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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 2 years ago

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Wild Horses

Part 4

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: I hope y’all like this chapter and I apologize if it took long! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated, I love hearing y’alls thoughts. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi and if there are any ideas you guys would like to have in this story, just let me know! And as always, I hope you lovelies have a beautiful day! 💜💜💜 Also I apologize if some of the tags don't go through, I make sure to add each and every one of you lovelies but the tagging system here sucks ass.

Story Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Chapter Summary: 🎶Don't be suspicious.🎶

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, mentions of sexual themes

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂Simon Riley. Simon MOTHERFUCKING Riley. The only man to exist that has managed to accomplish aggravating you in every possible way imaginable. For a woman known to have a great deal of patience, he sure as hell didn’t even need to lift a finger to break that record. Might as well put him in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘The Most Stubborn Asshole Man Alive’ because you’re pretty sure if you looked up the words stubborn and asshole in a dictionary, his face would pop up.

🍂All you did was help stitch him up from a gunshot wound that could’ve gone way south if not done correctly. And when you tell him to come to you if he has any injures or illnesses because you want to help him, what does he do? What does this asshole of a man do? Insults you! Right to your face! I mean sure it wasn’t a direct insult nor were any of his words particularly insulting, but it was still rude and it offended you.

🍂“Meh don’ bother. I’m a big tough dummy and I eat rocks and tea for breakfast. I don’ need your help.” You mock with a shake of your head and a widened stance, mimicking both the voice and stature of the masked English soldier. The little ‘altercation’ had left you nearly fuming, pushing you to go outside to get some of that chilly night air in order to cool off. “I bet you use Gorilla Glue on all your wounds and call it a day.” You scoff, returning to your original posture. You better pray Ghost isn't lurking around somewhere unless you want your ass beat.

🍂Your dad had always taught you kindness and patience, being the down-to-earth soul he was, but boy was this man absolutely testing the everlasting shit out of you. You almost had to mutter out a small apology in your father’s honor for the obscene and colorful language that fell from your lips. But the more you thought about the absolute 6'4 idiot of a man, the more you became frustrated over it. All that body mass and not a single ounce of a brain. How he has managed to come this far without dying of an infection, you have no clue.

“Hope you like that fucking sour apple Dum-Dum you lollipop thief. You’re lucky I don’t dye your stupid mask pink.” You don't know what came in you in that heated moment but next thing you know you were practically planning your funeral and writing a will of your inheritance for your cat back home. Because if there's one thing you shouldn't do, it's kicking a random metal can just lying around on the street. Let's just say you were fucked because the sound that came out of you was equivalent to the screeching of a dying narwhal. The way the throbbing in your big toe had you clutching the wall and wheezing like a fish reeled right out of the water begging the creator for mercy was enough to produce some sweat out of you. And just your luck, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, Price had heard the noise and went to investigate it. Shouldn't this man have better things to do?

The face you pulled would have risen some concern from your colleagues back at the hospital in the states, a widened smile and pain-filled eyes, and you can’t help but to thank the poorly lit lamp streets for obstructing it. You swear you feel like your head is about to explode from the way you tried to keep it all together. But as Price asked if you were alright, looking over your stiffened and awkward stance, one hand out on the wall and your injured foot crossed over the other, all you could do was nod frantically and let out a wheezed ‘Yup. Finer than frog hair split four ways’. You pray that he doesn’t think you’re constipated or something from the strain in your voice. Coward. I would have faked a fall and had him carry me over the threshold.

Price of course doesn’t get American lingo and has no clue what the fuck you just said but takes it as a yes. Just you wait till he goes back in and tells the others what he heard. The man practically opens up the computer and searches up the phrase that you uttered just to find the meaning, all while the others crowd around. And after scrolling through a bunch of different articles involving different American slang, they collectively decide to learn a bunch of them in order to communicate with you. I lied. Because literally from this day forth, they randomly spit out different words and phrases just to tease your American accent. Actually Soap is the only one who does that………….just Soap.

Anyways……..

When Price finally closes the door behind him, you’re back to gritting your teeth and cursing at the pain in your toe and blaming it for your misfortunes, waiting a couple minutes so as to not run into the captain or the others before hurrying limping back into the building and into your room.

What did I tell ya. Should have just asked for Price to carry you back.

After inspecting your toe as what felt to be broken, you were glad to find out that it was just a grade 1 sprain. As painful as it was, for a successful recovery all it needed was some ice, taping, drugs, and a lot of rest. Rest......right. Like you were gonna get any of that.

Should've just reported it to Price.

Guess you can add one more injury to your list of things that are in the process of healing. The men come back from the mission bloodied and bruised with gunshot wounds, and you…….well you sprain your toe from trying to kick a can of beans or whatever the hell that stupid metal cylinder was filled with.

As if you weren't stressed enough before. Now you had to worry about hiding this tiny injury from the rest of the team to prevent them worrying about you. Also because you don’t want them to start asking questions about how it happened in the first place and find out that a can of beans was the culprit behind it. Hm, sounds a lot like someone else.

When you finally laid in bed that night, drugged out on melatonin and pain killers and wearing an oversized tee and a pair of shorts, you couldn’t stop drumming your fingers against your stomach, your injured foot propped up on a pillow with your big toe wrapped and taped up looking like you borrowed Fred Flintstone’s foot. Now just how were you going to hide that? It’s not like you can just grab a pair of those circus clown shoes or an orthopedic boot or some crutches and hope no one notices. And while you stared up at the ceiling, the drumming of your fingers coming to a stop as you contemplated on the idea while waiting to crash out from the melatonin you took, there is only one thing left that came to mind. So, in one swift motion, you grab the spare pillow closest to you and scream into it. A really long, really shrill scream that would have put the banshees to shame. Yup. You can now say you had officially reached your breaking point.

And what happens when you’re stressed? You have strange dreams, like really strange dreams. I’m talking weird vivid outlandish shit that feel too real kind of dreams. Because when you wake up the next morning, sweat beaded at your forehead, you can only think about the very explicit dream you had last night. The one involving you and the team and a series of very……………how can I say this, rated porn shit. It all felt real, too fucking real, because when you move your legs over to hang off the side of the bed, there’s a tenderness there and well………….everything else that comes with it.

“Yo what the actual fucking shit.” You groan, resting your elbows onto your thighs as you shove your face into your hands and rub at your forehead and cheeks.

How the hell were you going to face the team after waking up from something like that? You could almost paint a picture of the entire sequence as if it just happened, and boy was the image going to be burned into the back of your mind like the searing of a branding iron.

You were embarrassed just thinking about it. Every time you closed your eyes, you were reminded of the way their hands and lips roamed every inch of your body, the way their skin almost burned against yours, the stubble of their facial hair grazing against the sensitive skin that lined your inner thighs and the wetness of their tongues, the sounds of their low grunts and moans that escaped from deep within their chests that mingled with your soft ones as their heated breaths fanned your neck, the sharp smell of metal that paired with the rhythmic swaying of their dog tags as they dangled above you with each movement, and the pulling sensation in the pit of your stomach after reaching your high with each of them.

And then there was Ghost, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, the way he looked you over with disgust while you were on your back when each of them hovered over you. And when he finally stood in front of you, when there seemed to be no one else, glaring down at you from under that mask of his, and uttering one single phrase, 'you harlot of a tart', you woke up. Typical ole Ghost. An asshole in reality and an asshole in dreams.

You needed air, a shower, and a change of clothes, desperately. Price had given you the day off when you finished patching the men up last night. And that is exactly what you were going to do. But first you needed to clean yourself up, preferably with holy water if there was any, and then........well...you needed to get out of this building and get some fresh air because what in the 60s psychedelic orgy was that.

Lazily getting up from your bed, you quickly tie your tangled hair up in a simple bun and slide on a pair of slippers over your fuzzy socks, throwing on your plush Grogu and Mandalorian patterned robe over your sleeping clothes and pulling the hood of your robe over your head to provide extra warmth. Today was a much needed day off after the shit storm that was yesterday. As part of your regular morning routine on the days you didn't work, you grab your other mug that you finally found after rummaging through your things; the one shaped like the head of Kermit the Frog and decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to wake yourself up first and foremost.

Making sure to balance your weight on your uninjured foot, you wobble over to the kitchen, your empty mug in hand and your bottle of pain pills in the other that rattled slightly every time you dragged your feet across the floor. Your eyes tear up as you let out a long and dragged out yawn, squinting in the process which prevents you from seeing just what you were walking into as you place your mug on the countertop with a high-pithed clink.

If you thought today was going to have some mercy on your poor soul........................well you're wrong. Because while you have your back turned to the dining table behind you as you try to start up the coffee machine, you had forgotten that the thing was still broken in the first place, and also the fact that you live with five, now six, other men, and their eyes were now all on you. Girl if you don't turn your ass around-

"Mornin-"

"Sweet baby Jesus!" You nearly jump a foot into the air, spinning around in a frenzy with a wild look to see that the whole crew had been at the dining table the entire time and that you weren’t the only one scared out of their wits.

Did you just say ‘sweet baby Jesus?’ They haven’t heard that one before.

You stare wide-eyed in fright at the men seated at the table, your hair a mess and your heart so close to bursting out of your ribcage you swear you'd have to chase after it as you clutch the counter behind you.

There is an obvious awkward silence in the air as everyone stares at the inharmonious mess that is you and your startled state, curiously eyeing the large Grogu ears that were attached to the sides of the hood of your Star Wars plush robe and your bare calves that peeked out from underneath the hem down to your fuzzy socks that had cats all over it. You're practically following their eyes as they look over to your bottle of pills and your Kermit mug on the counter beside you before looking back at you. Oh to be able to read what went through their heads.

Despite your clashing wardrobe that made him question your taste in attire, there was one thing Ghost had focused on more, one that was obvious to those who knew it, a dainty tattoo of the unmistakable silhouette of a rose along the side of your calf. Was that the same rose off of Depeche Mode's 'Violator' album cover? It sure was, because right in the center of the stem where the rose was cut off, were the words 'violator' in cursive. Be still his heart. Is this man planning a proposal and your entire wedding? He was almost curious to find out what other bands or artists you listened to. Maybe he'll sneak a peek at your playlist-

"Howdy! You eh...........ya look worn slap out......I reckon." Soap smiles, trying to mimic the southern American accent but failing miserably, which only earns a round of groans of agitation at the table as the team roll their eyes. All but König of course, he's just as clueless as you are. He wasn't there when the team were searching up American slang.

You-what? The hell is this man on about?

"Jesus-" Price rolls his eyes at Soap's antics as he goes to take a sip of his coffee.

"......................" You're still mute. Your eyes dart between each of them, your thoughts only replaying the pornographic images of your dream as this sudden irrational fear begins to develop that they might be able to get a glimpse of your thoughts. Make a run for it-

"................Ye awright there wee lass? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally." Soap's smile drops.

You're lookin a bit what?

"Mate, shut up." Gaz whispers to Soap after noticing your disconcerted expression. It was making him nervous, no doubt, and the fact that you weren't saying anything only made it worse.

The whole team were practically waiting for you to say something, but all you could do was stare. Girl either you say something or just take your clothes off and let them have you right then and there on the dining table, bandaged toe and everything if your dream distracts you that much-

"Guten morgen schatz (good morning love)." König sent a wave in your direction to try to ease the tension only to drop his hand back down after seeing that you did not respond. Poor dude is worried you’ve fallen ill and is practically sitting on the edge of his seat, analyzing every detail of your body language and ready to leap to your rescue in case you show any signs of falling unconscious.

Even Ghost couldn't stop the annoyed sigh/huff that escaped, shaking his head at the uncomfortable and nuisance of a situation as he took a sip of his tea, the motion catching your attention. That is when you first noticed that he had the lower half of his mask lifted up to his nose. Was this the first you had seen of part of his face? You found yourself tracing over the outline of his jaw and the cool-toned, medium blonde stubble the color of pale sand after a storm that lined the skin there, following along the curves of his lips and noticing the small scar that traveled down until his words from your dream echoed in your head, the same lips that said to you 'you harlot of a tart'. And as you lifted your gaze to his eyes, you found them narrowing at you. Shit.

"There's uh.......there's a cuppa coffee for you in the fridge there." Price nods towards the fridge near you, hoping that would snap you out of whatever trance you are in. I mean if you don't want it, I'll take it.

"....................." You had this overwhelming urge to puke and the last thing you wanted was to unload your stomach's contents of microwaved pasta right in front of everyone.

"Eh....estas bien amor? (you alright love?)" Alejandro's words pull you out of your thoughts. Oh what I would give to have this man ask me if I'm alright-

Bitch just say something-

“Блядь (fuck).”

Wha-what? That’s not what I meant-

The men quickly give each other a glance from the side of their eye. Did you just blurt something in Russian?

".................sorry what?” You squint with a scrunch of your nose, pulling the collar of your robe over your braless chest as a faint heat rose to your cheeks, utterly terrified to look them in the eye lest you'd get flashbacks. Should've just made a run for it when you first saw them-

More silence, nonexistent chirping of crickets that makes you want to crawl into a hole and decompose. Then there is the sound of someone slurping. Who-NOW WHO'S SLURPING?

"Sorry." Gaz utters a quick apology, dragging his tongue over his lips as he places his cup of tea down on the table.

"The coffee machine is broken love." Price adds.

"I know that." You state with a blink, startling the men on how quickly you suddenly respond as if nothing happened as you shove your bottle of pills in the pocket of your robe before unplugging the machine from the wall and tucking it under your arm.

The team can't help but watch as you leave the area with your mug in hand and the coffee machine in the other, each of them as confused as the next. What in the-

"What the bloody hell was that?" Price blurts out.

"Don' know. Anyone know what's the matta' with her?" Gaz watches you go with concern in his brow.

"Ah dinnae ken." Soap shrugs as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Ah think some nugget-lavvy-heid meid her up tae high doh."

"Mate," Gaz rubs his face. "English-"

"Ah said." Soap translates. "Ah think some eejit has riled her up."

The way Ghost nearly snaps his head to glare at the Scot. Why does he have a feeling he was talking about him in particular? There's absolutely no fucking way-Wait. The lollie. The fucking sour apple lollie. Was that some kind of an insult?

"Well that's a load of rubbish." Price comments. "If ye ask me, she's just knackered from mending yer sorry arses up."

The way Soap, Alejandro, König, and Ghost glare at him.

"Yeh but......why'd she take the coffee maker?"

"She's prolly gonna give it a fix." Gaz answers Soap's questions with a shrug.

Soap sits back in his seat with a pause, pondering on what Gaz had just said before turning to him with a confused look. ".................but ah thowght she's a doctor."

"Fuckin' hell Soap."

By the time that you return to your room, slamming the door behind you, you're already cussing yourself out for acting the way you did back there. Now they definitely were going to think that something was wrong with you. And if they did, what would you say? That you had a dream y'all were playing multiplayer adult twister? No. HELL NO. You'd almost prefer them to think you were a spy and take you out-and I don't mean take you out as in dinner, I mean take you out as in a firing squad take you out. All the waterboarding and the fingernail-pulling in the world could not pry that info out of you. If only that dream did not affect you as much, if only.

Hm. You know what, maybe Ghost IS to blame in all of this. You only get wacky dreams when you're stressed. After all, he was the one who got under your skin, not Soap, not Gaz, nor Price, definitely not Konig, and not even Alejandro.

There was only one other person who ever managed to get on your nerves the first time you got to know them, only one person who never failed to make you roll your eyes every time they opened their mouth: your ex. But even then, at least the two of you got along no matter the snarky comments you made towards each other. And as annoying as he was at times, he always found a way to bring a smile onto your face no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Ghost on the other hand, well…….he’s something else alright. This man literally has you wanting to rip your own hair out and hike to the Himalayas to seek some kind of therapy yourself.

"God I'm such an idiot." You growl between clenched teeth, tossing the coffee machine into the trash before limping around your room with your hands on your hips. You definitely needed to get out of the building or else you just might go mad. And with the men there who just witnessed you at your most vulnerable and natural self, the last thing you wanted was to be within their vicinity. Changing out of your sleeping pajamas, you threw on an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweats, grabbing one of your beanies and tucking your hair into it before throwing on a pair of sneakers. You’re already cracked out on pain meds so you might as well run a few errands while you're out, as well as grab a new coffee machine because god knows that's the only thing that keeps you sane these days. You’re so caught up in the process of rushing to get the hell out of there that you fail to notice the masked soldier standing right beside your door a foot away.

“Holy fucking-!” You jump in your skin, hand clutching your chest once you notice Ghost leaning against the wall in the same exact stance like in your dream. Jesus fucking Christ. “Ghost! I uh did not see you there. You nearly had me rushing to the hospital for heart failure haha.” You laugh nervously through your teeth, trying to maintain your polite manners as to not anger the contracted killer. What the hell is he doing here and what does he want? Sending the man a polite smile in hopes that he would just go about his business, you pull your keys out of your pocket, the jingling of the metal making up for the extreme silence that filled the dusty air between the two of you.

“………………………”

Jesus fucking christ. He's just standing there isn't he-

"Uh. Can I help you?” You ask, turning to the man who only stared in your direction, as still as an unused puppet. Only he seems to ALWAYS have something up his ass. At least a puppet talks.

Damn that fuckin politeness of yours, Ghost thought to himself. “......................You're bein’ dodgy." He did not like the way you were acting back there. It was as if you were hiding something. And being the person he was, he found it suspicious.

Oh if he were to see the reason behind it. You're pretty sure it would make his mask blush.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You press your lips together, fixating on your keys in your hands as you try to lock your door.

"Your behavior. You're up to something."

Ah yes. Good ole Ghost. Trusting no one but himself, the little shit-

"Says the one standing right outside my room." You mutter to yourself, cursing under your breath at the way you fumbled your keys and were unable to lock your door due to how he glared at you as if you had put salt instead of sugar in the queen's tea. You bet your bottom you probably looked like a shmuck struggling with something as simple as locking the fucking door. If this dumbo doesn't scram-

"Come again?"

This man was really starting to get on one of your last nerves. “What? Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to lurk outside a lady’s door? You can get your ass tased for some shit like that.” You snark before letting out a quick breath of air at finally getting your key in the lock. One step closer to getting the hell out.

There it is, the real you. Ghost almost can't help the way a slight amusement builds within him at watching you get riled up like this, the faintest hairline of a smirk begging to pull at the corner of his mouth. But despite his little fragment of entertainment from the show of emotion he had managed to string out from you, he had to remind himself the real reason he was here. “The hell are you up to?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?” Ghost narrows his eyes, not sure what you were getting at and at the same time not liking where this was going. He swears if this is one of your little tricks-

“Nunya damn beeswax that’s what.”

“What-“ Ghost straightens himself off the wall, hands lowered to his sides. Okay now you were just annoying.

“How was the sour apple lollipop?” You remark, not being able to hold back the snide comment that slipped from your lips. You prayed he would get the meaning behind your little 'token of gratitude' from last night.

You should not have said that-

Bitch I’d become a track star in the fraction of a second-

“You-“ Ghost takes a step towards you but stops from the way you whip your head towards him.

“I know you did it, you little burglar. What, you think I wouldn’t notice that some fish-and-chips-eating crackpot was ransacking my lollipop stash?”

Da foq did you just call him? Ghost is stupefied as he stands there blinking at you, hands ever so slightly tensing. How the bloody hell did you find out? Did you know about the apples as well? Please don't know about the apples- And as he tries to open his mouth to say something, you don't even give him a chance.

“You know, for someone that is known to be stealthy and whatnot, you sure do leave a mess of your Sephora eyeshadow everywhere.”

Oh now you’ve definitely popped a nerve.

“What? You gonna stab me?” You quirk a brow at watching him tense up. “Please, be my guest. Just make sure it’s quick and that I’m officially dead so my student debt disappears.”

Bitch don’t give him a reason tf-

Jesus you talk a bloody lot when you’re nervous, Ghost looks at you confused as he cocks his head back. Well he sure didn’t expect that answer. Doesn't change the fact that he's pissed though.

“You know, you should be glad I didn’t write your Skeletor ass up for not only neglecting medical treatment but also stealing my damn treats.”

“Ye’ve got some nerve ye little tosser-“ Ghost grabs you by your upper arm and yanks you to him as he glares down at you.

Your poor toe-

“Ow! Someone outta teach you some manners.” You sputter, surprised from his sudden and forceful movement. And yet, you can’t help but find yourself flustered at being manhandled no matter how much you tried to preserve your vexation towards him. Ohhh, were you attracted to this? Wait, am I attracted to this???? Nah-

“Yer a real pain in the arse you know that.” Ghost can’t help but to roll his eyes, knowing damn well he did not handle you that roughly to begin with, despite your reaction.

But you and I know it’s just your toe-

“Yeah no shit. I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes in a dramatic manner. “But if you wanna be real, you’re like a bad hemorrhoid if we’re being honest.”

Did you just-

“Whot the bloody hell did yuh just call me?” Ghost snarls as he yanks you even closer to him, your chest bumping into his. Did you just call him a fucking hemorrhoid?

The jerky movement elicits a small gasp from your lips, pried right out of your lungs before you glare back at him with as much as you can muster; your jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and your eyes shooting straight up into his even more menacing ones. You try not to think about those nonexistent slander of words he uttered to you. Dream or not, that shit hurt. And as you think back to the dream you had, you were swiftly brought back to the circumstance right in front of you, immediately aware of the lack of distance between the two of you and the way your chest was pressed up against his.

A heat starts to form in the pit of your stomach, slowly making its way from your core and unfurling out to every inch of your skin, like being brushed over with a velvety feather under the warmth of the sun. His grip on your arm is almost revering if it weren't for its threatening nature as you stare up at him, and you swear you could feel the subtlest shift in his fingers through the thick fabric of your hoodie from the way his thumb ever so slightly grazes across. Your sharp gaze softens, admiring the way the sun's rays from the nearby window lit up his lashes like wisps of gold, like the feathers of an oriole bird soaring over the deep brown valleys that resemble his eyes.

He smelled like last night’s whiskey, a hint of the cigarette he smoked this morning, and his cologne that smells of sandalwood and pine trees. It’s almost refreshing. And in this moment, you don’t even care that you literally look like a teenage boy with your hair tucked into your beanie, wearing a pair of converse and your vans baggie hoodie and sweats. There was only one thing on your mind, one thing only.

“Let go of me.” The only words you managed to breathe out.

“Or what?"

“…………..I’ll scream.”

*cue Princess Leia's theme*

Kiss him. *insert Emperor Palpatine voice* Do it-

You found yourself burning for this innate desire, this need for him to push you against the wall and have his way with you, to have him lift the bottom of his mask and feel his lips on yours, traveling down to the angle of your jaw and your neck and just about everywhere there was you, all of you. Simon had noticed this sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your biceps loosened under his fingers through the course fabric of his gloves, the way your lashes fluttered against the ridges and deep ravines of your irises as you stared up at him with a far-off look that yet seemed so close. Were you-no, can't be.

The way you looked under him appeared to lure him in, not to mention your scent, that same perfume that seemed to have dug its claws into him since the moment he first met you. His eyes now lowered to your parted lips as he found himself focusing on their shape and the short shallow breaths that drifted through, wondering about how they'd feel, their softness, their taste. And as his head lowered just the smallest inch towards you, he noticed once more the small circular scar on the side of your neck. Only this time, he was finally able to make out what it was, and it reminded him too much of his own past. How that scar came about to form on your skin, he had no clue. But it was none of his concern, he had to tell himself. Clenching his jaw, Ghost drew himself back, once again returning to that cold and forbidding presence that was there before.

Actually it’s a good thing you didn’t try to score a smooch. You’d probably just get WWE body-slammed-

“Can I go now?” You clear your throat. “I’ve got chickens to tend to and errands to run.”

"What errands?"

"Why? You gonna help me pick out some zucchinis?" You cock your head back. "Now if you could release that lego grip of yours I'd appreciate it."

Ghost lets out a hmph, the only thing he can do despite his frustration as he loosens his grip just as you tear your arm away from him.

“Thank you." You give him a condescending smile before reaching into your tote bag to grab something while Ghost watches you intently, hoping it’s not another lollie. Lies. Y'all know he wants one-

“Here are your blood results by the way since you refused to stop by my office to go over them.” You slap the papers onto his chest, which earns you another glare from him. “So don’t come whining to me when you don’t understand a thing it says on there.” You snark one last time before heading off to the front entrance.

"Oh and another thing." You turn back around. "I'd cut down on the smoking and drinking if I were you."

All Ghost could do was watch you walk off with the slightest stomp in your step before breathing out a “Fuckin h-“

“Goddamn son a bitch.” You grit your teeth, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie once you step out of the building. You swear that man goes out of his way to annoy the everlasting shit out of you. “Fucking shitbag cumguzzler ass-OH MY GOD!”

You stop suddenly at the sound of a small animal, your eyes wide and mouth hung open as you look towards the ground to see a tiny tabby kitten trotting in your direction from the bushes, it's tail fluffed straight up in the air as it was excited to see you.

“Hi there little guy.” You coo at the small ginger ball of fur making its way towards you before bending down and reaching a hand out. "What're you doing here all by yourself huh?"

The kitten stares at your outstretched hand, giving it a sniff before finally rubbing its head against your palm with its eyes shut. You almost had to bite your tongue from the squeal that just ripped out of your throat. I lied. You did squeal.

“Ahhh omg." Your smiled, your heart swelling at seeing the kitten warm up to you as it came up even closer and lifted its tiny paws to rest up on your bent knees. It was as if you had completely forgotten the mayhem that was today, as if it was just you and this tiny kitten and no one else.

"Oh you’re coming home with me.” You carefully pick up the kitten with both your hands before cradling it against your chest, stroking your tired fingers through its soft and yet dusty fur.

“Mew.” The kitten let out another meow, the small rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours as his pupils widened, nearly blackening out his pale yellow irises as he stared up at you.

“You know what." You gasp. "I shall call you Spot." (Kudos if you know where the name is from.)

“Mew”

“You don't have any siblings hiding out in the bushes ready to jump me and steal my credit cards do ya?"

“Mew.”

“Shit.” You mutter out, your smile dropping as a realization comes to you. How the hell were you going to hide the kitten?

Tag List: @swissy23 @sualocin @kristalhi @deakyspuff @sometimes-i-write-good @hamilfanyu @princessranch @ig-you-idiot @obitoshotaf @cavern-creature @at0mschutzbunker @eddiesbixch696 @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @jocecymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @aloudplace @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff @notabotiswear @thecraziestcrayon @lilwingedwolfy @sprkthere @shyyxzi @bookmark-anon @simplecole18 @itsourkisses-blog @here4thespice @sunndust @josephquinnswhore @spooniscute @xghostyx666 @nikolai-m-s @he4rtbloss0m @classifiedtoe @killergoddessmm @sm8th0p @lunarayx @iwannabeazoldyck @butterflypillows @lobeliaaaaaa @mxtokko

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saintslewis · 2 years ago

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Graduation

pairing: lewis hamilton x black fem reader

summary: in which you celebrate your graduation day with your husband and family/friends

saint’s notes: in honour of graduation season, here’s a fic for y’all 🫶🏽 first f1 fic let’s gaurrrrrrr

social media + real life au

taglist: @thisismeracing (i really love your acc so this is to just say 🫶🏽)

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, bellahadid and 7,838,839 others

ynhamilton i’ve successfully served cunt academically

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user she is mother and no one can say otherwise

landonoriss mom finally graduated 🥹

ynhamilton not even gonna say anything anymore-

lewishamilton congratulations my love! i’m extremely proud of you and i love you

ynhamilton i love you more 🥹 thank you for the gift btw 🤭

lewishamilton i love you way more but okay 🩷

user what degree did you get???

ynhamilton a masters in English Literature 😋

user oh so you smart smart?

ynhamilton pretty much

pierregasly10 so no more doing homework in the wrong motor homes? (alpine misses your frantic typing)

ynhamilton it was one time and i’m a mercedes girly so pls

mercedesamgf1 i know that’s right! 🤭

charles_leclerc congratulations y/n! making me feel like a proud parent

maxverstappen1 weren’t you crying when she got on stage? 😭

carlossainz55 he was and it was the funniest thing ever

user damn, so the whole grid was at her graduation? 😧

user basically yeah 😭, i was graduating as an undergraduate and when they called her name, they cheered so loud

user and when lewis yelled ‘that’s my wife!’ I shed a couple of tears

bellahadid babe omg!!!!! congrats, so excited to see you omg

gigihadid bella shhhhh

sza you guys aren’t good at this 😭

danielricciardo you did serve cunt

ynhamilton thanks Danny 🥳

susiewolff what do you guys say? you ate them up!

ynhamilton that’s the spirit Susie!!

youryoungersister CONGRATS

ynhamilton thanks stupid

youryoungersister since you got your degree and yk everything fucking thing-

ynhamilton degrees*

youryoungersister celcius bitch

sophiarichiegrainge i literally love you so much

ynhamilton you’re too sweet, i love you too

The traffic of getting out of the campus was tough, the occasional fan coming up to the car to either take videos of it for social media or to interact with both you, Lewis or the other drivers. Having the top down for the fans to have better access to the both of you resulted in paparazzi at the gate of the university, trying to grab pictures of you mainly.

“Babe look! They’re calling it the Paddock Grad party.” You chuckled as you chuckled at the tweets you were scrolling through as you found out that you were trending on the app. The wind wasn’t too harsh on your faces as he cruised down the streets, constantly congratulating you and doing an amazing job at distracting you from the fact that the rest of the grid that attended your graduation had driven past you.

Reaching the infamous Hidden Hills gates, you were greeted with balloons from the guards, already putting the biggest smile on your face. Driving towards your LA home, you noticed all the super cars, hyper cars and luxury vehicles leading up to your driveway with each car having a gold balloon strapped around the mirror. You were absolutely stunned by everything you were taking in and Lewis looked at you as if you hung up all the stars in the night sky, extremely proud of your achievements.

With him helping you out of the car, you noticed the white rose petals scattered around the front yard and the music blaring from your backyard. The thought of all your favourite people coming together to celebrate your newest achievement was bringing tears of joy to your eyes, refusing to cry and ruining your lashes. Walking into your home, you noticed the incredibly large table of gifts as you walked into your foyer and Lewis just following behind you as you marvelled at everything in your home.

“Y/n,” He called out as you were a few feet away from the door leading to your backyard. Looking back at your husband, you held his hand. “Don’t you want to change your shoes?” He asked, noticing your discomfort from your heels after the graduation ceremony had ended. You nodded with the most love sick smile on your face as he brought out your favourite Gucci platform sandals from behind his back. He let out a little giggle at the look on your face and got on his knees to undo your shoes for you. Sighing of relief as your bare feet hit the cool ground, you slipped your feet into the sandals, noticing the height change between you and Lewis as he was taller than you. He placed a kiss on your forehead then your lips, repeatedly kissing your lips until your giggle stopped him.

As you walked into the kitchen which had access to the patio door, you noticed all the food and dessert beautifully decorated with white and gold, the one thing catching your attention the most was the doughnut stand in the middle of your island. You gasped and immediately went for the stand, grabbing a white chocolate doughnut that wrote ‘congratulations, y/n!’. You split it into two pieces and offered to Lewis knowing he would definitely decline it but he surprised you by taking the other half. “What? I can’t say no to a celebration.” He winked at you as he took a bite out of it.

Almost forgetting about the party he quite literally planned to happen in his backyard, he held your hand once again and led you to the party outside with all the guests waiting for you. As he opened the door, the sounds of Kaytranada were heard and people talking as they turned their attention to the door you were walking out from. The cheers started as you fully walked into the yard with Lewis squeezing your hand and letting it go, stepping to the side to let people celebrate you.

The first person to approach you was your mother, embracing you in a loving hug as tears threatened to fall. The next being your younger sister, trying her hardest to stay cool as she looked at you so proudly. Your immediate family had come up to congratulate you before letting your friends celebrate you.

After receiving hugs and congratulatory messages from everyone, taking many photos from the Photo Booth that was rented and a little bit of dancing, it was soon time to eat as the sun was setting beautifully as the hues of pink and orange hit your skin. Placing your graduation cap on the hook of your chair, you faced everyone as you sat at the head of the table. During your meal, you decided to make a speech to say thank you to everyone.

“Hey everyone,” You greeted as all eyes turned to you when you stood up. “Um, sorry for interrupting your eating. Just wanted to say a speech to you guys.” You began and you heard Daniel Ric’s iconic ‘Ki ki’ noises that you’ve had the honour of hearing live many times. “Thank you Daniel for that, gratefully appreciated.” You smiled, causing the whole table to laugh.

“I would like to start off by saying thank you, truly. To my family for supporting me through everything, to myself for getting these degrees, to my friends that i have met along the way and to my loving husband for sticking with me and loving me.” You expressed, seeing smiles from everyone around you. “I remember leaving home, just graduated with my undergrad and i wanted to spoil myself and I took a solo trip to the Monaco gp with an extremely limited budget and i didn’t know what i was going to eat for that week but my younger delusional self knew that I wasn’t going to struggle because a driver will see me on the stand and instantly fall for me and well, that’s exactly what happened except now I’m the designated paddock mom.” You chuckled, reminiscing on that life changing week.

“Years later, I’m married to the love of my life with my master’s degree on lock, just hitting the millionaire status from my career and the best people by my side supporting me through and through. I truly love all of you so much and lemme stop before i ruin this makeup.” You laughed, grabbing a serviette and dabbing your eyes before tears fell.

The night had carried on beautifully as your friends had made speeches about how it was when you’d complain about your work load to them or the iconic moments you’d take your homework along with you to a few races. Having your favourite desserts and dancing with your friends until late had made you feel happy about everything that you’ve accomplished for yourself.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fandom #f1 x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fic #x black fem reader #x black reader #fanfic #formula one x black reader #formula one x reader #Spotify

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thescarletfang · 2 years ago

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The Sweetest Kind of Trouble

Well, here it is! My fluffier-than-fluff Tommy Miller fic. Seriously, this is so soft, y’all. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to go dark for this one. Sometimes it be like that! I just really wanted to write a very tender Tommy Miller fic without the looming threat of the end of the world.

Word count: ~8.3k (my longest fic lol who am I what is happening)

Summary: You meet Tommy when he comes in looking for flowers for a first date. He’s trouble from the start.

Tommy Miller x f!reader, AU, no outbreak.

Warnings: Some spice at the end! I think that’s it?? Let me know if I missed anything but I mean...this is SO FLUFFY.

I hope you enjoy. I just want to give Tommy Miller all of the love he deserves!!

He came in looking for flowers.

You noticed him immediately - his tall, broad frame adorned in faded Levi’s, his gray, collared shirt open and unbuttoned with a white tank top underneath, a cowboy hat on his head and dark shades hiding his eyes. You could tell he was beautiful immediately, even with his sunglasses on. The way his black locks curled under the hat made your fingers itch, the desire to run your hands through them a little shocking since you’d only laid eyes on him thirty seconds ago. His boots were as study as his large hands that ran along the cracked, wooden gate that led into where you stood behind the register.

You liked working at Daisywood Farms, especially in the springtime. The Texas sky was usually a vibrant shade of blue, the steady buzz and hum of insects the perfect background melody. You liked the way the heat made you sweat. You were a summer baby after all, coming alive in the warmer weather, so it never bothered you none when Austin got real warm. You felt yourself bloom under the sun.

You really liked working in the marketplace at Daisywood Farms. It was open and bustling and there was everything from blackberry jam to mason jars of moonshine to apple and rhubarb pie - and flowers. So many flowers, black-and-yellow bees dancing through the outdoor marketplace, floating from daisies to sunflowers to carnations and sprigs of baby’s breath. You reveled in the different scents; rejoiced in the way your sundress moved with the humid breeze and your hair frizzed around the crown of your head.

You’d decided at thirty to go back to school and earn your master’s degree in English Literature, and working at Daisywood Farms from the springtime through autumn was a nice respite amidst your studies. You worked part-time, it paid for your apartment and books, and it allowed you to get out of your head. You found yourself content for the first time in a long time - you had a routine. You had friends - good ones, too. You had your own place, a little two bedroom with hardwood floors and natural light and a windowsill for your flowers and space for all of your books. You were - for all intents and purposes - happy.

You did not expect Tommy Miller.

After you initially noticed him, you went back to work, ringing up an older woman for an entire case of moonshine, having to bite your lip from laughing when she told you it was because her husband was getting on her last nerve. You packed away her jars and sent her on her way, and your eyes crinkled from smiling as you watched her leave.

A few minutes later, you looked up from wiping down the counter when you heard a throat clear. It was the guy with the hat and the boots and the hair and the–

“Um, miss, I don’t wanna be a bother, but I could sure use your help.”

You immediately thought that his voice didn’t have to be that deep and that raspy. Did this man walk out of one of those trashy romance novels you’d read on the beach last summer? You felt flustered as he took off his sunglasses and you were met with puppy-dog brown eyes. At the distance he stood from you now, you could see a smattering of freckles along his cheeks, and he was grinning. You’d never been smitten with a stranger this quickly before, but this man was simply beautiful. You couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. Your eyes flickered over his face despite your best attempts to remain unafflicted.

He looked at you expectantly, and you came back to your senses. You cleared your throat. Your face was hot.

You found your voice. “What can I help you with?”

His grin was very distracting, you noted. He tapped his fingertips on the counter and you felt your lips quirking up in the corner, despite yourself. Whoever this man was, he made you want to smile, and that was alright by you.

“Got me a first date tonight,” he said. “And my niece says bums like me should bring flowers to a first date.”

You laughed, despite the twinge of disappointment at the fact that this man had a date lined up. That’s what you get for being flustered with a stranger.

“Your niece sounds very smart.”

His eyes glittered as he nodded, hanging his sunglasses on the collar of his white undershirt. He rapped his knuckles twice on the counter.

“Smartest person I know, that’s for damn sure,” he said. You nodded, pulling up the wooden barrier on the side of the cash register counter, coming out from around the corner to stand in this man’s space. You thought for a second his eyes flicked over your body, taking you in, but you were sure you’d imagined it.

“Well, we have lots of options for a first date,” you told him, the two of you walking toward the rows and rows of flowers that Daisywood Farms was known for. “What’s this girl like?”

The man chuckled lowly, reaching up and taking the cowboy hat off his head, holding it close to his chest. You tried not to stare at the disheveled curls, tried to not to marvel at how beautiful his head of hair was.

Dear god, woman. Get it together!

“I don’t really know,” the man admitted. “I asked for her number at the bar the other night and well, now here we are.”

You paused in front of a sprig of lavender and pulled it out of its place, holding it up to your nose. You breathed in deeply, the familiar scent warming you down to your toes. You looked up to find the man staring at you.

“Hmm.” Your fingers traced against the sprigs in your hand. “You honestly can’t go wrong with lavender, maybe mixed with a few wildflowers in there.”

He kept looking at you and you felt rooted to the spot. “That your favorite? Lavender?”

You nodded. “I’d say so. I like to always have some on my breakfast table. Brightens up my morning while I have my coffee and do some reading.” Am I talking too much? It felt like you were talking too much.

He watched you for a moment, not saying anything. It almost felt as if he was studying you. And then he reached over, picking up a bunch of daffodils.

“I think these’ll do.” His eyes flickered back to you. “She don’t seem like a lavender girl.”

You pursed your lips, putting back your lavender bunch, trying to decide if that stung or not. She must be really different than me.

“I don’t think you needed much of my help.” You led him away from the flowers and he put his hat back on. As you lifted the wooden barrier to situate yourself behind the register, you heard him chuckle. When you turned around to face him, hand outstretched for the daffodils, he was grinning.

“Sure I did. How else I’d know that lavender brighten up a morning while you do some reading?”

You bit your lip, trying to put a clamp on your smile but it felt a little futile. You thought maybe he picked up on it because as you rang up his total, his eyes sparkled with something like mischief.

“I’m Tommy Miller.” Your eyes shot up to meet his, momentarily pausing in punching in the price in the ancient register. You liked the way he said his full, government name to you. It made you want to laugh. He’s so damn cute.

“Are you, now?” You couldn’t help but tease him a little and he breathed out a chuckle, the sound low and rich, like a dark roast coffee. You smirked as he looked away for a minute, his smile crooked. When his eyes flicked back to you, you couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

Ugh. What is wrong with me? He’s just a guy, getting some flowers for his girl.

Maybe you were lonelier than you thought you were. Maybe it was time to take up Vanessa - your best friend - on her offer to set you up with one of her coworkers. She had mentioned a guy named Jake had thought you were cute when you’d joined them for happy hour drinks a few weeks back. You can barely remember what he looked like, but a vague picture of a dude floated in your head. You remember thinking he was nice.

“Can I ask your name?” You were brought back to the present and to the man - Tommy - in front of you. He sounded hopeful and friendly and not at all like some of the more aggressive men you’d encountered out in Texas nightlife. This Tommy Miller - he felt open. He felt safe.

Maybe you were an idiot for thinking that after a few minutes of interaction, but you prided yourself on your instincts.

Which was why you told him your name. He repeated it back to you, the grin permanent on his face. You had to look down or else you were worried you’d completely melt. You wrapped his flowers up as you told him the total. As he fished his wallet out of his back pocket, you cut a piece of twine, wrapping it around the bundle of daffodils.

You gave him the flowers as he handed you cash. He held them up to his nose, smelling for a moment, before looking at you. He was looking at you through his dark, too-long-to-be-good-for-him lashes, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You gestured with your hand toward the bouquet.“She’s gonna love them. Daffodils are a perfect first-date flower.”

“Alright then.” He nodded. “Now if this date goes badly and she hates them, I may have you to blame, yeah?”

You laughed. “Well I did suggest lavendar, so…”

Tommy stood there and you thought for a moment maybe he wanted to say something. But he didn’t and you filled the silence for him.

“Well…enjoy your date, Tommy.”

“You work here often?” The words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, as if he couldn’t contain them much longer. Your eyebrows rose almost to your hairline.

“I do. Part-time.” He looked at you and his expression was so open that you felt yourself offering more. “I’m back in school, getting my master’s degree, so I work here through autumn when I don’t have class.”

Tommy let out a low whistle, his eyes widening. He looked impressed and you tried not to preen.

“So you one a’ those smart ones?”

You titled your head at him, pursing your lips playfully. “You one a’ those dumb ones?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up and you felt little butterflies in your belly. His eyes glittered in the afternoon sun, and you felt like everyone else milling about the Daisywood marketplace faded into the background, blurred and frayed around the edges. As if there was a glow on just the two of you, the warmth radiating into your pulse, down into your very bones.

“You’re trouble,” he told you, motioning with the bouquet in your direction. You felt like you’d just won something, but you weren’t sure what it was.

“It was nice to meet you, Tommy Miller,” you told him and he grinned again, one of those wide ones that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

“You too.”

* * *

Tommy had wanted to ask for your number, but he had enough sense in his head that he realized asking a woman for her number while buying flowers for another woman was not the right move. He was an idiot about most things, but he knew that much.

But damn, you’d been a fiery thing. And as he stood in the parking lot of the restaurant, his hands in his pockets, watching his date walk back to her car, he cursed himself. Because the girl he’d taken out tonight - she’d been sweet, but clearly the sparks had peaked under the dim light of a bar and the fuel of alcohol. When she said tonight had been fun but maybe that’s where it stopped - a friendly, platonic smile on her face - he couldn’t have agreed faster. He only realized as she walked away that she’d left her flowers in the restaurant.

He kicked a rock in the parking lot, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He lit one as he walked to his truck, the nicotine immediately calming him. He exhaled through his nose as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

Tommy knew his history with women. He knew he’d never been the serious type, much more interested in hook-ups and and flirtations than actual relationships. But he’d be lying if he said that now - in the latter half of his thirties - the uncertainty felt a little tired. It’s not like he was ready to settle down, get married and pop out some kids - hell no. Sarah was enough for him and he loved being her uncle more than almost anything in the world.

Naw, he wasn’t trying to skip all the steps and get tied down right away. But…it would be kind of nice to come home to someone after a long day of working in the sun, blistered hands and aching bones. Would be nice to not have to try with anyone, to just have someone who knew him. Someone he could wrap up in his arms, that he could feel like himself with. Someone to bring over to Joel and Sarah’s for Sunday night dinner. ‘Cuz that drive home is starting to feel a little lonely. And so is my house.

He took another puff from his cigarette as he passed the local grocery store. He realized he was out of coffee and tomorrow was a big job with Joel - he knew he’d need the fuel in the morning. Pulling into the nearly-empty parking lot at this hour, Tommy flicked his cigarette out of the driver’s window as he pulled into an empty spot.

As he walked into the grocery store, he stuck his hands in his faded jean jacket and headed straight for the coffee aisle. He could feel the long day settle into his bones and he was looking forward to flopping face-first down into his bed the second he got home.

He found the dark roast he liked and snatched it from the shelf before he turned toward the end of the aisle, where he promptly found himself rooted to the spot.

Because there you were. Pretty little thing from the farm, your name floating into his brain as he looked at you for a moment as you held a basket in your arm, examining a bag of sugar. Your hair was pulled out of your face, different than how you’d worn it this afternoon, and you looked a little tired.

But still as cute as ever.

“Hey, Trouble.”

You looked up at his voice and it took a moment, but when you recognized him your face broke into the brightest smile he’d seen all day. It made his stomach swoop a little and he walked toward you, returning your grin.

“Tommy Miller.” You put the bag of sugar in your already-full basket, shifting your weight to accommodate the bulkiness. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He said your name then and you laughed. And then he stupidly asked, “What are you doin’ here?”

He felt himself flush as you got a teasing look in your eye, seemingly delighted that he would ask such an obvious question. Your eyes flicked down to your basket, then back up to his gaze.

“Why, believe it or not, I’m grocery shopping.”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed, the hand not holding his coffee coming up to rub at the back of his neck. You seemed to take pity on him because you looked up at him with a friendly wink, letting him know you were just messing with him.

Tommy nodded. “Ain’t that somethin’.”

Suddenly, your eyes went wide, as if you’d only just remembered something. “How’d your date go?!”

You seemed genuinely excited for him, like you really cared about his answer to the question.

“It was fine.” He watched as your eyebrows rose. You looked - well - if Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say you looked a little relieved at his lackluster response but maybe that was just him being hopeful.

“Oh no.” You once again shifted the heavy basket and Tommy had an itch to reach out and take it for you. Would that be too forward? I don’t wanna come on too strong. “‘Fine’ is not how you want to describe a first date.” A pause, and then, “It was the daffodils, wasn’t it?”

Tommy barked out a laugh and you grinned playfully at him. “I think it was more to do with our personalities not bein’ compatible, but I will tell you - she left the daffodils in the restaurant.”

You clutched a dramatic hand to your heart, scrunching your eyes up in mock pain. “Noooooo!”

“It’s true. Right there on the table between our empty plates.”

You groaned, the sound turning into a laugh when your eyes landed back on his. “That’s so brutal, I’m sorry. For the record - those were really nice flowers! Her loss.”

Tommy stuck his free hand into his pocket to keep from just taking that damn heavy basket out of your arms. “They were nice flowers. As pretty and as nice as the gal who sold them to me.”

You squinted your eyes at him, pursing your lips - it looked like you were trying to hide a smile.

“You using a line on me after your failed date?” Damn, you liked calling him out, didn’t you?

“It ain’t a line!” He watched as you turned on your heel, scoffing. He thought for a moment he’d blown it, that you really did think he was a dog, but when you realized he wasn’t next to you, you looked over your shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You just gonna stand there or you gonna walk with me?”

She–oh…damn.

“Yes ma’am.” Tommy’s long legs got him to where you stood in just a few strides, and the two of you meandered down the aisle, toward the front of the store.

“I really am sorry your date didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.” He looked to his left, down at you. Your gaze was focused ahead of you, your arms gripping the basket.

Fuck it.

“Here, gimme that.” He motioned to your basket and you looked up at him, your face full of surprise.

“Oh, you don’t have to, Tommy–”

“I know that, but I want to.”

You hesitated for another moment before you let him take the basket out of your arms. He held it in his right hand, his left hand clutching his coffee. He glanced at your ingredients, noticed a few common threads. Made him think of the time he took Sarah to get things to surprise Joel on a Christmas morning a few years ago. They’d made cinnamon buns together, Sarah bossing him around while Joel slept in. That was a good day.

“You into baking?” You looked up at his question.

“It’s my best friend’s birthday next weekend. Gonna make her a cake. Icing and all.”

He let you walk in front of him as you both reached the checkout line and he resisted the urge to put his hand on your lower back. You turned to him and he held out your basket as you started to put your items onto the conveyor built.

He caught your eye as you set down a container of sprinkles. “Lucky best friend.”

The two of you didn’t talk much as you both checked out, but you did reward him with another bright smile as he effortlessly took hold of your bagged groceries, insisting he help carry them to your car.

You led him over to where you were parked and opened the passenger door for him to set your bag down. When you nudged the door closed with your hip, you turned to face him. He held his single bag of coffee in his hand, looking at you.

“Thanks for the totally unnecessary chivalry.” You played with the strap of your purse, one foot kicked behind you, resting on your car door. “I really do appreciate it, Tommy.”

“I was raised right.” Tommy didn’t want to stop talking to you, but it was getting late and he had to be up early - and he could see the tiredness in your shoulders, the way sleep was probably beckoning you too.

He rubbed the back of his neck again. If Joel had been there, he’d tease him for it, Tommy’s consistent tell that he was nervous. He’d done it since he was a little kid - before he was up to bat at a baseball game, before a doctor’s appointment, the day Joel told him he was going to be an uncle.

“It was real nice runnin’ into you, Trouble, and I’d very much like to do it again.” He heard your small intake of breath, the surprised little gasp as your eyes widened just a bit.

“You would?” There was no teasing in your question and Tommy was taken aback by the earnestness of it. Like you actually couldn’t believe he’d want to see you again, like you weren’t lovely and kind. He’d be an idiot to not at least try.

“Yes ma’am. You got a number you’d feel okay giving me?”

Your initial reaction was to smile, and he marveled at how it took up your whole face. Then a second later you sighed, biting your lip, your eyes flitting away from him and he started to feel a little nervous. Maybe he was being too forward. He’d only just met you this morning. You might have a boyfriend or a husband or a girlfriend for all he knew–

“I’ll be honest, Tommy.” You were back to playing with the strap of your purse, and Tommy clocked it as a nervous tick. “I’m not much in the habit of giving strangers - especially men - my number.”

He studied you for a moment, your hesitation. Did some idiot burn you before? Some creep abuse the privilege of having your number in his possession? He wanted to say he wouldn’t be like that, that he was different - but currently the odds were stacked against him. He’d just been at dinner with a different woman an hour ago. Maybe you thought he was a creep.

“How ‘bout this? I give you my number, so if you never wanna see me again, you don’t have to.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion, your shoulders relaxing. “And I ain’t askin’ for anything. Just would like to talk to you some more.”

You studied him for a long beat, debating something in that pretty head of yours. “How about as friends? You’d..be okay with that?”

The Tommy Miller from a few years ago - hell, even last year - would’ve honestly deflated at that, said sure and then put you out of his mind, moving on to someone who’d likely sleep with him. He wasn’t always proud of his history with women, and while he never meant to mistreat anyone, he had certainly ghosted a girl or two. Or three or four.

But you’d been kind to him this morning and you were being kind to him now. He felt comfortable in your presence. And truthfully? He’d be lying if he said he had a lot of friends. Besides Joel and a few veteran buddies, he didn’t have time for a lot of friends. And if he was being brutally, terribly honest with himself?

Fuck, Tommy Miller was a little lonely.

Which is why he nodded, giving you a genuine grin. “Friends sounds pretty damn great to me.”

* * *

You waited two days to reach out to Tommy.

You had been a little surprised at your reaction to him asking for your number. You’d mooned over him that morning, your stomach had swooped when you’d ran into him again later that night at the grocery store, and yet when he actually asked for your number, you’d balked.

Because you’d seen it clearly then. A man as gorgeous as Tommy could not possibly be looking for something more than just physical. And certainly not with you. It just…it didn’t track, based on your history with men like him. And you didn’t think that way to talk down on yourself - in fact, you were very happy with yourself. You knew your worth, knew that you would be a good partner to whoever would want to give that a go with you.

But Tommy was absurdly handsome. Flirtatious. Easy to joke with and talk to and you saw, in that second when he’d asked for your number, exactly how this would all play out. He’d take you out, you’d get swept up in that smile, you’d find yourself in bed with him because duh, and then you’d never hear from him again.

It was a tale as old as time. It’d happened to you plenty.

And maybe that was a little unfair of you, judging him before really knowing him. Your therapist did say you had a habit of self-sabotage when it came to dating. But you couldn’t help it; you were not up to getting hurt at this point in your life. And you knew yourself: you knew if you slept with this man, you’d get attached. You just knew it, a few minutes into conversation with him.

So you’d been taken aback when he’d agreed to a friendship. You were sure he’d blow you off at your suggestion, or a least pretend to entertain it and then never hear from him again. And you certainly didn’t expect him to answer the text you sent him.

You sent a pretty standard message - telling him just who was texting him and asking how his day was going. Then you’d thrown your phone on the other end of your couch, snuggling under the throw blanket around your shoulders, trying to put Tommy out of your mind and calm your racing heart because it’s not like he was going to text back anyway.

Your phone started buzzing and you glanced over, mouth dropping open because Tommy was calling you. Your stomach immediately tied together in nerves and you leaned over, grabbing for your phone and just staring at his name as it continued to ring.

Fuck it.

“Hello?”

“Hi you.” His voice on the other end sounded deeper than in person and you snuggled further into your couch, trying not to physically squeal like you were fifteen-years-old, sneaking on the landline late at night to talk to the boy from school you had a crush on.

“Hope it’s alright m’calling you.” He sounded soft on the other end. “I’ll admit I’m not much of a texting guy.”

Your smile stretched ear-to-ear because that made perfect sense. He didn’t seem like a texting guy, and hearing his voice over the phone was better than reading a few sentences over a message.

“It’s very alright,” you replied. “I hope it’s alright I texted. I didn’t know if you were working or something–”

“Got home a little bit ago.” Talking with Tommy felt light. You immediately relaxed, imagining him on the other end, wherever he was in his home.

He cleared his throat, asked, “What you up to?” and you fell into an easy conversation. He told you about his day - he worked construction jobs with his older brother named Joel, his only sibling and the father of his niece. You could hear the affection in Tommy’s voice that the man had for his older brother, and it delighted you. He told you about a funny thing his niece - Sarah - had said that morning as Tommy had picked up his brother from his house, on the way to the job. You laughed until your cheeks hurt and realized Tommy had a gift for storytelling.

He asked you about your class that day and seemed genuinely interested in your thesis. He asked what your favorite books were, admitted he hadn’t read one in god knows how long, and asked about your family. You talked and talked and talked, and it wasn’t until you yawned that you glanced over at your end table, eyes widening when you realized it was after midnight.

You bid each other goodnight and he asked if he could call you tomorrow. You were grateful he couldn’t see your dorky, giant grin on your face when you replied yes.

That night you dreamt of black curls and freckles and a grin as warm as the Texas sun.

* * *

Within several weeks, Tommy Miller became your friend.

You talked to him on the phone whenever you could at night, when your work and research was completed or he wasn’t too passed-out exhausted from work. You even got to see his house - a modest, two-bedroom rancher, with typical Ikea furniture and Texas sports team paraphernalia. The natural light was lovely and his hardwood floors looked beautiful. When you commented on them, he had beamed - and told you that he and Joel had installed the floor themselves. You were sufficiently impressed.

It was lovely and painfully obvious a man lived there alone, especially when you realized the most expensive thing in the entire place was his grill on the back deck. You’d teased him, but the steak he’d made you on it was so good that it’d effectively shut you up.

And that was how you started to spend time with Tommy Miller. Movie nights at his house, phone calls in the evening, showing him your book collection and grabbing a late night burger after he got off a job. Vanessa even met him once, the man meeting you for a happy hour drink. She didn’t stop teasing you about him for a week after that, calling him your “non-boyfriend boyfriend” and telling you you were an idiot. You brushed her off, told her that right now, you were just friends and that was good enough.

“So let me give my coworker Jake your number,” she’d said, her eyes bright, teasing you. You’d pursed your lips, shrugging.

“Fine.” Your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears and Vanessa had scoffed at you. She’d shook her head, taking a sip of her wine.

“You’re unbelievable,” she’d said and you’d rolled your eyes at her.

Your newfound friendship with Tommy was nice. He was nice. You didn’t need to complicate it and get your hopes up, thinking that the man wanted more than he was giving. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d made a new friend - you’d been so settled into your life and your routine, you hadn’t had much of change in a little bit.

Tommy was something new. Something special and sweet and you didn’t really want to complicate it very much. He was probably dating anyway - it wasn’t like you knew every single thing the man did. He owed you nothing, so if he was going out with women on the days you didn’t see him, that was fine by you.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

And you were in complete and utter denial the more time you spent with him.

* * *

“What’s so funny?”

Tommy looked up from his phone to find Joel staring at him with narrowed eyes, his beer bottle paused before his lips. Sarah snorted as she took a bite of her burger, a knowing look in her eye.

Tommy set his phone down on Joel’s kitchen table, leaning back in his seat. “Huh?”

Joel took a swig of beer and looked at Tommy suspiciously. “You got the biggest dumbass grin on your face as you looked at your phone. What is it?”

Tommy tried to not give himself away and took a drink from his own beer. Because the truth was he’d been laughing at a meme you’d sent him, something stupid in response to a debate about the greatest action movie franchise. You were arguing that Aliens was better than Terminator 2, and Tommy had pointed out it was the same director, then you’d teased him for “mansplaining” and it’d gone back and forth until you’d sent some ridiculous reaction picture.

“Dad, he’s obviously texting a girl.”

Tommy flicked a homemade french fry at Sarah’s face and she batted it away, snickering.

“You mind your business,” he told his niece, trying to play it cool. But Joel - the son of a bitch - looked way too interested to let it slide.

“Who is it? Do I know her? You datin’ her or just textin’?” Joel’s rapid fire questions made Tommy roll his eyes at his big brother.

“She’s my friend, dipshit.”

Joel snorted and then it was Sarah’s turn to flick a fry, but this time she aimed it at her dad’s head. The fry hit him directly in the center of the forehead, and Tommy and Sarah burst into laughter.

“Hey!” Joel swiped his napkin over his forehead, glaring at Sarah playfully.

“Uncle Tommy can have friends that are girls.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, can he now?” He leveled a look at his little brother. “You just friends with this girl?”

“Don’t be a dick.” Tommy shoved the last bit of his burger into his mouth. “And yeah, I am, and I really dig her, man. She’s cool. And smart. And funny.”

Joel grinned genuinely at his little brother and Tommy felt the tops of his ears get hot. He knew that look that Joel was giving him. He knew he sounded like a complete dork but he didn’t care. He was grateful for you. For your ridiculous memes and your conversations and for letting him into your life, even if it never got further than what it was.

Which he was absolutely fine with. Really.

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Bring her to my soccer game on Saturday! I wanna meet her!”

“Yeah, Tommy!” Joel’s such a little shit. “Bring her, we wanna meet her.”

Tommy shook his head, looking between his older brother and his niece. They looked at him with expectant expressions, and Tommy finally relented. He knew he wouldn’t win this argument and a part of him didn’t want to. The thought of you joining them for one of Sarah’s games - the thought of introducing you to his people - made his stomach swoop in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

Tommy’s phone buzzed and your name came up with a text that said, Anyway, hope you’re having a nice night. :)

He didn’t try to hide the smile that time.

“Yeah, maybe I will bring ‘er.”

* * *

The sun beat down on the back of your neck and you were grateful for your choice to wear your hair pulled up and out of your face. The Texas almost-summer-but-still-technically-spring weather was brutal, and it was hot on the soccer field today as you sat beside Tommy and his brother, watching tweens run around and play like their life depended on it.

When Tommy had invited you to his niece’s soccer game, you had been floored. You’d heard a lot about Joel and Sarah, and you didn’t admit it to him, but you’d been wanting to meet them for awhile. Once you immediately said absolutely to attending the game, your nerves set in. Would Joel grill you about your relationship to his brother? Would he question why you weren’t dating? Would you have to deflect questions in order to stay away from the true reason why you were afraid to admit to your feelings: you didn’t want to get hurt.

But the second Tommy picked you up in his truck with a big smile on his face, the second you both walked across the parking lot and to the field, the second you met Joel Miller and his sweet, bright-eyed daughter, all of those nerves and that fear melted away. You were shocked at how right it all felt. You wished Sarah good luck before she jogged onto the field, and the smile she gave you immediately made you feel welcome.

You scrunched your nose, too-big sunglasses sliding down your face. Tommy’d given you his to wear, noticing you squinting in the harsh sun. He looked over at you now, smirking.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me,” you said to him, pushing the sunglasses up your nose. He barked out a laugh and put his hands up in mock defense.

“I ain’t sayin’ a word.”

Joel - who was sitting on the other side of Tommy - held his water bottle up to his lips. “If my little brother makes fun of you, he’s walking home.”

“I drove her here!” Tommy’s indignant pout made him sound like he was twelve. Your smile was embarrassingly big.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t drive your truck without you in it.” Joel threw you a smirk, conspiratory in nature, like the both of you were in on a joke together. It made you feel included and you were grateful for it, lodging the feeling away beneath your ribcage.

“You know, that’s a good idea, Joel.” You turned to to angle your body toward Tommy, your hands resting on the arms of the fold-out chair he’d brought for you. You reached up, lowering the sunglasses and peered at him dramatically, over the lenses. “I always wanted a truck of my own. Yours will do nicely.”

Tommy’s eyes fixed on you, his gaze warmer than the sunshine.

“I wasn’t gonna make fun’a you.” He cleared his throat, his eyes traveling over your face. His voice was low, so only you could hear. “Was just gonna say you look good in my stuff.”

Your mouth dropped open and you found no words came to you. Tommy had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, before he stood up, declaring he needed another water bottle and sauntered away toward the snack bar, a hand in his jeans pocket. The very way he carried himself told you he knew exactly how hard you heart was beating.

You were flustered, but you managed to get it together when Joel said your name. Your attention flicked over to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet the girl that’s been the reason for my brother’s good mood for the last few months.”

Your face heated and you smiled. “I don’t know about all that. Tommy’s always in a good mood.”

Joel studied you for a moment, an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Yeah, but it’s been different. He likes you. A lot.”

Your fingers played with the hem of your sundress, falling to the middle of your thigh. “Well now you’re just getting my hopes up, Joel. He likes me as good as he likes any of his friends.”

Joel deadpanned a knowing look at you and then took a breath. His eyes traveled back to the field, watching as Sarah joined her team for a time-out huddle. When he spoke, his eyes remained on the field, but you felt like his entire attention was on you.

“My brother’s spent his entire life tryin’ to prove he’s good enough. Good enough for our parents, good enough for me, good enough for the fuckin’ United States army.” Joel took a breath, and you got the sense that what he was saying to you was really important. “I would put money on the fact that he sure as hell don’t feel good enough for you.”

You swallowed, your stomach full of butterflies. “I–I don’t–”

Finally, Joel looked at you, and his gaze was as warm as Tommy’s. You could see the similarity in their faces, their brown puppy-dog eyes and their uncanny ability to make you feel like you were the only person in the entire place.

“I’m tellin’ you this because I can see how y’all are around each other and I’ve spent - what - an hour around you two?” He shook his head. “And I would fuckin’ hate for you to walk away from this because my brother is too up his own damn ass to realize he does deserve the best. And I think I’m right in assuming he makes you happy.”

You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to. “He makes me so happy.”

Joel gave you a genuine smile. He nodded. “He’s the best man I know.”

Your heart beat a tender rhythm, the love radiating off of Joel. You were amazed by it, nearly consumed by it. These Miller brothers are good men. I know that. I can feel it.

Your conversation didn’t continue because Tommy was back, plopping down in his seat between you and Joel. He handed you a water.

“Figured you could use one too,” he told you. Over his shoulder, your saw Joel’s knowing look, his eyebrows raised, and you tried not to blush.

You took the water bottle from his hand, your smile stretching across your face. “Thanks, Tommy.” He grinned at you, his bronzed skin glistening in the sunshine, his freckles scattered across his nose like tiny constellations. I’m down bad for this man.

The rest of the game passed in a pleasant hour. You made easy conversation with Joel and Tommy, and when Sarah’s team brought home the victory, you were on your feet with the rest of the parents and families, cheering and yelling through cupped hands.

Joel explained it was tradition to get ice cream after the games - win or lose. Sarah - with her big, Miller eyes - told you matter-of-factly you simply had to join for this post-game tradition. You told her you’ve never turned down an opportunity for ice cream once in your life.

As you sat at an outdoor table at the ice-cream parlor, licking the strawberry cone Tommy insisted on buying for you, you realized you were happier than you ever remembered being. The sun was starting to settle low in the sky, and the soundtrack of Joel and Tommy’s laughter, of Sarah’s snarky comments - it all created a calmness in you.

I could get used to this. Tommy caught your eye, mid-conversation with Joel. He grinned at you without ever breaking conversation, a silent communication to you saying I’m glad you’re here.

You smiled down into your ice cream.

I’m glad I am too, Tommy. I’m right where I’m meant to be.

* * *

It happened on a random Tuesday in late May.

Tommy knew you’d been having a shitty day. You’d overslept for your meeting with your advisor, a citation source for your thesis hadn’t worked out, and you’d gotten a flat tire on your way home. When you had texted Tommy a picture of the flat with an angry face, he immediately asked if he needed to pick you up. You told him Triple A was on their way, then made a joke about how you’d run over the nail just a few minutes from his house. He said it was fate then, since he was planning on asking you to come over and have dinner with him.

You’d agreed to head to his house after Triple A replaced your wheel. After double checking that you were safe, off the road, and okay to wait for them, Tommy had started on dinner.

It was golden hour when you arrived to his house, bursting through his front door like a shot of espresso.

“Honey, I’m hooooooome!” You bellowed the cheesy line, throwing your bag on the couch. Tommy laughed and paused in his work - chopping a red bell pepper for the skewers he was going to toss on the grill. He looked over his shoulder at you, a giant smile on his face, and his heart thudded as it always did when you were around.

You just looked so perfect with your messy hair from a long day, your sparkling eyes, standing in his doorway, lighting up like a Texas firefly.

I want this. I want this with you. Forever.

You started to make your way into the kitchen, but your eyes flickered over to his dining table. He followed your eye-line and where it came to rest: on the vase of lavender in the center. Your eyes widened slightly as you took in the flowers. You got a soft look in your eye as you walked toward the table, and when you reached it, your fingers reached out to graze the petals.

“Lavendar?”

Tommy cleared his throat, turning around so he could lean against the counter. He took the dish towel from where it rested on his shoulder and wiped his hands. He felt nervous, suddenly. Like you’d opened up his heart, looked right in and saw it all.

“I hear they’re good for when you’re havin’ your mornin’ coffee. Brightens things up.”

You met his gaze, a smile taking over your face as you took him in. “When’d you get these?”

Tommy put the towel down on the counter, resting his hands behind him on either side, the cool surface grounding him.

“The other day.” Fuck it. “I saw them and I wanted them. They always remind me of you.”

He could hear the audible gasp you made, the sharp intake of breath. Your eyes were wet but you didn’t look sad - you looked amazed. Tommy felt himself teetering on the edge and he made a decision then. A decision that was months in the making, a decision that honestly had been in motion since the first time he’d laid eyes on you.

He pushed off the counter, standing to his full height. Because when a man bared his soul, he did it with dignity.

“I love you.” The words fell out of his mouth effortlessly, danced between the two of you. “I’m in love with you, and – and if all you want with me is friendship, I respect that but I just–I had to tell you, ‘cuz–”

“Tommy.”

“Cuz I can’t keep it in anymore–”

“Tommy.”

He stopped his rambling and he realized his chest was rising and falling faster than it was a minute ago. You were smiling at him, a tear traveling lazily down your cheek.

You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.

You took a breath, your hands skating down the front of your dress.

“I need you to come over here, put your hands on my hips, and kiss me.”

He felt a flame lick up his spine. Your stare was heavy, and the way you licked your lips made him want to groan.

And then when you suddenly got bashful, tacking on a, “If you want” — he broke.

His legs carried him over to you in a few strides. His left hand landed on your hip, his right hand went into your hair, and right before his lips met yours, he rasped, “I want.”

Tommy bent down as you lifted up and when your lips finally connected, he felt like it’d taken forever and no time at all to get here. His hand flexed against your hip and you made a little whimpering noise as you parted your lips. He didn’t waste any second - his tongue tracing your bottom lip before he licked into your mouth. Your hands made their way to his curls and you pulled, causing Tommy to moan deep in his throat.

You pulled away and he chased your lips and you were panting, gasping for air.

“I love you, Tommy Miller,” you breathed in the space between your mouths. “I love you so much.”

Tommy couldn’t stop himself from grinning - it spread wide across his face, his hand in your hair moving to cup your jaw. His thumb grazed against your cheek.

“That makes me a very lucky man,” he told you. You pressed yourself against him, your hands sliding down around his neck. You pulled him by his flannel, connecting your mouths again and if Tommy thought the first kiss with you was good, this was something else.

You kissed with your entire body. He could feel your curves against him, and his hand on your hip moved to your ass. He grabbed a handful and you moaned, spreading your pretty legs. You broke apart, both breathing hard, and Tommy looked down between you, his forehead resting against yours. He moved his knee in between your legs, pressing it against your core and you gasped.

“Oh,” you breathed, grinding against his denim-covered knee. The sounds you were making were enough to make him come, make him pant, make him beg. He’d allowed his mind to go here before, imagine what it’d be like to make you come apart with his fingers and his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to experience the real thing. It was worth the wait.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped as you leaned your head back, breath coming quickly from your mouth. His lips found the pulse point at your neck and your breathless yes, like that made him strain against his jeans.

I want you I want you I want you.

He moved his hands under your ass, lifting and placing you on the edge of the table. You wasted no time wrapping your legs around his hips, drawing him even closer. He leaned his right palm flat on the table behind you, crowding you, his left hand coming up cradle your jaw. You opened your eyes and the love and tenderness in them almost made him buckle.

“I’m so glad you came in to get flowers that day,” you told him, your eyes wet again. Tommy lost his breath for a moment and then leaned down, pressing his lips against yours before pulling back.

“Does that mean you’ll be my girl?”

Your legs squeezed around him and Tommy grunted, his hands landing on your thighs, pushing your dress up around your waist.

You’re everything. How’d I fuckin’ get so lucky?

You looked up at him through your lashes, your hands coming up to hold his face in your hands.

“I already am.”

* * *

#tommy miller #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #gabriel luna #tommy miller fluff

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shattersstar · 1 year ago

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hello!!! just wanted to send in a message that i have a meltdown every time I read one of your Jason pieces; so freaking good! its really special to find writers who can really get a feel for Jason without making him sound like a goofy caricature of a y/a trope or like. an incel LMAO. would love to see more of your thoughts or headcanons on Jason's opinion on college! I think he's expressed some sort of desire to attend university, but yk. the whole vigilante thing kinda screws with it. thanks again :)

college/university hcs + jason todd

a/n: aw tysm that’s so nice to hear <33 ive always wanted to know what ppl think of my take on jason bc yeah the fandoms consensus is not always. my fave. to say the least. dnejjfjdjd but im glad u enjoy it!! this was also a greatly timed ask bc im working on smth that has a section of robin jason talking abt his life n college so im gonna save some of my thoughts for when that comes out but…

—

i do think it’s definitely something jason’s always been interested even if his relationship with post secondary school has been fluid to say the least. sort of like: i might have a chance if i get a scholarship, to not even in school, to having a shot at going to any school, to missing out on that part of his life in favour of vigilantism and revenge

with his past briefly out of the way i definitely see jason being that person who just Attends lectures even if he isn’t enrolled. he’d go to classes with friends or someone he’s seeing if he had the time. but if anything, jason would take a course just because he finds it interesting. he’d sit in the back of the class and he 100% takes notes even if there’s no reason

if he is serious about going back to school i do stand with majority rule that he’d probably be an english/lit major.

i like to imagine jason did attempt to go to university after everything went down with bruce when he first came back though. a little scorned and confused about his place in everything. i could see him trying to play the part of someone normal and ordinary, what did people his age do again? oh yeah, go to school or leave the city.

i think he’d originally take something a bit more serious, respectable even. law, engineering, business, anything to emulate some version of himself bruce had expected jason to become. i think jason also knowing dick refused, finally agreed, then dropped out of uni would fuel him to go to spite his older brother and appease bruce even if it wasn’t conscious. like it’s an added bonus if jason really thought abt it (which he won’t ofc)

back to school: being forced to take those required liberal art courses would remind jason of what he loved in high school. he loved english class on whole and arguing with the history teacher and picked up languages surprisingly well that he did both spanish and french for a time. and while he really thought about switching majors he ultimately dropped out because he was still playing pretend and into the hands of a man his relationship was beyond complicated with.

i think jason would return when he was a few years older, a little less angry and less focused on his connection to bruce/batman. and this is when he’d major in english, im not enough of a lit baddie to pick a focus but im sure y’all can imagine <33

he’d start with night courses bc he’s already used to being awake so whats a 7-10pm lecture before patrol.

it only became an issue when courses jason’s wanted to take wouldn’t work with his nighttime plan. he started really feeling the burden of living a double life in those moments. and definitely gets antsy in class/studying when an important case is taking up his mind.

he was fortunate to take online classes that interested him greatly too but when school started becoming priority jason would have a moment with himself to decide if he wanted to spend a few years pursuing his degree with a bit more focus or go back to his life before.

and i cannot say what decision i think he’d make bc i know jason gains satisfaction from life by being red hood and cannot fully give it up but he’s also one of those people that is always dying to learn more, to know more and exercise his brain. it’s why his electives r insanely difficult mathematic courses or science labs bc everything interests him. the study of art just moves him a little more which is why he majors in it.

some other points:

- he’s not a fan of the education system and even if money is not a problem jason doesn’t rlly care abt going to elite schools and will gladly transfer around to take courses he wants or depending on where he’s currently is in the world. he’s done classes at most of gothams community colleges and at least one ivy league school

- jason’s doesn’t care how long it takes no finish school either, which works well with his vigilantism. he’s always had an unstable relationship with schooling and completing school in its expected time/format never appealed to him. jason will do it how it wants because he can :)

- he’s a handwritten notes kinda guy but understands that typing is more efficient

- will spend time at uni (and public) libraries just for funsies like he’ll b investigating new drug rings next to people studying for their midterms

- like most of us he really hates group assignments bc he’s too much of a control freak and will do all the work, hand it in and email the prof abt doing it alone without even contacting his group members bc he’s a little shit like that

- but will help in tutoring programs, be a note taker for certain courses and if jason’s fully dedicated to school he might just TA <3

#these r very loosely formatted #i wrote it in my phones notes like minutes after getting this ask lmaol #jason todd headcanon #writing #also i cannot remember dicks entire arc with going to hudson n stuff so pls ignore if i butchered that #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc imagine #jason todd hc #red hood headcanon #red hood hc #dc headcanon #dc hc #sweet messages

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kinkandkreep · 2 years ago

Text

Connor Kenway: Celebratory Birthday Headcanons- Part 3

A/N: Alrighty y’all, here’s part 3 of the Connor-canons! For those who are just joining us, first of all, welcome! We’re doing celebratory Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway birthday headcanons! There’s been two other parts thus far, the Yandere!TOKW au relationship headcanons and the non-yan canonical au relationship headcanons. These will simply be the modern!au non-yan headcanons w/o the relationship aspect. I hope you all enjoy! Also, please feel free to send in Connor related asks and requests. I’d be more than happy to gush about him to anyone willing to listen and share. (Also this is a long one, so buckle up folks.🙃)

Modern!Connor Kenway Headcanons

Right off the bat this man loves pizza

It’s like his favorite food

He also a big fan of eggs and different kinds of meat, so he likes that he can have both on a pizza, i.e a breakfast pizza

(The Palmeros ones from Walmart are really nice actually so if y’all like breakfast pizza and haven’t tried ‘em you should 👀)

He’s also quite fond of hearty soups, but I think we all coulda figured that out

Idk why but I always feel like Connor takes good care of his hands

I mean, he takes very good care of his hygiene overall but I feel that his hands are particularly important to him

Canonically, he’s only supposed to be like 6’0 but I don’t think any of us in the community accept that so let’s say that he’s actually more like 6’5 😂

I say that because since he has such an imposing figure, he recognizes that people might be wary of him upon first glance

Also, being as big and built as he is, he sweats a fair amount (not like, abnormally, just probably more than the average sized man)

He takes such good care of himself because A.) that’s what you’re supposed to do and B.) he’s very conscious about the way he smells and presents himself to others

Of course we know that Ratonhnhaké:ton is Native American and the Mohawk people in particular aren’t fond of being touched by people they aren’t familiar with, as is demonstrated by Ratonhnhaké:ton throughout the game

But I maintain that he is still of mixed race, and so, as he’s been exposed to American society at large, he’s become only marginally more comfortable touching and being touched by others

What I mean to say, is that he definitely won’t be going in for a hug if he’s only just met you, but he’s slightly more willing to accept and return a cordial handshake

As far as further physical contact goes, the most he’s got is a clap on the shoulder for his homies and a bear hug if you’re his lady

I’m not super sure where my mind is in terms of age for Con-Con man for this set of headcanons, but I’m thinkin’ he’s late college age, so like 22 onward

That being said, Connor attended Dartmouth College and earned his Bachelor’s degree in environmental engineering

He also minored in zoology, his focus being on canines, namely wolves

(I really wanted to say that he did something a little less rigid and attended a trade school, but I couldn’t reconcile that with his intended degree/career path 😭)

Taking into account his degree, I’d say Connor’s favorite subjects in school were…well, environmental science and, perhaps surprisingly, home economics

He was skilled at math and reasoning but wasn’t very fond of the curriculum, though he enjoyed the skill application aspect, and he was a very strong reader but just preferred to be more active and hands-on, so reading was done more so out of necessity for him instead of enjoyment

English is still his second language, but he speaks it better than a number of his peers

Since this is a modern!au, he’s comfortable enough with English to use contractions and rarely does he omit them from his speech

Connor has very pretty teeth, and a stunning smile

When he chooses to show it 🙃

You see it most often if you’re his best friend or his girlfriend

His mother sees it often as well

He has a somewhat strained relationship with his father, Haytham

He and Connor’s mother were married for a time but divorced when Connor entered adolescence

The split was amicable, and both Haytham and Ziio still hold love for each other

Connor, however, knows that the reason for the split is that Haytham was far too ambitious to ever settle down fully and live the life of a family man

Though still young when he and Ziio got married and had Connor, Haytham got antsy as both he and Connor grew older and Connor became more independent, and the older man couldn’t reconcile his desire to “be free” with his married home life

Connor resents him for that, as his mother, though she hid it well, was clearly heartbroken by the decision to divorce, even though it was mutual

Haytham does still provide for Ziio as she doesn’t work, and hasn’t for Connor’s entire life

He also offered to pay for Connor’s schooling, but it was fully covered by grants and scholarships so he declined

He didn’t want to owe his father anything anyway

So, in this modern!au, where does the name Connor originate from?

Well, Connor is an Irish name, derived from the word Conchobar, meaning “lover of hounds”

When Ziio was pregnant with Ratonhnhaké:ton and living with Haytham, they rescued an older dog that had been left injured and abandoned on the side of the road

Ziio, probably due to pregnancy hormones, felt an extreme call to help the poor animal and insisted that Haytham at least carry him to the vet

Begrudgingly, Haytham agreed, not wanting to upset his already delicate wife further

After getting the pup to the vet and following his treatment, Ziio decided she wanted to adopt the dog, as it seemed to have grown fond of her, in particular her belly, in the short time they’d spent in each other’s presence

Bringing the dog home, who the vet determined was a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog and about 7 years old at that point, Ziio and Haytham named him Noble

Noble kept by Kaniehtí:io’s side for the rest of her pregnancy and stayed close even as she gave birth at home

He immediately took to protecting and interacting with baby Ratonhnhaké:ton and the baby seemed completely unafraid of the pup

This inspired Haytham, who suggested the name Connor to Ziio, as he’d heard the name during one of his previous excursions overseas and thought it fitting for his common name

Ziio agreed, and the name has stuck ever since

Whew, now that we got that all squared away, back to Connor’s actual headcanons 🙃

You know, I don’t think Connor would be a stoner stoner, he would try a couple times and decide he likes the calming after-effect, but not the lack of alertness associated with the high

While we’re on the topic, he prefers brownies over cookies

Also, while Connor is a chocolate person, he prefers overall savory foods over sweet ones

Dark chocolate will always be his guilty pleasure treat though

Connor likes antiques and old cars, and so he drives a ‘76 Chevrolet Scottsdale that he bought from one of his mom’s friends, an older war veteran by the name of Achilles Davenport

Achilles acts as Connor’s pseudo-grandfather, and Connor spent many summers in his teenage years helping Mr. Davenport fix up his house- a large manor on the Massachusetts hillside- and, by way of Mr. Davenport’s tutelage, learning how to repair vehicles and hunt/track animals

Connor also worked a lot in his teenage years, and still continues to support himself, more out of a simple desire to be self-sufficient than anything else

When he wasn’t helping Achilles, he did some odd jobs here and there, before finally settling for some time as an apprentice for a land surveyor

Connor was quick to learn the skills associated with land surveying and impressed his boss so much that the man wrote him a stellar letter of recommendation when he applied to Dartmouth

He even offered to employ Connor full time once he graduated, but Connor politely declined the offer, saying that he wanted to do a little more job exploration before settling at one place

(The man was very understanding and assured Connor that if he ever decided he wanted to come back, there would always be a position open for him)

While in grade school, Connor was that guy that everyone loved and who was very, genuinely kind and helpful, but who also took no shit from anyone and would beat up bullies 😂

Everyone also knew he had a strong aversion to being touched and had a pretty severe case of RBF, but his puppy dog eyes and willingness to lend a helping hand was so precious they loved him anyway 😭

Speaking of RBF, his mom and dad both have serious cases as well, and that’s where he gets it from

He also just naturally has an extremely low tolerance for BS and it shows

Now ladies and gents, a rapid fire round of headcanons for Connor to wrap everything up in a neat little bow 😁

Rapid Fire Connor-Canons

He really enjoys karaoke

None of his friends have ever seen him with his hair down

Once when he was little, Connor wandered off on his own and followed a wolf back to her den, where he was subsequently amazed upon witnessing her tend to her cubs

He got in a whole heap of trouble upon being found and was forbidden from going outside period for like 3 months and couldn’t go outside unattended for a further 6

He thinks pineapple on pizza should be a crime punishable by an ass whoopin’

Learned parkour from A.) a lot of trial and error and B.) watchin’ a bunch a guys do tricks and stuff on Youtube

Tends to swear at people in his native language

Doesn’t like how jittery coffee makes him feel

Is ambidextrous but favors his left hand to throw and his right hand to write

At Haytham’s behest, Connor took archery and horseback riding classes from the ages of 10-13

He never competed, but was noted for his skill at both

Isn’t at all ashamed about the fact that he gets mani-pedis

Is teaching himself how to play the acoustic guitar

His favorite drink is the Arnold Palmer with unsweet tea

Lowkey cried the first time he watched Forrest Gump

Rage quits his video games 🙃

Is actually very civil when playing board games, and he loves Monopoly (he prefers the version with cash instead of card)

Has never screamed (like, as in a frightened scream, he yells at people all the time 🙃)

Adores dogs

And dogs are inexplicably drawn to him as well

Has a budget and sticks to it (like a baddie 💁🏾‍♀️💅🏾)

Overall, modern!Connor is a very respectable, well-rounded young man with bright prospects and a positive outlook 😁

#connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #ac3 #assassin's creed 3 #ac3 headcanons #connor kenway headcanons #ratonhnhaké:ton headcanons

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giggles-and-freckles · 2 years ago

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oh, hey there! i love so many of your clone wars fics and i’ve followed you for a while. but - and bear with me, i might sound weird - i didn’t know you were a teacher? secondary school, is… i’m not american but it’s between junior and high school, i think?

as a sixteen year old who is thinking of doing a history degree, then that one one year course thing that equips you to teach, and then hoping to become a high school history/english teacher - do you have any advice, things you wish you’d known before going into teaching, or anything like that?

i think i’d love teaching - the only thing keeping me up at night is that i won’t be able to find a job because there are many teachers, that i won’t have any free time because i know the hours are long, and that i won’t be able to support myself financially/put any potential kids through schooling/save up enough money for basic expenses, due to stuff like the inflation rate and teachers being infamously not paid well— do you have any experience or advice regarding any or all of those things, if it wouldn’t be any trouble to share?

please feel free to ignore this - i know that adults are busy in general, but also, congrats on adopting your kid, i hope that y’all are doing great! - i just wanted to ask because i honestly don’t know any of my teachers well enough to ask them any of this, and my family isn’t exactly supportive of me wanting me to be a teacher (they…. don’t think i’ll be paid anything, but i don’t think that’s completely true!), so i just thought i’d ask. again though, no worries abt answering<3

okay whoa! just found this, but i'm going to attempt to answer now! truly don't know how i missed it. this may get a bit lengthy, so i'll put a cut.

first, thank you for your kind words! our bonus daughter is doing great. life looks drastically different now than it did a few months ago, but i can't imagine it any other way. <3

okay so -- yes! secondary school in america is generally 7-12th grade. i'm certified for all of those levels, but presently teach grade 8. which depending where you are living could be different for you. here, it's 13/14-year-olds.

i did things a bit unconventionally, but i honestly recommend it, now having the perspective of peers who did it 'the right way.' i studied something unrelated to education for my undergraduate (4-year degree). then, i did an alternative certificate program to get my certification. this means i graduated university in may 2020 and had my first classroom in august 2020. it was a bit much at once, but it worked well for my personality, because i'm a sink or swim person.

most of my co-workers studied education in undergrad, meaning they completed rotations of student teaching and spent four full years learning all of the things to know about teaching. which is a viable route!!! in my opinion, though, much of what is taught is not super applicable in a real life 2023 classroom so i'd just as well have all of that mandatory" material condensed into a one year online program i can zoom through while getting real experience. the big things to know about teaching is that you'll never know it all. in my opinion, there is no amount of training that will adequately prepare you because every child is different and every teacher is different. the only was to find your stride is to do it. you'll fail a little, for sure! but what better lesson to teach your students?

to address finding a job: i'm not sure where you're located and if this affects anything, but here in america i can tell you it is verrrry easy to find teaching jobs. there is such a shortage in education because so many veteran teachers who have been sticking it out for years have finally had enough and left the profession. i work at an incredible school with a ton of support, but we had three teachers leave us this year specifically to go into data analytics because they can work from home and have a more flexible schedule. of course, getting experience with children is valuable for your resume! but at least in the united states right now, the standard is sort of 'hey if you're certified and don't have a criminal record, we'll hire you!" which is...not great for education as a whole. but great for prospective teachers...i guess?

now for the money: hmm. so first off, let me say that teachers deserve to be paid more, without a shadow of a doubt. i think we all know this so i'll save the soapbox. but THAT BEING SAID. at least in my region, i make a livable wage. do i deserve more for the amount of work i am actually doing? yes! am i struggling financially? no. of course, there are other things to take into consideration such as the cost of living in your area. but to encourage you (and your parents possibly?): i am fully supporting my family right now on a salary. my husband just graduated from law school, so as soon as he passes his bar and gets a job (fingers crossed), things will change a little. but as of now, i am able to comfortably support myself, him, a toddler, and a teenager. i am a saver and don't waste money! but i have also not gotten to a point of misery or anywhere close.

however, it needs to be said, only you know your propensity for saving vs. spending. i have many friends who DO financially struggle because they live a different lifestyle than me. and that's okay! but it's a give and take. you have to decide what is the most important to YOU and go from there. for me, it's supporting my family and prioritising family experiences over things. for many, it's a nicer house or food or entertainment or whatever. and none of those things are bad!

in conclusion: teachers (at least in my area) are paid a livable amount. but it is absolutely not the amount they should be living on, in proportion to the work they do. remember: we are not paid for summer. many districts will spreadout paychecks to include the summer...but that's the money from the school year. NOT more money. i have mandatory trainings and symposiums i have to attend this summer and i'm not being paid for them. i spend hundreds of dollars on supplies/decorations/snack for students and i'm not being paid for them. i stay at the school until almost 7pm every night to watch my students' games and concerts and i'm not being paid for them. i could say no to many of these things! but i won't because i'm a good teacher who knows these things are *necessary.* it's a hard reality, though.

#abi answers #teaching rant #abi teaches #anon

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

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heyy, hope you’re doing good!! just saw you say that you started out writing poetry so i was just wondering what it was like transitioning into writing fiction, if it was difficult, why you did in the first place etc etc. i mainly ask because i write poetry (feels weird saying that for some reason) and wanna start writing fiction too. and please don’t feel pressured to answer all that but thank you if you do <333

hi my darling! I hope you’re doing well, also!!

so I strictly wrote poetry up until I got to college where I took a few creative writing workshop classes. I had never written anything fictional before, or anything lengthy, so it was definitely a challenge, and I often found myself struggling with it. writing short stories/fiction was not ever something I thought I could do, and it took a lot of practice to get comfortable with it.

also I know exactly what you mean. I don’t know what it is, but when I say I write poerty, it makes me feel like such a pretentious asshole lmao.

we used to do these writing warm up exercises that helped us explore different styles of writing and use of different literary devices, and a lot of my projects were to write short stories to be workshopped in the class. it was incredibly daunting, bc I had never shared my work with anyone before and I had a ton of anxiety, but it really helped to get feedback on what worked or didn’t.

i’m happy to recommend some of the books we used in those classes if you’re interested! :)

also not that this matters, but I did minor in english for my degree, and while i’m by no means an expert, i’m happy to answer any and all questions y’all might have, or provide recommendations for things. 🖤✨

#court answers #court rambles #writer things

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basedkikuenjoyer · 2 years ago

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This one’s also a little Rakugo reference double feature when Kin’emon and Kanjuro meet. It’s just their dialogue using a pun based on lettuce from a story called Summer Doctor. I’mma be honest, this one eluded me. There is pretty much nothing freely available in English that can give me a summary but Oda confirms it in an SBS. Cool how that’s an element of our first meeting between the two. He’s clearly a fan and honestly, I love it for Wano’s themes. An art style built around one person juggling three roles.

He also adds a pretty cheeky one in hindsight. The next bit is also from a Rakugo...about an extremely talented artist who draws a sparrow which comes to life. I wish it were easier to find more info on these but sadly there isn’t a lot. It’s cool though, I hope we get SBS questions asking about some I just know are flying under the radar in Wano. Kanjuro’s name is supposedly a reference as well.

I know it’s just rehashing what’s there. By the way it’s actually 754, Making Acquaintance. But I was in a mood and you know what? I do gots a good one from the SBS for you. First, since you came all this way I do want to offer something. We mentioned this concept with Monet and Kin’emon’s intro on Punk Hazard. She was always flitting around. As we introduce the samurai we’ll travel with, we seed themes for Kiku in plain sight right next to them. It’s next to Kanjuro’s intro too. Dig it:

Rebecca and Kyros fit the mold for similar thematic territory sure, but uh...Cabbage? The hothead prettyboy with an uncontrollable “demon” side? He’s a beautiful doofus but right as Kin is meeting Kanjuro he does step up complete with the “game” motif. Compare here to crashing Bakura. It’s the same concept. Cavendish and a lot of the Grand Fleet captains (coughOrlumbuscough) do legitimately have a piece of what Luffy needs. But of course, he’s too vain and can’t control Hakuba. Bickering about getting to be the star that takes down Doffy. But not before...being the one to cut straight through the bullshit.

This is nothing but Cavendish showing he is actually a capable captain in his own right and does have some degree of wisdom. Looking at it though y’all, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The Birdcage is making Dressrosa into Wano. Closed off. This “game” is the exact nationwide manhunt the Wano plan was trying to avoid. But the craziest one is Cabbage laying in the exact logic we saw about Udon. The critical blunder of concentrating your resistance. I’d still say Kiku’s is a little more impressive but this is still a rare level of getting the big idea across to Luffy and it showcases a very perceptive side of Cavendish. Using a very easy to compare example with Kiku & Bakura/Udon later. This kind of thing is why One Piece can be a little “repetitive.” It’s a great way to chart Luffy’s growth. Okay though, last little SBS thing. It’s small but dammit...

Remember the thing about Wano being a Rashomon plot? This is the SBS page with “Pirate Alliance.” For no dam reason Oda name drops Ryunosuke. Cute! Nah, that author is famous for a fair few novels and short stories. One called Rashomon that isn’t exactly the same thing as the movie, but he did write In a Grove which was the book the movie was retelling. And the novel Rashomon does deal heavily with a relevant question, is it right to steal to survive? The specific example of a woman stealing hair is in there. Just really interesting to see this hanging out with the start of the samurai plotline.

#one piece #kinemon #kanjuro #cabbage #curious curiosities

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quibbs126 · 2 years ago

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So I’m considering switching colleges (as in like, what area am I focusing on in the university, since they’re all split up into colleges, not actually changing campuses), and I’m considering Visualization for the art aspect, and also English for the storytelling aspect

Art y’all know is because I like to draw, it’s one of the things I constantly spend time doing, but also storytelling since I like creating stories and want to hone that craft, as I have a lot of different ideas for stories (though most don’t translate to a written format, most are ideas for video games) that I want to tell

And see, I know I should probably talk to someone about whether I genuinely want to and should transfer, or if I should just stick with engineering (though I don’t really want to outside of maybe programming and video game design, but even that I could do as a minor instead of trying to make it my major). But the problem is…I don’t think anyone I know actually knows me well enough that I feel like they can give me good advice

My parents know how I did in high school and they know I like to draw, but they have no knowledge of my actual storytelling abilities (or my deep obsession with certain media outside of Ninjago), other than that I took Creative Writing senior year. Also my dad says I should just stick with Engineering since it doesn’t really matter what degree you have (note that my parents, while they did go to college, it was only for a few months, so I don’t think they have the best understanding of how it works. Granted neither do I. Also it’s more about taking a major I’m actually interested in rather than just getting a degree), but I don’t entirely agree with that. Likewise my friends don’t exactly know my whole passion for storytelling other than I like to draw. Heck I’ve really only talked to two people this semester on a somewhat regular basis, and that’s being generous on one person’s end.

If I’m being honest, I feel like you people on tumblr have the most accurate depiction of who I actually am. Which means I don’t really have a lot of reliable sources of what I should do with my college career. Not saying y’all are bad, but it is essentially trusting strangers on the internet to help me decide my college career

#doesn’t help that everyone I know here bar one is part of the Engineering college #and that one person is my friend I’ve known for nearly a decade #so yeah #college #university #real life stuff

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arbitrarycogitation · 2 months ago

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Crawled Back.

Okay so, in an attempt to find my actual will to live: we shall overshare on the internet once more. What could go wrong?

Here we go. Firstly, I am NOT promising anything. I do not know if I will go back to posting regularly, I will not know if I will be sassy, spicy, or any amount of filtered here (me taking Tumblr off my L*nktree page should be clue enough though), I shall not care how grammatically incorrect I probably will be here. English is not my native language, sue me. I’m not even sure if Bahasa Indonesia is my native language at this point. I suck at both. Byelingual (ha, pun) is a real struggle y’all. Oh and no, this thing most definitely did not go through Gr*mmarly or any other similar voodoo thingamajig.

Secondly, I will stop talking about shows and books formally here. That is what the Gram is for. Who am I kidding? I will probably yap. Nevermind, I shall yap. That is after all, what I came here for. Plus, consuming media is my favorite past time, right after ruminating on my meager existence on earth. Shoutout to Agatha All Along, great alliteration, equally outstanding show with a mid ending. Yes, I am saying this because they did the whole “we made sure to leave room for season 2” thing. More on that later? Maybe never?

Thirdly, yes, I do have work to do. A smidge-ton, really. But it be like that folks. We procrastinate, we move on, we realize deadline is nigh, we skedaddle to finish everything right on time. Nothing irregular here. Nothing at all. But yes, I am writing this as I finish up some work for the day. Now before I start lamenting on the masses about the work I actually like doing 72% of the time, let’s recap, because some of you are probably new here.

Hi! This is Wah. I used to blog like, religiously? And then I slowly grew out of it and found questionably better alternatives to my yapping obsession, namely, an English degree, and no, genuinely no regrets. Now, I am back with better vocabularies (amen to that) and slightly less decorum compared to the average Joe. I typically set out to write about one thing and end up with more random tidbits than I thought. Kinda like this. This phenomena has been happening all my life, from my Blogger era, to my early Tumblr era (shuddering to both), to my Instagram Story era (that was a bit weird, if I do say so myself), and finally to the final boss, the Tumblr and website combo era. My website is still up and running, if anyone is interested. If you found the society page, no you didn’t. If you do, though, I hope you get rickrolled.

I’m working on the main piece that brought me back on this app, but frankly it’s too late to fact-check on this particular topic I’m writing about and I don’t want this post to be too long. So that’s all for now folks, I’ll see you in a bit.

#rambling

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kangshxrtie · 6 months ago

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5 . drama-ma-ma-ma . written

main . prev

you thought nien and jiwoo were joking when they said they would form a barrier around you as soon as you walked out of the building. but you were quickly proven wrong as nien and jiwoo stood by your side in a bodyguard stance with their chests puffed out. neither one of them looked particularly intimidating, but their height did a little something.

they both had on wired headphones and used their apple watches as walkie-talkies to communicate, even though they were right next to each other.

as you all continued walking, anyone who came even remotely close to approaching you was quickly pushed away with a firm, “our client will not be speaking today.”

you didn’t really complain about it. you didn’t want to be bothered by random people you barely even knew, and nien and jiwoo were doing a great job at stopping everybody.

you weren’t used to this. sure, you were known when you were xinyu’s best friend and people would talk to you to get close to her. then, you were also a huge topic when your falling out with xinyu happened as everybody was curious to know what happened between the two of you. to them, you two were besties one day and then wouldn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence the next. eventually, people moved past that, and you flew under the radar with your little friend group.

then you started dating nakyoung and were back at the same level of popularity as when you were xinyu’s best friend, then you two broke up because of differences, but of course, people thought some shady stuff happened behind closed doors. especially when you tried to get her back and none of your attempts worked.

now, you were once again a huge topic of conversation because of this scandal. you really just wanted to get your degree and get the fuck out of here because people were way too invested in your life and who you hung out with.

sure, you could transfer, but it seemed too late to do that now. you couldn’t imagine leaving your friends after all of this. you were sure they would be mad as hell at you too.

“not that i don’t appreciate what you two are doing, but all of this is really extra,” you told them as you approached an area to sit down.

“just doing my job,” nien said coolly before looking off somewhere.

you shook your head at her theatrics. “thanks, though. i really do appreciate y’all.”

“i would have done this for free. protecting you is like fulfilling a life duty,” jiwoo said.

“i’m not paying you.”

“it’s fine. you can keep your money. i feel paid enough serving you,” jiwoo replied.

“you were never going to get any money,” you said.

“i’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” jiwoo continued, ignoring your comment and focusing on keeping watch.

“all in a good day’s work,” nien added.

you sighed in disbelief at their skit.

you looked down at your phone after receiving a text, rolling your eyes at who it was.

as you looked up, you noticed people walking past where you were sitting, pointing at you before whispering to each other.

jiwoo turned to you with a serious expression. “how do you want us to handle them?”

“don’t do anything to them,” you sighed, feeling like you were watching two dogs you couldn’t let off the leash, too scared they’d attack.

“i’m sure xinyu would appreciate it if i tripped them,” jiwoo said.

“i would too, but there are too many witnesses, and i don’t want anybody talking shit about either of you,” you replied.

“aww, y/n, you do care about us,” nien squealed, punching the air excitedly.

“i literally tell you i love you all the time,” you stated.

“this is worth more than any paycheck,” nien declared, holding her hand over her heart. you looked away, not wanting to feed into more of her theatrics.

“do you two not have classes?” you asked.

“that’s not important. this is my main focus,” jiwoo replied.

“you two better not be skipping any important classes,” you scolded.

“just an elective,” nien waved off.

“didn’t you literally just leave an important english class?” jiwoo asked.

“i’m taking a mental health day,” you retorted.

“and we’ll be joining it,” jiwoo announced.

“i never agreed to that,” you countered.

“you did when we became your bodyguards,” nien said.

“i never agreed to that either, you two just won’t leave,” you pointed out.

nien and jiwoo exchanged a glance before grinning at you. “well, we’re here now,” jiwoo said.

“and we’re not going anywhere,” nien added.

well, you might as well make the most of this day with your two bodyguards.

main . nxt

taglist ༒ @gtfoiydlyj . @inybits . @baewonlove . @yeetaberry127 . @sananapotter .

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goldenmirroraffair · 2 years ago

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Chapter 2: Stressed

‘Can’t I make it up to you somehow?’ the annoying man asks.

‘No just stay away from me’. I respond in a snarky tone. In comparison to earlier the halls are almost empty. It’s calming in a way. There’s one group of students with an older teacher. They seem a bit younger than me. Then suddenly in the middle of the group I see Jurinji, my little brother.

‘Hello brother. Have you seen the nurse’s office by chance?’ I ask him.

He looks at me with an annoyed glance and responds with ‘I, in fact haven’t seen it. I would like to direct you to the map at the main hall. Now could you please not bother my studies?’

‘Of course. Thank you’ I say as I make my exit.

‘Jesus fucking Christ that’s your brother. Are you all robots?’

‘Excuse me?’ Jurinji stares daggers at Axel.

‘Look I’m hosting a party this evening at the Typhoon. Maybe that will get y’all to calm down and socialise a bit? Maybe get to know people? First drink is free to make up for the ball thing, Ryo.’

I pull him away from the group into the direction of the main hall. ‘If you continue talking like this, you’re going to be found in a river’.

‘Haha good one’ there’s a silence. ‘Well, the offer still stands’

‘Not interested.’ I say as I let go of his hand and walk to the map. Apparently, the nurse’s office is just around the corner of my classroom. Great. ‘My head doesn’t even hurt anymore’.

‘Oh, that’s amazing! Guess I’m not the headache you make me out to be’.

‘Shut up’ He better not tease me like this again. I exhale in frustration.

We get back to class. A few more people introduce themselves. Apparently, they forgot me though. It’s not like I need an introduction anyways. The only interesting thing is that I signed up as one of the violinists of the school Orchestra and due to that am in the music class anyways.

‘As you can see all of your classes have something in common.’ He waits for a bit but nobody responds. ‘They are all artistic’, the weirdly friendly teacher explains. ‘That’s why you’re in what we call the art branch. There’s also the science branch, the language branch and the social branch.’ Since my younger brother is in the chemistry class, he’s probably in the science branch. ‘If you compare your timetables, you’ll notice that they are the same except for a few lessons. Those are the class specific lessons. We meet here for classes like Math, History or English while classes like theatre, painting or orchestra happen all at the same time in their specific classrooms. Today I wanna learn about what you did in math class last year.’ Even though I’m sometimes questioning how the teacher got his teaching degree he tries to be relatable to the students which is a nice trait to have.

After the first three lessons it’s finally time for break. Normal students would either 1 meet up with their friends (I haven’t made any) or family (me and Jurinji don’t have the relationship to just hang out) or 2 be on their phones (mother restricts my phone access so that my phone is not accessible during school times) meaning it’s time to train playing the violin. Earlier when I checked where the nurse’s office is I also saw the way to the stage.

Arriving at the stage I feel a strange feeling of familiarity. I performed at events hosted by fathers company and on stages that would help me build a platform for future careers. The floor is very clean and the echo of me clearing my throat is louder than expected. I pull out my violin and start playing the Chaconne from Sonata No. 2 in D minor. It was one of father’s favourite pieces. At this point playing the song is almost muscle memory to me. I close my eyes and let the bow guide the music from the stage to the front seats over the balcony and back to the stage. As comes to an end it’s so calm, I could almost forget all about that stupid punk jerk.

‘Hey!’ Oh no. I look to the entrance but it’s only Chayenne and the other Ariana Grande perfume girls. ‘That was beautiful!’ the girl whose future lies in makeup admits.

‘Thank you very much’.

‘How long have you been playing the violin?’ A girl with yellow eyeshadow asks me.

‘My first ever memory was getting my first violin so almost my entire life’.

‘That’s so cool! Was Swan into music early on as well?’ the same girl asks. That question just sent a shiver through my spine.

‘Shut the fuck up Christina’, Chayenne says, ‘I’m so sorry about her.’

‘I don’t plan on answering any questions about my older brother any time soon. You must excuse me as I’ll be taking my leave now’ I express as I’m packing up my instrument and storming off.

When I exit the stage, I see Axel adjusting his position to lean against the door frame. ‘Hey’ he says as I try to walk past him. He pulls my sleeve ‘Why are you so cold to me? I apologized.’

‘Why are you so obsessed with me? And no, you didn’t apologize.’

‘I said I’m offering you the first drink for free’.

‘So? My family is rich, and I don’t even drink.’

‘Oh yeah… Uhh I’m sorry’.

‘Whatever.’ I storm off yet again. Is this how school will be for the rest of the year? Every positive thing that happened was followed up by a bad experience.

I go back into the classroom and the only person present is Emma Singer.

‘Hi Ryoma’.

‘Hello, Emma’ I sit down and pull out my notebook to review the classes of today.

‘You seem stressed’.

‘I apologize’ I had enough social interactions for today. The thing I want to do right now is go back home, sleep and pray that I never wake up.

‘No need for apologies.’ She puts on Chapstick. ‘That Axwell guy is such a brute, right?’

‘I think his name is Axel, but yes. He sure is… a lot’.

‘Oh right… Also, maybe you wanna stay away from that Chayenne chick.’ I give her a concerned look ‘no it’s not like I’m racist. We know each other and, as you can see, we don’t really talk’. She adjusts her way too big Gucci Glasses.

‘I see’ I honestly don’t really care. She probably wants to tell me her entire life story and then pinpoint her out as the villain or something. But the bell rings to interrupt her and students are storming into the class. I don’t have Orchestra today which makes me kind of sad. I really want to know what that will be like. The girl with the yellow eyeshadow who I earlier learned is called Christina, comes over to me.

‘Sorry about earlier by the way. I didn’t want to mention… him.’ I look behind her and the girl with green eyeshadow is pointing her phone camera in my direction under the table. ‘What happened anyways?’

I smile ‘I must apologize but I can’t give you that information. I think class is starting. You maybe want to get back to your desk’.

‘Oh yeah… umm totally’ she goes back. The stinging smell or Ariana in my nose.

Later in the last lesson for today we get to vote the class presidents.

‘So, we need two representatives.’ Mr. Parker explains. ‘Due to the odd situation, we are in I’d like for them to be one student of the main building and one student of the second building.’

Signing myself up as an option might be a good move to boost my reputation. ‘I’d like to sign up as an option’. A few students do the same. Axel and Chayenne both run for the position as well. But they won’t be competition to me, since I’d be in the main house. And we are doing a vote per house. Emma doesn’t even try. She probably noticed she doesn’t have the best reputation and wanted to spare herself the embarrassment. Me and some other male student from the painting class are the top candidates. But of course, I come out on top. I feel like both Chayenne and Axel wouldn’t be good partners for me. But if any of them win I’d want it to be Chayenne. It all comes down to the last vote and as the air thickens the last vote goes to...

Chayenne. I let out a sigh of relieve.

‘Congratulations to Ryoma and Chayenne!’ Our teacher exclaims.

‘Speech! Speech! Speech!’ the students shout. I’m not really too good at speeches so I let the other one go first.

‘Thank you very much! I’m glad to be your class rep 2 years in a row! And with this handsome fella next to me this school year is gonna be in good hands’. That was an okay speech. I didn’t know she already used to be class rep. I’m guessing it was her and Axel. However the handsome part could've been cut.

‘I’d like to thank you for the vo-‘ I start my speech as I get cut off.

‘Oh, sorry wait it looks like the vote was rigged. There were more votes than people.’

What. ‘Ryoma you’re fine’ (thank God) ‘but it looks like Chayennes group put in more votes.’

‘WHAT? Why do you think it was us?’ The makeup-enthusiast shouts.

‘There are six votes written in glitter pen. You three are the only ones using glitter

pens.’

‘Oh.’

‘That means that the title of class rep officially goes to Axel!’ What???

My apparently fellow class president goes up to give a speech. He stands next to me and ruffles my hair. ‘Looks like we did it Fuzzball’.

‘Don’t fucking touch my hair.’ My hair is the most well-kept part of my body. Even though I keep it in a bun it goes down below my shoulder blades. ‘I don’t want to be your partner as a class representative, your friend or your “Fuzzball”. Please get away from me!’ I snap.

‘Holy shit’ I look away from Axels startled expression and see the girl with green eyeshadow holding her phone as she seems to be filming me. Fuck.

The bell rings to break the tension. ‘Well see you tomorrow, class. Bye’, Mr. Parker

says as he leaves the classroom. I pack my things as I pray that the girl forgot to hit record or something.

Since my school day is over my phone works again too. Next to the usual Instagram DMs I have one unread message. “Hello, Mr. Felch. Your mother has an emergency meeting with the police. Due to the situation, I can’t pick you and your brother up from school until an unknown point in time. I apologize for the inconvenience’ Great. I’m not surprised by the police thing because of the whole thing with my dad.

‘Do you want me to drive you home with my bike?’ I jump. Of course, it’s Axel. Did he just look at my phone? Well, it’s not like I expected manners.

‘What part of get away from me did you not understand?’ He appears everywhere like a ghost or the Gorilla from the Gorilla glue ads.

‘Listen, I behaved like an ass’.

‘True’

‘But I wanna make it up to you somehow. I can drive you and your brother if you want to’. Bike? I’d die if I got onto something like that. And what if someone sees me…

‘The only way you can make it up to me is by making sure that girl doesn’t post the video of me… you know’.

‘Shouting at me? Yeah. I’ll make sure Tracy doesn’t post it.’ So, the group is made of three girls called Chayenne, Tracy and Christina. With the whole red, green and yellow thing they kind of remind me of “Heathers”. I watched the musical with mother and Swan. It honestly kind of scared me of school.

‘Thank you very much.’

‘Are you sure you wanna walk home though? Maybe take the public bus?’ I think I’d die.

‘Not really…’ I say as I walk out the door with the punk. ‘Riding on your motorcycle together with my brother sounds like more of a death sentence, I believe’.

‘C’mon I’m a good driver! I only sometimes get into accidents’ I look at him with big eyes. ‘Just kidding of course’ I’m not so sure about that.

I see my brother in the crowd of people ‘Hello Jurinji. Did you receive the message too?’

‘Hello Ryoma. Yes, I did. Isn’t that the guy who called me a robot? Why do you hang out with a person so far beneath us?’

‘Hey! I’m your ride today. Your motorcycle awaits’ Axel mentions.

‘Excuse me, what? He must be joking.’

‘Well, he offered it’ I explain.

‘I would do anything rather than sit on the bike of a lowlife scum like you’ My brother snarks.

‘Even walk?” The man with dyed hair refutes.

‘Where did you park?’

#oc stuff #oc story #OC #story #Book #Original story #goldenmirroraffair #GMA

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