bandages and fix breakfast.”

Staring up at John you’re about to ask how his own shoulder is—as he’d totally glossed over your concern—when you see it just past his visage. Your feet slow to a stop and automatically your Lover’s does as well, sending a concerned gleam your way.

“Love?” Your lips pull into a tight frown.

Across the way, placed into a small patch of creeping sunlight and surrounded by the long arms of ferns sits a single growth of flowering orchids. They were white, glowing nearly with how they caught the rays.

It wasn’t like you wanted to respond the way you did, your arms coming up to wrap your chest and body going to drop a few degrees, but wounds of the mind weren’t as easy to heal as the physical ones. Perhaps that was another reason Laswell had shown her insistence. The country meant quiet; peace.

But no one could account for a fear of flowers. Specifically white orchids.

John’s head immediately snaps to where you look, body tense, but when his eyes fall to the small plant his thoughts go back to the flora you’d described getting at work.

The ones that always kept coming week after week. The cards stuck to a small metal holder with red ink poems.

Lightly pushing you back, your body is enshrouded in a jacket quicker than you can breathe down stiff breaths; the weight forming on your shoulders. It had to be more than a coincidence then, that the smell of rain clouds came in from the North as John tries to calm you.

Rainstorms and flowers.

Your chest was burning as a hand captured your cheek, dragging back your black-shrowded vision like a wave. Mouth dry and limbs shaking.

“Hey,” John whispers, gruff but patient.

“It’s alright.” Your fingers tighten over the coat sides, drawing comfort from the familiar scents of oil and smoke. “I’m okay, John. R-really.”

Blue eyes flicker over yours and lips fall into a still line as a pause leaves the bushes dancing in a fast breeze. A stiff inhalation lets you know what the man thought of your blatant lie.

“Just look at me, copy? I’m right here, Sweetheart.” A quiet sigh caresses your flesh. The sound makes your nose sting, heat trapped around your neck and pulsing in your abdomen that borders on painful. “We’re both right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

You nod weakly, feet almost wobbly with a horrible rush of adrenaline. Your stomach flips like a roller coaster.

John’s eyebrows crease tightly, and he’s guiding you back down the trail with a hand on your back not milliseconds later. A final comment trapped on his breath as you shove yourself into him for comfort.

“Bloody count on it, alright? Not while I’m still standing.”

But his hand can still feel you shaking, and the small droplets of rain pelting the ground only make it worse. No thinking, he drops his beanie on your head as well to keep your head dry, hurrying you back as he glares at his feet with a stone jaw.

So much for fresh fuckin’ air.

Poison eyes turn behind him to find stark white entrapped by green. If looks could light fire…

Back at the house, you fiddle with your fingers on the couch, wrapped in a thin linen blanket John had found in one of the closets—subtly flinching at the pound of rain as clinking cups echo from the kitchen. You catalog the scars over your flesh. The long and crude ones from glass; circular blemishes near your wrists from burst blisters and desperate struggling.

John watches from the doorway, tea tray in his hands and wound muscles that leave his digits clenching over it like a vise.

It wasn’t fair, he thought, that you should have to feel like this. Having to relearn your own skin like it was a foreign entity clothing you; a new shirt or a pair of pants. Fibers of strung injuries that intertwine to weave a story that he can’t but blame himself for.

If he’d just gotten home quicker than he…

“John…?” He realizes he’d been staring when you tilt your head at him quizzically, those tender vocal cords still scratchy in a way that makes the Brit cringe in pain as if it was his own. Lord, the Bastard had wrapped his hands around your throat. His girl’s throat. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Sorry, Love.” He utters, avoiding your gaze as he walks over on firm feet. Clearing his throat. “Must’ve been off for a minute.”

“...You’re not going to stay up all night again, are you?” Your question has him freezing, tray just about to hit the coffee table before John delicately lowers it the rest of the way after a swift pause. His eyes blink quickly in surprise, side-eyeing you. “You look tired.”

Your face is grim. You…you shouldn’t be concerned about him.

“Didn’t know you knew about that.” He settles, grunting before he sits back and pours you a cup of Chamomile. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I hear you check the locks every night at twelve. Dragging yourself away from bed and coming back only to stay up and listen to every noise. Your gun is only a quick movement away on the nightstand.” Your body shifts, moving yourself to straddle the Brit’s lap and forcing his arms back to his chest. His form huffs quietly as you settle, eyes locking on his wrapped shoulder and the shirt that lets white peak from behind textile. “Don’t try and act like I’m not seeing it for what it is.” Tone drops, and the walls of the house close in with dim lights; fingers flinching forward with every pitter-patter of droplets from beyond the barriers. “You… you don’t answer me when I ask how you’re feeling. It’s like…you’re punishing yourself.”

“I’m—” John cuts himself off, silently baffled at how much you noticed. He had thought he was being discreet. A minute later and the weight on his chest is crushing him, eyes closing with a harsh sigh and causing his head to shake back and forth; his neck craning to the side.

You stare in agony, fingers going to brush John’s beard and calling him back to you like a ghost of smoke and calluses. “Please, John, don’t blame yourself for this. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“My job was to protect you.” He speaks like he’s confessing sins. Head high but optics stuck to your neck, hands going to sit on the swell of your hips as the world outside floods. Failing lights play off the strands of brown hair atop his head and you go to brush them into submission. “I couldn’t.”

Pressing your lips to his forehead, John can’t find it in himself to pull back. He falls into you with fatigued eyes and can finally admit to the burning pain in his shoulder. The sutures had been aggravated for days, but he’d never taken the time to check them.

As if sensing this—by instinct or by startling intuition, John knew not—you pull back and tug at his shirt. Obediently, the Captain takes the article from his form and lets you unwrap the bloody gauze from the wound. He listens when you speak, shivering at the brush of your nails as they catch on his skin like a glorious knife.

Forehead to your neck and nose under your chin, you take your free hand and push him deeper into you.

“Your job was never to take care of me, Love. Our job is to take care of each other. And we…we’re just doing the best that we can right now.” The bandages fall to the side, and he feels your breath get caught. John’s eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching. “That’s all that we can do. That’s all anyone can do. We’re not machines—no matter what you tell yourself when you should be sleeping. What you are,” you move to look down at him, and his lid peels back just a fraction to show you cerulean and ocean storms. Smiling at him softly, your eyes are sticky with love and dripping liquid affection, “is who I want to spend the rest of my life with, John. But we have to get better first.”

He wonders how someone like you can still stand to be around him. How could you still love him? But your words do something—brings something back into focus.

John stares with unabashed devotion. Unbridled tenderness that defines worship of the purest form. Your finger hooks his chin and he lets you move him as he stares with parted lips.

Head tilting, your opposite thumb massages red flesh until the pain lessons like it was never there to begin with. The Captain practically melts.

“Okay?” His lips softly meeting yours is all the answer you get, but it’s also all you need.

When new bandages are re-wrapped and captivating words are exchanged in the warm lights of the living room, you find yourself stuffed into the clutch of the man’s good arm, watching his large fingers fold white paper as he hums a song under his breath.

“What is it?” Your voice breaks the silence, calm finally settling in your bones. John wouldn’t leave you tonight, nor any night after.

The brunette takes a glance down at you and smirks, his shirt left on the coffee table. Your blanket covers the both of you in a cocoon of warmth that the man simply exudes naturally.

“Origami boat.” John pauses his rapid movements, tilting the piece so you can see the folds and sharp edges. You blink in curiosity. “My father showed me how to make them a long time ago. Ages now. Haven't made ‘em in years.”

“Does it work?” A small sound echoes from the back of his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Not a clue. Let's see then, shall we, Love?”

Standing on the porch, you watch John’s form get soaked as he carries the small object to the stream at the end of the road, laughing gleefully when his re-situated shirt gets stuck to his skin and shows off his muscles.

Placing it down, the brunette lightly jogs back, hopping the steps and coming up to wrap an arm over you.

“Hey!” You huff, shucking off the heavy limb from your banket. “You’ll get me soaked.”

“So you don’t want my arm ‘round you, eh?” His cheeky expression makes you hold back a grin, looking away for a moment before rolling your eyes and moving under him.

You feel his deep chest-chuckles and roll your eyes.

“You’re doing the laundry.”

“It’s rainwater, Dear.”

“I wasn’t asking, Dear.”

You both watch the small object as it flows down the muddy stream; white paper going gray with water as it soaks up into the microscopic fibers. For a moment it amused you to think about John and yourself on that boat. Two tiny forms like ants surrounded by a sea of roaring water, raindrops enough to capsize with only one another to help tread water. In many ways, it was hard not to imagine it.

Your upturned lips part.

“John?” you ask.

“Hm?” A nose digs into your scalp, fingers tightening over your hidden flesh as the flowers flinch from the downpour and nitrogen sticks to your nose hairs. He breathes you in and watches the Origami boat fall onto its side—swept away with little more than a whisper.

“We’re going to be okay.” It’s not a question.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

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5starluvr · 6 months

Text

Link up

Paring:Yang Jeongin × Reader

Genre:fluff,angst(just a tiny bit)

Warnings:fighting

Spider Kids

Something sweet before It gets angsty again ~

"Jeongin, you'll be partnered with Y/n," Ms. Jung declared, her voice booming across the classroom.

Jeongin's heart lurched. Y/n, the brilliant girl who seemed to exist on a different academic plane altogether? He stole a glance, catching her surprised gaze before she quickly returned to her meticulously highlighted notes.

The initial awkwardness was palpable. Summoning his courage, Jeongin mumbled a hesitant hello. Y/n offered a shy smile in return, her usual focus on academics momentarily broken. They settled on bioluminescence, a topic Y/n suggested with a shy smile. As they delved into research, a hesitant camaraderie blossomed.

———

One afternoon, hunched over laptops at the library, Jeongin blurted out, "You know, Spiderman uses bioluminescent material in his suit to blend in with the shadows."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I never thought about that!" A spark ignited, and for the next hour, they weren't just classmates, they were co-conspirators, weaving science and fiction into a captivating presentation.

Weeks leading to the science fair flew by in a flurry of activity. Their project evolved into a dazzling display of glowing concoctions bubbling away in beakers and informative posters that showcased bioluminescence in nature and its potential applications. But the real magic happened during their presentation. Jeongin, usually tongue-tied, spoke with newfound confidence, his enthusiasm infectious. Y/n, at his side, chimed in with insightful details, her voice brimming with a shared passion.

They didn't just win first place; they won the respect and admiration of their classmates. As they packed up their project later, a comfortable silence hung between them. "Hey," Jeongin stammered, "maybe we could hang out sometime, outside of school?"

Y/n's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "I'd like that," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

The weight of her backpack seemed to lessen as Y/n spotted Jeongin by the school gates the following afternoon. A nervous thrill danced in her stomach, a new sensation when it came to him. This wasn't just about dissecting the science fair aftermath; it was about exploring a newfound connection.

They walked side-by-side, replaying the highlights of the day. The golden light of the setting sun painted the world in warm hues as they found a quiet corner in the park. Jeongin pulled out a notebook, causing Y/n's heart to do a little skip.

"I was thinking about our project," he began, a hint of shyness tinging his voice.

"Me too," she admitted, excitement bubbling within her. "There's so much more to explore. Perhaps other bioluminescent organisms?"

His eyes lit up, mirroring her enthusiasm. "That's a great idea! We could even try creating a prototype for… hmm, maybe a self-illuminating bike path?"

Hours melted away as they delved into a whirlwind of ideas. They sketched diagrams, debated possibilities, and bounced thoughts off each other like fireflies flitting through the gathering dusk. The science project, a forced partnership at first, had blossomed into something more – a shared passion for science that crackled with intellectual curiosity.

As the stars began to pepper the darkening sky, reality intruded. "We should probably head home," Y/n said with a reluctant sigh.

Jeongin nodded, a similar sentiment etched on his face. "But hey," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "who says the brainstorming has to stop here?"

Y/n's heart did a little flip. "Right," she managed, a smile blooming on her face. "Your place or mine?"

"My place," he blurted out, then cleared his throat. "If that's alright with you."

The warmth in his voice sent shivers down her spine. "Perfect," she replied, a feeling far stronger than just liking blooming within her.

——

The crisp autumn air swirled fallen leaves around their ankles as Jeongin and Y/n walked home from their usual science hangout. Laughter bubbled between them as they debated about various things.

Suddenly, a guttural roar shattered the peaceful evening. A hulking figure, shrouded in shadow, emerged from a deserted alleyway. Venom, the symbiote-enhanced villain, loomed before them, his glistening black form radiating menace.

Y/n's breath hitched. Fear, icy and sharp, clawed at her throat. Jeongin's face paled, but his stance remained resolute. He knew he had to act fast.

"Y/n, stay behind me!" he commanded, his voice firm despite the tremor within.

Y/n scrambled back, her eyes wide with terror. In a single, practiced motion, Jeongin ripped off his sweatshirt, revealing the now-familiar red and blue suit clinging to his skin. A mask materialized over his face, obscuring his features.

"Venom," Spiderman's voice, distorted by the mask, rang out. "Leave her alone."

Venom chuckled, a grotesque sound that sent shivers down Y/n's spine. "Another spider to squish," he snarled, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the streetlight.

A brutal fight ensued. Venom, fueled by a dark rage, unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp tendrils. Spiderman, nimble and agile, dodged each attack with practiced ease. He countered with precisely placed web shots, attempting to immobilize the monstrous villain.

Y/n watched in stunned silence as the boy she knew as Jeongin, the one who stammered over complex scientific theories and built glowing concoctions, battled a monstrous creature with superhuman speed and agility. A newfound respect, tinged with a sliver of fear, bloomed in her chest.

As the fight raged, Y/n noticed a shift in Venom's movements. The symbiote seemed to be struggling, its black form flickering erratically. It was then she remembered something from their recent bioluminescence research – certain frequencies of light could disrupt some bioluminescent organisms.

"Jeongin!" she yelled, a desperate plea escaping her lips. "Light! You need light!"

Spiderman, momentarily distracted, caught her frantic scream. He glanced at the traffic light above, an idea sparking in his mind. With a well-aimed web shot, he triggered a short circuit, showering the area in a chaotic flicker of red, yellow, and green.

The effect was instantaneous. Venom recoiled, the symbiote writhing in agitation. Disoriented and weakened, the villain stumbled back, a frustrated screech tearing from his throat. Seizing this opportunity, Spiderman launched a final web attack, successfully encasing Venom in a sticky cocoon.

The air crackled with an unsettling silence as the villain struggled, his black form pulsating against the white webbing. Y/n rushed to Jeongin's side, relief washing over her features.

Jeongin, panting and slightly bruised, turned to face her. The mask felt suffocating, the secret it held a heavy burden. Yet, seeing the awe and gratitude in Y/n's eyes, he knew he couldn't keep hiding.

"Y/n..." he began, his voice strained. But before he could confess his dual identity, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The exertion of the fight, coupled with the emotional strain, took its toll. He stumbled, his vision blurring.

Y/n caught him before he could fall. As he looked into her worried eyes, he knew the truth would come out anyway. With a shaky breath, he pulled off the mask, revealing his face etched with exhaustion but resolute.

Y/n stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise, then with a slow dawning realization. Recognition flickered in her gaze, followed by a hesitant smile. "Jeongin?" she breathed.

A wave of relief washed over him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected – fear, anger, even disgust. But instead, he saw acceptance, a spark of something more complex in her eyes.

"It's me," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

A beat of silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the distant wail of approaching sirens. Then, to his utter astonishment, Y/n burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the deserted street.

"Oh my gosh, Jeongin," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're Spiderman!"

Jeongin stared at her, surprised by her reaction. "You're not mad?"

Y/n shook her head, her eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. "Mad? No way! That was amazing! You saved me!"

Jeongin let out a shaky breath of relief. The relief that washed over Jeongin was so profound it almost knocked him off his feet. Here he was, exposed, vulnerable, and… met with laughter and admiration?

Y/n, still wiping tears from her eyes, reached out and squeezed his hand. "Seriously, Jeongin, that was incredible! The way you moved, the strategy with the lights – you're a genius, even without a lab coat!"

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. "Thanks, Y/n. I… I just wanted to protect you."

Her smile softened. "I know," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "And you did. You're my hero, Jeongin. Spiderman and… just Jeongin."

He couldn't help but grin, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the exertion of the fight. The secret was out, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But more importantly, a deeper connection had formed between them, forged in the crucible of danger and a shared secret.

The wail of approaching sirens grew louder. Y/n glanced down the street, her smile fading slightly. "We should probably get out of here before the police arrive,baby."

Taglist:open : @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne @ilychee08 @dollce-exe

#Spotify #stray kids #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz imagine #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz #jeongin x reader #jeongin #yang jeongin #skz jeongin #skz angst #•~spider kids~•

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wutheringcaterpillar · 3 months

Text

A Much Needed Break

Summary: Sneaking out of detention with Kitten, needing to feel her lips on yours for the first time.

warnings: first kiss, flirting

Glancing over at you with her flawless eyelashes and the pen in-between her plump lips, she nodded toward the door, hinting that she had an escape plan and to follow her lead.

Your blood pressure was rising extremely fast, the clear sexual tension building with every glance her way and her flirtatious gaze.

“Ezcuse me- ugh sir.” The teacher turned his head in annoyance, looking at Patricia with dagger eyes and a scowl.

She waved him off, pursing her lips. “Y/N and I have a paper due tomorrow. We’re missing a book from the library, actually the book for your class. May I go get it?” He nodded her off, not in the mood for Patricia’s shenanigans before he resumed eating his banana, tending to the crossword puzzle he’s been stuck on for weeks.

Biting her lip, she glanced over at you, gathering some random papers out of her bag before exiting the room.

How were you supposed to leave? Surely he wouldn’t let you out at the same time.

There was a loud thud out in the hallway. Taking that as a hint for a distraction, when he closed the door behind him, you hurried off out the back door, stumbling in the hallway looking for Kitten until she pulled your arm, yanking you into the library.

She playfully raised her finger to her lips to “be quiet”, sneaking you both toward the back of the room between two aisles of books.

Her angelic blue eyes bore into your soul, your stomach responding by fluttering with overjoyed butterflies. She was insatiable and everything you wanted.

“Kitten what’re you-“ Her cherry glossed lips clashing against yours silenced you, her tongue delving inbetween your lips with the profound urge to taste you. Her lips were smoothe, and heavenly causing your eyebrows to raise in surprise as you leaned into her touch, deepening the kiss with each passing second.

Her hands glided down your sides, resting on your hips as she ravished you, consuming you with desire.

She lifted you off the ground, holding you up by your bottom, nibbling sweetly at your neck while you giggled and moaned quietly. Books scattering on the floor from the abrupt change in position.

“Such a sweet peach you are, and I must say I have the guilty pleasure of being the cream.” You giggled in her hold, heart pounding in the thrill of being caught with her.

She was playful, cute, adorable, and oh so brillant at kissing. You blushed against her lips, wanting to taste more of her but knew you were on a time limit. Surely the teacher had to wonder where you are but Kitten didn’t have a care in the world, far too engrossed in your adorable self.

Your hands roamed the small of her back, the tension rising in the tight proximity as she continued to ravish your lips in a state of lust.

She curved her lips into a smile, running her hand down the bottom of your thigh, grasping the smooth skin delicately.

Her tongue crept in between your lips, just desperately wanting more and more.

“We should probably get back soon.” Kitten pouted, not wanting this insatiable, palpable moment to end. She’d have endless dreams about you, endless thoughts about you, her eyes always sneaking glances at you.

Pressing your lips against hers once more in a heated, desperate, long kiss, time stood still for just a moment before you pulled away and booped her nose.

“Meet me at the park after school, okay?” That turned her frown upside down. She set you down gently and walked back to the cafeteria with you, hand in hand.

Walking into the room, the teacher raised a questionable brow. There was no book in Patricia’s hands, and you both were out of breath, smirking and blushing. He wasn’t born yesterday. “Couldn’t find the book, huh?” Kitten shrugged, smiling and acting oblivious while you sat nervously in your seat, still replaying the events from just moments a go.

“Oh it seems not sir. What’s the saying? Can’t find a needle in a patch of hairy ass if you tried?”

#Patricia braden #kitten braden #patricia braden x reader #Kitten x reader #Kitten braden x reader #breakfast on pluto #ranaewrites

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tokyo-terror · 1 year

Note

YOO IM IN LOVE WITH UR HCS THEY TASTE LIKE CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES AND FRUIT TEA :3

Request here 🙏🙏🙏

Could you possibly.. *leans on Bugatti with graves wrap on it + an inflatable eagle and American flag flying from the bonnet* write some hcs for 141 + König with a gn s/o that has had a really bad day and just needs some comfort? So eg, just being pampered and having their hair washed, being told they’ve done well, that people are proud of them and love them, etc?

Ive been having a really shitty past few months with my depression and anxiety and it’s really overwhelmed me so I’m kinda projecting.. 🧍🏼🧍🏼

If you can’t do it, that’s ok!!! No pressure <33

But if you can, may your skin be clear and may your crops flourish 🙏🙏🙏 (with america rizz) (im british)

i hate brits but ill make an exception for u 🫶 /lh i hope ur day gets a littol bit better for u pookie :< ik how hard it gets fr <3 we r in this together :)

cw: depression (not delved into !!)

simon "ghost" riley:

☆ this guy getss it !!! he doesn't open up much about his feelings directly but let's all be fr and agree he's not the most mentally stable

☆ your self care day is hiss self care day, thrives on cuddling and using you as weighted blanket while he rubs your back

☆ has himself a tea while you both cuddle, and trust me it's good tea. the night might turn into a cuddle and see how many teas simon can make before you run out

☆ before you fall asleep fully he kisses the crown of your head and says that he's proud of how far you've come

john "soap" mactavish:

☆ tries to be more lowkey w how he comforts you because he doesn't want to come off as overbearing

☆ has mastered the perfect balance of praise and touch, he holds your hand while you tell him about your day and he makes comments trying to sympathize w you

☆ lets you scritch his mohawk while he tells you how much he loves you and how glad he is that you're around and here with him

☆ lays his head on your chest when you both go to sleep so he can listen to your heartbeat and tap your arms to the beat of it, has both of you asleep within 5 minutes

john price:

☆ kinda awkward with comforting but he tries his best, he's always a little bit confused about how somebody like you could be so upset about anything

☆ he knows that it's not his place to fully understand though, so he sticks to doing what he does best: being an old ass man

☆ showers with you and washes your hair while you vent (or not) about how you've been feeling, he stays mostly silently except for humming to let you know he's listening

☆ towel dries your hair and changes the bedsheets to clean ones so you can be fully clean because he's a firm believer in being a little more tidy can greatly improve somebody's feelings

kyle "gaz" garrick:

☆ king of pampering in general, he's waiting on you hand and foot constantly. honestly he probably knows it's going to be a bad day before you even start your day

☆ he's always making you food to eat throughout the day, little snacks that aren't too big but are just enough to keep you energized and full

☆ ditches his military soaps for your nice ones when you take a shower, secretly (not rlly) loves when you laugh at him building bubble beards on himself and doing price impressions

☆ making you laugh is his goal in life tbh he's constantly cracking jokes while you both cuddle, some of them are so bad it's funny

könig:

☆ another guy that genuinely understands everything you're talking abt, his anxiety also makes him have awfulll days and due to being the military around lots of people he's learned coping mechanisms

☆ takes hot showers with you a lot in general, but even more when you're having one of those days. he's already washing your hair and face as soon as you get in

☆ lets you braid his hair while he talks idly about how missions are and how he adores you, though he says that in german. you've picked up on him saying cheesy stuff in german though so it's fine :)

☆ lets you sprawl out on him like a starfish when you both finally go to sleep, around 2am because of how many shows he wanted to watch with you

#THE GRAVES BUGATTI MADE ME WHEEZE BTW #I NEED THAT CAR EVEN THO I CANT DRIVE FR #mw2 x reader #mwii x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #asks #wolfe.req

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swifty-fox · 2 months

Note

thinks about the scene between bucky and paulina in episode 4. but instead, it's buck (trans or cis) making john moan so sweetly by riding him 🥰

I feel like by the third prompt John probably finally deserves an orgasm??? poor service top deserves a reward. More trans Gale *waves wand*

also gale gets top surgery in this one! i can give the boys good things sometimes!

"They look good," John says, leaning so far back in Gale's desk chair the back legs threaten to slide out from under him at any second.

It's a practice in tolerance and letting things go for Gale to bite his tongue against a warning. An effort in restraint to not carve his eyes over the bare expanse of John's chest, decorated with a delicate gold cross and a smattering of still-boyish hair. His red track shorts were bunched up around his hips, showing off tanned muscular thighs covered in marks from Gale's teeth. There was still glitter in his hair under his backwards baseball cap, a smear of red lipstick on his lips from the show he'd just come from.

"You think?" Gale asks, running his thumb under the pink scar tracing from one side of his chest to his armpit, mirrored perfectly on the other side.

"Yeah, Kinda sexy," John drawls, "They're like. Decorative."

"Some people get them covered up with tattoos."

"You'd look good that way too," John says quickly and Gale laughs softly.

"You're just gonna like me however I come huh?"

He's hard in his own shorts, tracing his eyes over and over the broad spanse of the man in front of him. Who wasn't quite his boyfriend but they certainly weren't fucking anyone but each other. The guys had bets about them. The guys thought the Buckies didn't know about their bets. Curt had a side bet with Bucky about how deep the pot would go. Buck turned his nose up at the gambling and told John he could be his boyfriend when he decided to quit vaping

It was an arrangement that worked for everyone.

"If coming is involved I'm always interested," John leers.

God help him, Gale's dick twitches. He drags his gaze back to the mirror, facing it square on. Allows himself a smile that was a little broader, a little more giddy. It's not the first time he's seen his bare chest, but it's the first time he's been cleared for full activity. it's the first time things don't ache and, really, it fucking rocked every single time. He did look good

Making his way over to stand between John's legs, its an easy practiced movement to allow himself to be tugged into his lap, grunting as the chair falls forward on all four feet. Shamelessly grinds down on the line of John's cock in his shorts, clearly no underwear between them.

"Do you think your fans know how sweet you are?"

"My fans come to see me be a bearded queen and sing badly, they don't care about how sweet I am."

"Mm," Gale leans down and kisses John in a filthy embrace, scrapes the lipstick off John's bottom lip with his teeth, braces himself with a hand on the base of John's throat to lift up onto his knees.

"You're so sweet," He breathes as John's own breath catches at the light pressure.

John helps him drag his shorts down his thighs, let them dangle off one sneaker as two of John's fingers delve between his thighs, the man beneath him cursing as he feels how damp he is.

"You're so," Gale gasps as two fingers sink inside him, the prep necessary for the fat width of the cock he now pulls out of John's shorts, the both of them dripping and needy, "sweet, Jesus John."

Humming a rumble of a noise, John leans forward to press a reverent kiss to the center of Gale's chest, licks at the pale hairs there and catches a few between his teeth to tug, "Keep being nice to me and I'm gonna blush."

"Gonna be so nice to you Bucky," Gale breathes, knocking John's hand aside and sinking down onto him, the breach just the right side of too much too quick.

They gasp together, John's head falling back over the chair and Gale's back arching at the stretch. The heavy twitching weight inside him has him breathless, thighs shaking for a moment as he grinds down to take John to the hilt.

"Fu-ck, wait-" John gasps, fingers bruising on Gale's hips to hold him still, "Fucking hell, Buck. What about a condom?"

"You can pull out," Gale grunts, bats John's hands away again and wraps both arms around his neck to sink back down until the backs of his thighs touch the tops of John's. Grinds them together until he feels the wet squelch of their combined need against his skin, licking John's pubic hair dark and wet. "Just pull out."

John whines again, neck bared so easily Gale can't help but set his teeth to it. Sucks mark after mark into his pale skin until there's a necklace of claim across his collarbones. John takes it with eager cries, holds Gale's hips obligingly so he can ride John, wanton with his need.

It had been altogether unsurprising that John took to being pleasured as eagerly as he did to doling it out.

The slow grind between their bodies is scalding and thigh-shaking, the kind of syrupy pleasure that dragged ragged groans from both their chests. John's hat is slipping off his curls, so Gale snags it, presses it backwards onto his own head and John cracks open one eye only to curse in shock and close it quick again.

"You look like a fucking nineties porn mag Buck, Jesus Christ."

"A fan of the classics?"

John barks out a laugh, digs his fingers into the meat of Gale's ass and drags him closer until his dick is scraping against John's stomach with every roll of their hips and Gale's shivering and squirming at the combined stimulation. He leans back, hands braced on John's knees so he can see where John enters him with every thrust. The new angle is dizzying, John hitting that singing spot inside him with every thrust, feeling like he holds somewhere up behind Gale's belly button and he's gasping with every thrust now.

"Ah, ah ah ah"

"Yeah," John pants, thumb dropping down to the sensitive head of Gale's dick and circling where it nestles against John's cock. Stars burst behind Gale's eyes, "Yeah, baby, taking it like a good boy for me aren't you?"

Gale slips two fingers into John's tongue in retaliation, but it achieves little behind shutting him up, his tongue tickles between Gale's digits, John's thumb still circling his dick in tender circles. The combined need of them is a wet sticky mess that echoes around the room with every meeting of their hips, squelching out of Gale with every thrust.

It doesn't take long, John is always pent up after a show, needy and running off of adrenaline and every nerve a livewire. His limbs are shaking, thighs widening as if he can get deeper inside Gale. He can't warn Gale, fingers still working through his mouth open but he taps Gale's thigh insistently, eyes widening and Gale understands, he does.

But the way John's thighs shiver under him, the way he bucked up into him with weak desperate need, panting through an open wet mouth that ended on a sweet whimper now and then. He doesn't want to miss a second of it. He bears down on John, braces a hand on the desk to ride him right to the end. Gasps open-mouthed in shock as the burning length of him twitches inside Gale, as the whole affair suddenly becomes wetter, slicker, frothing around the point of contact between their bodies. John's eyes are rolled back in his head, mouth open and slack, hands clutching rhythmically on Gale's hips.

He's coming inside Gale.

He's whimpering and whining and squirming as Gale fucks him through his orgasm, cum dripping out of him only to be dragged back inside as John pants and yelps with oversensitivity, bubbling wet and slick around their pelvises.

"'M not done, John," He grunts, reaching down to jerk himself off.

The hands on his waist lift and he's in the air for a brief moment before broad hands are pressing him down onto the desk where there's a pile of fresh laundry waiting to be put away.

John's back inside him, his shorts are still caught around an ankle and John's hat on his head and he shouts at the intrusion, a hand slipping around him to finger at his dick as John sets a rapid wild pace.

"You want this? Yeah, you want this Buck?" John pants in his ear, fingers rubbing his dick hard up against his pubic bone as Gale bites one of his shirts and feels his release splatter on the linoleum tile of his dorm room floor. He's shouting, he realizes distantly, knees going jelly as his orgasm echoes through him.

"That what you needed?" John asks as Gale slumps bonelessly against the desk, gasping for air.

John's not much better, every breath ending on a whine as he finally pulls out, shivering with oversensitivity.

"Jesus," Gale says when he can finally speak, John's hand rubbing soothingly up his spine. There's cum dripping down his thighs, splattering audibly onto the floor. They're both utterly debauched.

Behind him, John starts giggling with post-orgasm delight, "Happy three months post-op, Buck."

#swiftywrites #clegan #trans! gale cleven #buck x bucky #mota #masters of the air #gender euphoria <3 #and then john did the walk of shame to cvs for plan b

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orbmanson7 · 1 year

Text

And here's the last part of the analysis of the "The Sides Need a Nice Day" video, this time, let's talk about Janus and Remus.

(If you want to read the first part about Patton and Logan, go here.

If you want to read the second part about Virgil and Roman, go here.)

Right away, we have Janus letting us know he's about to one-up Patton and Virgil's attempts at cheering another side up, for whatever reason he feels compelled to do so (because acceptance isn't a competition or anything, right?), and says he will be giving Remus a nice day.

Specifically, he says that "freaks deserve nice days too" which is a funny but wonderful sentiment, because it shows that Janus sees Remus for what he is but also doesn't want him to change anything about that. Remus deserves to be who he is and enjoy himself, as they all do, which is kind of the whole point behind this video, even though it hasn't really been obvious up to this point, probably because Janus is being far more direct about it than the others were.

To explain, if you look back at Patton and Logan's part, you'll see that Patton wasn't trying to change anything about Logan and came up with things he would enjoy doing, but he wanted to do them far too quickly for Logan's liking.

And with Virgil and Roman, the suggestions all turned out to be things Virgil thought Roman would like but he changed those things to be something they might both enjoy instead, which wasn't really giving Roman anything he expected.

But Janus knows Remus very well, recognizes the purpose behind the trend is to simply give someone something they want and let them enjoy it, and he's prepared to properly do what the others had failed at, to give another side a nice day without flaw.

Also, Janus not knowing where the pens would be is likely meant as a little hint that Janus is still very unfamiliar with the light sides' area and where they'd keep things. Not sure how he knew where to find the note cards, though...

Janus goes looking for Remus in a dark closet, expecting him to be there but is still startled when it turns out he is.

He quickly gets to the point and simply tells Remus what to do and what the result will be. No constant questions back and forth, no push for an explanation, Janus just tells Remus what to expect immediately. See how easy that is?

Remus doesn't seem too pleased before picking the card, but is delighted after he sees the result. This may imply Janus has offered to do things in the past that have not been enjoyable for Remus, but that could be a stretch. We don't know these two well enough yet to really be sure.

Janus, though with little emotion, tells Remus to 'have at it' and that he's convinced Thomas to 'lean into his intrusive thoughts' for the day. It's very likely that this means Thomas is merely thinking out these scenarios, not actually participating in them, which would still be enjoyable for Remus as someone who delves in the imagination just as much as Roman. It also would keep Thomas out of any real-life repercussions for these actions and keep down his stress and anxiety, as well.

Considering DwIT showed that just the thought alone would often put Thomas on edge, it makes sense that these actions are thoughts being leaned into and imagined rather than legitimately happening (and would also explain some of the unused options on the cards). Thomas has learned by now that thinking about something doesn't make you a bad person, and who better to convince him to have a little fun with that than Janus?

Remus excitedly grabs for the next option, instantly delighted by what it turns out to be. This really does show that Janus understands Remus rather well, he knows what Remus enjoys and doesn't have to change anything to make him happy. This comes from knowing each other, likely for a long time, and Janus not just knowing his interests but also understanding why Remus likes something.

However, on the next round of options, Janus remarks that he can't believe he's doing this. He's either in disbelief that he's doing these nice things for Remus all to show up Patton and Virgil, or he is regretting how much effort he's put into this with how easily Remus is entertained by it.

Janus doesn't seem bored, but he's definitely doing this for Remus and not enjoying the activities alongside him.

As I mentioned in the last post about Virgil and Roman, this is likely in relation to love languages that have been on display throughout the whole video.

At this part with Janus and Remus, though, Janus is using his knowledge of Remus' interests to give him something he'll enjoy, making this the love language of 'gift-giving'. However, he's also acknowledging that these are activities others would be weirded-out by and then saying nothing negative about it. Janus is encouraging Remus to do these activities, regardless of what anyone will think, making this the love language of 'words of affirmation' in its own unique way, by validating what Remus enjoys.

While you could argue the others also did this, it means a lot more for Remus in particular, as someone whose entire presence is seen as a bad thing, that any ideas he may have are hazardous and awful, and he's shut down and ignored as much as possible at every turn. Something as simple as saying that it's actually fine if he wants to dangle a phone off the side of a bridge is incredibly kind to do for him.

But this also shows us that he's very used to being ignored and suppressed, because he was absolutely enamoured at the thought of getting to do any of these activities. From his reactions throughout this entire part, we know he would be equally as excited to eat paper as he would to summon Bloody Mary, which just proves that point. It's not just the extreme ideas of his that get pushed away, it's all of them. Remus finally getting the chance to act things out that he thinks up and enjoys must mean a hell of a lot to him.

Remus then thanks Janus in the end, a great big smile on his face, and Janus sighs and says "you're welcome. Don't say I never did anything for you."

It's possible this is just a little joke, but if it did mean something, it could be implying that Janus and Remus are not quite on equal ground in the current timeline of the plot. This would make sense, as Janus has just been accepted by Thomas, but only just. This still puts him leagues above where Remus is, even though Thomas does seem at least more used to him being around, at least.

This could cause a rift between Janus and Remus if it's not addressed soon, but Janus will still be working to earn his place amongst the others, so we'll have to see how that pans out.

It's also possible that Janus' line is more in reference to his overall purpose in the show. He operates more as Self-Preservation, but that doesn't have to be exclusive to Thomas, as many of the other sides can affect one another, as well. If he's attempting to restore some balance to Thomas' mental health by getting some of the other sides to understand their own biases (as he's been doing so far), this could still put Remus at a disadvantage until Remus is more accepted as Dark Creativity rather than Intrusive Thoughts. This may explain Janus' line if he's already been accused or expects to soon be accused of not paying enough attention to Remus, because Janus' priority will still have to be Thomas' well-being and that could put Remus at the bottom of his priorities.

He may not want Remus to change, but it's going to take a lot of work before the others can be ready to handle Remus without any changes, and he may know that a little too well, considering how long it's taken just for Janus to be accepted.

But, in the end, Janus did manage to prove his point in this part of the video, that he absolutely knows how to give another side a nice day, far better than Patton and Virgil, that's for sure.

He can be proud of that fact, for knowing Remus so well, but hopefully that isn't something he has to toss aside for Thomas' sake any time soon...

#sanders sides analysis #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #long post #ts spoilers #hella remus angst in here whoo #orbs thought bubbles

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fallen6253 · 5 months

Text

Hello hello!

I was rereading Choi Han’s indignity test for the thousandth time (I need more little rok soo pls I'm desperate) and the thing that catches my attention now is the clues.

It says food, warm home, clean clothes, and abundance of food for dinner.

Not thinking about any other clues the author did not show us (there was definitely so much more; we were robbed–) because that would drive me insane from what we know so far (there’s so much yet so little I wanna cry).

Anyway, some found it confusing how there were two notifications about ‘food’ and ‘abundance of food for dinner’ so now I want to word vomit about it.

There is a difference between having food to eat at all and being in front of so much food there’s no way you could eat it all.

Food in general was scarce for Kim Rok Soo at that age (well, at most of his ages but anyway) so imagine being Rok Soo and letting a stranger take you to their house because you want to avoid your own and instead of the things you probably had been expecting, this total stranger just. Started putting food in front of you and tells you to eat. To eat all you wanted. And he leaves for a bit and Rok Soo enjoys the cartoons you rarely get to watch because the TV makes too much noise and you don't want to be locked away in your cold and dark room again. But then the guy comes back with even more food and when you tell him you’re full he looks. Devastated. And the man hides the food he thought you didn’t see, which is so ridiculous you almost crack a smile, until he brings out an apple pie, and now you’re baffled.

And what really gets me is that Choi Han calls him a good boy. And little Rok Soo looks baffled. And there is no notification about comfort or praise covering up his indignity.

Which implies he is already at that stage where he does not know how to take compliments seriously and just assumes the person is either lying or stupid (which may track in his logic for this stranger that brought some random kid home and just started feeding him).

Or it implies that compliments and praise were never something Kim Rok Soo thought of wanting.

You can’t focus on wanting to be loved if your priority has to be finding a way to survive.

Which tears my heart into pieces because. This little baby, o my lord, I wish you could feel safe enough to want someone to say something nice about you, that you lived well enough to be concerned about people liking you. I wish he knew that there would be people who loved him, waiting for him in the future, and that he would not only feel lost forever. I wish he was living well enough to want to delve into his favorite books with open fervor, talking with others who were reading the same thing and discovering a new way to see a story. I wish he could feel safe enough to express himself in any other way that did not say ‘it does not matter much what happens anymore’ and ‘I don’t have the strength to go against all of this despair’. Because this little kid grows up to be so strong, in ways he can’t even see in himself because he’s too busy lifting other people up from groundless depths.

And he grows up to be something so big, and so warm that it’s such a happy miracle he survived the environments he lived through. And even after suffering so much loss and failure, he still can’t help caring for people. And he does it in a way he is conscious of, but he explains it away as a strategy to survive, and it’s his selfish way of finding solace in bright young futures he never had. Because he needs to justify it. Because simple kindness can be thrown away and mistrusted so easily, and it can vanish in an instant.

So he explains it away as a selfish action when he wishes to find solace in saving others.

In becoming the comfort to others he did not get.

In becoming the person he wanted to save him.

#the big sad here oml #little kim rok soo #child kim rok soo #cale henituse #tcf cale #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #indignity test #can we just talk about this amazing little man #another TED talk about cale's shitty childhood

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the-laughing-lunatic · 5 months

Note

Mediscout cute headcanons!!!

(Omg yea I love these guys so much, def one of my main ships. I also rlly like their dynamic in emesis blue but y’know, not very cute. I have a lot of thoughts about these guys so I accidentally made this really long— word count: 1714. Thx for requesting! :3)

Medic x Scout headcanons!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

☆Platonic☆

Scout’s definitely scared of Medic at first

I mean, when your coworker mentions plans about putting a baboon uterus inside you you’re gonna be a little on edge

Avoids checkups for so long Medic has to find him and drag Scout himself to the medbay

“Sheiße, you are acting like a little child right now, it is not such a big deal Herr Scout. I am simply going to check a few things.”

“Well I’m sorry if I ain’t too thrilled to have some psycho puttin’ needles or animal parts or whatever in me.”

Medic groaned. “I just need to check your temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure. Now can you please shut your mouth and let me work?”

While he took Scout’s heart rate, both annoyed, Archimedes flew to Scout’s shoulder and nuzzled into the man’s neck

After the checkup Medic sighed and ushered his dove over. “Him? Really Archimedes?”

The dove cooed. “Well then, I trust your judgement, I suppose I’ll try to be nicer to him.”

After that he did try to be kinder to Scout, staying around him more, listening to what he’s saying at dinner, looking through his room to learn more about him—

That’s not how Scout interpreted it though, and one day when Medic was trailing a little too close to him again he just snapped “Will you fuckin’ cut it out!?”

“Cut what out?”

“This- this weird stalkerish thing you’re doing. What, you makin’ fun of me? You gonna take my organs in the middle of the night? What do you want?”

“Oh. I was trying to be nicer to you. I could stop if you want.”

“If you wanna be nice you could try talkin’ to me for once.”

And Medic did

Both of them are absolute yappers, and Scout quickly got more comfortable with Medic as they talked more

He’ll never forget the first time he saw Medic laugh

Like, genuinely laugh

He’d seen Medic laugh many times before, either on the operating table or during battle but it was always just…scary

When he actually laughed Scout couldn’t help but laugh as well, because Medic’s real laugh was so different of what he had thought of him

It was warm and nice, and suddenly Medic wasn’t just this psycho ex-doctor, he was also his friend

When they go out for drinks Medic often has to carry Scout back to the base because of his incredibly low alcohol tolerance (not that it’s hard though)

Medic would teach Scout how to take care of his birds in the case he was especially busy, Scout’s their godfather now

I feel like they’d also work well in a qpr, though Medic would have to help Scout a little since he’s been comfortable with his asexuality for longer and has probably been in one before

I headcanon them as both on the ace spectrum so I’m gonna delve into that a bit

I feel like Scout is graysexual while Medic is completely sex-repulsed

Scout honestly would’ve thought he was allosexual for the rest of his life until he heard Medic talking about how being ace felt for him

And he was like “huh, I relate to some of that”

Scout definitely has a lot of questions though

“So like- what’s romantic? Cus I don’t wanna take this too far, but you’re my cucumber, or squash— whatever the word is an’ I wanna show that I care about ya.”

“It’s zucchini, Jeremy. And the point of being in a queerplatonic relationship is that we get to make our own rules for what works for us. All you have to do is ask me if you want to try something.”

“Oh, um, well then. Is it okay if I kiss your cheek, doc?”

“Yes, Jeremy, it’s very okay.”

♡

Biggest dorks ever btw

Just so you know

☆Romantic☆

Medic would fall in love (or realize it at least) over something trivial

Accidentally brushing hands, a word of praise after a battle that made Medic especially appreciated, Scout falling asleep on his shoulder at movie night, etc.

It was weird, because Scout was almost the opposite of his type, he was loud, arrogant, and less than intelligent, but he accepted Scout as the outlier

Even though Medic fell first he didn’t initiate it

Though his moral compass was less than straight when it came to advancing the field of medicine, it felt weird to be the one starting anything with a guy nearly 20 years younger than him

He even performed a brain scan on Scout just to double-check his brain was fully developed (surprisingly, it was) so he could feel less weird about his crush

For a long time he just thought of it as an enjoyable distraction, not anything that could go anywhere

Scout liked Ms. Pauling, and Medic was fine with it. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to date Scout, he just liked the idea of a relationship, and Scout was an attractive man he could project those wants onto.

At least that’s how he reasoned it to himself

The giddy laugh Medic couldn’t help but let out every time he saw him, the way he always made sure to be gentler when he gave Scout his shots, how a Boston accent now equaled attractive in his mind (that didn’t come from Scout though, that’d be ridiculous)

With Scout though, his moment of realization was much less trivial

He was at four health a minute away from the end of the match, desperately trying to keep the blood from the bullet wound in so he wouldn’t have to go to respawn

Getting in respawn at the end of a match was miserable, because you might get stuck in there for hours after so everyone tried to avoid it at all costs

Scout’s eyes widened as he watched his health drop to three, no dispenser in sight

He closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for sitting in the cold room for god know how long, until he saw a light above him

Holding his medigun, Medic stood above him, and the red glow surrounding him as he healed him made him almost look like an angel, his saviour

A psychotic angel, but an angel nonetheless

He felt Medic grab him by his collar (at what point did his knees go weak?) and say to him “Get up schweinhund, and fight.”

They won the match, at least that’s what Scout heard, he didn’t remember anything after Medic saved him

His entire body was on autopilot until the time he went to bed, when he had all night to think about how he was definitely attracted to guys

He definitely had a type though, regardless of gender

Glasses, dark hair, smarter and more mature than him (though that was a low bar), an itty bitty bit psychotic and have huge honkers— (jk jk jk)

Scout starts coming to the medbay for the tiniest things now so he can see Medic more

“Medic, I got a splinter” “Medic, my elbow’s sore” “Medic, I have a major crush on you and don’t know what to do with it”

After a bit of this, Scout just gave up excuses, Medic didn’t seem to mind his company

It became routine, after dinner Scout’d follow him to the medbay and talk with him while Medic filled out paperwork, occasionally giving a nod or short question to let Scout know he was still listening

One night though, Scout didn’t follow him back

Medic was disappointed, he had gotten rather fond of his chatter, but shrugged it off as Scout being tired

After a few minutes of paperwork, there was a knock at the door

He opened it to see a very nervous Scout holding a bouquet of roses

“H- hey doc! Um, y’know, we’ve been hangin’ out for a while, I really like you, and I hope you at least like me a little, so, uh, wanna go on a date sometime? Please?”

Medic just stands there for a solid bit before taking the flowers and smiling. “I’d love to.”

Scout takes him to a nice restaurant (that was definitely his idea and not Spy’s) and pays the bill for the both of them, which was substantial because Medic has a taste for the most expensive things on the menu

And Scout is a hella picky eater

“So like, can I have the steak, but - and stay with me here - you grind it up, grill it, cut one of the rolls in half and add the steak, along with fuckin’ ketchup, mustard, lettuce, pickles—”

“Sir, are you describing a burger to me?”

“...yeah?”

“It’s on the kids menu.”

“Oh. Sweet, then can I have that?”

After the date Medic lets Scout kiss him

They suck I hate them so much I don’t think about them all the time (lying)

Nicknames Scout calls Medic: Doc, Angel, Angelcakes, Babe

Nicknames Medic calls Scout: Hase, Schatz, Liebling, Dear

On the battlefield Scout’s constantly by Medic

“Hey Angelcakes, check this out!” “Didja see that? Didja see that?”

If they have to be separated any time Scout sees him he’ll give Medic a kiss

“Hase you’re at ten health, can you please stop trying to kiss me for a second so I can heal you?”

“Ugh, fine.��

After he’s done Medic gives Scout a kiss. “Thank you, on your way.”

Clingy ass motherfuckers

Scout’s way more obvious with it than medic though

Medic hardly even has to do anything, they’ll just be talking and Scout’ll notice half-way in the conversation that he’s cuddled up in Medic’s arms

Scout often sits in Medic’s lap as he works, rambling on about some comic he read or whatever.

After a few months of dating Medic only sleeps in Scout’s room

It feels more homey than his, which he admittedly already slept in very little due to his unfortunate habit of passing out at his desk

Nights often consist of Scout cuddled into Medic’s chest while Medic reads aloud to the both of them

(real talk reading together is such an underrated couple activity can we talk about this—)

“ —alright, that’s the end of the chapter. Liebling, are you asleep?”

“Nah, just relaxed. Love you angel.”

“I love you too Jeremy, Goodnight.”

They are the biggest saps ever and I will stand by this until the day I die

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic tf2 #scout tf2 #scout x medic #quick fix #blunt trauma #mediscout #fanfiction

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