#I think hes awkward and comes off as mean but he really is just that serious about his work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celli-ohs · 2 days ago

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I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

before you read: character profiles

warnings: language, stalking mention, cooties, wild subplot(s), loser enhypen, rickrolling, bad april fools pranks

word count: 3.62k

taglist (open): @ancnymcnzjy , @frankenstein852

note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Log 4: Monday - April 1st, 2024

“I’m gonna say it. Y/n has been getting on my nerves recently.”

Everyone snaps their necks to look at Riki like he’s just admitted to committing a crime.

“Excuse me?” Sunghoon is appalled. “That’s my friend!”

It’s been about a month since you and Sunghoon had begun his “girlducation” lessons (You named it, not him). And luckily he’s been faring well!

Everyone’s noticed how he’s more open and friendly, and just last week he was finally able to look his homeroom teacher in the eyes and have a full conversation (about how he’s failing Algebra 2).

Talking to his female classmates has gotten easier too. He can’t say much though, as he still gets nervous whenever the conversation gets too complex.

You’ve helped him make leaps and bounds regardless, and Sunghoon can proudly state you two are friends.

“Come on you guys, you know what I’m talking about,” Riki shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

“No. We don’t. What did she do to you?” Jongseong raises a brow. Riki groans, rubbing his face.

“Yeah, there’s no need to be angry at her.” Heesung adds.

“This is exactly why! You guys like her more than me, I’m being replaced!” Riki throws his hands up in the air.

“Uh, no duh we like her more,” Sunoo rolls his eyes. “She’s nicer, funnier, and she’s prettier.”

Riki gasps. “I can be pretty!” He crosses his arms. “I’m prettier than you!” This time Sunoo gasps. “You can’t say shit to me cause do you got some guy stalking you because he thinks your idol material? I think not bitch!”

“Stalker? Sunoo! I thought you got rid of that guy?!” Jaeyun pauses, now the attention is turned towards the younger boy.

“He’s been on my ass recently, he even knows my order at my favorite cafe.” He shrugs as if this isn’t a concerning matter.

“Oh that’s not…” Sunghoon makes a face, eyeing the others.

“That stupid Belift guy is so persistent. It’s like he doesn’t take no for an answer.” Sunoo sighs. They all look at each other, skeptical. "I’ll walk home with you today Sunoo,” Jungwon decides.

“Speaking of stalkers,” Jongseong clears his throat, turning to Riki. “You’re banned from my house.”

“What?” Heeseung squeaks out in shock.

“Oh, so you liked my April Fool’s prank?” Riki grins, dodging Jongseong’s fists. “You went and switched my alarm clock forward! I was on my way to Jungwon’s at 5am this morning,” Jongseong grumbles.

As the others laugh and praise Riki for his joke, Sunghoon laughs the hardest. “Maybe you should keep your clock that way, you won’t ever have to worry about your mom nagging you to leave on time anymore.”

Jongseong rolls his eyes. “Haha, very funny.”

“How did you even do that?” Jaeyun laughs. Riki waves him off, smiling proudly. “Just asked his mom if I could come over to change it really quick while he was at baseball yesterday.”

“My mom was in on it?!” Jongseong looks betrayed. The boys soon make their way inside their school building.

“I totally forgot today was April Fool’s! I should’ve planned something,” Heeseung laughs, opening his locker.

“Don’t worry, I’m just getting started, I’ve got something for all of you.” Riki sends them an ominous smile. “Heh, what do you mean?” Sunghoon tries to hide his fear with a smile.

“Nothing. Just think of today as karma for replacing me with Y/n,” Riki waves before he jogs down the hall, greeting his other friends.

“We never replaced you?!” Jungwon shouts at him, sounding worried. “Oh my god, I’m scared, what if I open my locker and there’s like a dead rat or something?” Sunoo whines.

“No, Riki’s not like that,” Heeseung shakes his head, before turning to the others. “Uh, right?”

“Last year he put ink on my glasses, so when I took them off I had lines all over my face and hands, no one said anything till lunch!” Sunghoon reminds the others.

“In middle school we shared a class, I fell asleep and he clipped a hair extension to the back of my head. No one told me I had a mullet until I got home and showered.” Jungwon recites, shuddering as his fingers ghost over the back of his neck.

“He gets bolder every year, and somehow he convinces people to help him. I think he’s bribing them somehow.” Jongseong concludes.

“What if I just skipped school today? Huh? Anyone wanna join me?” Jungwon tempts the others. “No! If I have to be here, so do you. Plus it’s unfair that only I got pranked so far.” Jongseong huffs.

“Don’t worry Heeseung,” Jaeyun comforts the oldest. “You’re new, Riki will probably go the easiest on you.”

Heeseung doesn’t look pleased by this. As his friends try to figure out a way they can prevent Riki’s chaos from unfolding, Sunghoon slinks off down the hall to a certain locker.

You stand with your back towards him, talking animatedly with your friend Taehyun. As Sunghoon approaches, he signals Taehyun to keep quiet with a finger to his mouth.

“Boo!” He grabs you by the shoulder, causing you to jump. “Ah! Sunghoon!” You huff, punching him lightly in the arm. “Don’t do that!” You smile nonetheless.

“April Fool’s,” Sunghoon grins. You wave him off, your fingers grazing his own. He feels his ears heat up.

“I’m gonna get you later. You better watch out.” You warn him, but Sunghoon only smiles, shaking his head.

Suddenly, Taehyun clears his throat, reminding the two of you that you weren’t alone. “I’m gonna find Hyuka, see you later.” He waves to the both of you before departing.

But before he turns around, Taehyun sends you a wink, causing you to stiffen up.

“What was that?” Sunghoon asks, eyes trained on the back of Taehyun’s head. “Huh? Nothing, let’s get to class.” You cough, pushing Sunghoon down the hall.

“You remembered to do your slides, right?” You ask Sunghoon as you two sit down in your seats. “Yeah, it wasn't that hard.” He nods.

Your history class has just finished a project, and today everyone will be presenting. It was a solo project, but you and Sunghoon helped each other out.

“You’ll be okay talking up there by yourself?” You worry. Sunghoon feels special to know that you of all people care about him. A few days ago you’d voiced your concern to him about his fear or public speaking (around women).

“I think so, I usually just look at Jaeyun.” Sunghoon admits, shrugging.

“Well if you need to, you could look at me.” You suddenly suggest. Sunghoon feels the heat from his ears spread to his cheeks. “O-Okay.” He nods, focusing on his desk.

Even after all his training, you somehow had a way with words that could cause Sunghoon to shut right up again.

Not just that, you still made him nervous, there were moments he found you too beautiful to even look in your direction.

Home room goes by like a breeze, and soon enough it’s time for history, and one by one students begin to present their topics in the front of class.

“Park Sunghoon.” Mr. Song calls out, and Sunghoon awkwardly stands up, grabbing his notes.

“Good luck!” You send him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Just that alone made him feel invincible.

With newfound confidence, Sunghoon strides to the front, pulling up his powerpoint on the history of soybeans. But when he turns to his fellow classmates, his ego disappears and he’s suddenly reminded of how many eyes were on him.

He begins to panic, his words stuck in his throat and his thoughts become sludge. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was whispering.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Why is he taking so long?”

“Soybeans? That’s so boring.”

He can hear his teacher call out his name, asking him if he’s alright, but Sunghoon feels as if he’s been nailed to the ground, unable to move.

But as he focuses on his feet, he hears someone clear their throat loudly, his eyes shooting up.

You’re smiling. At him.

“You can do it!” You mouth, cheering him on. Suddenly it’s like he can breathe again. He can feel his body moving finally. All thanks to you of course.

“T-Today I’ll be talking about the history of soybeans in Korea.” Sunghoon announces suddenly, eyes trained on you.

You lean back into your seat, smile never disappearing as you listen intently.

“Where the hell is Riki?! I’m gonna kill him.” Jaeyun stomps over to the lunch table. Heeseung shrugs, mouth full of food.

“He’s not here, what happened?”

Jaeyun groans as he sits down, Sunghoon also taking his seat beside him. “He got Rickrolled.”

Jungwon snorts, choking on his food as he laughs. Jaeyun glares, picking at his lunch. “It’s not funny! He cost me my grade!”

“Pfft! Mr. Song docked you 10 points, you still have an A.” Sunghoon reminds him. The youngest of the bunch somehow got control of Jaeyun’s presentation, adding a bunch of memes into his slides.

“And ruined my 100 streak!” Jaeyun whines. “He won’t let me take any extra credit.” He sighs, letting his hunger take over as he shovels food into his face.

“Never gonna give you up! Never gonna let you down! Never gonna run around and desert you!” Riki sings and dances as he arrives at their table. He’s grinning from ear to ear, all the while Jaeyun glares mid-chew.

“Come on Jaeyun!” Riki nudges him. “Sing it with me! Never gonna make you cry-” He’s cut off when Jaeyun lunges at him, catching the boy in a headlock. “Nev-never gonna tell- a lie- ack!” Riki coughs as he continues to sing under Jaeyun’s grip.

“Shut up!” Jaeyun angrily sneers, just as Riki wriggles out of his arms. “Dude,” Riki is breathless. “Put on some deodorant or something! I almost died.” He gags.

“I’m seriously going to kill-”

Jongseong slams down his hand onto the table, making everyone jump.

“Uh, you good?” Jungwon eyes him. Jongseong zeroes in on him, his eyes ablaze. “No I am not good, Yang Jungwon.”

“Uh oh, cat fight,” Sunoo snickers to Sunghoon, earning a chuckle.

“Did I do something?” Jungwon eyes the others, before realizing Jongseong was only looking at him. “What do you think, Yang?!”

Jongseong suddenly digs into his pants pocket, and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, tossing it to the first year. Jungwon catches it with ease, unraveling it suspiciously.

“Oh my God.”

“What? What is it? Show me!” Sunoo snatches the paper, his eyes reading as fast as lightning before he lets out a yelp, covering his mouth as he gawks at Jungwon.

“You’re being dramatic,” Sunghoon finally grabs the paper, sharing it with Jaeyun as Heeseung leans over the table to peer.

The paper turns out to be a list, and it has various names on it, including Jongseong’s and Jungwon’s. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. That is until he reads the title.

“How could you go behind my back and run for Student Council?! You knew I was applying!” Jongseong shouts.

“I didn’t!” Jungwon holds his hands up in the air. “Dude I promise, I think there’s been a mistake, I never even applied to be nominated!”

Jongseong eyes him, but concedes, looking just as confused. “But that doesn’t make sense. You can’t not know you’re running- for Student Body President!”

“Yeah, and to think you’re only running for Treasurer,” Jaeyun jabs. He earns himself a kick to the shin from Jongseong.

Riki is the only one who laughs, though it lingers longer than it should have, prompting suspicion.

“What did you do?” Jungwon questions. The youngest is too busy hugging his sides as he cackles.

“Oh my God! I’m gonna piss myself, you should have seen your face!” Riki wheezes.

“Riki, what did you do?!” Jongseong demands. After a few minutes, the boy’s laughter subsides. “We nominated Jungwon cause he fell asleep in homeroom,” He giggles.

“What?! Riki be serious.”

“Okay,” Riki shrugs. “Technically, I nominated Jungwon, but then everyone else voted for him. I found out the announcements were the same day as April Fool’s and thought it’d be a sick prank.”

“Someone’s feeling sick alright, me, that’s who.” Jongseong sighs. Sunoo pats his arm out of sympathy.

“Jongseong, dude, no one’s gonna actually vote for Jungwon.” Riki scoffs. “What kind of idiot votes a first year as their president?”

“The same idiots who voted for him to be a nominee?” Heeseung reminds him. Riki pauses. “That’s beside the point! Don’t worry, this will all blow over when they see how incompetent he is.”

“Hey! I’m competent!” Jungwon huffs. “I just choose not to be!”

“Make that your slogan, and you might just lose!” Sunoo teases. Jungwon rolls his eyes, rubbing his face.

“Hey guys! I heard the great news, congratulations!” Your sweet voice brings sudden joy to Sunghoon as you greet them all.

“Y/n!” He suddenly shoves Jaeyun to the side to make space for you to sit, causing both him and Riki to topple over. He ignores their complaints as you squeeze yourself in right next to him.

You finally take a good look around the table once you’re settled in.

Sunoo mindlessly picks at his food, beside him Jungwon seems to be experiencing his first ever existential crisis. Jongseong has a vice grip on a very beaten up piece of paper and Heeseung is too busy eating to notice the tension as Jaeyun keeps muttering about his grades. And Riki is blatantly glaring daggers at you.

The only person who seems relatively happy is Sunghoon.

“You guys seem to be having a really, uh- interesting day so far.” You cough. “As if you know what it’s like to be interesting- Ow! Jaeyun elbowed me!” Riki tattles.

“And you deserve it.” Jongseong sneers.

“Tough crowd today,” You whisper to Sunghoon as the others begin to bicker. “Yeah, Riki’s been burning some bridges, lately” He nods.

“Oh? Should I be worried?” You eye the boy, who is in fact now glaring even harder. “No.” Sunghoon shakes his head, trying to remain calm as you lean closer to him. “Um, maybe actually? Yes. Yes you should.” He finally decides.

“Uh huh.” You nod warily. “Well anyways, I was just wondering how you guys plan to run your campaigns? I have some experience since I helped last year when Taehyun was Secretary, and now he’s running for Vice President.”

Jongseong sits up straight, putting on a presentable smile. “I plan on winning by showing my responsibility and care for the students here at EN-High.”

The table goes quiet.

“Was that AI? Sounded like something ChatGPT wrote,” Heeseung looks around. “What? No! I’m trying to sound professional.” Jongseong sighs.

“Well I plan to drop out, I didn’t even want to be nominated, but someone thinks it’s funny to prey on the innocent.” Jungwon stares right at Riki, who is busy scrolling through his phone uninterested.

“I saw an opportunity and I took it, can you blame me?” He shrugs. “Yes! Yes, I can!” Jungwon shouts.

“Okay, so it sounds like both of you are losing.” You mutter beneath your breath. “Look, word of advice: students really value honesty and the ability to be realistic. People like it when you tell the truth.” You explain.

“Didn’t Taehyun win last year because he did magic tricks instead of a speech?” Sunghoon frowns. “Oh! I remember him! He was so cool! How did he pull that chicken out of that hat?!” Heeseung asks excitedly.

“He did have a speech, he just did his magic tricks after.” You correct him. “Also it was a parrot, not a chicken.”

“What does magic have to do with being on the student council?” Sunoo asks, looking confused. “If I vote for Taehyun, can he magically fix my grade back to 100?” Jaeyun questions. “Do you think if I partner with Taehyun, I have a better chance of winning?” Jongseong turns to you.

You hold your hand up to silence them, before looking at each of them individually.

“Apparently more than you’d think.” You say to Sunoo, before shaking your head at Jaeyun. “No, just take the L.”

“And yes, but only if you’re okay with him doing the Sawing-In-Half trick on you during the debate.” You tell Jongseong, who looks pale now.

Before you can say any more, the warning bell rings, signaling lunch would be over in five minutes. “Alright, see you guys later,” You stand up, getting out of your seat. “Let me know if you need more advice.” You joke.

“I’ll see you in class?” Sunghoon asks, as if you two weren’t seatmates. You laugh, and teasingly pat his arm, causing his whole body to burn.

“Yeah, see you!” You wave, running off. He watches you as you return to your friends at your table across the cafeteria, his heart swelling.

“Oooh! Someone’s got a crush!” Sunoo suddenly giggles.

Sunghoon feels his stomach turn excitedly, his ears burning a bright red. “Shut up!” He mumbles, covering his face.

His friends begin to tease him, Sunghoon shakes his head furiously, though he peeks through his hands to glance at you once more.

When you laugh at something Kai says, he begins to wonder if his friends are on to something.

“Ta-da!”

You’re grinning as you flip your paper around to present to Sunghoon.

He looks up, blinks, then frowns.

“You like to eat stomachs?” He reads your calligraphy. “Huh? No, I like to eat pears.” You look at your paper yourself, confused.

Sunghoon begins to laugh, before standing up to walk around the table to your side. “You need to press down lightly on this character.” He instructs, leaning over you.

Instead of taking your brush like he usually did when he showed you the correct way, he grabbed your hand.

“L-Like this,” He stutters, leaning even closer to you as you allow him to guide you on the paper. Your hand is really small compared to his own, his fingers are almost half as long.

Your skin is soft and warm, he doesn't want to let go.

“Oh!” You suddenly exclaim, and he jumps back, releasing your hand.

“So that’s how you do it? Let me try again.” You begin to attempt again on your own. He watches over you as you try your best, all of your focus on your calligraphy.

He finds the way you scrunch your face up as you focus endearing, you’ve made a lot of progress.

Your reattempt is still not the best, but Sunghoon can admit this time he could actually read it. “You’re doing a lot better,” He says as he returns to his seat. “Really? I’ve been practicing at home,” You admit.

“You’ve been practicing?” Sunghoon repeats, surprised at your dedication. If he were being honest, he thought your interest in calligraphy was only confined to the old library.

“Yeah,” You smile, getting shy. “I want to show you my best.”

Oh.

The two of you keep eye contact as Sunghoon feels his face and ears begin to heat up. He was probably red all over from just that one compliment. Didn’t help that you looked gorgeous while staring at him.

“I-I think-uh- You’re doing a really good job so far.” He finally looks away, his nerves getting the best of him.

“Thank you.” You hum, smiling to yourself. “Oh, it’s already almost four, we should probably get going.” You say, and begin cleaning up.

The two of you quickly grab your stuff and sweep down the table before heading out.

Outside the sun is still bright, yet it’s lower in the sky than before. You both walk down the street, shoulder to shoulder. Every time you bump into each other, Sunghoon feels his heart race.

“Hey, want one?” You suddenly ask, opening your palm to reveal two pieces of creamy milk candy. The bright bunny logo catches his eye.

The idea of sharing candy with you is exhilarating to Sunghoon. Your sweet nature mimicked the sweetness of the candy awaiting before him.

“Thank you,” He smiles at you, letting his fingers graze your palm.

Together you two unwrap the candies, poppin them into your mouths. Sunghoon takes a bite and-

“What the fuck?!” You spit your candy back into its wrapper, face contorted in absolute disgust. Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to do the same, gagging as he does so.

“This is a crayon!” Sunghoon grimaces, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. “Where the hell did you get these?!”

You shake your head, trying to get the taste out of your mouth, but to no avail. “I don’t- I don’t remember I just- Riki handed some to me, and-”

“Wait,” Sunghoon interrupts you. “Riki gave you these?”

You nod, first confused, then realizing what he meant. “Oh my god I’m so stupid.” You groan. “I should have known when he randomly apologized to me, he even suggested I share them with you!”

“He’s always one step ahead,” Sunghoon glares into the distance. “Ugh I can’t get the taste out of my mouth!” You spit.

“I swallowed a little, will I die?” He worries, voicing his concern. “I need water- juice, I need something!” You look around for a vending machine.

“There! A Family Mart!” Sunghoon points down the road. He turns to you with an eager expression, holding his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s go!” He urges. You hurriedly grab his hand, and the two of you run down the street, groans of disgust soon turning into giggles of excitement.

Sunghoon's lesson he learned today was that he doesn’t mind holding your hand. In fact, he likes it.

He likes you.

Log 3: Wednesday - March 6th, 2024 | Log 5: Wednesday - May 15th, 2024

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist

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little-jana · 3 days ago

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Mistletoe Series:🎄 Spencer Reid (1)

"Mistletoe Logic"

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, talk of germs, use of Y/N, teasing from the team

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Kisses under the mistletoe with a certain Genius.

The annual FBI Christmas party was in full swing, and, as always, Penelope Garcia had outdone herself. Twinkling lights decorated every available surface, carols played softly in the background, and a garland of mistletoe sprigs hung conspicuously in every corner.

I stood by the refreshment table, watching the festivities with a cup of cider in hand. The team was scattered across the room—Derek and Penelope were in the middle of some heated dance-off, Emily was laughing with JJ near the bar, and Rossi was holding court in a corner, regaling a small crowd with one of his legendary stories.

And then there was Spencer Reid, lingering by himself near the bookshelf. He looked as out of place as ever, standing stiffly in his dark cardigan and mismatched tie, nervously clutching a glass of water.

Spencer had always intrigued me. He was brilliant—everyone knew that—but there was something else about him. A quiet charm, a vulnerability that made him different from anyone I’d ever met.

I made my way over, feeling a familiar flutter of nerves. “Hey, Spence,” I said, smiling as I stopped beside him. “Enjoying the party?”

He glanced at me, his lips twitching upward in the smallest of smiles. “As much as one can enjoy an event that combines loud music, forced social interaction, and a statistically significant increase in the risk of spilled drinks.”

I laughed, sipping my cider. “So, not really your thing, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s not that I dislike parties. It’s just… overwhelming sometimes.”

I nodded, leaning against the wall beside him. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not exactly the life of the party either.”

He looked at me, his smile softening. “I doubt that. You’re… easy to talk to.”

My cheeks warmed at the compliment, and I quickly changed the subject. “So, what do you think of Garcia’s decorations? She really went all out this year.”

Spencer followed my gaze to the mistletoe hanging nearby. “Actually, mistletoe is a fascinating plant. It’s parasitic, meaning it attaches itself to host trees to extract water and nutrients. The tradition of kissing under mistletoe dates back to ancient times, where it was associated with fertility and vitality in Norse mythology. Later, it became a symbol of romance during the Victorian era.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “Only you could turn a Christmas decoration into a history lesson.”

“It’s just interesting,” he said, his expression earnest. “Most people don’t know the origins of these traditions.”

“Well,” I teased, “if you’re not careful, someone might drag you under one of those sprigs and force you to participate in its ‘romantic’ significance.”

Spencer’s ears turned pink. “That seems… unlikely.”

I laughed, but before I could reply, Penelope appeared out of nowhere, clutching a Santa hat and grinning mischievously.

“Y/N! Boy genius!” she exclaimed, pulling us both toward the dance floor. “Why are you hiding over here like a pair of wallflowers? Come mingle!”

“I’m fine here,” Spencer protested, but Penelope was already dragging him into the crowd.

---

A while later, I found myself near the center of the room, chatting with JJ and Emily about holiday plans. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Spencer hovering nearby, his gaze flicking between me and the mistletoe hanging overhead.

“You’ve got an admirer,” Emily teased, following my gaze.

JJ smirked. “Yeah, he’s been watching you all night. It’s cute.”

I shook my head, laughing nervously. “Spencer? No way. He’s just... socially awkward.”

“Socially awkward or not, he’s definitely got a thing for you,” Emily said, her tone teasing.

Before I could respond, Derek and Penelope approached, and Derek immediately noticed the mistletoe above my head.

“Well, well,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Looks like someone’s under the mistletoe.”

I rolled my eyes, about to make a sarcastic comment, when Spencer suddenly appeared at my side, his face bright red.

“She’s not technically under the mistletoe,” he blurted out, pointing to the sprig. “The angle is slightly off. It’s more to the left.”

The entire group burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but smile at his endearing awkwardness.

“Aw, come on, genius,” Penelope said, nudging him playfully. “Don’t ruin the magic! This is your chance!”

Spencer looked utterly mortified, but before anyone could push him further, I took pity on him and pulled him aside.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” I said with a laugh.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t trying to save you. I just… wanted to clarify the logistics.”

“Of course you did,” I teased, crossing my arms. “But, you know, you still owe me a kiss now.”

His eyes widened, his cheeks flushing even deeper. “What?”

I tilted my head toward the mistletoe. “It’s tradition, remember? And I don’t think anyone will believe your ‘angle’ excuse.”

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly torn. Finally, he blurted out, “Did you know that more germs are transmitted through handshakes than through kissing?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Um… no, I didn’t.”

“It’s true,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in that familiar, rapid-fire way he spoke when he was nervous. “A study conducted in 2014 found that a typical handshake transfers more than twice as many bacteria as a kiss. Skin-to-skin contact, especially with hands, is one of the most common ways germs are transmitted.”

I stared at him, trying not to laugh. “So what you’re saying is… kissing would be safer than shaking hands?”

His cheeks flushed even darker. “Well, technically, yes.”

I stepped closer, my heart fluttering as I looked up into his wide, uncertain eyes. “Spencer, are you trying to talk me into kissing you right now?”

“I’m just stating the facts,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… if you wanted to…”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his vulnerability. “You know, for a genius, you’re not very good at subtlety.”

Before he could respond, I leaned up on my toes, cupping his face gently as I pressed my lips to his. He froze for a heartbeat, and I worried I’d misread the situation, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands hovering near my waist before settling there.

His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly confident as the kiss deepened. It was sweet and tentative at first, but there was something electric about it, something that made my entire body hum with warmth.

When we finally pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and his lips slightly parted.

“Well,” I said softly, my own cheeks warm, “I guess that settles it. Kissing is definitely safer.”

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, his gaze never leaving mine. “I think I need to conduct further research.”

From across the room, I heard Derek shout, “Finally!”

I turned to see the entire team watching us, grinning like lunatics.

“About time!” Emily called, raising her glass in mock celebration.

Penelope clasped her hands together, looking near tears. “This is the greatest Christmas gift I could’ve asked for.”

Spencer groaned, covering his face with his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

I laughed, pulling his hands away and smiling up at him. “Don’t worry, Spence. I think it’s kind of perfect.”

And as the team toasted and teased us mercilessly, I couldn’t help but agree.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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sturn777 · 2 days ago

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7 DAYS

pathetic!chris x mean girl!reader — ib : @kiemiu

sypnosis : chris has seven days to prove he’s more than the cocky, reckless guy you’ve always seen him as. from awkward dates to unexpected confessions, he’s determined to win you over—no matter how messy or ridiculous things get. will seven days be enough to change your mind, or is he just setting himself up for heartbreak?

chapter one: prove it.

the party is loud, sticky, and overcrowded. the kind of scene you’d normally avoid. but madi dragged you out tonight, all smiles and promises of a good time. now, you’re stuck leaning against a peeling wall, sipping a vodka soda that tastes more like melted ice, watching everyone else pretend they’re not as bored as you.

you don’t even notice chris until he’s standing right in front of you, all smug confidence and messy hair, like he’s walked straight out of a cliché. “you’re really killing it over here,” he says, tilting his head as he leans casually against the wall beside you.

you glance up at him, unimpressed. “what do you want, chris?” you mutter. “just checking in,” he says, grinning. “you look like you’re having the time of your life.”

“don’t you have someone else to bother?” he chuckles, unfazed by the bite in your tone. “probably. but you’ve been giving me these nasty glares all night, and i wanted to see why.”

“and now that you have?” he laughs softly. “you’re mean. kind of like it, though.” you roll your eyes. “is this your idea of flirting? because it’s not working.”

“nah, i’m just curious,” he shrugs, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “you come to these things just to stand in the corner and glare at everyone?”

“what i do isn’t really your business, is it?”

“fair point,” he says, taking a sip from his drink. “but it kind of is. you being here makes me think you don’t hate this as much as you want everyone to believe.” you raise an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means you can act tough all you want, but you’re just like the rest of us,” he says simply. “you’re scared someone might actually like you.” the comment hits harder than you’d like, but you don’t let it show. instead, you laugh, sharp and cold. “you think you’re that someone?”

he smirks, leaning just a little closer. “maybe. if you’d let me.” “please,” you scoff. “you’re all talk, chris. probably recycled that line on every girl here.”

“maybe,” he admits with zero shame. “but you’re the first one who hasn’t fallen for it.”

“congrats. you found someone with standards.”

you push off the wall, ready to walk away, but he steps in front of you, his smile fading into something more serious. “seven days.” you blink. “what?”

“give me seven days to prove i’m not just all talk,” he says. “if i can’t, i’ll leave you alone for good.” you hesitate, trying to figure out if he’s messing with you, but his gaze is steady. “and if you fail?”

“you can name your price,” he says. you think about it, curiosity tugging at you despite yourself. finally, you shrug. “fine. seven days. but don’t think for a second i’m going to make it easy for you.”

his grin returns, cocky and sure. “wouldn’t want it any other way.”

you turn and walk away, refusing to look back, but you can feel his eyes on you, and something tells you this is going to get messy.

taglist : ( @emely9274 ; @bluestriips ; @loveparqdise ; @st4rcs ; @starwebber9 ; @conspiracy-ash ; @sweetrelieef ; @chris-hallelujah ; @leoslaboratory ; @matttsangel ; @awnmaneez ; @heartss4clauu ; @mattsstarlet ; @madisturni ; @marrykisskilled ; @beautyloves )

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st4rgiirll · 17 hours ago

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secret

jj maybank x routledge!reader.

this is heavily inspired by that part in friends where everyone finds out about monica and chandler😭 this is also in little segments for each character finding out.

also, some of the events dont match up to the storyline of the show. i just thought of storylines for this fic and incorporated them into this.

synopsis: jj and reader have had a secret relationship for the past couple months, secret all thanks to the ‘no pogue on pogue macking’ rule. but what if the pogues find out on their own?

you loved jj. truly. the past couple months with him have been amazing, though you both yearned to be able to do this in public. but you wouldnt, not with john b around. sneaking around with jj was fun,

of course it was, but it got repetitive very quickly.

until you got found out.

pope:

hushed giggles and rapid footsteps invaded your bedroom as jj and you rushed inside for some very much needed alone time together, lips crashing together between laughs. your hands wandered his biceps, feeling them flex and twitch under your fingers.

it wasnt long before his hands were on the back of your head, tugging your head closer for another kiss. you resisted, thinking you heard footsteps. he grumbled, trying to pull you closer once more.

“c’mon princess, i havent been able to kiss you all day! let me make up for it now.” he mumbled, lowering his head toward your neck.

he sucked and bit at your neck, soothing the slight sting with a swipe of his tongue. he barely got to touch you today, let alone kiss you! he felt like he was going insane.

“jay- just- someone might be coming.” you mumble lowly, tilting your head up to allow him to kiss your neck.

yeah, so what? your resolve was weak when it came to jj, you couldnt help it.

“you’re paranoid, cupcake. jus’ give papa j some lovin’ yeah?” he grins goofily against the supple skin of your neck.

“y-yeah… you’re right.” you agree, allowing your hand that was previously itching to grip jj’s hair finally doing so.

you allowed jj’s kisses to travel up your neck and to your lips, your tongues immediately fighting for dominance. jj sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, fiddling with your crop top’s straps. he pushed the strap to the side, allowing it to fall off your shoulder.

pope, who’d watched jj walk in your room, had swung the door open to ask jj what he was doing in your room. his jaw had dropped, but jj just smirked. until his brain caught up with what was happening, in which his smirk melted off his face and grew into a more flustered look.

“uhm- jj- y/n-“ pope stumbles over his words, eyes wide in shock.

your own face was complimented by a light tint of pink, your hands now resting on jj’s shoulders rather than in his hair.

“well- w-we can explain.” you say, hopping away from jj’s body.

“we’re kind of, like, seeing eachother… in secret though, so please please please… dont tell anyone, especially not jb.” you explain, your eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“y-yeah, yeah.. okay… how- i mean, how are you two together? why?” pope asks, confused.

“well pope, when two people love eachother-“ jj starts before you smack his chest.

“we got together after the midsummers, to be fair jj was pretty tipsy. but we’re really happy together, and he’s great.” you smile.

“and the sex is just as great-“ jj guffaws before you give him a deadpanned look and his laugh dies into more of an awkward smile.

“im uh, im happy for y’all…” pope says, before shooting us a smile and quickly making a break out of the room.

”god, that was so awkward.” you mutter.

kiara:

the both of you were at an infamous boneyard party, maybe a little too tipsy. neither of you cared very much though, just dancing and having fun with your boyfriend, brother, and friends.

you’d excused yourself to go and grab another drink, jj offering to come with you. he followed behind you like a lost puppy, and once you were far enough away from the others he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“y’know why they call this ‘the boneyard’ baby?” he whispered seductively with an even more seductive laugh.

“no, why?” you bit your lip to supress a smile.

“well, obviously because people’d come here all the time for parties. and y’know what they’d do?” he paused for a moment before continuing.

“they’d bone, baby!” he laughed, pulling your hips closer to his own.

“‘nd i think we should do the same… y’know, continue a legacy or some shit.”

“hmm..” you hum.

“i guess… it wouldnt be a bad idea..” you giggle, turning around and holding his face in your hands and pecking a kiss on his lips.

“mm, good girl.” he grins, his head going straight to your neck to suck hickeys onto the skin there all while being too drunk to care about who would see it in the morning.

you let out an involuntary shiver, your arms wrapping around his neck while your fingers fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“jump.” he mumbles huskily, and of course you comply with that tone of voice.

he catches you in his arms, wrapped around your thighs. he quickly takes you away from prying eyes toward the twinkie, pushing you against the door.

“the things you do to me…” he groans, his hand caressing your thigh.

“y’so pretty baby, cant believe i landed you…” he says in a lovestruck tone, kissing up your neck and eliciting a couple of breathy moans from you.

he pulls you away from the door to pull it open, laying you on the floor of the twinkie. within seconds of shutting the door, his lips are back on you sucking and kissing. his hips rolled against yours as his wandering hands pulled the end of your dress up.

“oh baby, y’soaked through your panties… all this mess f’me?” he smirks, fingers playing with the edge of your panties.

“y-yeah, all f’you jay… please..” you whimper, and of course he cant deny you.

he’s completely pussy whipped, and he doesnt mind admitting it.

“i know baby..” he coos.

“i’ll help you baby, my good girl..” he grunts, unbuckling his belt.

you giggled in excitement as your legs instinctively spread further for him, until the door opened and kie stood there.

you were frozen in shock, this was the second time! jj closed your legs, giving you some sort of dignity.

“kie…” he starts.

“oh my god… john b’s actually going to end you.” the frizzy haired girl muttered.

“what? no he wont, im his best friend. he knows i’ll take good care of her.” he shrugs, though deep down he was worried john b would disapprove.

“please, kie.. dont tell anyone, not even sarah… we’re gonna tell everyone eventually, but just in our own time.” you plead, hoping she’d keep this a secret for our sake.

“okay, fine… but you keep being reckless and everyone will find out on their own.” she said, before grabbing what she needed and shutting the door.

and god, you knew she was right.

cleo:

jj was just working at the shop, stocking shelves and working behind the counter. you were supposed to be doing the same. key word: supposed.

see, you were too busy ogling at jj. i mean, how could you not?! he was a total dreamboat with his fluffy hair, his cargo shorts, those damn sleeveless shirts he always wore that made you want to jump his bones. dont even start with the rings.

you figured you must be ovulating because this never usually was an issue, and the dirty thoughts infiltrating your mind definitely didnt help.

“staring’s rude y’know?” he laughs slightly, not even looking up from whatever he was doing from behind the counter.

“i wasnt staring.” you reply, clearing your throat and starting to stock shelves again.

“right, and im not baked all the time. sweetheart, there’s no shame in drooling.” he snickers.

“i am not drooling.” you had to check your mouth to make sure you really werent drooling, the way you were so distracted with him you werent even sure what was happening around you.

“whatever you say.” he sighs, closing the cash register after counting the money. “c’mere darlin’.”

you didnt even fight it when your legs automatically started moving behind the counter, god you were so down bad. and you didnt even care.

you immediately gripped his shirt and pulled him into a passionate kiss, not able to resist him and his damn kissable lips. he let out a surprised grunt, but kissed you back.

this kiss lasted for a couple minutes, blocking every other thing in the world out. you guys were in your own little bubble.

“whatchu doin’?” cleo’s voice sounds out from infront of the counter.

you quickly jump away from eachother, jj scratching the back of his neck. god this was so embarrassing, you seriously needed to get better at this sneaking around bullshit.

“ah, i see… you guys been mackin’ eachother huh?” the girl grinned.

“glad to see y/n’s finally getting some though.” she winked at you.

“ha ha, funny.” you huff.

“please dont tell anyone..” you ask.

“or do, not like it’d make much of a difference. we’re always getting caught-“ jj gets cut off by a slap to the chest.

“shush jj, she should keep it quiet.” you hiss.

“right, yeah. cleo, keep it quiet.” he says.

“huh. rude boy’s pussy whipped.” she huffs out a laugh, walking out of the shop.

“well- wh- are you gonna keep it quiet?!” jj calls our after cleo but earns no response.

john b & sarah:

jj and you were just cuddling, that was all. nothing more, nothing less. there wasnt any sexual intentions behind it, just some romantic cuddles between lovers. and he’d just been beaten by his dad, again, so he needed some extra loving from his girl.

“he’s an asshole, jay… i hate what he does to you, i wish i could kill ‘im for you..” you say softly, carding your fingers through his soft hair.

“i wouldnt let you do that, cant have my pretty girl goin’ to jail for me.” he smiles, kissing your cheek lovingly.

“mm, you’re so perfect jay.. y’know that?” you ask.

“nah sweetheart, i think you’re the perfect one.. have you looked in the mirror lately? i mean, hot damn.” he grins.

you blush, you were never good at accepting compliments. “jay, stop…” you whine a little, covering your face.

“nuh uh… i wanna see that beautiful face of yours.” he pulls your hands away from your face and pecks the tip of your nose.

“much better.” he smiles.

the door swings open, the exhausted couple - john b and sarah - barging through with their small, 3 year old toddler in tow.

“yo jayj, can-“ john b’s voice dies out in shock.

“what the fuck man?!” his voice rings out, sarah placing a hand on his bicep to ground him and remind him of his son still in the room.

“you’re macking my sister?!” john b huffs, the vein in his neck popping out in anger.

“john b- i-it isnt what you think! we arent.. macking! okay?!” you get up to stand infront of john b, blocking his view of jj.

“john b.. we’re dating, jj’s my boyfriend-“

“wow! that’s supposed to make it better?! you’re supposed to tell me, y/n! and jj! my best friend man, what the hell?! could’ve atleast asked for my permission!” john b was so angry, he just wanted the best for his baby sister, wanted to protect her.

he really wasnt ready to see her getting into relationships, having to let her go and be protected by some other guy who wasnt him. a guy who could hurt his baby sister.

“he doesnt need your permission! im my own person okay?! if there’s anyone you can trust with protecting me, its jj! you know that! he’s as loyal as a damn golden retriever!” you defended jj.

it seemed to calm john b a little, sarah was outside the bedroom so the little guy didnt hear the ruckus.

“yeah… god, yeah you’re right… i just- i dont want you to stop being my baby sister, i wanna be able to be the one you always come to when something’s wrong.. i wanna protect you.” john b says softly, he was used to having to protect you since dad had gone to find the royal merchant, and was now dead.

“i know… and you still can okay? you and jj can be like- like guard dogs, huh?” you giggle.

“john b.. man, i love her.. i really do. she’s everything to me. you can trust me.” jj reassures.

sarah comes back into the room once she hears the calm talking between you all, little baby jesse john routledge, or jj as everyone called him, following with a smile.

“so… you two huh?” sarah wiggles her eyebrows, grinning.

“yeah…” you smile, blushing slightly.

“well, i guess… i approve, but if you hurt her maybank-“ john b starts.

“you’ll kill me, i know. i’d kick myself over and over if i ever hurt her, before you could even kill me.” he sincerely reassures.

“well, now that’s over… could you watch jesse for us? we gotta go help out around the store…” sarah asks.

“sure, we’ll look after him.” you smile, picking little jesse up.

jj looks at you with the utmost love in his eyes, and john b knew he’d made a good choice trusting jj with you. john b could see how in love the maybank boy was, it was a look unlike any he’d ever seen on the boys face, and if you knew jj, you knew he was a facially expressive person.

john b smiled, ushering sarah out the door and closing it behind him. all he heard as they left were giggles from the three of us.

#obx imagine #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x routledge!reader #john b x sister!reader #pogues x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #cleo anderson #sarah cameron #john b routledge

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maleyanderecafe · 3 days ago

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Locked Out (Kinetic Novel)

Created by: SlowlyTee 🍓

Genre: Horror/Romance

This is a short but complete kinetic novel about a girl named Sallie who gets locked out of her apartment and has to wait it out in her neighbor Kien's apartment until she can get the locksmith to come. It has a very nice art style and a bit of a twist near the end, even if it does feel like it ends in a cliff hanger. You can find more at @slowlytee.

The story starts out with Sallie coming back home from her work after a snowstorm only to find that she had accidentally locked her keys inside of her apartment. She finds that there's nobody she can turn to and instead calls a locksmith to help her get back in. Because of the snow storm, the company estimates that it will take them about an hour and a half to the apartment, meaning that Sallie will have to either stand outside in the cold or find a place to stay. While contemplating on the nearby places and how creepy that one guy at the mall was, her new neighbor Kien comes by and offers for her to stay at his place to wait. Having no real other option, she agrees and hangs out at his place to talk. We find out the reason why Kien is out so late is because of his insomnia and he talks about how he manages it, letting himself work on various projects to tire himself out. As a freelance editor, he is able to work on many projects on his own time. Sallie also talks about her job as a bartender and her desire to be a journalist, even if she knows her family doesn't really support her on this decision. Kien offers her a drink and suggests drinking some wild berry tea which Sallie agrees to. After variously talking for a bit, Kien heads to the bathroom and Sallie ends up passing out on the couch. Upon waking up, she finds that she missed the locksmith by two hours, causing her to panic. Kien comes in to tell her that he decided to pay for the fees and got her door unlocked while she was asleep. When asked to pay him back, Kien instead asks for her to go on a coffee date with him which she agrees to. After being given some wild berry tea leaves, Sallie returns back to her apartment. She decides before sleeping to call the company and figure out how much she owns Kien, however, upon calling, she finds that Kien actually cancelled the service stating that he was Sallie's boyfriend and simply unlocked it for her, leading the caller to get annoyed and scold her a bit for wasting her time. Immediately afterwards, Sallie goes to Kien's house and pins him against the wall angry. She more or less curses at Kien and tells him to not mess with her before he laughs stating that her reaction was very interesting.

First things first, I really like this artstyle in this game-it reminds me of an artist that I follow on instagram though it's not the same person. I think that the snowy atmosphere really brings a very good feeling to everything, not only the coldness that Sallie feels but also the contrasting warmness of when she goes into Kien's apartment. All in all, I honestly just really like the art style for this game. Another thing I like is how generally grounded this game is, as everything that happened is something that could feasibly happen in real life, which I think is always a fun thing to see in these types of kinetic novels. Despite how short it is, it's able to showcase both of the character personalities- even certain things like Sallie turning on Kien at the end by coming to his apartment and pushing him against the wall are also foreshadowed in her conversations with Kien.

Sallie initially comes off as a bit more aloof and reserved towards others, though it's completely understandable given that she's locked herself out of her apartment during a snowstorm. She doesn't actually ask Kien initially when she sees him to perhaps let her stay in his apartment until tlhe snowstorm starts, out of both politeness and out of awkwardness. We see this too when she stays in his apartment at least until Kien makes her more comfortable and insists on paying back Kien even after Kien tells her its okay, going so far as to call on the same day to figure out the pricing. At the same time though, we see that her job wasn't supported by her parents and thus she has to fund her own college classes through bartending. There's a sense of not wanting to have to be in debt in others no matter the cost, so I can see where she might have a kind of turn like this near the end. There are definitely bits of personality that shine through from what initially seems like a more polite and passive protagonist.

Kien, until the reveal at the end, is pretty good at hiding his yandere intentions. It's likely that he has been watching Sallie for a while, either because of his insomnia that allows him to watch over her at various times, or if he was lying just to make conversation with her. It also makes you wonder whether or not Kien himself was the one who locked Sallie's apartment door or if she did honestly forget and he took advantage of the situation. I think the most obvious thing he does is drug the tea that Sallie had- I honestly thought he was going to kidnap her after this instance, but instead he just goes out to unlock her door. Honestly, if Sallie had not decided to call the place to figure out how much she owed Kien, she probably wouldn't have found out that he was doing all of these things, like calling her his girlfriend or unlocking the door himself. I actually like this approach since there are a lot of little subtle hints into what's going on and then an ultimate confirmation at the end to see what he actually did. I am curious about his reaction though since he seems pretty smug for someone who was caught stalking and making a copy of her keys.

The game ends pretty abruptly on a cliff hanger. I think that while it could have made a more clean cut ending, the way that the cliff hanger ends give a sense of intrigue for what is to come. However, I can see why people would not like it since it is very abrupt and seemingly comes out of nowhere. Still, I think that it's a fun short game with a yandere in it with a good art style. Try it out if you haven't.

#Locked Out #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #completed #visual novel

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tuesdaykiss · 1 day ago

Text

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 3 | 4 | 5

masterlist

your phone

you look over at the boy lying next to you; he’s fell back into a peaceful slumber. it’s tempting to brush the hair out of his face… but you resist the urge.

clearing your throat in a failed attempt to wake him, your voice cuts through the silence of the room, “uh, rafe?”

he presses his eyes shut hard, in an act of protest; groaning out at the sudden loudness of your voice. a defeated sigh leaves you, before repeating yourself.

“yeah?”

“i should get going…”

his eyes meet yours, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you catch a hint of disappointment. it’s subtle, but unmistakable. his lips part slightly, as though a response was on the tip of his tongue, but just as quickly, they press shut — like he had thought better of it, burying whatever words had been developing.

rafe stretches, and you watch him intently as he moves around the sheets. the pair of you make eye contact; it’s burdened by a feeling of unspoken words that hang between you both.

lips smacking together, the atmosphere of the room grows awkward as rafe grasps his phone before saying, “well, don’t let me keep you.”

slight embarrassment washes over you, as you shuffle on the bed, “right… uh, t-thank you — for last night.”

with just a smile in response, you collect your belongings that are scattered across his wooden flooring before spinning on your heels, nodding in his direction and exiting his room.

rafe’s phone

yourusername

liked by kiaracarrera, rafecam and 2,092 others

yourusername thanks for the tour!

view comments

heywardpope welcome to obx

jjmaybank you’re one of the pogues now

rafecam @/topthornton found her

topthornton smh

boykelce wow

kiaracarrera love u

itscleo ^

johnbr me and my twinkie 4 life

johnbr

liked by sarahcameron, yourusername and 128 others

johnbr @/yourusername new photographer in town

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yourusername my best models yet

sarahcameron i think you’ll find that was me

yourusername proof or it didn’t happen

sarahcameron bet

sarahcameron

liked by yourusername, rafecam and 721,098 others

sarahcameron modelling is so much funner when you’ve got a hot photographer @/yourusername

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yourusername easy to be a photographer when you’ve got hot friends

sarahcameron are you flirting with me?

yourusername yes

johnbr mine ❤️

user3 you tell them john b

sarahupdates our gorgeous model!

user that’s the girl from the party

user2 omg yeah, rafe’s party

your phone

a/n: i can’t tell if this is moving really fast or really slow… also realised i gave her interests and just haven’t included them so here we go!

also the reason sarah hangs with both groups like it’s nothing, is the kooks won’t kick her out due to her fame (plus its rafe’s sister) — they’re really riding off of her lol.

doesn’t mean they aren’t secret haters!

#dividers by pommecita #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe cameron smau #smau #social media #sarah cameron #obx pogues #the pogues #outer banks

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average-mako-enjoyer · 1 day ago

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So I've been thinking about this post from @monowires, and and it's a great post, but I want to talk about one aspect of the mshenko relationship that really gets me personally.

They can only come into this relationship as absolute equals. With fshenko (unless femshep stayed single or preferred Liara in ME1) there's always that awkward "remember when we fucked when you were my CO?" thing, but with mshenko there's no such baggage.

More importantly, Shepard never acted as a mentor figure to Kaidan and never fixed any of Kaidan's personal problems. They still affected each other deeply, but again, only as equals. And that is what makes their romance so bittersweet.

They both go into it knowing that it will end in tragedy. Maybe it won't happen today or tomorrow, but it will 100% end in their deaths.

They both have no expectation of surviving the war, so they don't call themselves boyfriends, they don't make empty promises about meeting the parents, having a kid, even having a home when it's over. They just live in the moment, as fleeting as it may be.

When Kaidan says, "We know the score. We know this is goodbye," he means it. And when he says, "Don't leave me behind," he means, "Don't die without me like you did before." He knows that Shepard is going to die on the Citadel. That the Crucible will kill him. He knows that for sure.

"Losing you was losing a limb," says the unromanced Kaidan in ME2. Now imagine having that limb reattached, imagine feeling whole again, and then to have it ripped off so mercilessly.

The thing is, for Shepard, the ultimate love is sacrificing his life for someone he loves, and for Kaidan, it's facing death with someone he loves by his side, and yet Shepard denies him that. He denies Kaidan the last, most important bit of equality in their relationship.

Like an asshole.

Stupid, heroic, tragic asshole. Kaidan must be so pissed.

#mshenko #so normal about them #kaidan alenko #mass effect

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svartalfhild · 2 days ago

Note

ooo either 12 or 20 please :3

I'm going to see if I can combine these.

12. nervous embarrassment around them (blushing, fidgeting etc) 20. clumsy attempts at flirting

Rook didn't want to admit it to a single soul, living or dead, but she was completely out of her depth when it came to romance. It had always seemed like something other people did and usually only in novels.

She'd grown up in the Grand Necropolis where romantic love was the purview of the dead or grieving, and even amidst the Mourn Watch, well, she hadn't been social enough to witness romance in action between her colleagues. She'd always been strange, even for a Mourn Watcher, as the elf crypt foundling with ghostly white hair and eyes, and thus she'd always found it easier to befriend spirits than people.

Then she'd been cast out for her own safety. And Varric had taken her in, given her new purpose, and taken her all over Thedas. Even after a year, so much of the world and the intricacies of interpersonal relationships were new to her. She was a quick learner, though, and she liked to think she was a decent actor too, capable of pretending she was normal, even if she didn't exactly look it.

Varric and Harding had helped her a lot at first. They were gentle in correcting her blunders, for which she was eternally grateful. She still winced at the memory of the etiquette teacher she'd had growing up. Of course, that class had been meant to prepare young Watchers for behaving appropriately with the bereaved and the nobility. Common folk were a bit more forgiving, she'd found, as long as you were laid back, kind, and had a sense of humor. It worked really well for Varric and Harding, and it worked really well for her too, especially once she learned to stop casually using what Varric called "gold coin words" and mentioning anything to do with death or funerary practices.

After they'd come to the Lighthouse, though, things had changed. Rook was in charge now. Varric was bedridden, and she couldn't constantly be running off to the infirmary for advice he may not even have the energy to give. Harding was available, but Rook didn't want to disturb her too much, since she had a lot going on with the whole Titan magic thing. Rook just needed to toughen up and learn to handle things herself. She was a grown woman. She should be able to figure out social dynamics on her own, especially now that she knew she could rely on her positive attitude and helpful nature to deal with difficult situations.

Romance, though. That was a different animal, one she'd never thought she'd personally encounter. But then she'd met Emmrich, and all the work she'd done to appear socially competent just sort of went directly out the window. Or perhaps more accurately, right over the balcony of his beautifully appointed tower. He was just so...so...talented and knowledgeable and handsome and caring and dapper and well-spoken and generous and patient and...well, attractive. It didn't matter that he was twice her age. Her brain slid out her nose, skipped away, and left the building whenever he so much as said a nice thing to her. For some bizarre reason she did not yet understand, her gut reaction was to try to flirt with him, even though she had no practice at it, and her understanding of flirting was entirely based on things she'd read in fiction.

That being said, she felt she wasn't too bad at it. He hadn't reacted poorly to her flirting so far. In fact, though he often seemed surprised at first, he was always receptive. That didn't necessarily mean anything, though. For a while, she'd thought maybe he was just being kind and trying not to make her feel awkward because she was failing and he wasn't interested, but he still wanted to be friends with her. But then he'd told her he was interested and flirted with her so expertly that she'd been utterly swept away by it. And then he'd kissed her in the Memorial Gardens, and she knew she was so stupidly in love that there was absolutely no going back now.

So she kept at it.

One evening after returning from an excursion to Arlathan with Neve and Bellara, Rook snuck off towards Emmrich's tower while the others headed for the courtyard. She gave the door her unique little knock, and she heard his distant voice tell her to come in. She slipped inside and didn't see him in the immediate area of the study, so she nimbly climbed the spiral stairs to find him returning some books to the shelves.

"Hello," she greeted, trying to sound soft and a little sultry.

"Ah, Rook! How was your trip?" he responded cheerfully, tossing her a smile before shelving another book. She approached him in what she hoped was a casual manner. Was it always so warm in the tower? She didn't remember it ever being this warm. Her hands were sweating.

"Oh, you know. Magical. Like Arlathan always is." She gave a little chuckle, one which she hoped came across as charming and not nervous. Not that long ago, she would have just launched into a monologue about all the exciting magical phenomena she'd encountered in the forest, but these days, she was committed to being a bit more charismatic than that. "I got you something." She reached into the back of her cinch belt and pulled out a purple flower with a bent stem to hold it out to Emmrich. Her smile faltered when she noticed the bent stem, and she swallowed the swear that wanted to burst from her lips. Emmrich fully looked over at her after quickly sliding the last book into place, and a grin instantly spread across his distinguished features.

"Oh, how lovely! Cyclamen hederifolium! Thank you, darling!" He stepped closer to her and gently took the flower from her, his fingers brushing against hers and making her heart flutter.

"Sorry it's bent. I had to tuck it in my belt and I didn't notice until just now," Rook blurted out. Shit, that was awkward. She needed to find a way to recover. "I saw them while we were walking and thought of you, so I picked one," she added, attempting a casual lean against the nearest bookcase. Sure, that worked.

"How sweet," Emmrich replied, giving the bloom a sniff, his hazel eyes never leaving her as he did so. He then straightened the bend in the stem and swiped a fingertip over it. After a brief glow of green, the damage was repaired. "There. Nothing to trouble yourself over." Wow. She wished she knew how to do that. Maybe he could teach her. Oh, but as she watched him hold the flower, she realized he may not even have somewhere to put it. It wasn't a rose. It didn't have a long stem. He probably didn't have any pots small enough.

"I'll get a cup or something for you to put it in," she offered, straightening up and curling her fingers nervously.

"Ah." Emmrich halted her with the simple sound just as she began to turn to go, and stepped much closer to her, entering her space. "Not to worry, my dear. I know the perfect place for it," he told her softly before carefully tucking the purple cyclamen into her hair.

"O-Oh," she gasped, her ghostly pale cheeks instantly flushing pink. He brushed his fingertips down the side of her face when he was done, and she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle right then and there. Without even meaning to, she leaned closer to him, basking in the adoration that filled his gaze. "But the flower was for you," she said, her voice a little distant as she stared up at him.

"And I would like to see such a beautiful gift adorn the beautiful young woman who gave it to me." She gave him a dreamy smile at this, and her blush deepened.

"If that's what pleases you."

"It does indeed." Emmrich's fingers traced the edge of her jaw before settling under her chin and tilting her head up so he could easily lean down and kiss her.

Rook's last thought before all others abandoned her was that she must being doing this romance thing right if this was the result of her efforts.

#Dragon Age #DATV #Emmrich Volkarin #Emmrook #Rook Ingellvar #DATV spoilers #ask #prompt #my Rook and the bad bitch she pulled by being so bad at this actually

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lunarmothim · 16 hours ago

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shadowbound- john price x reader

part ii: soon - the truth comes out.

word count: 4.5k tags/warnings: language, abduction, canon typical violence.

It's quiet. Too quiet- all you can really hear is the creak of footsteps against the flooring downstairs, a small indication of your captors moving about. If they speak they don't do it at a volume you can hear no matter how hard you strain your ears.

It's fine. This is fine. You've gotten out of worse situations, haven't you? You were supposed to die in Al Mazrah, a bullet in your head while the Russians made off with your cargo. You didn't. You were supposed to die back in Texas, locked in a cell deep underground with no hope of escape. You didn't.

You can make it out of this.

Your options are limited, though. Breaking out of your zip cuffs would require an injury, something that would require medical attention and slow you down, and that's not even considering your chances of making it past the four men downstairs. Talking your way out of it is even less likely especially now that they know you're a former Shadow, something they don't seem to like all that much. So what's left?

You don't know. You've been in survival mode the last few months, no time to plan or prepare- not that you have that luxury now, but it's still a situation that requires some thought, and that alone gives you pause. What do I do? Figure a way out of here, obviously, but you can't quite figure out where to start, not when every thought you have has a counter-plan staring right back at you.

Well, when in doubt do what you know.

It's awkward, the shift to shimmy your wrists down to your ankles, bringing your bound hands in front of you, and for a second you worry your hips won't allow you to move your arms the way you need to. You make it somehow, immediately reaching up to yank the bag from your head.

Which brings you to the next step you're not a hundred percent sure of. You have your sight back but limited use of your hands- do you run? You're fast enough you could make it, but your mobility could present a problem until you're able to get the cuffs off. The city would be easy enough to disappear into until you could get new documents, but how hard would it be for them to find you? The military has resources, a lot more than you do at this point, and you imagine it would take them no time at all to locate and apprehend you again.

So what the fuck do you do?

You have no fucking clue, and you're not given a lot of time to think about it. The door slams open and you're looking up at the captain again. He doesn't look entirely surprised by the state you definitely hadn't been left in.

"We're moving," is all he says, stalking forward to yank you up out of your chair. Think. Think. Formulating plans on the go is your specialty, but everything you'd ever been taught is a vague memory on the edges of your subconscious, just out of reach, as he leads you through the house, down the stairs and out the front door. He doesn't bother with a blindfold when he throws you into the back of the van again, at least, nor does he change your cuffs to rebind you behind your back.

You're not sure if you should find that comforting or not.

You decide on not when it's Ghost that climbs into the back after you, his dark eyes boring into your soul.

"So," he says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, lurching slightly when the van starts moving. Your patch is in his hand, the worn edge peeking between his fingers. "Wanna tell us what you did to Graves?"

Oh, you're not fucking ready for that. The silence between Ghost leaving you and you being dragged out to the van clearly hadn't been empty- they'd dug, found something you weren't entirely prepared to address if they know about Graves.

"Dunno what you mean," you croak out, voice breaking slightly on the syllables. He doesn't look like he believes it.

"Try again." His hand catches you by the jaw again, refusing to let you look away, refusing to give you even a second to gather your racing thoughts. They know you're a Shadow, they know about Graves. What else do they know? Do they have your file? His fingers tighten when he says your name- your full name, not just the first name you'd given the captain at the train station. They have your file.

Graves burned the files of anyone he lost. He clearly hadn't burned yours.

There's no use pretending anymore.

"You're taking me back to him, aren't you?" you whisper, staring up at him. If he's going to lie to you, you're going to make him look you in the eyes while he does it. You think of your last interaction with the commander, the barely healed scars scattered across your body. The days spent in a cell before he'd released you with the false promise of safety.

"It's just how we have to do things, doll," he drawled, dragging his palm over the deep cut on your shoulder even when you flinched away. "Gotta make sure you know how not to talk, no matter the circumstance."

You knew how not to talk. He knew that you knew how not to talk. He chose to torture you anyway.

So if this group is taking you back to Graves, you'll find a way to make them kill you along the way.

And if they won't? You'll just do it yourself.

You lunge before Ghost can react. The knife strapped to his thigh is in your hands, slicing through your cuffs in one fluid motion. In the same breath you have the back door of the van open, tucking in on yourself as you roll out onto the street- you can hear the screech of the tires, the van jerking to a halt, but you pay it no mind, leaping to your feet and sprinting back down the road. It's lined with sparse trees on either side and not much else, not a lot of options to hide.

Don't hide, your brain chides you, urging you on. Keep running.

You'd run track in school, a sprinter through and through. Always the fastest, taking first every time. It's been a while since you've needed it, but it's easy to fall back into old habits, keeping your elbows close to your body and your frame tilted slightly forward, your center of gravity kept low. Keep it close, keep it tight. Sprint like your life fucking depends on it.

The tree you pass catches the bullet shot after you. You hear it thud into the wood seconds after you duck around it, inches from your head. Too close. Keep running. There's a wheat field in the distance, tall golden stalks swaying in the breeze. Make it there and you can disappear into them, hide until they pass. Find your way back to the city, find your way out.

If only things were that simple.

A heavy weight strikes the center of your back, driving the air out of you as you crash into the ground. Your stolen knife tilts up, digging into flesh that doesn't even get a reaction beyond the hot spurt of blood across your knuckles before your arms are wrestled behind your back again. You feel the scratch of his balaclava against your cheek, his weight pinning you to the ground with ease.

"Makin' my job fun," he pants low in your ear, a hint of amusement in his tone. You struggle against his hold when he stands, hauling you up to your feet, but his grip is unrelenting. "C'mon then. Let's go."

The van is waiting in the same spot you'd left it. This time, after zip-cuffing your hands behind your back again, Ghost keeps hold of you.

"Slippery little minx, isn't she?" The captain's voice as you're shoved into the back of the van again has you bristling, wanting to rip free and strangle him with your bare hands. "You good?"

"M'solid," Ghost grunts, and you hiss when he brackets your shoulders between his knees. "Sit fuckin' still."

"Fuck you," you can't help but growl, wrenching forward until your shoulders ache. "Let me fucking go-"

"Not a chance." His tone brooks no argument, and you almost howl when he grabs you by the back of the neck, fingers digging into the sides of your throat. "Sit. Still."

What else can you do but obey? You don't relax against him, body tense against his calf and ready to run again- not that his hold on you would let you.

"Talk." It's the captain that speaks, and when you look up at him he's twisted in his seat, staring back at you.

"Eat shit, captain," you spit back, and his eyes narrow in response. "I'm not goin' back. Just fuckin' kill me."

That, it seems, gives him pause. Narrowed eyes widen slightly, really taking you in for the first time. The defiant set of your shoulders, the way you're ready to spit acid despite your captivity. He sees you, sees the way you're ready to run again, how you're ready to die. His voice drops.

"What happened." It's no longer a question, his hand twitching toward his gun. You're out of chances.

What can you do but tell him the truth?

DELIVERY ROUTE AL MAZRAH 12 AUGUST 2022, 0300

The road is dark, quiet. Not uncommon in the deserts of Al Mazrah this time of night, but still unnerving as you navigate toward the drop off point. The SUV follows a large cargo truck with a blue shipping container on the back, two more with similar cargo in front of them in the convoy. You don't know what you're transporting, but a nagging feeling in your gut tells you it's big. Important. Behind the wheel, Erikson seems to think the same.

"What are we carrying this time, Graves?" he asks, glancing at you in the rearview when you make a small noise of agreement, slightly narrowed eyes telling you to keep quiet. One curious team member asking questions is one thing, two becomes an irritation. No one likes it when Graves gets irritated.

The radio crackles with static, followed by that smooth southern drawl that to some is probably charming, but to you just feels slimy. "If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya."

"I bet he'd do it, too," Vance mutters, and you hum in agreement as you flick your gaze between the two men in the front seat and the truck in front of you. Of the members of your team Vance is the one you're closest to, the one who shares your whispered concerns about what the hell it is you're even doing these days and why you seem to be so far up Shepherd's ass you know what meal he's currently digesting. Concerns he'd only brought up to you over a stolen bottle of whiskey on the HQ rooftop, the haze of a shared cigarette hanging between you.

He's a good man, a little softer around the edges than the rest of the hardened soldiers that make up the Shadow Company. He'd told you once that he'd wanted to be a teacher, before a terrorist attack had taken down planes in New York. That he'd enlisted the next week and before long his hands were so bloody he could barely look anyone in the eye. To this day, he refuses to tell you why he decided to go private, how he'd ended up on this dark desert road transporting who the hell knows what to who the hell knows who.

Classified, Graves had told you all at the meeting before you'd shipped out, with some vague story about delivering some aid to your allies in the area. The rest is need to know.

Need to know always raises interest, makes you speculate when there's little else to focus on but making sure you aren't being followed. You can't speak for the dozens of Shadows that make up the convoy, but you know for sure that you and the other three in this SUV are all wondering what's so important that you have to transport it in the dead of night through hostile territory.

"This's nothing but a milk run, boys," Graves answers after a moment, sounding a little too smug as always. He enjoys having the upper hand, knowing things that others don't. He does throw you a bone though, edged with warning - "Guns for the good guys - you'll be back at HQ for breakfast. Don't shit the bed and there'll be bonuses all around. Find me when you're back."

While the other three answer in the affirmative, Vance and Erikson bumping fists, you stare out the window at the black windows of the abandoned buildings you're driving past, eyes scanning for anything out of place. Something about this just isn't sitting right with you, even more so when the radio crackles again and Graves informs you that Shepherd's waiting for a sitrep.

"Three containers..." Vance muses, and when your eyes shift to him, his own gaze is fixed on the shipping container in front of you, contemplative. His face is obscured by his balaclava and shadows, but you can see the corner of his jaw working behind the black fabric, slowly clenching and unclenching. He's on edge, too.

"That's a lotta fuckin' milk," Dipaolo agrees from where he's sitting next to you, and you can see his wry grin bunching up the balaclava at the corners of his mouth.

"Thirsty friends," Erikson responds with a slight shrug, radioing in to Shepherd with the sitrep, who warns them much like Graves had not to fail. That alone rings alarm bells in your head, but before you can voice them Vance beats you to the punch.

"Do not fail...? Told you this shit was important," he says, and when his green eyes meet yours in the rearview, you can see the worry buried in the furrow of his brows. You're sure his mouth is pressed into a tight line beneath the balaclava.

The cargo truck in front of you comes to a sudden stop, drawing all of your attention forward. You weren't supposed to stop, had been ordered to keep moving no matter what. Doesn't matter if there's a civvy, just drive through them, Graves had said. Fucking sick, you'd muttered under your breath in response.

"What's this?" Dipaolo asks, his grip tightening on his rifle as he glances between the stopped truck and Erikson, white-knuckled on the wheel.

"Three, this is Erikson, what's up?" the driver demands into the radio, fingers of one hand loosening to twitch toward the sidearm strapped to his thigh. Nothing but a crackle of static for two very long seconds, before 3-1's voice comes back.

"Got a vehicle in the road," he reports, followed by voices calling out loudly in Arabic.

"Stand by, comin' to ya." Erikson spins the wheel and carefully pulls around the cargo truck, and if the alarm bells weren't sounding before, they're practically screaming now - it's only you and the SUV behind you bringing up the rear of the convoy, and all of this feels like a trap. But Erikson is the superior in this car, it's his call. Still...

"Is this the best idea?" you ask quietly, shifting your rifle in your lap as you creep up alongside the stopped convoy toward the commotion at the front. "Weakening the rear like this?"

"Not your call," Vance warns, a flash of green in the rearview again. You can see the same unease you feel reflected in what little you can see of his face as he picks up the radio. "Graves, Vance - be advised, we're held up, sortin' it out now."

"Handle it - keep the line movin'." The look Vance gives as he acknowledges Graves' response says see? We're solid. You don't feel solid. You feel like the earth is about to open up beneath your feet, even more so when you reach the front and see the brake lights of 3-1's armored truck, doors open as he stands in the road trying to coax the driver of the heavy cargo truck blocking the road at an angle out of the way in broken Arabic.

"I don't like this," Erikson says quietly, glancing back at you. For the first time since the convoy had stopped, you can see a hint of unease in his brown eyes.

"Something's wrong," you murmur in agreement, fingers tightening on your rifle as your wary eyes stare ahead at the vehicle blocking the road, the lone Shadow trying and failing to convey the urgency with which he needs them to move. His Arabic is atrocious, an obvious fact that probably isn't helping matters, but even his bastardized accent and butchered words are clear - the person in the vehicle needs to move, and move now. But he doesn't, and that alone has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"Dipaolo, Harbinger, lean out and cover him," Erikson orders, and without hesitation Dipaolo hauls himself up into the open window, leaning out to raise his M4 at the situation in front of them. You mirror him on the opposite side, staring down your sights as the people blocking the road continue to refuse to move.

"We need a 'terp out here, what's the call sir?" 3-1 asks, sounding frustrated as another yelled order goes ignored. Your finger shifts off the trigger guard, wary eyes taking in everything - from the lone man standing near the tailgate of the truck, his two friends peering casually over the back to the man in the road... wrong. Something's wrong. Your instincts are screaming at you, but you tamp them down as you wait for orders.

"Vance, Dipaolo, go help him out," Erikson orders, gesturing to 3-1, who's yelling again. "Harbinger, cover from here."

"Aye sir," you answer, tensing as the door starts to open - and then gunfire erupts. You can barely tell up from down as you return fire, zeroing in on a man who's emerged from a hatch on the top of the body of the truck. 3-1 goes down in the mayhem, and several more enemies pour out of the surrounding shadows.

You barely hear your teammates yelling around you over the rush of blood in your ears, the explosive sound of gunfire echoing off the nearby buildings. The muzzle flash has a strobe-like effect, making you nauseous as you duck back down into the SUV to reload.

"Back up, back up!" Vance is yelling. His voice distant, like it's coming from the far end of a long tunnel. You can't focus on it, can't focus on anything but slamming the magazine into your rifle and leaning out the window again to cover your retreat from the truck that had driven into the road in front of you, full of enemy reinforcements.

Above it all, two voices stand out - Graves ordering you to eliminate the threat, and Shepherd... prioritizing the cargo. Something is wrong.

And then everything explodes in a spray of metal, fire and blood and body parts. Ears ringing, you throw yourself back into the vehicle as Erikson tries to maneuver you out of there. You can see the muzzle flash, your team's mouths moving, but all you hear is the ringing. When you reach up to touch your ear, your gloved fingers come away bloody.

Your eyes meet Vance's when your escape route is blocked off, the car jolting as Erikson throws it in reverse, and the last thing you see is Vance's masked face as the flare of the RPG lights the interior of the car, sending it end over end.

141 TRANSPORT PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC 06 DECEMBER 2024, 1830

"I was the only survivor," you tell the Captain quietly. The van had been silent as you told your story. You hadn't wanted to share it at all, but now that you had, it feels almost... cathartic. An outlet for the trauma of what had happened then and what had come after. "I woke up at a field hospital in Urzikstan two, three weeks later? Still not sure, it's all pretty fuzzy. Graves was there, which seemed pretty normal at first. He's a smarmy asshole but no one can say he doesn't care about his team. He was livid with Shepherd for not sending backup. We lost a lot of good men that day.

It wasn't until we were back on base that things started to change. He got quiet, even more secretive than before. Had a lot of closed door meetings with Shepherd, and one fine Thursday morning, he called me into his office. Wanted to hear again what I remembered about the attack. About the cargo. I, like an idiot, voiced my suspicions. Earned myself a one way trip to a cell for it. He did fight Shepherd about killing me, but in the end Shepherd won. In his words, I knew too much.

While the rest of Shadow Company headed out for a mission in Mexico, a dozen of them stayed behind to deal with me. I killed them and dragged their bodies into his office before I escaped. Little message for him. If I had to guess, he decided to just kill me in retaliation. Knew he'd never be able to find me, so he sent someone else to do his dirty work."

Wringing your hands, you stare out one of the two small windows set in the back doors of the van, watching a middle-aged woman in the sedan behind you yelling into her phone, swerving slightly in her anger. It seems so... normal. So mundane. You wonder what has the woman so pissed.

"Why give us so much attitude then?" It's the Captain that speaks. You glance over at him again, note the way his brow furrows as he studies you from beneath the brim of his boonie hat. You can't read his expression fully, but he looks conflicted.

"Don't know you, don't trust you," you answer simply, holding his gaze steadily. Your fear from the train station is long gone, and now you're just tired.

His expression flashes with understanding before smoothing into something unreadable again. "I see."

"Yeah." You study him for a moment, watching the corner of his jaw twitch, the way he rubs at his beard. "I'm not your enemy, you know."

"Do I?" His eyes are exhausted, deep blue staring into yours.

"You should." You want to go home. You want to sleep for a week, take a second to gather your thoughts before you have to move again. You can't help the way it bleeds into your words. "I'm fuckin' tired, Captain. I miss home."

"Where is home?" It's an innocent question, innocuous. It's a window into your soul.

"I don't know anymore." It comes out a whisper, a quiet breath. You haven't had anything to call yours beyond a small room on base in a very long time, the Shadows the only home you'd cared about. You rip your gaze back, staring out the window again. "Born in Minnesota, moved around a lot growing up. Had an apartment in Texas, near Dallas. Didn't much care for it, if m'honest."

"That why you joined the military?"

"S'pose." You don't want to answer the captain's questions but his voice makes it hard, deep and gravelly and demanding answers. "Family's more likely, maybe. Dad was a Marine, made me want to be one too. Went through MARSOC training with Graves. Fuckin' asshole, if m'honest-"

"We know." The Scot is the one to reply, surprisingly, and you glance up to find icy blue eyes staring back. "Nearly killed us." "Bit of a habit of his, isn't it?" you muse, glancing back down again. You hadn't been expecting to find a kindred spirit in this, spewing as much vitriol as you already felt toward Graves. You almost wonder what they'd say if you told them what Graves had threatened to do to you. "Heard he went a bit nuts after Mexico."

"My doin'," the Scot murmurs proudly, and your eyes track over to him once more. Up close like this you can see a scar on his head, the starburst of a gunshot wound. "Blew 'im up."

"Shame it didn't stick," you reply quietly, and his grin drops. They obviously have some kind of connection with Graves too, just as contentious as yours. You won't question it, but you're glad for that little bit of camaraderie. "Next time."

"Next time," Mohawk agrees, and you can't help the tiny smile that splits across your lips at the promise, vague as it is.

It's a flicker of hope. You can't help but latch onto it.

"Can't keep callin' you Mohawk," you murmur out loud, glancing between him and the black man sitting next to him opposite you, your shoulder still pressed into Ghost's knee. "You know my name, sems fair I know yours."

"Soap," he answers after a moment. You don't miss the way his eyes flick between Ghost and Mutton Chops up in the driver's seat. "Captain Price, Gaz, Ghost." You catalogue the names with the men- it's easy with what you know already. Price. The captain's eyes meet yours in the mirror, stormy blue.

"Harbinger," you reply quietly, drawing your legs in. They know it already, if they have your file. It still makes you feel at least a little better, makes you feel like you have even the smallest iota of control.

You keep your hold on the captain long after he's looked back at the road. He looks like he's in charge, turbulent eyes and tense shoulders. If you have even a chance at freedom he's probably the one that will decide, the one that will either order his men to kill you or let you go. You're not holding your breath either way.

"I'm not goin' back." You don't mean it to be rude, but it's true. "Graves can eat a bag of dicks."

"Not takin' you to Graves," Soap tells you, and you almost believe it. Almost.

"Then where?" They won't keep you in Prague. You know that, know the playbook they're working with. Their base is the most likely option, or some kind of middle ground with the agencies that wanted you in the first place. So where? Their accents scream UK.

The van stops. Ghost confirms it, his hand tightening on the back of your neck several minutes before he hauls you out of the vehicle and on to the tarmac. You see the plane you've been brought to, small and private, and it brings you back to the thought of who'd brought you here- you're a hot commodity and you know it, but the question is which three letter agency wants you the most?

They don't tell you. You're given no idea of your destination, no clue who blocks your path. All you know is the firm hold on the back of your neck, Ghost keeping you close. You want to throttle him for it.

Soon.

part one - masterlist - part two

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :) top/bottom divider by: me line divider by: @/saradika-graphics

#john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #ktwrites #shadowbound #:D

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princessofgotham777 · 1 day ago

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Dating Jason Todd (Part Five)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️)

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief

Part five: Dead?

You think you’re in shock. Maybe you’re so in shock you don’t even know you are. Dick said Barbra was going to deal with things back in Gotham so him, Kori and Rachel could come home. He told everyone he wants the team to be together but you know he really just wants to keep an eye on you. They should be back any minute since it’s been about three hours since you got the phone call; the call that told you the love of your life is dead. You and Gar sit on the couch side by side both quietly staring off into space. The elevator door opens and Dick, Kori and Rachel walk in. Rachel walks over to you and Gar, she pulls you both into a hug, Kori joins in and Dick simply stands to the side.

You get sick of the awkward conversation and long periods of silence. “Can I talk to you?” You ask Dick. He nods and you head into your old room.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. “I’m going to Gotham.”

“Y/N, it’s not safe,” he says.

“You can’t stop me Dick, if you want you can come with but I’m going to Gotham…I want to see him,” you say softly.

“Fine, but no running off and what I say goes,” he says.

“Yes to the first one but I’m not a titan anymore I don’t take orders from you,” you say.

“Sorry…” he says. You begin to throw things into a leather backpack when he says, “you’ll always be a titan to me.” You look into his eyes and see so much sorrow. You don’t have the energy nor motive to attempt to unpack what he’s said. All you want is Jason, and now you’ll never see him again.

“Come on,” you say as you put on Jason’s leather jacket and your pink Chicago hat. Dick follows you out of the room and down the halls to where the titans are.

“Going somewhere?” Rachel says.

“Yeah, Y/N and I are going back to Gotham,” Dick says.

“What?” Gar says.

“What about the threats?” Kori says.

“Jokers the least of my problems right now, Jason’s dead…I need to be there,” you say.

“You’re okay with this Dick?” Gar asks.

“No but that’s why I’m going,” he says.

The car ride is filled with awkward silence. You guys are about an hour into the drive when Dick finally says something. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise,” he says.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you answer quickly.

“I just need you to know I tried, I swept every room in Arkham myself,” he says.

“I know, Rachel told me,” you say. You notice he’s about to continue the conversation so you say, “I forgive you, I know that’s all you care about so I forgive you.”

“Hey, that’s not all I care about” He says.

“It wasn’t your fault, and besides it’s not about you,” you say.

“It’s not about me? What does that mean?” He says.

“Nothing just, you always do this Dick,” you say.

“Do what?” He asks.

“You always make it about yourself and your redemption, you did it on the roof top and you’re doing it right now and I just can’t deal with it, not today,” you say.

“Wait the rooftop-“ he starts to say before you cut him off.

“Not today Dick!” You say with anger. “Please,” you say softly. The rest of the car ride is fairly quiet except the typical arguing about if the gps is correct.

You and Dick get to GCPD to find Barbra speaking with a man in a lab coat.

“Dick?” She says. “I was just about to call you.”

“Barbra you remember Y/N,” Dick says.

“Right, hi,” she says sounding off. “Um something’s happened,” she says.

“Course more bad news, first can we see the body?” Dick asks.

“Fucks sake it’s not “the body” it’s Jason,” you mumble.

“Yeah so that’s the thing, it’s not Jason,” Barbra says.

“What?” You say.

“What do you mean it’s not Jason?” Dick asks.

“He was so beaten he was only recognizable by the Robin suit, we tested his DNA cause it’s part of procedure and the body in the morgue is not Jason Todd,” Barbra says.

“So Jason could still be alive somewhere?” You ask.

“Hypothetically yeah,” Barbra says.

I hope you liked the fic if you did please like, I really appreciate any positive feedback. It’s nice to know people enjoy my writing and it encourages me to keep writing and posting. I have a lot of ideas to develop the red hood story line and also I have backstory ideas for how the reader meets Jason and Dick and becomes a titan. Sorry this one is so short my mom is in the hospital that’s why. I did the whole Jason’s alive thing because I thought I killed him off a bit too suddenly, I’m trying to sort of merge the plots of under the red hood, death in the family and Arkham knight in regards to how he dies. Anyways I hope you are enjoying this series🩷

Also here’s my Masterlist incase you haven’t read the other parts.

Masterlist

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year ago

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cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

#this got. so long. sowwy #but I thought about this ummmm Sunday night #but I was DRAINED from writing 7k words of scorned past midnight and then having to edit it skdjfkf #so I was like. okay. put this idea in the drafts. NOW ms dory memory #anddddd I love this so very much #would’ve loved to turn this into a full fic #but it’s so exhausting trying to write long fics recently bc of this multichap #I’m just not used to it and I can’t do two things at the same time #and I already have like 9 fics on my list to write!!!! lol #but there is something so alluring about film major bkg 2 me #I think hes awkward and comes off as mean but he really is just that serious about his work #but he’s #also a creep for you LOL #definitely think he agrees to become ur muse for art as like a trade off #and you get that boy into SO many humiliating positions 😵‍💫#I need. to lie down. anyway.#I wrote this at 1am and was scared to post it then cause I didn’t think anyone would see it #so here it is in the morning :)#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫

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