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sehunniepotwrites · 2 years ago

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Head Over Broomsticks | J.JH

SYNOPSIS. When your friends are tired of watching you and your crush go around in circles, they take matters into their own hands. Putting their Advanced Potions skills to the test, Donghyuck and Chenle conjure up a powerful truth serum and slip it in your drink right before a Quidditch game, which leads to a few inappropriate comments about No. 77, Jeong Jaehyun, of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. This would’ve been fine if you were just a regular spectator but you are much more than that--you’re the Announcer and everyone is subjected to hear your unfiltered thoughts. Just great.

PAIRING. Gryffindor Beater!Jaehyun x (f) Quidditch Announcer!Reader GENRE. Hogwarts!AU, Sports!AU, Quidditch!AU, humor, fluff, suggestive WORD COUNT. 3.5k+ WARNINGS. reader makes a lot of suggestive comments/innuendos that are also Quidditch puns (referring to Jaehyun’s parts as a bat, bludger, stick, broom, etc.), profanity, kiss, mentions of food and drinks, spiking a drink with a truth potion, no explicit scenes!

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

“Hello, Hogwarts, and welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season!”

A deafening roar made its way through the Quidditch Pitch. The game itself tapped on the centuries old Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry that brought everyone to the stands. Each bench was filled to the brim, students and staff alike huddling together to all warm the wooden benches. Those who weren’t able to find a seat surrounded the Pitch’s borders, straining their necks for hours to watch the game taking place in the sky, hands covered with gloves and filled with flags to support their beloved team.

Professor Minho Choi, the official Hogwarts referee and the school’s very own flying instructor, stood in the middle of the Pitch with the wiggling chest. Everyone watched in anticipation as he spoke to the players, green and red, hovering above him. No one could hear his exact words but you all assumed it was warnings to play a nice clean game. All players closed their eyes on his command. His scuffed, leather boot kicked the side of the chest, releasing all the required equipment for the game to start.

“Out come the Bludgers. The Golden Snitch comes next; that’s worth a whopping 150 points, if you don’t remember! Whichever team seeker snatches the fast flier first will earn those points and will end the game!” Choi’s gloved hands took hold of the Quaffle, taking a second to smile at the players, before tossing it into the air. “The Quaffle is released and the game begins!”

Amongst the spectators, of course, was you with your hands gripping the announcer’s microphone, usually dedicated to relaying every single move. And although you were initially excited to be at the game, where you would hear the angry swish of brooms along with the cheers and jeers, you were now hating every little second that passed. Why? Because, no matter how unfiltered your thoughts were when it came to Quidditch, it seemed that this time around, you were on another level.

“There goes number seventy-seven, Jaehyun Jeong of Gryffindor, hitting the Bludger away from his side of the field and onto the other. Oh, how I would let him beat me with his sti—” Your comment was interrupted by a wand poking your side. Professor Changmin Shim, the Gryffindor head, simply glared at you before jerking his head to the current game on the pitch. “Sorry, Professor!”

It wasn’t like you wanted to make comments such as that one out loud—your crush on the handsome Quidditch player was something you wanted to keep to yourself and your small group of friends. The thing was, no matter how hard you tried to restrain them, they just spilled out of your mouth. The words flew out faster than the Golden Snitch zooming around the field—there was no way of stopping them.

You couldn’t catch your words.

Merlin’s beard, you could barely keep your mouth shut to begin with. That was how you ended up at the next Hogwarts Quidditch Announcer, following in the footsteps of the loudmouth Lee Jordan and the mischievous Baekhyun Byun. Despite that fact, you were never that explicit when commenting on plays. The unfiltered thoughts resonating through the microphone was all thanks to your idiot friends, Donghyuck Lee and Chenle Zhong.

“You are dead to me,” you whispered harshly at your friends.

“You always say that, mate,” Donghyuck said as he stretched, resting his palms behind his thick head of hair.

“When are you going to actually act on your threats?” Chenle added on with a smirk.

“Today. Say your goodbyes, boys,” you say with an evil glint in your sharp eyes, doing their best to follow the plays. You leaned forward and made a comment about Slytherin’s swift Keeper blocking the Quaffle from entering the middle hoop, earning a cheer from their fans.

“How long does this potion last?”

“Six hours, give or take,” Chenle recited from memory. Two hours had passed since you consumed it and each game lasted around two hours. Hypothetically, you would have to deal with the effects of the serum for two more hours. “Why?”

“Time to find your crushes and blurt every dirty little secret you rascals have.”

There was a reason you three got along. You were all menaces. Their eyes widened and before they could beg for your forgiveness, your eyes caught the Pitch’s referee making a call. Leaning into the mic, your voice boomed throughout the yard. “FOUL!” Your volume increased as the passion for the game overcame you. “Slytherin was just issued a foul for cobbing, rightfully so! KEEP YOUR SHARP ELBOWS TO YOURSELVES, YOU DAMN SNAKES! I’M LOOKING AT YOU, NAKAMOTO! I HOPE YOU DON’T MAKE IT TO THE HOUSE FINALS!”

“Hey!” Donghyuck placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be offended by your comment.

“Oh, don’t get all soft on me now,” you roll your eyes at him. “You’re a damn snake for pulling that stunt and you know it.”

“Hiss hiss, motherfucker.”

“Ten points from Slytherin,” Professor Taeyeon Kim blurted out from the bench behind you.

Donghyuck and Chenle’s big eyes became circles at their own house head’s betrayal. “Professor Kim, what gives?!”

“No need to curse, Lee, hold yourself with dignity,” your instructor held her ground, her eyes not even leaving the field to give her two students a chance.

Smart yet dumb was how you would describe your meddling friends. Much like every friend group, each person had their own strengths. Donghyuck and Chenle’s strong suits just so happened to be Potions and they always used it to their advantage. Because you were afraid to confess your feelings to Jaehyun, the two decided to take matters into their own grimy hands. They slipped Veritaserum—a truth serum—into your morning coffee that you chugged before rushing to the Pitch.

Your liking towards Jaehyun developed over time. It didn’t hit you all at once like your other crushes. In fact, you didn’t like him at all at first. His cockiness when it came to his athletic ability irked you in your previous years as a Quidditch fan. Jaehyun’s confidence grew throughout the years, his second-year benchwarmer days long behind him once he had a chance to debut his skills. Some people wanted to be him, others just wanted him.

Others much like yourself.

Especially when all he would do was blush in your presence. (And yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to confess.)

If anything, it made Jaehyun all the more attractive in your eyes. He could barely make it through a Friday Potions lesson with you as his partner once, stumbling over his words as he read the recipe out to you. It turned your cauldron into a ticking bomb, the gooey substance exploding all over your robes. Jaehyun, who was never a klutz when it came to these things, flushed with embarrassment while you stared blankly at him, hands filled with what was meant to be your exit ticket at the end of class. Professor Yunho Jeong made the two of you stay behind to clean the mess up as he graded your papers. The Gryffindor coach, who doubled as the potions professor, was secretly entertained by his star athlete’s lack of coordination and words the whole time.

“God, I’m so sorry, I really don’t know how I mixed up the words like that,” Jaehyun reiterated while he scrubbed the sticky floor. His red and gold tie dangling too and fro with each miniscule movement. The athlete was on his hands and knees right next to you with his long, white sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His robe and sweater vest were long forgotten, settled on his assigned lab bench, mingling with your own belongings.

“Jaehyun, it’s okay. People make mistakes like this all the time–”

“I know but–”

“Jae,” you said, clearly exasperated, “for the last time, it’s okay.”

When your classmate failed to reply, you turned to see a redness spread from his ears, down to his cheeks, and dot his precious nose. He blinked slowly, pretty mouth opened just a tad.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you wiped your face with the back of your palm, pushing your loose strands out of your sight. “Is there something on my face? I thought I already wiped it all off.”

Your comment pulled him from his thoughts, his hands shaking in front of you. “No, there’s nothing on your face. It’s not that.”

“Then what?” you poked the bear, shifting your attention until it was fully on him. Jaehyun looked at you with a bashful expression and you jutted your jaw towards him, giving him that silent reassurance.

“You called me Jae,” he said after a beat, “you’ve never done that before. Only my friends call me Jae.”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to, it just slipped.”

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised,” Jaehyun laughed nervously, “that’s all.”

“If you don’t want me to call you that, Jaehyun, you can just say so, it’s alright.” Gritting your teeth, you went back to work, adding an insane amount of pressure into your scrubbing. You wanted the cold floors to swallow you whole.

A warm hand rested itself on your forearm, halting your movements. “You can call me Jae.” His soft and sweet brown irises found yours, the tiny corners of his eyes lifting up as he smiled.

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be.” Jaehyun’s hand gave you a little squeeze and a giggle escaped you. Turning away from him, you shyly continued your work, way too flustered to maintain eye contact.

Another second passed before Jaehyun’s low voice spoke again, “Call me whatever you like.”

Even after that exchange, Jaehyun still felt extremely apologetic for putting you through that on a Friday. He felt so bad that he went out of his way to find your friends to ask for your favorite dessert. The same dessert Donghyuck and Chenle mentioned showed up via owl delivery with the sweetest note on a Sunday morning. You found Jaehyun in class the next week, thanking him for the thoughtful gesture, failing to mention that you saw him frantically fighting a younger student for the last dessert in the case at Honeydukes. The moment remained in your head years later, when you did, in fact, call him whatever you liked.

“He certainly has quite the Bludger, doesn’t he? Jeong is so hot,” you swooned as Jaehyun leaned back on his broomstick, padded arms stretching towards the sky. He snuck a glance towards you, eyes meeting across the way, and you just knew that his red ears were hiding underneath his brown helmet.

Your focus wasn’t even on the game anymore as the seekers dove towards the grass in an attempt to catch the snitch. You had tunnel vision with the student that claimed your heart.

Number twenty-nine of the Gryffindor team, Chaser John Suh, decided it was high time to stop right in front of your stand. His shouting voice was loud enough for your microphone to pick up, projecting his comment throughout the field. “He really does, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes!”

Ripples of laughter moved through the audience like a wave.

“I’d like to take a ride on seventy-seven’s broom, if you know what I mean,” you shot back, eyes trailing said player as he swung his bat to deflect a Bludger.

Fuck, why couldn’t your brain just shut up? You cringed at every single lewd comment that escaped your motor mouth, slapping your forehead repeatedly without end.

As that comment rang throughout the stadium, Jaehyun’s broom shifted in your direction so quickly, the boy almost lost his steadiness. Known for his insane balancing skills, Jaehyun wasn’t one to be easily knocked off his feet; after all, his job in the sport was to maintain his balance while handling his hat to ward away unwanted Bludgers. You, however, were the only one who could make him this way.

Johnny knew it and so did the rest of the Gryffindor team. And as his best friend and fellow teammate, it was Johnny’s job to embarrass Jaehyun, even if it cost their team losing the game. The Gryffindor members grew tired of Jaehyun’s flustered state whenever he came near you. The confidence in him disappeared every time the beater flew past you and Johnny knew pushing the buttons of your thoughts would do the job.

“I think everyone knows what you mean, sweetheart,” Johnny laughed, “I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to it!”

“Suh, don’t you dare make me take points away from my own house!” Professor Shim hissed, pointing his wand towards the center of the field.

“Sir, yes, sir!” The Chaser saluted with a grin, zooming back into position.

The game continued with your usual distracted commentary, the animated remarks amplifying tenfold when it came to player seventy-seven, which made the match all the more interesting. For an opening game of the season, it was the closest match the school had seen in years: 210-200 with Slyterin barely in the lead.

“Slytherin Chaser trio–Nakamoto, Ten Lee, and Yangyang Liu–speed their way through in the famed Hawkhead Attacking formation, to force the Gryffindor Chasers aside. A great tactic for the snakes, may I add and OH–Chaser Suh is on their tail, zooming in behind–NO, WAIT–next to them, fast enough to break their tight triangle! AMAZING WORK, SUH! The Quaffle is now in his hands. He’s going towards the other end of the field with Jeong following behind, deflecting all the Bludgers Slytherin throws Suh’s way.” Your eyes never left the dynamic duo as they inched towards the hoops belonging to their opponents. Your vision flitted to your crush, who fell into place right next to Johnny, broom in one hand and bat swinging around in circles on the other. His gaze resembled a radar, grazing the Pitch for the incoming hardballs that were most definitely going to fly Johnny’s way. Jaehyun barely managed to knock out another ball that was aimed to harm Johnny with his bat before the elder took the clear shot in front of him.

“AND HE SCORES! GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN ARE NOW TIED AND IT’S ALL TO JEONG’S BEAUTIFUL ASSIST DURING SUH’S THROW!” Your fingers pressed on the button of the scoreboard, increasing the number on Gryffindor’s side. Your loyalties were as clear as day. “Jeong, what else can those hands do? I’d try ‘em out for size.”

“Bloody hell, someone please get her off the mic before I do it myself,” Professor Shim muttered more to himself than to anyone else.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, Professor?” Donghyuck smirked, the gleam in his eye glowing as brightly as ever.

“Ten points from Slytherin,” the teacher announced, eyes still focused on the game. He swore that particular duo reminded him of the legendary Weasley twins that were in his year during his time at Hogwarts. Donghyuck’ s grin immediately dropped.

“Professor!” Chenle tried to protest.

“Each.” Both Slytherins felt their shoulders sink. They could practically picture the green sand in their hourglass decrease.

There was barely time to chuckle at their misery when a power play occurred right before your very eyes. You felt the two Seekers–Renjun Huang of Slytherin and Mark Lee of Gryffindor–fly past you before you saw them, the athletes riding their brooms faster than the speed of light. There were no questions asked when they were picked to be their team’s representatives. Both boys, although young, were lithe speedsters that were hard to spot with a normal eye. Even the hardcore fans at Hogwarts had a rough time keeping their eyes on their teammates.

“Off the Seekers go, towards the Slytherin’s end of the Pitch, following the Snitch wherever it may go. Whoever gets it first will break the tie and win the game. Lee’s on enemy territory with almost no one to defend him–a bat just hit a Bludger right in Mark’s direction with two Chasers locking him in–AND A QUICK SAVE FROM JEONG ALLOWS LEE TO BREAK FREE AND CONTINUE ON HIS QUEST FOR THE SNITCH! Great work, Jeong! Goodness, I’d kiss you if I could. Hell, I’d do whatever you want me to!”

A collective hiss of your name came from the professors surrounding you but at this point, you didn’t care.

The force of Jaehyun’s swing causes his broom to propel him straight in front of your stand. Jaehyun hovered before you with that dimpled grin and even though the wacky flying goggles blocked his cheeks, you just knew that they matched the color of his Gryffindor uniform. Maybe the surge of confidence came from his plays. Maybe it came from your unending compliments, but it was enough to make him draw his broom closer to where you sat, look straight into your eyes, and say, “Do whatever you want to me. I’d love it all.”

His act of courage caused your eyes to widen, grip the microphone in your hands with whitened knuckles, that you missed Mark Lee doing a deep dive straight for the grass with an outstretched hand, his fingers finally grabbing hold of the Snitch after two hours of flying.

A sharp jab to your side–courtesy of Donghyuck–snapped you back into reality. You were able to guess the results of the game by the way all the Gryffindors surrounded Mark, who was lifted on Johnny’s shoulders. But even as you announced the winners of the game–Gryffindor with 260 points–your eyes did not falter from Jaehyun Jeong. He did not rush to join his teammates. He stayed there, ripping his goggles off his eyes, to look right at you.

Jaehyun reached over to change the score on the board, his face loitering so close to yours. His lips were close enough to taste and the victory glow made him look like an angel in red. Jaehyun’s post-game look, with his messy helmet hair and sweat-slicked skin, was a sight for sore eyes, you couldn’t look away from him. You couldn’t even try.

“How about this Saturday?”

“What?”

“Saturday. You and me. Hogsmeade. How ‘bout it?”

“Really?”

Jaehyun’s pretty grin widened as you questioned him. “Really.”

“Okay, this Saturday. It’s a date.”

Jaehyun backed away to clear enough space to do a quick, nerdy little spin on his Starsweeper, making you laugh wholeheartedly at his cuteness. His broom led him straight to you once again. “I should head over to”–he jerked his head in the direction of his team–“celebrate with the rest of the guys but be my date to the afterparty?”

“That’d be a dream come true,” you admitted, the truth serum still working its wonders.

“Brilliant,” he chuckled in both awe and disbelief. “I’ll wait outside the Common Room for you.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Jaehyun flew away to join the rest of the Gryffindors, still throwing Mark in the air. He stopped midway on his path, when the crowds around you were thinning out and you were beginning to pack up your belongings. Like acting on instinct, his Starsweeper brought him back to you one more time. He yelled out your name, grabbing the attention of everyone still on the Pitch. They all turned into onlookers as he floated on air. His body was on the front end of the broom, hands resting at the tip and torso leaning towards you.

“One more thing before I go,” Jaehyun said. On his face was a lovesick expression, one that no one else could mimic.

You cocked your head to the side. “Yes?”

Jaehyun closed the distance between your lips with the slightest bit of pressure. You sighed into it, meeting him with a bit more eagerness that had him smiling into the kiss. He pressed another one and then another one, with a strong arm wrapping around your middle and the other snaking up to cup your jaw. It was the best victory kiss he could ever ask for.

His lips lingered and you could still feel his breathing as he balanced on the broom. His lashes tickled your skin before he drew back from your personal bubble. Jaehyun’s whole face was red, from the tips of his ears to the bottoms of his apple cheeks as he flew backwards, the broom already leading the way. “I’ll see you later, alright, lovely?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jae.”

One truth serum was all it took for you to get the boy. For once, your blabbering mouth didn’t lead you to trouble. As much as you wanted to kill Chenle and Donghyuck for making you suffer, you supposed a thank you was in order as well. After all, they led you to the best feeling in the world, falling head over broomstick for Gryffindor’s all-star Beater, Jaehyun Jeong.

Even with twenty points taken away from your house for your lewd comments and your unexpected public display of affection, it was a great way to kick off another year at Hogwarts. With your mind and heart fluttering like the Golden Snitch in Mark’s hand, you couldn’t wait to see what else was in store.

AUTHOR’S HOWLER. Happy Jaehyun Day, my loves! My Valentine self is back, writing for Jaehyun again. I really missed writing for him <3 I hope everyone enjoys this lil fic. It’s been sitting in my drafts for years and I’m so happy it’s finally being released. I tried my best to make OC sound like Lee Jordan and stay true to the characters in the books. Please tell me what you think!

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @emmybyeakitty @ppangjae @sokkigarden @kaepop-trash @suhnnyskiess @baekhyuns-lipchain @bebsky @bat-shark-repellant @renjuunsz @ferxanda @lebrookestore @yutaholic @alluringjae @justsayk @itsapapisongo @ashes23 @hyperfixationficrecs @bebskyy @misakiise @iwishiwasthemoontonight @inlovergirlsworld @tyongblr

NETWORKS. @neowritingsnet

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #ankathia #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader

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valentoru · 4 months ago

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|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 5]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

“Is it a prank? It has to be a prank. Am I on national television? Where are the hidden cameras? How do I look?”

“It’s not a prank. There are no cameras.” You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder and stepped to the side to avoid being ran over by an electric scooter. “But now that you mention it, you look great—especially for this hour.”

Maki didn’t blush, but it was a close thing. “Last night I did one of those masks that you and Megumi got me for my birthday. That one that looks like a panda? I also got a new sunscreen that’s supposed to give you a bit if a glow. And I put on mascara,” she added under her breath.

You could ask her why she’d gone the extra mile to look fabulous on a run-of-the-mill Tuesday morning but you already knew: obviously Yuta would be here today therefore she would be seeing him.

You hid a smile. As weird as the idea of your best friend dating your ex sounded, you were glad that she allowed herself to consider Yuta romantically. Mostly, it was nice to know the indignity you’d put yourself through with Gojo on The Night was paying off. That, all together, with Getos very promising potential business offer had you thinking things might be finally looking up.

“Okay.” Maki chewed on her lower lip, deep in concentration. “So it’s not a prank. Which means that there must be another explanation. Let me find it.”

“There is no other explanation to be found. We just—”

“Oh my God. Are you trying to get citizenship? Are they deporting you back to Canada because we’ve been sharing Megumi’s Netflix password? Tell them we didn’t know it was a federal crime. No wait, don’t tell them anything, we’ll get you a lawyer. And, Y/N I will marry you. I’ll get you a green card and you won’t have to—”

“Maki.” You squeezed your friends hand tighter to get her to shut up for a second. “I promise you, I’m not getting deported. I just went on a single date with Gojo.”

Maki scrunched up her face and dragged you to a bench. She forced you to sit down. You complied, telling yourself that had the roles been reversed you would have absolutely had the same reaction. Hell, if you had caught Maki kissing Gojo you would have enlisted her for full-blown psychiatric help.

“Listen,” Maki started, “do you remember last spring, after the album release party, when I held your hair back while your projectile vomited the five pounds worth of spoiled meat?”

“Yeah. I do.” You cocked you head, pensive. “You ate more then me and never got sick.”

“Because I’m made of sterner stuff, but never mind that. The point is; I am here for you, always will be. No matter what. No matter how many pounds of spoiled meat you projectile vomit, you can trust me. We’re a team, you and I. And Magumi when he’s not pissing off the population. So if Gojo is secretly a extraterrestrial life-form planning on taking over the Earth that will ultimately result in humanity being enslaved by evil overlords who look like cicadas, and the only way to stop him is dating him, you can tell me and I’ll inform NASA—”

“For god sakes.” —you had to laugh—“it was just a date!”

Maki looked pained. “I just don’t understand.”

Because it doesn’t make sense. “I know, but there’s nothing to understand. It’s just…We went on a date.”

“But…why? N/N, you’re beautiful and smart and funny and have excellent taste in clothes, why would you go out with Satoru Gojo?”

You scrunched your nose. “Because he is…” It cost you, to say the word. Oh it cost you. But you had to. “Nice.”

“Nice?” Her eyebrows shot so high they almost got lost in her hairline.

She does look extra cute today, you reflected. Pleased.

“Satoru “ass” Gojo?”

“Well yeah. He is…” you looked around, as if help could come from the bushes or the people rushing by on their ways to work. When it didn’t seem forthcoming you finished, lamely. “He’s a nice asshole I guess.”

Maki’s expression went straight up disbelieving. “Okay so you went from dating someone as cool as Yuta to going out with Satoru Gojo.”

Prefect. This was exactly the opening you had wanted “I did. And happily, because I never cared that much about Yuta.” Finally, some truth in this conversation. “It wasn’t that hard to move on. Honestly. Which is why—please, Maki, put that boy out of his misery. He deserves it, and above all, you deserve it. I bet he’s here today, or well I know he is.” You gestured to the building. “You should ask him to accompany you to coffee when he’s done with the other business meeting and to horror movie festivals so I don’t have to sleep with the lights on for the next six months.”

This time, Maki was flustered. She looked down at her hands, picked at her fingernails and then she began to fiddle with the hem of her shorts before saying, “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, if you really think that—”

The sound of an alarm went off from Maki’s pocket, and she straightened to pull out her phone. “Shit. I’ve got a “meeting” with Nobara.” she rolled her eyes. “To discuss vocals for some of the songs.” She stood up picking up her bag. “Want to get together for lunch?”

“Can’t. Already promised Megumi we’d go grocery shopping.” You smiled. “Maybe Yuta’s free, though.”

She rolled her yes. But the corners of her mouth were curling up. It made you much more than a little happy. So happy that you didn’t even flip her off when she asked “Is he blackmailing you?”

“Huh?”

“Gojo. Is he blackmailing you? Did he find out that your an aberration and pee in the shower?”

“First of all, it’s time efficient.” You glared at her. “Second, I find it oddly flattering that you think Gojo would go to these ridiculous lengths to get me to date him.”

“Anyone would, N/N. Because your awesome.” Maki’s grimaced before adding, “Except when you’re peeing in the shower.”

Yuta was acting weird. Which didn’t mean much, since Yuta had always been abit awkward. Having recently split from you to date your best friend was not going to make him any less so—but today he seemed even weirder than usual. He came into the coffee shop next door to the record company, a few hours after your conversation with Maki. And proceeded to stare at you for two good minutes. Then three. Then five. It was more attention then he’d ever payed you—yes, including your dates.

When it got borderline ridiculous, you lifted your eyes from your laptop and waved at him. Yuta flustered, grabbed his latte from the counter and found a table for himself. You went back to rereading your two line email for the seventieth time.

Not twenty minutes later, some guy he knew, who you couldn’t remember the name of, walked in and took a seat next to Yuta. They immediately started whispering to each other and pointing at you. Any other day you would have been concerned and a little upset, but Geto Suguru had already answered your email, which took priority over…anything, really.

Yes! You had several days to convince him to take on your project, which was much better than the ten minutes you had originally anticipated. You fist-pumped—which lead to Yuta and his friend staring at you more weirdly. What was up with them, anyway? If Yuta knew what you were doing he certainly wouldn’t be giving you that look, besides there shouldn’t be any bad blood between you and him. Did you have toothpaste of your face? Who cared? You were going to meet Geto Suguru and convince him to let the band do work with for the charity. You were going to help cancer research.

You were in an excellent mood until two hours later. When you entered the apartment and Megumi was sat on the couch. Upon hearing your entering, he paused the show he was watching and looked at you.

“You sneaky little monster.” He hissed his green eyes were almost comically narrow. “I’ve been texting you all day.”

“Oh.” You patted the pocket of your jeans then your front pocket. “I think I might of left it here today.”

“I cannot believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“I cannot believe you.”

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are.”

“Good friends.”

“We are. You, Maki, and Toge are my best friends. What—”

“Clearly not if I had to hear it all from Maki on the group chat and not you personally.”

“Hear what?”

“—And I thought we were friends.”

Something icy crawled it’s way up your back. Could it be…No. no, it couldn’t be. “Hear what?”

“I’m done. I’m letting the cockroach’s eat you. And I’m changing the Netflix password.”

Oh no. “Megumi, hear what?”

“That you’re dating Satoru Gojo.”

TAGLIST(25/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @fushism @angstmuncher @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu

AN:

This sort of feels like a filler episode, anyway, guys I’m thinking of starting a discord so comment if you would join 🔥🔥🙏🙏 or tell me if you think it’s a completely atrocious idea

3 chapters this week because chances are I won’t post next week since I’m on holiday 🔥🔥🙏

#⤷limitless #jjk smau #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen smau #maki zenin #kugusaki nobara #yuta okkotsu #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro

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bunniwords · 21 days ago

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˚ ‧₊ DANCING IN THE FLAMES ╱ c.yj

chapter 003 — masterlist — chapter 005 004. same brain cell

synopsis: your friends drag you to one of the biggest halloween parties known on campus and you never imagined yourself meeting someone there who’d be matching costumes with you. bunni speaks: its my first (partial) written chapter for this series! also so sorry this took so long. my wifi was wonky and ate my drafts… i had to rewrite this chapter… BUT nonetheless i seriously cant wait for party 🗣️

more under the cut!

after class on thursday, you waited for the rest of group to show up for the meeting. if you could go back in time to choose another major, you would because no one told you how many group projects you had to do or the amount of work you had to cover for you to get a good grade.

your studious reputation didn’t help you make things easier. every time a group project calls for a team leader? all eyes were on you. you were expected to lead and pick up slack.

so, here you are.

waiting for thirty minutes for not even a single soul to show up and everyone leaving the chat on read. when you were beginning to gather your things, yeonjun tossed his bag in an open seat.

“my professor asked me to stay behind after class. where’s everyone else?” he asked.

“not sure,” you mumbled.

yeonjun stared at you as you pulled out your laptop from your bag and some sheets of paper. you weren’t doing much, but you could tell that he was already annoyed with you.

“so, i was thinking that you could start off the presentation,” you started off, but he had already stopped you.

“me? is it because i’m the first one here?”

“no… because i think you’d be a good fit for it,” you explained, “i’ve seen how you presented before and you’re good at public speaking.”

you could see the shock on his face. probably because he wasn’t expecting you to compliment him, but it was true. he was really good in front of other people and presenting was his strong suit.

yeonjun cleared his throat and nodded his head.

“okay, i’ll do it,” he said.

“alright,” you gave him a small smile. probably because it was the first time he had complied to anything you had to say. maybe flattery is the way to yeonjun’s heart?

as the two of you started working on the project, others came with some lame excuse you couldn’t bother to remember and worked on the project for the next thirty minutes or so.

“so, chaewon, you’re going to be doing the presentation with yeonjun. i’ll put the ppt together with mark. jaemin, you’ll research and cite sources for the remaining topics… then you’ll be working with me so it’ll be finalized in the paper. that sounds good?” you asked and scanned their faces.

“can’t i present with chaewon?” jaemin asked.

“yeonjun’s really good at presenting so i think it’s best if he presented for the group,” you answered.

“i’d like to present with yeonjun,” chaewon smiled.

“i’m good at presenting too,” jaemin argued.

“well, yes, you are,” you agreed, “i mean unless chaewon wanted to swap with you. that could work too.”

“what? no, i wanted to present,” chaewon pouted.

the reason why you put those two together was because you knew chaewon would work a little harder around yeonjun. you’ve seen how her eyes twinkled at him and there was no way she was going to make a fool of herself around him. yeonjun was a good student despite his strong opposition towards you and your decisions, so you knew he’d do well.

on the other hand, there was jaemin. he… well… you were pretty sure all he wants to do is flirt with chaewon.

“let’s just keep everything as is and if you really want to present jaemin, maybe yeonjun could find a part for you to present as well,” you peeked over at yeonjun, hopefully he’ll get the hint.

“i mean, i don’t mind swapping with jaemin,” he smirked.

just when you thought you could like him a little bit, he decided to pull this.

“what?” your voice lowered and eyes sharpened at him.

“yeah, why not? i’m good at research and citing sources too,” yeonjun shrugged, “remember?”

you wanted to frown. he was teasing you, maybe getting back at you for asking for his sources.

“i wouldn’t say you were good at it,” you snapped back.

“well, you agreed that jaemin was good at presenting,” he added.

“cool, then yeonjun and y/n will work on the paper together. i’ll present with chaewon,” jaemin clapped his hands together, “it’s settled. i have another class so chaewon, i’ll text you.”

you knew he was running off before you could change it all back. chaewon was already huffing and puffing but she didn’t want to say too much in front of yeonjun. though, you were sure you were going to get a text from her begging you to switch with you so she could write the paper with yeonjun later.

“fine. mark, i’ll text you later so we can meet up sometime this week,” you said.

“cool,” he nodded at you before heading out.

“aw, what about me?” yeonjun forged hurt when asking you.

“research first and text me when you’re done,” you sighed as you gathered all your things to head out.

you really did not like choi yeonjun.

#yeonjun #yeonjun x you #yeonjun angst #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fluff #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt smau #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun smau

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year ago

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Fend For Your Life

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: plane crash angst, everyone on board is dead but you, survivor's guilt, sewing yourself up painfully

Request by anon: Can I please request Jennifer Jareau x reader. Reader is sent on an important undercover mission, so when her helicopter 'crashes' in the middle of nowhere and she is stranded on an island for months on end. Jj (her wife) and the team are going out of their way to find her. (Once reader returns from the island, she isn't the same as before she left. Little things scare her, etc.she also leaves the bau)

Summary: You're going on a solo mission with two SWAT members to save victims you don't know are alive in a country you've never been to before while the rest of the team searches for the unsub. JJ, your wife, eagerly waits for your arrival back home... but that never comes.

Square Filled: rescue mission for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

This is the biggest mission you’ve ever been on while at the BAU. The unsub is kidnapping young women in Florida and taking them to a remote location somewhere in Cuba. Your mission is to go to Cuba and rescue the victims (however many that may be) and bring them back home. You’ll be going with two SWAT members while the rest of the BAU works to hunt the unsub down before he snatches another girl.

Your team profiled that the unsub is in Florida right now based on the airport traffic. You’d given the sketch to all airports in Florida, and one of them stated that someone like that came through not that long ago. It’ll take you an hour to get to Havana where you believe the unsub is holding his victims, and you’re only going on a rescue mission so you don’t need other agents with you. Plus, you’d have two SWAT members with you, so you’ll be okay.

“Someone should go with you,” JJ says as you prepare for the flight.

“Baby, you know we need everyone on the ground here. This unsub is smart. The fewer agents we have trying to get him, he could get away. I’ll be fine.”

JJ bites her lower lip in concern, and you prepare to walk over to her. You reach up and remove her lip from between her teeth. She sighs heavily and looks you in the eyes.

“You know I worry.”

“JJ, my love, I will be okay. I’ll return home with however many hostages in no time. The flight is only an hour.” You pull your wife in for a kiss that will ease her concerns. She always feels better after one of your kisses. “Be strong. I will be okay.”

“Please be careful,” she whispers.

“I always am.”

She and Hotch escorts you to the plane that’s waiting for you where the pilot and the two SWAT members are.

“Remember, get the hostages and leave. We don’t know if this unsub has partners or not. We don’t know what’s happening over there.”

“Hotch, you’re gonna scare my wife,” you chuckle. “I will be fine. Just focus on getting the unsub. He’s here somewhere. I have faith in you.”

“Good luck,” Hotch nods and leaves you and JJ alone.

“Promise me we’re gonna take this weekend off and get a hotel or something.”

“I promise. You can pick whatever place you want. I gotta go. I love you.”

“I love you.”

You kiss her quickly and get on the plane. She waits until the door is closed before returning to Hotch who is in the car. As you said, the flight only takes an hour, and there is no issue with getting there. The Havana Police meet you at the airport and guide you to the location where they suspect the unsub has taken his victims. The run-down warehouse is located in a remote part of town where the only people that come here is to buy fish and make illegal deals for a multitude of things.

You’re the lead agent on this team so you’re responsible for what happens to every single person with you. The Havana Police wait outside while the two SWAT members go in first. They secure the room before allowing you inside, and you hold your gun out in front of you protectively. This place is big so you have to sweep it from left to right and not miss a single room.

There isn’t much artificial light that helps, so you have to rely on the natural light that seeps in through the high windows and cracks from the doors. This place is covered from head to toe with dust since this place hasn’t been used in a while. It used to be a booming warehouse that shipped and stocked high-grade fishing equipment for big ships, but ever since the company bought a bigger place closer to where the ports are, this place got shut down.

The first two rooms are used for storage that is too small to hold victims, and the next two are bone-dry with no furniture or anything inside. There are high shelves with equipment on them lining the middle of the big warehouse that you move through while keeping your ears on alert. Any little noise or movement will have you and the two SWAT members ready to attack.

You reach one of the back rooms that is locked which is weird since no one uses this warehouse anymore. The Havana Police say they’re in the process of emptying this place out but haven’t gotten time to remove everything yet.

“Can you get this open?” you whisper to the SWAT member who has a background in opening locks.

“Easy,” he whispers back.

You and the other SWAT member watch his back while he gets on his knees and works to unlock the door. It takes him only a minute which according to him, that’s his record. The same man grabs the doorknob and waits for your cue before opening it. You burst inside with your gun drawn just in case there is anyone inside that wants to attack you.

Instead of the unsub or a potential partner, there is a young woman in the middle of the room tied to a concrete pole. There are two other women lying on the ground but based on the smell they’re emitting, they’re dead and have been dead for a while. Still, you walk over to them and check for a pulse even though you know it’s pointless. Next, you move to the woman in the middle of the room and use your knife to cut her loose.

“Please help me,” she cries.

“My name is Agent Y/N with the FBI. You’re going to be okay. Your name is Elizabeth, right?”

“Yeah. He killed them,” she sobs. “He just let them die.”

“Okay, come on. Let’s get you home. Are you okay?” She nods, and you help her to her feet and bring her outside where the Havana Police are. “There are two more girls inside who are dead. I need to get her back to the States. My team will coordinate with you in bringing the other two back home so their families can claim them.”

“Of course,” the lead detective says.

To not disturb the plane’s navigation system, you wait until you’re in the air to call Hotch. The two SWAT members are relaxing, Elizabeth is trying to get some sleep, and you’re by yourself in the back. Everyone is waiting in the briefing room for you to call. They caught the unsub when he was trying to get to the harbor with another victim, so all they’re waiting for is for you to return.

“Go ahead, Y/N. You’re on speakerphone with everyone in the room,” Hotch says.

“I got the hostage, Elizabeth. The other two women were dead when I arrived. I told the detective that you’d coordinate with them to bring them home. I would have stayed, but Elizabeth needs a hospital.”

“I understand. We got the unsub. He’s in interrogation right now.”

“I got a hold of Elizabeth’s family. They should be on their way now,” JJ says. “By the time you get back, they’ll be here.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured. Don’t worry, JJ, I will make sure--”

Just like that, the line goes dead.

“Y/N? Are you there?” There is no answer. “What the hell happened?”

“Garcia, can you trace the call?”

Penelope gets on her laptop and tries to pinpoint your location but is unable to. It’s like the signal got lost in the middle of the ocean.

“Sir, I can’t find it.”

“What do you mean you can’t find it?” JJ panics.

“It means she’s in the middle of the ocean and there are no cell towers out there. I can’t pinpoint the location.”

“What the hell happened to her?”

What the hell did happen to you? You have to blink several times to get your vision to focus which is when you finally see the situation for what it is. Fire is all around you like an unwanted guest in your home. You look down and see both SWAT members dead on the ground, you try to look up and see the pilot is impaled on a branch sticking out of the base of the tree, and you look to your left to see Elizabeth still in her seat. However, her head is backward because her neck is broken.

“Oh, God,” you gasp.

Your plane went down. Something went wrong and it crashed into some island in the middle of nowhere. Why are you the only one that’s alive? How the hell are you gonna get home now? You look down and see a big metal shard from the plane stuck in your leg. The only way you’re going to survive is if you get out of this. It’s gonna hurt like hell but you have to do what you have to do.

You’re not that high above ground so you feel confident you can survive the fall to the ground. You unbuckle your seatbelt and fall to the ground on your ass. Pain erupts from the impact site but it’s nothing compared to the pain in your leg. The plane is broken up into dozens of pieces across a vast expanse of the jungle, and the first aid kit is located in one of those pieces.

If you remove the shard now, you can bleed out so you have to make sure you have the first aid kit with you before you do anything. You can’t put any pressure on your leg or else the shard will be forced out by the pressure, so you crawl over to the area where the first aid kit should be. Luck is on your side because you find it easily and you open it to see what you’re working with.

To prevent yourself from bleeding out, you remove one of your shoestrings so you can make a tourniquet. You tighten the shoestring so tight to cut off your blood supply to the area before yanking the shard out. You scream out in pain and reach into the first aid kit with shaky hands. There are needles and stitches since you thought it was a good idea to include those in first aid kits. You’re not the best when it comes to sewing but you try your best to close your wound.

You scream out in pain when the needle makes contact with your skin.

“Garcia, did you find anything?” JJ asks.

Penelope has not stopped looking for you and Hotch is on the phone with the Coast Guard. They might be able to help if they’d seen a plane go crashing down--if that’s what happened.

“I’m trying to find something I can use that--Wait! I found something. Reports are flooding in from a cruise ship that claims it saw a plane go crashing down in flames.”

“Oh, my God,” JJ whispers and lets her tears fall.

“Okay, I’ll be in touch,” Hotch says and hangs up. “Find that plane, Garcia.”

It hurt like a bitch but you managed to sew your skin together to keep your wound closed. Your hands and leg are covered in your blood, but no new blood has seeped out of your wound. Before you wrap the wound in gauze, you need to clean the wound. There isn’t much when it comes to cleaning solutions but there is a small stream of water close to where the plane crashed.

If you couldn’t put weight on your leg before, you certainly can’t do it now. You scoot along the ground over to where the stream is with the gauze in hand. This is a fresh water stream so it doesn’t burn when you clean your leg and wound. Once done, you place the gauze around your leg to prevent bugs and dirt from getting into the wound and infecting it. If you don’t receive medical care soon, you’re scared you’re going to lose your leg.

Who knows when you’re going to get found or if the BAU even knows you’re gone? You were on the phone with them when the plane landed so they must know something happened to you. When are you going to get found? Are you going to get found? What will happen to your leg if you don’t get to a hospital?

The first thing you need to do is find shelter because you’ve already found water to drink, which you take some time to rehydrate. You don’t have the best survival skills when it comes to this kind of stuff, but you do know you need to shelter yourself from the hot sun and the cold nights. Parts of the plane will have to do since you’re not sure how you’re going to build something with a busted leg and have no knowledge of how to do this.

Fortunately, there is a section of the plane that is hollow enough for you to fit comfortably inside. The next thing you need to do is build a fire to keep you warm during the night. Your parents sent you to summer camps when you were younger that taught you how to survive in the wild if you ever needed to, but that was such a long time ago. You used to be an expert at making fires but you haven’t used this skill in such a long time.

You can either use your glasses to magnify the sun to start a fire, use two rocks to create a spark, or rub two pieces of wood together to create enough friction for a fire. Either way, you’re stuck trying to make the fire all day. As long as the sun is still up, you have hope that a fire can be started before nightfall.

The only supplies you have are three guns and a knife Derek gifted to you for Christmas last year. If you want to eat, you’ll have to kill for it before the animals kill you. Besides the fire crackling next to you and the sounds of animals, there are no sounds to give you comfort. There is no doubt that the animals smell your blood and the dead bodies. They will come for you sooner or later, and you pray it’s the latter.

Don’t fall asleep. You’re scared they’ll get you if you fall asleep.

Penelope comes into work extra early to try and find where the plane is. No one got any good sleep knowing you’re out there suffering and JJ refused to sleep without you next to her. She is exhausted when she comes to work but she won’t stop until you’re found.

“Pen, did you find anything?” she yawns and grabs some coffee.

“I might have.” Both she and JJ walk to the briefing room where everyone else is. “So, I found the general area where Y/N could have landed, but it’s not an exact location.”

“That’s good, right?” Spencer asks.

“No. The problem is that there are twenty islands within that vicinity, and I can’t narrow down the list. She’s in the Bahamas.”

For being in the Bahamas, this fucking sucks. You’re in some kind of jungle with no one around you for hundreds of miles. Whatever went wrong with the plane, you don’t think you were meant to be a survivor. It could have been a mechanical failure, the pilot could have done this on purpose, or someone could have shot you out of the sky. Without your team here, you’re not sure how you crash-landed.

Your leg isn’t doing any better because it’s throbbing, and even through the bandages you can see how infected it is. You’re trying to wash it out with water every so often to keep it clean but it’s hard, and the first aid kit isn’t helping much anymore. You’re starving since you haven't eaten anything since before you left Florida. You haven’t had the heart to kill anything because you hate killing live animals. JJ often makes fun of you for not being able to kill a fly so it’s heartbreaking knowing you’ll have to kill an animal for food.

How long will you be able to live like this before you succumb to the sweet relief of death?

The first two islands that the BAU searched were a bust. They started with the smallest ones in hopes you’ll be there but nothing came up. It took a couple of days per island to search and the longer you go unfound, the more JJ’s heart breaks.

Days turned to weeks that turned to months, and you’re not sure if you’re ever going to go home. You’re lying on the ground in silence except for the animals who have definitely gotten closer to you. They’re eating through the dead bodies and will eventually make their way to you. You don’t have enough bullets to protect yourself with, but maybe you can make it another week.

At least the stars look pretty.

It takes weeks to scour through the bigger islands with the hope of finding you alive getting smaller and smaller. Half of the team believes you’re dead while the other half are starting to think that. JJ flat-out refuses to believe you’re gone until she sees a body. The only reason they’re still looking for you and wasting resources is that you’d do the same for them if they were lost. You’re part of their family and they need to find you dead or alive at this point.

Eventually, they reach one of the biggest islands in that group of twenty. They only have a few more islands to go through so if they don’t find you within those, there’s no telling where you can be.

“Y/N!” JJ yells as she treks through the dense forest. The rest of the team is behind her looking and calling out for you as well. There is a helicopter above you to get some aerial views of the islands. They walk a mile further into the island when they see the first sign that you’re here: part of the plane. “Guys! Look! Y/N!!”

You’re lying on the ground in so much pain from your leg and from your stomach. You’ve eaten very little since the crash so you’ve lost a lot of weight which means you’re so tired. You don’t have any bullets anymore to protect yourself but what’s the point if you’re going to die here anyway? You close your eyes to get some sleep when you hear your name being faintly called.

Are you hallucinating? This isn’t the first time you thought you heard your wife calling for you. Maybe this has been a really bad dream and you’re at home in bed with JJ. Your leg isn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be but it’s very red and oozing pus even through the gauze.

“Y/N!”

“I’m here,” you mutter weakly. The team follows the plane parts to where the main crash is and where you are. JJ gasps and runs over to you to make sure you’re alive. “You found me.”

“I’m right here. Oh, my God! Guys! I found her!” JJ cries.

Derek and Emily join JJ’s side to help you while the rest checks on the others even though it’s pretty clear they’re dead.

“They’ve been dead for months,” you groan as they help you sit up. “I’m so happy to see you guys.”

Hotch takes out his phone to contact the people in the helicopters.

“We found her. We need a medic down here.”

“You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re gonna be okay,” JJ promises.

You’re taken to the States immediately with JJ and Hotch in the helicopter with you while the others stay behind to get the dead bodies back to their families and to figure out why the plane went down. You’re taken into surgery as soon as you get to the hospital which lasted more than twenty-four hours. They saved your leg but you’re going to have to endure physical therapy for months to get you back to how you were walking before, and you might not even get there.

Still, you’d take this over dying alone any day.

You’re severely malnourished so you’re hooked up to IVs to give you the nutrients you’ve lacked for months.

“JJ?” you whisper.

She is by the window just thinking when she hears your voice. She quickly turns and joins your side by the bed. She takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“What is it, baby?”

“I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Don’t. This is not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I tried for months to keep the animals off them, but I guess I wasn’t successful,” you cry. JJ wants to cry for you knowing what you must have gone through but she doesn’t let them fall. “I’m so hungry.”

“Do you want jello?”

“Yes, please,” you sniffle.

She leaves the room in search of some jello which gives you time to reflect on your future as a person and with the BAU. You’re not so sure you can continue this job because these last two months have changed you in ways you never thought you’d change, and you don’t think it’s for the better.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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royboyfanpage · 3 months ago

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HELLO BELOVED can u tell me abt how Wally and Roy's friendship/views of each other change after Wally finds out Roy is/was an addict (i think he finds out after Roy is clean???)

The few issues Ive seen abt this stuff were N52 so I feel like ur a better source

Alrightalrightalright

So first thing's first, I'm gonna address-

This, which I feel like is the most notable instance of Wally’s reaction to Roy’s heroin addiction (funnily enough, another mutual sent me a DM about these exact panels a few days ago- we’re on a streak with these). Now, it’s important to note that these panels were from Titans (2008), specifically #23, which was one of the comics leading up to Rise of Arsenal and, later, Roy teaming up with Deathstroke in this same series. At this point in time, Roy was already in the hospital and Lian was already dead- he just hadn’t woken up yet. Now, I don’t have any sources to back up that this is what DC was actually trying to do so I’m just talking from my observations, but this issue in particular very heavily focused on trying to alienate Roy- particularly, a teen Roy who didn’t have Lian yet. Almost all of the flashbacks, and even a few bits of dialogue outside of the flashbacks, are very derogatory towards Roy. See:

Yeah. Just in general, very not nice towards him. It tries to paint him as someone who doesn’t belong with the rest of the team, an outcast (which is just bullshit considering they literally made Roy a Justice League member a few years earlier for the exact opposite reason). A little side note- one of the flashbacks in the issue is a continuation to the ending of Teen Titans: Year 1 #5, a comic which was far more enjoyable than this one, and I wish we’d gotten an actual resolution to that little storyline inside of Year 1 instead of… whatever this is. Anyway, back to #23, at the end of the issue there is one little scene wherein we see Wally and Roy actually getting along in a flashback, and it’s when Lian’s introduced. Which, if you remember what’s just happened at that point in time and what’s going to happen in the Rise of Arsenal arc… yeah, you can see why they wanna push the narrative that Roy’s friends only liked him after Lian was born, particularly Wally.

So! Lets’s rewind back to the 60s and see Roy and Wally’s relationship pre-retcon, both pre and post Snowbirds.

Roy and Wally’s first interactions in the original Teen Titans series were generally pretty positive! Particularly when Roy was a “guest star” instead of an official member, Wally expressed a lot of respect for him and genuinely enjoyed working with him

The main problem with their relationship came from, as most problems do, a love triangle. In all honesty, the Roy Donna Wally love triangle is one of my least favourite Titans things- it’s just kinda unnecessary. However, at least in most instances, in the original Teen Titans run this triangle wasn’t particularly aggressive- in fact, the most aggressive Roy ever got over Donna was actually with Hawk, not Wally. Titans (2008) definitely played it up a lot more than it ever was previously, especially on Wally’s end. But the love triangle was definitely more of a Big Issue between them than Roy’s addiction- when Roy returns to the Titans post-Snowbirds, Wally’s concerns have nothing to do with his addiction but more on “0h great, Roy’s back so I don’t get a shot with Donna”

Generally speaking, Wally and Roy do have a pretty close relationship most of the time, especially when they reach adulthood. The only instance that comes to mind immediately where Wally talks about Roy’s drug addiction prior to pre-Rise era is in Teen Titans (1996) #13, and even that is not particularly negative and also not spoken aloud (though there may be more I haven’t considered)

And even in the Gargoyle issues of Titans 1999 where tensions are at an all time high, Wally’s the Titan Roy has the least significant issues with- going just off of memory the only real “conflict” between them was Wally’s single remark of “he’s not even an original member” and the very brief revival of the Roy-Donna-Wally love triangle for a panel.

I might be forgetting some things (to be perfectly honest, of all of Roy’s Fab Five relationships Wally is the one I think about the least), but generally speaking all the conflict between Roy and Wally surrounding Roy’s addiction was fabricated in Titans 2008. Why Wally? Not sure. But yeah, they’re buddies :)

#thank you for the ask beloved!#hibiscus ask #roy harper #speedy #arsenal #red arrow #wally west #the flash

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supernova2205 · 10 days ago

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Shadows and Screams: A 141 Halloween

Summary: The usually intense Task Force 141 team finds themselves in a night of unexpected scares and laughs as you lead them through a haunted maze set up for Halloween. With creepy sounds, hidden pranks, and even a mysterious figure lurking in the shadows, the night turns into a playful but eerie experience. Even the stoic Ghost can’t resist joining in on the fun, sharing a rare smile that makes the Halloween night one to remember.

Hiii guys I hope you enjoy this spooookyyy fic happy Halloween 👻👻

The barracks had never looked like this before. The usual utilitarian gray walls were transformed with string lights shaped like tiny skulls, flickering in ghostly patterns, and fake cobwebs draped in every corner. A plastic jack-o’-lantern sat on a table piled high with candy, and Halloween-themed music played softly from a speaker in the corner. It was strange seeing this shift from the usual intensity of Task Force 141’s headquarters to something more… festive.

Ghost, the usually stoic and somewhat terrifying lieutenant, was less than impressed. He tugged at his mask, which had a single, poorly taped paper pumpkin on one side.

“Remind me why I’m wearing this again?” Ghost grumbled as you handed him a small bag of candy corn.

“Because it’s Halloween!” you replied, giving him a playful nudge. “Just have some fun for once!”

Price, who had donned a pair of plastic vampire teeth that were too small for his mouth, chuckled. “Come on, Simon. It’s good for morale. Besides, who doesn’t love Halloween?”

Soap, however, was all in. He had managed to find an old zombie costume from the prop closet, complete with a mangled shirt and face paint. “It’s tradition! Halloween’s the one time a year we get to have a bit of fun and scare each other, yeah?”

Gaz snickered, adjusting his plastic devil horns. “Just make sure no one has any actual heart attacks. I don’t fancy having to do CPR tonight.”

You were tasked with organizing the night’s activities, and you had a devilish plan up your sleeve. Knowing Ghost was a bit skeptical about the whole celebration, you’d secretly arranged for a “haunted maze” in the training grounds. It wasn’t much—just a few dark corridors and some creepy sound effects. But you’d enlisted Soap and Gaz to hide and jump out at certain points.

As you led the team toward the “haunted maze,” Soap looked back with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “So, who’s gonna scream first, eh?”

Price smirked, glancing at Ghost. “My money’s on the big man here.”

Ghost shot him a glare that would’ve scared a ghost away. “Not a chance, Captain.”

You grinned, leading the way through the darkened hallways of the base, where dim lights and echoes created the perfect spooky atmosphere. “Alright, rules are simple: stick together and try not to freak out. And remember, it’s all in good fun.”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking to us or yourself?”

“Both!” you laughed, genuinely a little nervous but eager for the thrill. You’d crafted some decent scares, and even you weren’t sure you’d avoid jumping.

As you walked, a sudden, loud bang echoed from somewhere up ahead, making everyone freeze. Gaz chuckled nervously. “Nice try, but it’s gonna take more than that to—”

Out of nowhere, Soap, dressed like a particularly convincing zombie, leaped out, shrieking in a disturbingly high pitch. Gaz yelped, jumping back, and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing as he tried to regain his composure.

“Bloody hell, Soap!” Gaz clutched his chest, trying to laugh it off. “I swear you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.”

Price grinned, clearly entertained. Even Ghost, while keeping his usual stoic stance, seemed to relax a bit. However, you noticed his eyes darting to every shadow, just a little on edge.

You continued on, navigating through twists and turns, occasionally lit by flickering candles. As you reached a particularly dark corridor, a faint wailing sound started up—a recording you had set to play from hidden speakers. The wails grew louder and louder, filling the empty space, echoing in your ears. You felt a shiver run down your spine and noticed Soap, who had known about the maze, seemed genuinely creeped out.

Suddenly, a loud clanging came from behind, and all of you spun around to see a figure in the shadows—a strange, tall, cloaked figure with a scythe. None of you had planned for this. You glanced at your team, who all looked equally confused. Price whispered, “This isn’t part of the maze, is it?”

You shook your head, a little freaked out now. “No… it’s not.”

The figure stepped closer, and you could hear the slow, rhythmic thud of its boots against the ground. Your heart pounded as it moved closer, a low growl emanating from it. Without missing a beat, Ghost stepped forward, muttering, “Alright, who’s the idiot trying to scare us?”

When no answer came, Ghost whipped out his flashlight and shone it directly at the figure’s face. But there was… nothing. Just empty darkness where a face should have been.

“What in the world…” Gaz muttered, gripping his sidearm, ready for whatever was coming.

The figure suddenly lunged forward, but Ghost, true to his name, didn’t flinch. He held his ground, his voice steady. “Stand down,” he barked, but the figure kept moving.

Your breath caught as it reached out a skeletal hand toward you. But just as it was about to touch you, Soap tackled it to the ground, only to shout, “It’s fake! It’s just some guy in a suit!”

The figure groaned as Soap ripped off a mask to reveal a very embarrassed-looking rookie who had apparently been sent to join the prank. “Did I get you guys?” he asked, coughing and struggling under Soap’s grip.

Everyone burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking. Even Ghost let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head. “You got me, alright.”

Price pulled the rookie to his feet, clapping him on the back. “Well done, lad. Didn’t see that one coming.”

After that, the night continued with more laughs, scares, and candy, and you could see even Ghost had started to relax. At one point, he nudged you and handed you a small chocolate bar. “Thanks for putting this together,” he said quietly, his eyes softening just a bit behind his mask. “It’s… good to have a break sometimes.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you accepted the candy, grinning up at him. “Glad you’re finally getting into the spirit.”

By the end of the night, the haunted maze was forgotten, and the team gathered around a bonfire outside, sharing ghost stories and laughing together under the Halloween night sky. Ghost even removed his mask—just for a moment—to take a sip of hot chocolate, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the fire. You managed to catch a quick glimpse of his smirk before he pulled the mask back down, hiding his expression.

But even in the dark, you could tell he was smiling.

#halloween #task force 141 #cod 141 #tf 141 x you #ghost #soap mw2 #gaz cod #captain price #happy halloweeeeeeen

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wildemaven · 1 year ago

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fall apart, again : chapter one | joel miller

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 5k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Heavy on the Angst, post-outbreak world, no specific age mentioned but reader is close in age to Joel, minor character death, Ellie and her smart mouth, leaving the rest to read at your own risk to not spoil things, reader has a name but there are zero references to her appearance/she’s a blank slate character, 2nd POV, this is way AU so can be read as Game Joel or TV Joel

A/N: I’ve been so excited and nervous for this series. I don’t have a timeline for posting with this one, just going to take my time with it. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me wrack my brain over this series and for being my second set of eyes!! Please go check out her new Dieter Series!!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board

Spring was slowly transitioning into the next season.

Bright fragrant blooms wilting away into the dry soil from where they were born— a poetic reminder of the time.

21 Summers.

21 years of surviving.

Enduring.

Remembering— the normal life before the outbreak that you mourn daily.

A giant Bur Oak lends itself to you, branches providing ample shade as you sit resting against its sturdy trunk, the ground cool beneath where you sit.

The harsh sunlight filters through the tree’s canopy, a warm dapple light speckled all around you.

There’s a gentle flicker to your left that catches your attention, a single light-ray hits the small diamond on your dainty gold band where it sits heavy on your ring finger. You hold your hand up, remembering back to when you both had found it, he had immediately dropped to his knee— it wasn’t much, but it was perfect.

“I give you this ring as a reminder that we face this world together. We’re an unbreakable team.”

Even after all these years and the circumstances of the world around you, it’s a vow you stand by.

Branches above rustle and crack as a breeze sweeps through, the edges of the paper that is resting on a book in your lap fold over with each small gust, drawing your attention back to the words you’ve written.

…We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise. Have all the animals that would give a homestead atmosphere. A coup of chickens where we would gather eggs daily, a flock of sheep and goats for milk, and a small herd of cows— because what’s a farm without some cows I can give silly names to.

We’d raise a family in that farmhouse— lots of babies running around to wrangle. Breakfast of pancakes and fresh eggs, all of us together around our table, then tucking them all in at night after we’ve read them several stories.

We’d lay in each other’s arms as the crickets sing their chirping songs. A breeze washing over us through the open windows, the evening air lighter and crisp as the night fades and our worn bodies succumb to sleep.

There wouldn’t be heartache or sadness. No fighting or stressing over jobs. We’d be happy. We’d be together…

“Eve! Let’s get goin’— we only got a few more hours of light left. Should be at the cabin before sundown.” The thick Texas twang breaks through your thoughts.

Steve standing off in the distance, his blonde hair disheveled and wind blown as he looks back to where you’re tucked under the tree.

He’s handsome in his own right, not someone you would have ever found yourself with in different circumstances, but now you wouldn’t know how to function without him.

A chance meeting the day of the outbreak had brought the two of you together.

You were working as a traveling nurse at a hospital 4 hours from where you lived, instantly going into crisis mode as lead of the trauma response team, the ER quickly overwhelmed with patients seeking treatment for bites or flu-like symptoms— it was unlike anything you had ever seen before in all your years as a nurse.

Steve, a retired detective, was on vacation with his wife visiting a friend before the initial outbreak happened. The morning of, he’d gone on a duck hunting trip, while his wife went to breakfast with some girlfriends at a local Waffle House. He had brought her into your ER when he noticed she was acting strangely, similar to the symptoms the news was reporting as a widespread epidemic. Her outcome was not hopeful as you did your best to administer vials of antibiotics and fluids, the infection moving through her was beyond anything you could treat.

It was Steve who made the call to abandon his wife and the hospital and the realization hit fairly quickly that there was less you could actually do to help others.

Fleeing the area, seeking solace in one another as you both navigated through quarantine zones— searching for familiarity in your former hometown, only to be met with decimation and nothingness.

Steve’s way around a gun helped keep you safe when evading FEDRA, the nursing kit you put together came in handy when stitching him up between shootouts and fighting off the infected— this was now your new normal.

As the years progressed, you both found contentment with each other. Security gave way to a sense of comfort and revival, falling into a deeper connection beyond two people surviving a post outbreak apocalypse— if you were going to be in each other’s lives, you might as well be fully committed.

“Eve! Pack your shit up— let’s go!” He spits out a little harsher, no real malice behind his tone— he likes to stick to his schedule.

You don't respond, folding your letter carefully then tucking all of your items into your canvas pack. Standing to your full height, you give your legs a minute to let the blood reacquaint fully, your hands brushing the bits of dust and weeds from your pants.

You hear Steve continue his huffing, as you make your way closer to where he’s standing.

“I thought I told you to knock it off with those pointless letters!” He gruffs, hands secure at his hips and his head cocked to the side, hoping to catch your gaze.

Your letters. They had become a loose journal, your stream of thoughts you needed to get out so you were not plagued by the pain and anxiety that came with them whirling around your brain.

Letters to your past, letters to a new life that awaits you and sometimes to no one at all— you wrote about your travels, things you missed or longed for now, hope for the future.

They were too much to keep, pages and pages filled with your words and stories, some containing memories too painful to read or share, a weight you didn’t want to carry, so you scattered them throughout your travels. In the last 21 years, you’ve written hundreds of them, dropping them in abandoned mailboxes, or tucked away in the abandoned spaces you’d settled into in passing, as if to send them to whomever you were writing to— leaving a trail of your life across cities and states.

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me Eve— guess we don’t always get what we want?” You had asked him multiple times over the years to not call you Eve, that was your former life and you hated the reminder, but you know he doesn’t do it out of spite.

The gravel crunches under your boots as you walk past, not looking to argue with him in the heat of the sun.

Steve’s hand reaches out clasping around yours, halting your movements, his eyes fixed on you, furrowed brows as if he wants to say something.

“Hey— Ya know I love you, right?” He sighs, his fingers toying with the gold band on your ring finger.

You look to where your hands are joined, the twisting of the gold band a small gesture of his when things get tough or tense, you smile when you meet his gaze again.

“I know.” You do know, and you feel it too. “Come on, we’ve only got a few hours of light left.” He shakes his head, but gives you a smile at the way you throw his comment back at him.

It had been close to 2 hours of walking, nearly dark, by the time you both made it to the cabin, nestled among dozens of other abandoned cabins on the hillside of an old ski resort.

You imagine it was a popular spot in its prime, filled with families taking their kids on their first snow trips, friends racing each other down the slopes, non-skiers enjoying warm beverages in the lodge while everyone else enjoyed the snowy weather.

Now desolate and forgotten, a stop for raiders on the hunt for supplies and hostages or survivors seeking refuge in search of a town just north of here, Jackson.

Steve had managed to trade for a hand-held CB radio early on, he kept tabs on chatter that happened among FEDRA, staying one step ahead of their whereabouts. At some point he had stumbled upon private channels used by other survivors, he didn’t talk much about what they discussed with you, it was his realm of expertise and a small thing that was just his, so you didn’t push him to share more than what he was willing to.

It was a year ago he had connected with someone and heard about Jackson. There was an offer for a place for a fresh start, a community of other survivors, somewhere to feel safe and comfortable without fear of being attacked, placed in solitary confinement, killed— or infected. Steve decided it was where you both were meant to be, hashing out a plan and specific route on his tattered map, making sure to stay in constant contact with this person in Jackson as you both traveled.

Venturing further into the resort, you both settled on the lesser marred of the dilapidated cabins.

“I’m gonna check the perimeter, you go on inside— check each room first, I’ll be right in. But remember, if I’m not back in ten minutes, you don’t come looking for me— you wait until morning and you head over that mountain, under no circumstances do you leave that cabin before sunrise.” Steve instructed, his hands on your shoulders reassuring the doubt he can see written all over your face.

“Steve— W-what if, there’s something inside—“ Your voice is barely a whisper, nervousness creeping in as your hands grip onto Steve’s wrists that have moved to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing across the apples of your cheeks.

“We’ve done this a million times before, I know you can do it— I wouldn’t send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable, you’ll be fine. Just think, this is the last time we have to do this. Then it’s you and me, in Jackson, together and safe— ‘kay?” His direct eye contact really drives home the message— together and safe.

“Okay.”

“I love you, go be brave.” Romantic and encouraging as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you— be safe, please.”

“Always.” He shoots a wink with his mustached smile, a few slow steps backwards then turning to make his way up the backside of the cabin, pulling the butt of his rifle close to his chest, hunched and scanning every inch of the surrounding area.

The cabin would seem warm and inviting if the possibility of a Clicker behind the door wasn’t a high probability.

Armed with the knife Steve insisted you keep on you at all times, your refusal at his request for you to carry a gun, you make your way up the front steps.

Each move was slow and calculated, the wood beneath your boots wobbled and creaked the closer you got to the front door. The handle is cold to the touch as you twist it open, pushing the door with a little extra effort to unstick it from the doorframe.

It’s dark and musty, uninhabited by the living and anything beyond that at first glance. Dust and cobwebs cover every surface, pictures still mounted on the walls slightly hanging uneven. A floral couch with two side chairs still arranged in an inviting way, waiting to be enjoyed during a long conversation. The kitchen was small but large enough that it still would have been possible to whip up a hearty meal over the stove, then gather at the tiny table to enjoy the meal and dessert.

You’re grateful the floor plan is an open space, no immediate threat to you upon entering.

There’s only two doors, which you assume hide a bathroom and a bedroom.

The first door reveals nothing but a sink, toilet and shower-tub combo— you’re looking forward to a hot shower when you get to Jackson.

You stare at the closed remaining door, the handle of the knife twisting in your hand as you prepare yourself, not really feeling like you have it in you to take out anything that might be waiting for you on the other side.

A deep breath in, reaching for the the handle you give it a quick jiggle announcing your presence, twist and a quick swing open— a queen size bed draped in outdated sheets, bedside tables with lamps covered in a layer of dust, a dresser opposite the bed with a giant mirror hanging above it.

Empty.

Relief washing away the dread.

Stepping into the room, you toss your pack and knife onto the dresser before finding a seat at the end of the bed, the mattress shifting under you, the springs groan as you settle into a comfortable spot.

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you entered the house, noting it’s been a while since you had heard or seen anything from Steve, but knowing he likes to be thorough, you’re hoping he makes his way through the front door soon.

The moon has crept into the night sky, shining through the small bedroom window, illuminating the reflection staring back at you.

Sometimes you forget how long it’s been since you’ve seen what you really look like. While it’s you that you’re staring at in the mirror, you feel slightly unrecognizable to yourself— aged by 21 years in every sense, tired and worn down by the state of the world and lack of sleep.

Your fingers lightly trace over your skin, taking in every detail, rediscovering every angle of your appearance— the old characteristics blending into the new ones.

A yawn escapes you, remembering what Steve had said about not leaving, you decide to get yourself comfortable in bed and wait for him.

Kicking your boots off, you crawl up the length of the bed, plopping your head down onto the stack of lumpy pillows, your mind wandering as you run through all the scenarios as to why Steve hasn’t returned yet, debating whether you should go take a look outside or listen and wait for morning— scared of what you might find waiting for you.

Your eyelids begin a heavy blink, struggling to remain open and alert, your breathing evening out as your body relaxes into the mattress, sleep consuming your mind.

Warmth surrounds you, the bed dipping and creaking pulls you from your sleep, immediate panic bursts in your chest as your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred as you seek out the movement of a shadowy figure behind you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay— it’s just me.”

“Steve?!” Turning your body to lay facing him, your hands fisting his shirt, scanning his face for any sign of distress or discomfort. “What took you so long?”

“I’m fine.” Placing a hand over one of yours that’s settled on his chest. “Decided to wait a bit, just to be sure nothin’ was out there— I’m sorry.” His hand moves to the base of your neck, his forehead resting against yours.

“S’okay.”

“No— I’m sorry for callin’ your letters pointless earlier. I know how much they mean to you. I just—“ He releases a heavy sigh, voice quivering as he avoids eye contact with you.

“What— what’s the matter?” You sense there’s something Steve’s not telling you.

“Nothin’s the matter. I just worry about what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours— you shut down on me and I just wish you’d let me help you carry the burden.” His gaze moves back to yours. “Promise me, when we get to Jackson, you don’t let your thoughts weigh you down any longer— promise me you’ll let yourself be happy there.”

“I p-promise.” You say, brushing the blonde strands of hair off of his forehead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“Nah, I was pushin’ your buttons— I deserved it.” You both laugh at his response.

Steve leans into your space, his lips slotting over yours, it’s angled and slow, his grip on your neck still steady as the kiss begins to deepen. Throwing your leg over his hip, canting against the sturdiness of his thigh, seeking out some sort of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs.

But before things are about progress, Steve’s pulling away from your mouth, slowing the roll of your hips with his hand.

“We should get some sleep— we’ve got close to a 3, maybe 4 hour walk tomorrow, we need to get all the rest we can get.”

“Y-yeah, of course.” Your response is breathy, a slight pang in your chest at his soft rejection, questioning whether you had been too harsh towards him earlier in the day— but your body could use the rest.

Adjusting yourself, you turn away from Steve, his large arm wrapping around and pulling you closer to him. Your back now against his firm chest, each one of your tense muscles slowly relaxing into him and his warmth.

Thoughts of a new start in Jackson flood your mind as you drift off into a deep sleep. A chance at a better life, where Steve and you can settle into normalcy together. Retire from the constant fear and panic of daily survival out in the open. The taste of prosperity and the sense of peace, an almost tangible reality for the two of you.

Steve senses sleep has set in for you, the ease of your regulated breathing paired with your gentle snores. He nestles himself into the crook of your neck, his fingers instinctively migrate to your ring smoothing over the cool metal, his thick whiskers tickle lightly at your skin as he whispers reserved confessions into the balmy. A gentle kiss to your shoulder before allowing himself to fully breathe easy, deciding to keep a watchful eye throughout the night.

“You’ll be happier Genevieve, I promise.”

The sun is in its full glory once you both set out on the last stretch of your journey over the mountain.

Steve had been rather short with you all morning, you chalked it up to his tossing and turning all night, his eyes bloodshot, evident in lacking sleep— he had promised everything was fine, so you believed him.

“How much longer do you think we have?” Not really knowing what to talk about with the uneasiness that’s been going on all morning.

“I don’t know, Eve— they guy said it was about a 3 hour walk from the resort. We’ve been walking close to 2 and a half, so we’re probably close.”

“Please don’t call me—“

“Jesus Christ Genevieve! I’m fucking sorry! But you don’t make it easy for me sometimes— I feel like I’m always at a fucking arms length away from you even after 21 fucking years.” Anger shoots from his mouth like bullets, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, at least never towards you. “It’s a goddamn name! Gen, Eve, Genevieve— they’re all the fucking same!”

“I-I’m sorry.” Tears prick at your eyes, you try your best to not let them fall— you’ll save them for when you’re alone in the safety of your new home.

“Fuck! No, I’m sorry— shit! C’mere.”

Steve pulls you into him, his face hot against your cheek as he holds you close, the button down he’s wearing is drenched in sweat, there’s a slight tremble to the grip he has on you.

“Are you okay?” You pull back to get a better look at him, beads of sweat glisten across his forehead, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

“Yeah, just really fucking tired.”

*CLICK*

“Hands where we can see them! Slowly, no fast movements!” A woman’s voice echoes through the air.

Steve releases you from his arms, both of you slowly turning, arms raised up as you were told.

There’s 5 of them, all on horses with their guns drawn in your direction. The woman seems to be in charge of the group, her horse placed a few feet in front of the others.

“We don’t mean no harm, we’re just trying to get to the settlement just over this mountain. You must be Maria? I was told you might greet us before we got there.” Steve says, keeping his tone even as explains himself.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She asks, her expression still unreadable as she waits for Steve to respond.

“No— you don’t, but I was told you would bring us the rest of the way in.”

Maria takes a minute to decide whether she wants to believe Steve or not.

“Scan them.” Looking back at one of the men behind her, nodding to where Steve and you are still standing with your arms raised. “I don’t care who you talked to, you get scanned before you come in.”

The man grabs a device from his saddle pack, then makes his way towards you, the other 3 men’s guns still aimed, fingers hovering over their triggers.

“Lady’s first.” The man states, placing the device on your neck, there’s a small zap to your skin when the scan is administered.

“Green!” He shouts, holding the device up to show the green screen in Maria’s direction.

You breathe a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were fine.

Turning towards Steve, the man places the scanner on Steve’s neck, Steve’s eyes locking with yours as the man presses the designated button to conduct the virus scan.

The man steps back quickly, a flash of red catches your attention.

“RED!” He holds the device up.

The other men direct their aim to Steve, his head hanging low and no sign of resistance to finding out he’s infected.

“Steve! No— Tell them you’re not infected!” Insisting he speak up. “He’s not infected! Scan him again! Please!” You scream at the group, your voice straining as you plead with them to scan Steve again, convinced it was a bad read.

“Please!! Scan him—“

“Genevieve— it’s not wrong.” Steve says.

You turn to him, chest heaving and your throat burning from yelling, confused by what he’s saying.

“What? What do you mean it’s not wrong? You’re not infected Steve— you’re just tired, they need to scan you again!”

“I was bit.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth. Your brain takes a moment to register what he had said.

Bit.

Infected.

“No— no! No, no no!”

“Genevieve—“

“W-when?”

“Last night, there was a runner that came out of one of the other cabins—“

Steve’s confession hits you like a ton of bricks in slow motion. You hate it and don’t want to believe a single thing he’s saying, because the reality is that this is where it ends for him— for you.

The tears burn as they begin to stream down your face.

“You didn’t say anything though—“

“I needed to get you here— I needed you to be safe.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, throwing yourself at him, anchoring your arms around his neck.

“No! I can’t do this without you— I can’t lose you too!”

“Yes, you can. You’re the bravest person I’ve known in a long time. You’re going to get there and you’re going to meet new people and you will be able to help out because that’s what you love— you love helping people and I love that about you. This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?” His hands cup your face so he can look at you, his eyes filled with tears as well. “Do me a favor, write me one of your letters— I want to know everything.”

You nod, unable to speak, the lump in your throat growing as your remaining time together dwindles away.

“I love you, Genevieve.” His words muffled against your skin, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, too.” You breathe out, your eyes closed savoring his soft touch one last time.

“How long?” Maria asks Steve.

“Probably ‘nother hour left, give or take.”

“Alright Genevieve— you’re riding with me, hand your pack to one of my men. Andrew, you hang back with Steve— you know what to do.” Maria orders everyone.

Wiping your tears before placing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then turning to where Maria is waiting for you, handing your pack to one of her men. Maria leans down to grab onto your arm, as you hoist yourself up onto the backside of the horse.

“Let’s head back.” Maria says, pulling the reins up and to one side to signal the horse to turn around, a click of her tongue has the horse moving forward in the direction of the settlement.

You can’t bear to look back in Steve’s direction, not trusting yourself to not run back to him.

Leaving him and knowing his fate is like reliving the same pain you endured 21 years ago. The outbreak takes everything from you for a second time.

Your world shatters, crumbling as the horse carries you further and further from him.

*BANG*

The sound ricochets out over the valley, your heart sinks as a new wave of tears silently fall.

You don’t remember the entire ride to the settlement or how you ended up on the porch of a two story house.

Maria had mentioned putting you up in her brother-in-law's converted garage, a small studio bedroom where those new to the settlement would stay while their permanent residence were being cleaned and prepped. She said it wasn’t anything special and you’d have to use the main houses kitchen and bathroom, but you’d have your own space in a few days— so interacting with a few strangers was the least you could do for the hospitality.

You honestly didn’t care where she put you for the time being, the stables would have been enough, you just wanted to be alone.

Glancing over your shoulder you see others moving about freely, children running about in the open, a stark contrast between what you had been so used to.

There’s rows and rows of homes, a small town-like area, a community garden— this place was everything that Steve had described to you, he would have loved it.

The opening of the front door pulls you back to the front porch where you’re standing with Maria.

“We’ve got a newcomer, she’s going to stay here until we get a room ready down the street.” Maria explained to the young girl who is glaring at you.

“Why do you keep bringing them here? This isn’t a shelter— can’t she stay somewhere else?”

“No, she can’t. This is Ellie, her bark is worse than her bite— she’ll grow on you. Ellie, this is Genevieve let’s let her get comfortable and situated— she just lost whom I’m assuming was her husband, so please make her feel welcomed.” Maria coerses Ellie into letting you stay, but you don’t miss the eye rolling throw your way.

The home is spacious and inviting, you decide it’s far more comfortable than the stables would have been.

“Ellie, can you grab Genevieve a glass of water please.” It’s more of a demand than an ask. “Here Genevieve, have a seat here at the table. I’m sure Ellie can make you something to eat if you’re hungry too.”

“So now we’re a shelter and we have room service? Her legs don’t seem broken to me—.”

“Ellie, glass of water!”

The girl grunts something under her breath as she follows through with getting you water, you settle into a chair and try to not let the unwelcome feeling that’s been looming over you since you set foot in the house add to the pain that is still radiating through you.

You wipe a few tears you hadn’t realized had fallen, a new wave of emotions hitting you, another moment of realization of Steve not being here with you like you had both talked about.

“Is there anything else I can get you Genevieve?” Maria cautiously places a hand on your shoulder, you take it as her way of apologizing for your loss.

“Umm, just my bag would be great and a shower would be nice.” You sniffle, ready to lock yourself away for the day, not wanting to be forced to have unwanted conversations with a teenager who already hates your new presence.

“I’ll go grab your bag from the stables, then you can start getting settled.” She gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning for the front door. “Ellie, be nice.”

A glass of water is placed in front of you, a few cubes of ice float around the clear liquid. You don’t even remember the last time you had enjoyed an ice cold drink.

Ellie situates herself in the chair across from you, looking as if she wants to say something.

“So— your husband is dead?” 14 years old and a great conversationalist.

“No— y-yes.” Your chest aches at the mention of ‘your husband.’

“Well, that’s not confusing. So, did you watch him die?”

“Hmm?”

“Your husband, did you watch your husband die?” She asks again.

“N-no.”

“I’m all out of questions then.” She slinks back into her chair.

You stare at the ice, almost half the size it was when it was placed in front of you. Wishing you could slowly melt away, become the nothingness you feel like.

The front door swings open and closes with a gentle click, the clunking sound of boots makes the presence of whoever stepped into the house known.

“Hey kid, sorry I’m late. Tommy wanted to get drinks after our patrol.”

A deep husky voice permeates the room, its thick syrupy tone seeps into every little crevice of your memory, its familiarity prompting the goosebumps to form across your body.

“I didn’t know we were having guests— this a new friend of yours?” He asks, his foot step getting closer to where you're still seated at the table, your back turned to him.

“Fuck no! It’s one of Maria’s strays. Said she has to stay here until her room is available— which is bullshit if you ask me!” She spouts off, her annoyance very apparent.

“Ellie, manners!” He grits out.

You lift yourself from the chair, steadying your weak state on the table and chair as you turn in his direction.

Your heart nearly stops the moment your eyes land on him— a ruggedness to him, his soft brown eyes filled with a darkness that comes with loss and sorrow, his dark locks and beard sprinkled with tuffs of gray, an overall hardness about him that hides his true self.

“Joel?” Your eyes wide and filled with more tears, the name is barely a whisper as it falls into the air.

“Eve?” A name he never thought he would say again.

#fall apart again series #joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x ofc #Joel Miller x ofc!genevieve #the last of us #tlou #the last of us au #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes

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cellarspider · 25 days ago

Text

Qunlat 2/12: Canon, and its various disagreements

⭅ Previous =⦾ Index ⦾= Next ⭆

Before I can dig into the actual sound and structure of Qunlat, I have to first dig into the structure of Dragon Age itself, because… well, the sound and structure of Qunlat changes depending on when it was set down. Whatever version you like is totally up to you–I’ll be trying to document all of them, but also begin explaining how to curate the language to your desires.

I want to preface this: anybody who prefers what goes on here is totally valid. But I am going to get into some analysis of why, from a conlang hobbyist’s perspective, a fair chunk of later Qunlat doesn’t feel like the same language we’ve previously been presented, and why certain sources should be treated as less authoritative than others.

And I will begin with a comparison: Star Wars. No, no, come back, I promise this won’t hurt!

During the reign of George Lucas, Star Wars continuity and fandom explicitly drew distinctions between levels and eras of canon: The movies were the prime source that could ignore all others. Tie-ins could expand the setting, but due to less centralized direction, they could vary wildly in depiction of everything, including “facts” of the setting. How does the Force work? Are microbes involved? Any cosmic beings or liminal spaces? Do any of them seem suspiciously influenced by Dave Filoni’s wolf obsession? Even the movies don’t always agree!

Fans and official lorekeepers also recognized the difference between when something was made, or which publisher was involved: Tie-ins from the early years were less likely to be compatible with those from later times, and different production houses had their own internal continuities. Did Han Solo fight alongside a giant carnivorous rabbit in a red onesie? Well, he didn’t mention that when interviewed by a monk from a religious order where the enlightened masters become mecha-spiders! Did an omnipotent, insane entity once kill Princess Leia by turning her heart into a diamond? Maybe we could find out, if someone decompiled the memory banks of her assassin droid double who was sent to marry and shoot a three-eyed fake heir to Palpatine’s throne! Did a trans-dimensional scaly jello cube once run a faith healing scam? It’s been banished from the continuity of most tie-ins since then, but it was published under the official Star Wars license! I haven’t made up even one of these!

Equally, fans might also freely decide to ignore earlier or later aspects of canon, because they had their own sandbox they liked to play in. Even parts of generally beloved stories may be generally ignored (hello, Luuke). And all that was common long before you even get to the Disney takeover, when much of the creative direction changed.

Dragon Age, as a fifteen year old franchise (ow, my bones) that has attempted to be aggressively multimedia and has not maintained a single, unified creative team, is prone to these same eccentricities and inconsistencies. Sometimes things happen for no serious reason whatsoever. Remember when baby Superman landed in Ferelden? I remember that. Doctor Seuss is a dwarven Paragon, by the way.

These are meant to be jokes in the games, sure, but the rules around magic and lyrium change with every game, and on the subject of languages, we also don't have a consistent writing system for the Common Tongue.

Throughout the series, early material conflicts with later, tie-ins conflict with games, individual games may be internally inconsistent, and a sole truth fundamentally does not exist for the canon.

This is particularly true for ancillary material, which Qunlat can be counted as. It’s a constructed language that isn’t from the main setting. Even when lead writers have been involved in its depiction, the results have sometimes been completely incompatible with the rest of its appearances.

I am attempting to document this language in a comprehensible fashion. You can see how this might cause problems.

So I am going to try and draw some distinctions. This should be particularly useful for anyone trying to reconstruct things from the wiki’s dictionary and phrasebook, which does cite sources, and includes everything, regardless of linguistic and stylistic incompatibility.

Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age II have a relatively high level of internal consistency in their spoken Qunlat. Things Sten says seem mutually intelligible with what we hear from the Arishok. There are exceptions–a couple rogue words in DAO and Warden’s Keep that indicate some level of uncertainty about the overall shape of the language, and Mark of the Assassin has a few eccentricities, but is largely in line with the two. A large portion of our dialog in DA2 and its DLC has never had a translation provided, but the sound of the language remains consistent. Mary Kirby (formerly of BioWare) was Sten’s writer for DAO, so we can guess that she was the primary source for these games.

Grammar-wise, more complexity might exist in some of the Arishok’s untranslated lines, but my best attempts to analyze them indicate they may be on shaky ground, detail-wise. Words slide around each other in strange ways, though they all sound like the same language.

The one major exception to that unity: DA2’s Qunari armor and weapons. These include some extremely strange additions that are not reflected in the spoken language. New sounds and letters enter the language that were never there before. I’d hazard a guess that either a different writer got involved with naming these, and/or the documentation available was not well-organized or transmitted. When finally defined for certain in World of Thedas Vol. 2 some years later, many of the equipment terms have mistaken etymologies.

Dragon Age: Inquisition continues that trend. There’s more words that have spurious etymologies. Some words have inconsistent spellings. Some sentences accidentally a word. The wiki’s does not help matters, with some statements from the Iron Bull taken as definitions when it doesn’t seem like they’re supposed to be.

During this period, Mary Kirby and Trick Weekes started answering questions about the language on twitter. For our Qunari-focused purposes, Kirby started out the series as Sten’s writer, and Weekes was Iron Bull’s writer, and so we may see differences in authorship between the two. Kirby answers most of the questions about vocabulary, and the answers mostly fall in line with previous Qunlat.

The same goes for Tresspasser. While its new Qunlat vocabulary is unfortunately minimal, the contents largely have the same linguistic feel as the rest of the language, grammar is consistent, and new words make etymological sense. A convert practices their conjugation tables, much to my delight. The language does strain against the relatively limited grammar it contains, though, with Viddasala’s lines in particular feeling like they’re missing connective tissue.

Secondary material far less consistent. Web series and comics like Redemption, Those Who Speak, and the currently-releasing Vows and Vengeance podcast* all are produced with less direct oversight or restrictions of medium and resource availability, tend to be highly divergent in general, and that definitely includes their Qunlat. Tie-in books like Tevinter Nights are only slightly more consistent, but are still of variable quality.

And then there is The World of Thedas.

That's not great.

While the two volumes of WoT scratch the itch for Delicious Lore, Volume 2’s unique additions to Qunlat are contain some glaring incompatibilities with the rest of the series. Volume 1 has a bit of in-universe disclaimer near the start of it, that all sources are biased and imperfect. Volume 2 includes errata from the previous book, including a walking back of ideas like “The Antaam stages duels to the death for promotions”, replaced with “actually the Orlesians made that up during the Exalted Marches to scare their kids”. So, we can see that real-world creative decisions were changed between the two books. That’s understandable.

Unfortunately for our purposes, Volume 2 also includes the largest corpus of grammatically complex Qunlat sentences in the entire series, and they appear to be deliberately sloppy.

I now have to introduce you to my nemesis, Philliam, a Bard!.

This poxy little creature is a character credited in The World of Thedas, Volume 2 as transcribing and “loosely translating” phrases spoken by Qunari soldiers at rest. These sentences are of variable quality, featuring misspellings of pre-existing words, absolutely bizarre sentence structure, and words that previous Qunlat simply can’t support. It’s like reading English and then suddenly you appear to have stumbled into a rogue word in Sḵwx̱wú7mesh.

I focus (saltily) on this for two reasons: First, Philliam, a Bard! is treated explicitly as an unreliable source. I have seen some folks reference his vocabulary in other contexts before, and it shows up in several dictionaries, including taking cues from his pronunciation guide. Do not trust anything found exclusively in his excerpts to fit with the rest of the language: he is intended to be a foreigner who may not fully understand the language, and may, in fact, just be making shit up.

Second, and I may be reaching a little here: as a constructed language hobbyist, I know how things go sometimes. You’ve come up with some sentences you want to translate into your conlang, but you realize you’re lacking vocabulary for it, or worse, you don’t have enough grammatical complexity to even structure the concepts you want to convey. …But you’re really tired, or only have a few minutes to poke at it, so you just fling down some new words and grammar that conceivably look like a translation, though you’re not quite sure how. This is especially common for new conlangers.

These sentences feel like that kind of thing was going on there. I’ll get into the details of why much later, but for now: If something you like in Qunlat contradicts Philliam, a Bard!, don’t feel wedded to stuff from him. He is, both in and out of continuity, an unreliable source.

But if you like Philliam, a Bard!? Go for it! My grumbling is entirely immaterial, DAI and WoT2 add in a bunch of vocabulary that people may want to draw from. Hopefully this post has provided some pointers on how to tailor Qunlat to your own interests. For those who may be interested in further tweaking Qunlat, I’ll give advice later, when we dig into some changes I personally made while trying to expand the language.

The one piece of advice I’ll give now: Beware the wiki’s dictionary. It’s a heroic work to source as many words as they did, but I’ve noticed some typos in their Qunlat (ex. Aqaam written as “Aquaam”), some definitions include irrelevant and misleading information (maraas-lok is the name of a strong alcohol that literally means “no(thing)-thought(s)”, and does not seem to be a verb for “drink”. Bull is just drunk and trying to get you to drink.), some words are fully unsourced, some are missing (placenames especially), and the citations are not comprehensive and do not necessarily list the first time a word appears in canon.

So I have made my own dictionary. It’s mostly based off of theirs, and retains the wiki’s definitions for those who want those. But it also features an accounting of which words show up in which sources, as well as my own notes, which include further definitions based off of verifiable context, etymologies of compound words, corrections for wiki or canon errors, and my suffering through the works of Philliam, a Bard!. I’ve gone through all of DAO and DA2’s subtitles, and World of Thedas Volumes 1 and 2 to verify the vocabulary they include, and at some point I will probably do the same for DAI and Trespasser. Tie-ins are lower down the list, for the reasons I explained above.

Qunlat’s phonaesthetics will be covered this time, as this is what drew me in first, and laying them out will help readers create names or new words that sound Qunlat.

⭅ Previous =⦾ Index ⦾= Next ⭆

Footnotes

* I haven’t been following Vows and Vengeance, but the only Qunlat in the transcripts is all stuff we’ve heard before, the rest is simply glossed over as stage directions of people chanting or yelling a “FOREIGN TONGUE”. Someone in the YouTube comments identified Taash's chanting as the prayer we hear Sten recite in Origins, so that's almost all of it accounted for. I may listen and see if I can make any sense of the rest of it later, but I have a questionable ear for transcribing languages, so if it's new content, my results may not be 100% accurate.

#dragon age #qunari #qunlat #conlangs

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writingsfromhome · 11 months ago

Text

Golf on TV

Ask: fluffy piece based on Lennon Stella’s Golf on TV (sorry I deleted the original ask but this song is so fluff so ty!)

—————————

I wake up to the bed made, for a second I don’t know where I am. My sleep-addled brain tries to catch up to the present moment. The present morning.

I was in bed, in my new home. It was Saturday morning.

Last night had been a late one. I was the co-lead in an intense case at work and the plaintiff’s team had been smoking our ass in court. Last night we’d gotten boxes of newly admitted evidence and every single person stayed well into the AM to sort it out. The other side liked to play dirty and this is how they did it. Little did they know we’d found our smoking gun. Never underestimate Stewart, Stone, and Nowak.

But I’d gotten home and passed out on the couch. Well, I’d gotten home to Harry passed out on the couch with the TV on. He must have tried staying up for me even though I had told him to go home. But he stayed.

I remember the tension leaving my body just seeing him snuggled on the couch, his face a kaleidoscope of colours reflecting off from the TV. I’d met Harry less than a year ago, a meet cute moment where both of us had gone for the same taxi. He’d waved me in like a gentleman and I’d invited him to share it. Turns out we were only going a few blocks from each other.

He was from London, in San Francisco for work. The taxi ride had been 27 minutes in total but in that time it felt like we’d known each other for 27 years.

As soon as I saw him on the couch, I’d dropped my jacket there, and gotten in beside him. He’d barely stirred, and I passed out pretty quickly thereafter.

I sit up and the sham that was draped over me falls over the side of the bed. I check my watch, still on my wrist. It was past 7. A solid 4.5 hours—that was a restful night for me ever since I took this case on.

Harry must have carried me to bed, I realize. And I’d been dead to the world while he did.

I never expected to see him again after that taxi ride. Until a few weeks later, he was waiting for me in the courthouse lobby. He’d looked me up, saw I had a case that morning, and waited. It was his last week in San Francisco and he wanted to take me on a date. He hadn’t stopped thinking about me, he’d said. I hadn’t either.

I’d dated plenty before him, had several boyfriends, even a situationship. Harry was the first guy I ever felt relaxed around. From that first date he made sure I felt cared for, that I was happy—he was unafraid to put me first. Even when he had to go back to London and we were long distance for three and a half months, we were always talking.

I’d felt unwanted before. Those were the days I chased after boys that only liked me for doing the chasing. Never did they actually want me. Because when they got me, they’d leave and keep me chasing them forever. Harry had never once been shy about the fact that he wanted me. That he chose me over everything.

We were always running towards each other. Never after each other.

I blink away the sleepiness and notice Harry had put me in a tshirt. It was the little things.

That’s when I hear the voices coming from downstairs. Harry…and my mom.

It was time to get up.

“Good morning princess,” my mom spots me first. I looked bad this morning—even though Harry had attempted to take my makeup off whenever he’d taken me to bed, and replaced my slacks for shorts, I still had craters for eye bags and a tangled bedhead, and dehydrated and inflamed skin from sleeping with makeup. But mom never stopped calling me princess.

“Harry and I were just making pancakes,” she points to the griddle behind her. God, mom loved Harry. It was weird because she’d only ever met 2 of my boyfriends since I started dating as a teen. She hated both of them and was never shy about it. All the others she’d heard about over the phone or a late night snack at her house back when she lived close to where I worked. She hated them all equally. “We’re worried you’re not eating enough.”

I catch eyes with Harry, it was a constant argument with us. But it was hard to eat with a regular appetite when I was so close to the end of big cases. He knew that. He used my mom as a shield to push his own agenda, they worked as a team like that.

But it never made me mad. It was more caring than any ex had ever been.

“Pancakes are your favourite,” Harry says while towel-drying his hands. He’d been ‘washing up’, as he would say with his accent.

“They are,” I say as he walks around the island to me and kisses my cheek. He was always weirdly chaste around my mom, nothing like his behaviour late nights in bed.

Mom grins at me from behind him. She was obsessed.

So was I though.

“Let’s eat!” Mom says. “C’mon, we gotta eat before they get cold. Y/N grab the fruit behind you.”

“Sure mom,” I grab the bowl she prepared. Harry watches mom leave the kitchen with the pancakes and syrup. As soon as she’s out of sight he tugs me right against him.

“Y’know you don’t have to wait for her to leave to be my boyfriend?”

“Is that what I am?” He nuzzles my neck. “I thought I was just your boy-toy.”

“Nah,” I let him kiss me even though we’re both smiling. “My boy-toy’s like, 5 years younger than you are.”

“Yeah well, he’s not the one trying to take your makeup off at 5am while you talk about invoices and flash drives.”

“Oops,” I must have been talking about our smoking gun in my sleep. I couldn’t even rest unconscious. “Thank you for that. You could have left me on the couch.”

“Maybe if I was your boy-toy. But I’m your strong English boyfriend, I take you to bed.”

“And you do it so well,” I pat his arm condescendingly, stealing one more kiss before skirting away. I leave him chuckling in the kitchen and gathering the coffee for breakfast.

Before Harry, I didn’t realize love could be so selfless. That it didn’t have to hurt all the time. That one person could be enough.

“Y/N?” Mom asks. “What do you think?”

“Huh?” I’d gotten lost in thought and I see Harry smirk. I guess I was just staring at him.

“For your dad’s birthday coming up?!” She sighs. “I’ve been talking about his dinner—Harry said he has to go back to London the week before. I thought we could do a birthday dinner early so Harry can be there. You know your dad would like that.”

He would. My dad was just as keen on Harry, telling me that he was good for me—the way a man should be. Those were his exact words.

I remember I’d been confused at first when Harry and I started long-distance dating. He was more stable and consistent than relationships I’d had where we lived inches apart. Being long-distance, I’d only missed him physically when we were apart, he was still there for me in every other way.

When he officially transferred to his San Francisco office 5 months ago, he had surprised me. I remember opening my door to him standing there with flowers and macarons—my favourite dessert. I’d nearly smashed them all when I screamed and threw myself onto him.

After that moment I knew I was done with romanticizing dysfunction and compromising. His love was healthy and pure, and it was for me.

I tried my best to give that to him in return. Lately I’d been a bad girlfriend working long hours and barely seeing him. But I’d make it up to him. He didn’t know this but I’d booked the same flight to London with him, that’s why mom was trying to move dad’s birthday dinner up. So I’d be there too.

“Sounds great,” I say. “That way we can all make it.”

“Perfect I’ll make us a reservation.” Mom picks up her phone and begins typing on it with one finger, one key at a time. She tsks, “Oh why is it doing this now.”

“Here Mrs. Y/l/n,” Harry holds his hand out. “What are you trying to do.”

“This new update has been driving me crazy,” she hand her phone to Harry. He glances at me and we bite back a smile. Mom was notorious for being Bad at Technology. But Harry was always patient and tried teaching her.

“The search bar’s on the bottom now,” Harry shows her. “That’s where you type it in.”

“It was fine at the top why do they always have to move it around, gah I’ll just do this on a computer.”

“Yeah no rush mom,” I say.

“Well I’ll clear the table now. I need to get going soon I have a squash game at half eight.”

“Yeah I need be in by then.” Court opened at 9:30 today and I had to be there a half hour early to submit what we had.

“You two stay here,” mom begins piling plates. She’s surprisingly strong when she snatches the mug Harry’s trying to take away himself. “Let me clean up. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thanks for the breakfast mom!” I shout as she heads away. Harry echoes a thank you.

“Don’t thank me,” I hear her mumble as she walks away.

Me and Harry are left grinning at each other. He holds his hand out on the table and I clasp his.

“Your mum’s sweet.”

“My mum,” I tease him. I keep his hand held as I go around the table to his seat. He tugs me down onto his lap. “Did you actually call your mom mummy as a kid?”

“Did you call your mum mommy?” Harry asks in a decent American accent.

“Maybe,” I smile.

“Maybe.” He replies.

“I’ll just ask your mum when I meet her someday.”

“She really does want to meet you.” He says seriously. “She thinks I’m deliberately keeping you away.”

“Maybe you are, so she can’t answer all the burning questions I have about you.”

“I can just imagine you and her teaming up against me. My sister will join in too.”

I’d met his sister a few months back when she visited. We hit it on immediately just like Harry and I had. It was a bit of a relief.

“I can’t wait to swap stories over breakfast with your mom.”

“Oh you’d love her breakfast,” Harry smiles fondly. I feel a twinge then, sometimes I wondered if he ever got homesick. Especially when he talked about memories from home. “She does the best English breakfast. You’d have to try black pudding though.”

I crinkle my nose, “Isn’t that the one with the blood?”

“Mmmm it sure is,” he grips my hips and a shiver shoots up my spine.

“Gross! Why would anyone eat that? Or your-what’s that other pudding thing? The one you tried making last winter that’s all puffy-“

“Yorkshire.” He smiles.

“You literally poured hot oil on your mixture. It’s clogging my pores just thinking about it.”

“That’s it. You’re coming to London before the year is over and you’re going to be begging for more when you have a proper roast. What I made at home was a pathetic attempt.”

“Mmm I don’t get it.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “I just don’t get English food. It’s like people who wear crocs, or golf on TV, I don’t get it.”

“You just descibed,” Harry tucks my hair behind my ear, “the perfect date. We’re sorted for the weekend.”

I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I love you.” I kiss him. He pulls me back to him when I part.

“I love you.”

“I really do need a shower before I head in though,” I remind him.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” he says low enough so my mom can’t hear.

“If you’re brave enough with mom still here.” I tease.

“Okay hon,” she pops out of nowhere. “I’m heading out. Good luck with court today.”

“Thanks mom.” I get up and give her a big squeeze. “I appreciate you dropping by.”

“Of course. And I’ll drop dinner by tonight I saw the state of your fridge, you should clean that thing out y/n.”

“Yess mom,” I roll my eyes. Harry snickers behind me. Mom should see his fridge, it was half beer cans and takeout containers.

While mom tells Harry about the dinner she would drop by for us I get a headstart on my shower. It was already quarter to 8 and I couldn’t waste any more time.

Harry joins me shortly after, he lowers my hands when he gets in and washes my hair slowly with care. I nearly pass out in the shower with how good his fingers feel on my scalp.

“Thank you,” I turn to him after I wash it out.

“Don’t mention it love,” he kisses my temple.

“Harry,” I suddenly feel choked up. I think his scalp massage had unblocked some chakra stuff because I’m suddenly overwhelmed with feeling.

“What?” He tilts my face up.

“I’m just…I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Nonsense.” He swipes my tear away even though the stream of water makes it all the same.

“No I…I never thought I’d meet someone like you. I used to think love was hurting. It doesn’t make sense anymore-“

“Like golf on TV.”

“Yeah,” I laugh and it breaks up the knot in my throat. “Yeah like golf on TV. Now being in love feels like soccer-“

“Football.”

“Soccer,” I correct him. He grins. “It makes sense to me.”

“If you didn’t have work in 30 minutes,” Harry pulls me into him and crushes me against him. It feels good, like being held together. “You’d be face down in bed in the next 10 seconds.”

“Where’s this Harry when my mom’s around.” I tease.

“This Harry’s just for you.” He says just as he turns the shower off. I draw away as he grabs us some towels and I watch him with an unbreakable joy; if it was physical it could illuminate this tiled shower and bounce around the whole room.

He was the reason I got through all these gruelling hours for court. Because I knew I had someone waiting for me, that I could steal an hour away with, and it would leave me refuelled enough for another 24 hour work-day.

“Why are you smiling at me like that,” Harry asks as he hands me the towel. I shake my head and wrap it around me. He watches as I blow dry my hair, kissing my shoulder when I’m done.

“I’ll leave when you leave. Should I drop you off to the office?”

“Please?” I ask. “That’d give me an extra 5 minutes.”

His face lights up.

“No,” I say as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “No Harry I have to be early!”

“I only need 2,” he says as he launches me onto the bed. “Maybe 3.”

I pretend to be annoyed but I inch up in bed as he makes his way over and I can’t think of a better way to spend the extra 5 minutes. Or 10. Oops.

If the old me ever met the new me, she’d probably try to stop me. She didn’t know what love could look like. That it could be a gentle smile, a drive in to work, making sure you’re eating, helping your mom out with her phone, or washing your hair for you in the shower.

I’d tell her—the old me, that it was as simple as this: I wanted him, only him. And he wanted me too.

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enchantedflameandflower · 5 months ago

Text

Glimmer 30/? Billy Butcher!

HI!!! We are so close to Season 4! I'm going to start marking the chapters that have smut, for those looking for a quick smutty romance read so please keep an eye out for that! Please give my little story a chance! 🖤

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter (29)

Notes: Please give my story a chance! Thank you so much!

_____

Chapter 30

The click of Addison sliding the clip into place in her 9MM echoed throughout the empty back stairwell. She lifted her gaze to meet Billy’s, dark and fierce, dangerous, and they shared a knowing look. Billy nodded and she flicked off the safety and released a round into the chamber.

She met M.M.’s hard stare then, he had insisted on going with them, and then she nodded to the protective operative in swat gear with them rounding out Mallory’s team for this endeavor.

Taking the lead, Addison started silently up the concrete stairs, Billy right at her shoulder. “Remember our orders?” she tested him as they climbed their way to the fourth, then the fifth, floor.

“Fuck orders,” he growled in reply.

Addison stopped, turning to face him and she lifted a gloved hand to his chest.

“Mallory wants him alive, Butcher,” she whispered.

Flame raged in his eyes and he glanced away. He was wearing a black sweater and black jeans with his duster, and he looked ferocious. Even more so than usual. “Yeah well we don’t always get what we want, eh?”

Addison took a breath. “Let’s at least try.”

M.M. gave her a look from behind Billy’s shoulder that she knew well but she didn’t let it show on her face. Billy’s eyes were all dark brutality.

Addison blew out her breath and closed her eyes to focus, listening. It wasn’t a huge building but she was still surprised to find very few people, even after a couple sweeps for sound.

“Our guy’s at the top,” she murmured. “Far corner,” she jerked her head. “Two others…”

“Only two?” Billy asked.

Addison listened one more time then nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Well that’s a damn shame.”

Addison pursed her lips. He wanted blood, but she trusted him still. She nodded to Billy, shifting to let him lead.

They went through the door from the staircase onto the top floor silently and Addison paused to listen again.

Two guards, outside a room. Stillwell inside. She looked at Billy and he nodded back, understanding without having to say a word.

From around the corner, still out of sight, Addison took a breath and spoke. “Put your guns on the floor and go to the elevator quietly and you can just walk out of here, no harm no foul.”

She heard them both shift, but no reply came. “Count of 5, boys,” she continued out loud to them, then she exchanged glances with Billy and M.M.. Wordlessly they agreed to let Billy make the first move. When he stepped out, he was fired on immediately. He ducked back, unscathed and then took a step out again killing the guard that had shot at him with a single bullet before ducking back. It was only a second before the second guy tossed his gun to the ground with a thud. “Fuck this,” he mumbled and he stepped into the elevator without any hesitation. Addison pinned Billy with a hard stare.

As soon as he was gone they went to the door. Billy kicked it open.

“Come out here and show your face, ya cunt,” Billy growled from the behind the doorway.

At first there was no reply and Addison zoomed her senses in on him. He was in there all right, crouching in the corner of the room. His heart rate was elevated but seemed to be from more than just adrenaline. He was on something too. And he was fumbling with a gun…trying to load it but his hands were not steady.

Addison jerked her head toward the corner of the room he was in and mouthed “GO” at Billy.

The four of them streamed in, weapons drawn. Billy went in first, kicking the gun out of his hand, while everyone else trained their sights on his chest.

“I should kill you right there you fuckin’ cunt, right where you’re skulkin’,” Billy growled, towering over him.

“Billy -“ Addison murmured but she was interrupted.

“You,” Stillwell snarled back. “You killed my sister you fucking animal. I loved her, my sister. She was everything…”

“Shut up you stupid cunt. I don’t care about any of your fucked up Game of Thrones shit and for the record I ain’t the one that killed her.”

“Ha! That’s rich,” Stillwell said as he stood again. “You’re a monster…you’re not human -“

Billy whipped his gun across his face, splitting his cheek open and making him cry out as he fell to his hands.

Butcher’s dark eyes were wild with rage. “I didn’t kill her but I’m gonna kill you, as slowly as I can. I’ll break every bone in your body and let you bleed out -“

“Billy!” Addison reached out to touch his arm. “Stop. He can’t hurt me. He never could. He’s a weak piece of shit. He’s nothing. Let Mallory handle him.”

Billy managed to turn to look at Addison, but his eyes were unfocused, his breathing heavy. She could hear his heartbeat without trying, pounding wildly and so hard she thought it might burst through his ribs.

“Billy please…” she curled her fingers around his bicep, as much as she could, glancing at M.M. for a second - his gaze and his gun were thankfully trained on Stillwell where he was dripping blood on the carpet, trying to stay conscious.

“Billy, I’m right here. He’s nothing.”

Finally his eyes focused on hers, and his heart started to slow. He rubbed his hand brusquely over his jaw then nodded once. When he turned back to Stillwell, he slammed his heavy boot into his face, then kicked the gun across the room. “Secure him!” he barked at the operative with them.

As soon as he had his wrists cuffed, they took a step back but stayed on alert. The operative drug Stillwell to his feet, but he seemed barely able to stand so he looped his free arm under his shoulder, pulling him forward.

The next second happened in a blur. Stillwell somehow knocked the operative back and he cut through his plastic restraints. Then he lunged - not for Billy though, but for Addison again. Billy pulled his gun as soon as he saw him move but it was too late.

Stillwell had pulled a knife from somewhere - maybe this had actually been his plan all along - and as he lurched forward with a deranged cackle he buried the knife deep in Addison’s shoulder.

But Addison was a different person now.

Quick as a whip, she reached back and pulled the blade out and had it in her hand. She swung it through the air in a perfect arc, slicing it across his throat. Blood sprayed across the room, a few drops fell on her but most of the blood splattered all over the poor operative.

Both Butcher and M.M. turned to her, lifting their brows as Stillwell slumped dead to the ground.

Addison looked at them. “Oops,” she said, cold as stone. She sheathed the knife in a strap on her thigh after wiping it clean.

Billy watched her walk out the door. “Fucking diabolical.” He smiled.

*.*.*.*

As soon as it was all over, Billy took Addison back to the hotel. He was frantic over her injury but she had healed by the time they got there. Still he was clearly upset she had been hurt again because of him but she felt absolutely dead on her feet, exhaustion weighing her down like nothing she’d ever felt in her life.

When she finally woke late the next day, Billy was gone, but she didn’t think much of it. She knew he’d back in time for bed. So, even though all she really wanted was to eat something and go back to sleep, she made herself change and parked herself on the couch reaching for her cell.

Billy came in again just as she was finishing the last of three lengthy phone calls.

“Just have Claire go look,” she said tiredly into the phone. “I just don’t really care, and she knows what I want. Whatever she decides is fine.” She gave Billy a half smile and he sat in the chair across from her. “Yeah, okay. Talk to you later.” She hung up the phone, tossing it aside and took a breath, meeting Billy’s gaze.

“Who’s Claire?”

Addison sighed, pulling the throw blanket over her lap. “The assistant I hired to work with my financial adviser.”

“What? Just now?”

“No, I hired her after my father died. Just to…to help me deal with all of it.”

“Is it kind of strange I didn’t know you had an adviser and an assistant?”

“I’m sorry.” Addison shook her head. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Anything else?” He smiled at her, but she knew his question was serious too. And it was important to her, to share everything with him, there was nothing she wanted to keep from him, even if it was just difficult to think about those demons from the past.

“Well…” she looked out the window. “I also called my broker and my realtor this afternoon. I’m just going to get a new apartment. Not in my name this time. I can use my trust.”

“Sounds like a good idea, but it’s just that easy, eh? Just get a new place in the city?”

“Billy,” Addison swallowed. “I know you know I have money, but I - it’s a lot. It’s a lot of money. When he died, I didn’t want it, but his business manager - well as much of a piece of shit my father was, Mark is actually a good guy. So I donated a lot, but I invested the rest. And I’ve made a lot more since…”

“When you say a lot, how much are you really talkin’?”

“If we need to…I can take care of all of us. We can go anywhere you want, all of us, and not have to worry about a thing.”

Billy clasped his hands leaning forward in his chair. “Addi, we wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know…” She met his hazel eyes and the love she saw there refilled her heart again, just like it did every time, but she could not pretend she didn’t see the rest of his uncertainty and the darkness in him swirling there too.

“Anyway,” she couldn’t talk about it anymore right now. “I’ll get a new place. I want something with a few bedrooms this time in case…in case anyone needs….” She bit her lip. “Um, and security and safer and just you know, all of it. I was telling Mark to just have Claire scout out my options in person. And I’ll hire a company to go in and move everything from my old place. M.M. said he’d go to oversee it when I schedule.”

Billy nodded again and all she could think was that she would give anything to be able to read his mind but she couldn’t. She didn’t think the money bothered him at all, but he was holding something back.

They didn’t talk about it anymore though, she only felt exhausted again. Billy ordered room service and when she finished he reached for her hand and took her back to bed.

When she was settled under the blankets, he undressed then slid into bed with her, wrapping her up so tight in his arms. He felt so so good but she couldn’t help wonder - why was the way he was holding on so tight making her nervous.

But then he whispered, his breath warm, against the shell of her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

*.*.*.*

“Addison.”

That tone of voice, she’d come to know it so well.

When M.M. had completely lost all patience with her.

“You have a spectacular new apartment in a fancy fuckin’ high-rise in midtown and yet you’re sitting in this musty old basement with us motherfuckers across the river. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Frenchie spoke up from the kitchen brandishing his spatula at him.

Addison gave a heavy sigh, tilting her head to rest against the back of the couch. There was no point in not saying anything, they’d find out sooner rather than later anyway.

“I haven’t heard from Billy in three days and I have no idea where he is.”

_____

Please let me know what you think?!

Thank you, love you all! <3

Chapter 31

#the boys #karl urban #billy butcher #the boys fanfic #billy butcher fanfic #billy butcher fic #billy butcher smut #fluff #whump #the boys fanfiction #billy butcher x ofc #billy butcher fanfiction

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slytherheign · 2 years ago

Text

WORTH THE PAIN | tasm!peter parker

PART 4/5 OF WORTH: THE SERIES.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

SUMMARY: trusts are broken and tensions rise as everyone’s secrets start to reveal themselves.

WARNINGS: sexual assault, character death, manipulation, stalking, cursing, violence, and canon-typical injuries. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 17+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please remember that this is fan fiction and so some characters here will not act exactly the same way as their original material. this is my own twist and take of those characters.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

"Peter, please calm down,” Charlene pleaded with worry evident in her tone.

To say that the apartment was a mess would be an understatement.

Peter spent the last 15 minutes frantically trying to find his missing phone while Charlene tried to calm him down. Carlos merely stared at the mess, completely frozen. It was the first time the couple had seen Peter like this. And him crawling around the place with his spider-like abilities made the situation more intense.

“Oh, for the love of Go–PETER!” she bellowed. Peter stopped for a moment, glancing at her before going back to making a mess. Charlene had enough; she knew Peter was not in his right state of mind, and panicking would not help them make any progress on the case. She slightly nudged Carlos for help, but her partner was glued to his place, still shocked by the sudden change in Peter’s behavior.

And to think that all it took was a name for Peter to behave like this.

“Peter, please,” she tried once again. “We can’t draw conclusions immediately. I know you’re really worried about her right now, but we have to be smart about all of this.”

Carlos seemed to be back on track. “She’s right. Come on, Parker. Let’s talk about what you know first, and then we’ll worry about your phone later, okay?”

Peter stopped all at once, drawing a long, shaky sigh. They were right. He had to calm down. He turned around, facing the couple, only to see them staring at what was once their living room. Confused, he followed their line of vision only to see the chaotic result of his trance earlier.

Every single cabinet door was open, with the stuff inside disorganized. The center table, its centerpiece, and the books Charlene kept under it were also not spared. And the couch… well… the pillows were out of their pillowcases, which were now on the floor along with the cushions. To keep things short, the room was not looking good.

“Shit–sorry,” he apologized, feeling embarrassed. How could he let himself act like that?

“We’ll fix it later,” Charlene reassured him. Peter looked at her like she had grown a second head. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she smiled, a hint of sadness in her voice that did not go unnoticed by her husband. Carlos knew damn well why Charlene was so kind and understanding to Peter, and it made him feel a little sad for his wife. “So, what do you know?” she asked Peter.

“Y/N works at a marketing company, and she once mentioned her HR manager was named ‘Mitch.’ If I’m correct, Mitch is Mitchell Gargan, who just happens to work at Greta Marketing Co.”

“That makes sense. But again, he’s innocent until proven guilty. We need proof that it’s really him. Besides, there’s also his twin… Mac Gargan. MG could be him,” Carlos added.

“Where’s Mitch now?” Charlene asked.

“I don’t know,” Peter’s shoulders slumped. He was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t much help to them. He desperately wanted to help more, but even his knowledge was limited. And because the case was extremely personal to him, he wasn’t exactly the best person to lead the team. He was left with one last option now: to let Charlene and Carlos lead the entire thing.

“Then let’s start with who we know. Mac Gargan. You said he was hired by Jonah Jameson, right?” Carlos asked.

He nodded. “A private investigator hired to inspect me. But I have no idea where he is now.”

“That may be true,” Charlene started to think of another way, “but we know where Jameson is.”

“There we go. A starting point,” Carlos agreed. “Let’s start planning.”

DAYS LATER.

“I still have no idea how we got past the guards so fast,” Carlos mumbled. The three were walking down the hallways inside the Daily Bugle building.

“We’re in New York. People don’t really care about you as long as you look decent. Plus, the fake IDs helped a lot, too,” Charlene retorted. The married pair wore security guard outfits, their fake IDs stapled on the chest pockets.

“Remember the plan,” Peter reminded them. He was wearing his usual outfit with glasses and his camera. He didn’t need to wear a disguise. He had worked here before as a photographer, and some people still recognized him enough to let him in. He brought a fake ID, too—an edited and updated one to make it seem that the company decided to hire him again.

The plan was simple. Carlos would look out from the first floor, round the halls, and check the people who got in and out from the entrance. They had memorized Mac’s face before leaving the apartment, and Carlos was in charge of checking if that particular face entered or left the building. Charlene would accompany Peter to the 7th floor, but she would stay outside Jameson’s office, looking out for whoever or whatever hindered their plan. Lastly, Peter would enter Jameson’s office, ask him where Mac Gargan was, and leave once it was answered. He hoped there would not be a need for interrogation or threats but only a simple answer to their simple question.

However, Peter and the word ‘simple’ never had a good relationship. Jameson did not care that Peter was in the room. In fact, he mindlessly believed Peter’s story and didn’t even get suspicious that the company decided to hire him back. But as soon as Peter asked the question, Jameson was quick to reach towards the telephone and call security, only for Peter to grab it first and cut the wires with the scissors he found atop his desk.

“Do you know where Mac Gargan is?” he repeated.

Silence.

Jameson suddenly stood up and decided to run out of his office, yelling for security to get Peter out of the building. Unfortunately for him, Charlene was waiting on the other side and caught him before he could even get past the door. She pushed the man back inside the room; this time, she stayed inside the room and decided to join Peter in handling him.

Once Jameson knew that he had no chance against the tough woman, he stopped resisting and faced Peter—only to see that it was now the Spider-Man in front of him. Unbeknownst to them, when Charlene was struggling to get Jameson back inside the room, Peter took the opportunity to put the Spider-Man suit on. If being Peter was not intimidating enough for him to answer, then he was sure that being Spider-Man would do just the job. He wasn’t scared that Jameson knew his identity now because the information he had on Jameson relating to Scorpion would threaten him enough not to speak about his real identity to the media.

“You’re Spider-Ma—” Jameson could not believe that the answer to the mystery he had been trying to solve for years was right in front of him. It made sense to him now. The reason Peter had so many interesting shots of Spider-Man was because they were one.

“Look, I’m not gonna repeat this again,” Peter started slowly, “where the fuck is Mac Gargan?”

Jameson was scrambling through his mind on ideas how to escape the man in front of him. It was evident that he was feeling uneasy. It seemed that the mere thought of Spider-Man knowing that he had something to do with Scorpion was intimidating him.

“I have no idea who Mac Gargan is,” he tried to play dumb, but Peter had enough of his bullshit.

“C’mon, man,” he scoffed. “We all know that’s bullshit. Remember when you hired him to investigate me before?”

Silence.

“Alright. Let’s change the question, then. Where the fuck is Scorpion?” he was staring daggers at the man. If looks could kill, Jameson would already be buried 6 feet underground right at the moment.

“What do you want?”

“For you to let us know where Scorpion is. It’s really that simple.”

“I don’t know,” he stepped backwards as soon as he saw Peter grabbing the scissors again.

“You don’t know?” Peter mocked him, walking towards him at a slow but threatening pace. “Really?”

Carlos, on the other hand, realized that he was not making progress just walking down the halls and looking at people’s faces. He decided to go against the plan and went straight to the room where they monitored the cameras in and out of the building. Thank God that he did though, because as soon as he entered the room, he saw a glimpse of his wife and Peter in his suit at Jameson’s room interrogating the man. He had to do something and act on this fast, but the problem was two guards were monitoring the cameras. Thankfully, one was sleeping, and the other was distracted by playing Candy Crush on his cell phone. It wasn’t hard for him to convince them to leave the room.

“Hey, man! Why don’t you all rest for a bit? I think I saw a couch there outside. I’ll go watch over these,” Carlos suggested happily.

“Are you sure? Wait—I haven’t seen you before,” one guard stopped in his tracks.

“Oh! I forgot to introduce myself,” he replied. “I’m new here, sorry–I just noticed you getting bored and your friend here sleeping and thought you might want some rest, you know? I’m Carl, by the way,” he smiled.

“Well, Carl,” the guard tapped his shoulder, “we’ll accept that offer. I’m Chip,” Chip nudged his friend to wake him up, “Dale, let’s go.”

Carlos smiled while the two left the room, muttering ‘thanks’ on their way out. As soon as they left, he wasted no time and manipulated the footage. This was all he could do for now, deleting and manipulating all footage of the three of them being suspicious. He prayed Peter and his wife would be done the moment Chip and Dale returned.

Jameson still managed to stand his ground despite being terrified of him, but Peter knew he would soon break. “So?” he taunted, playing with the scissors by spinning them around his finger.

They soon played a staring game that neither wanted to lose. That was until Peter threw the scissors just inches above his head, and Jameson finally broke. “Wa-wait! Fine! Mac is in my basement. He’s staying at my house. I-in the b-basement,” Jameson had his two hands up in surrender.

“I have a feeling that’s not the only thing you know,” Peter pushed. Jameson stared at him—almost begging. But Peter had no intentions of backing down. He flicked his hands, webbing the door handle and the windows shut. If it wasn’t clear to Jonah before that there won’t be any chance of escaping the circumstance, it was clear as air to him now. “Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you everything when w-we get t-there,” he bargained.

“Lead the way,” said Charlene as she cleaned up the webs Peter had so graciously put on almost everything. Meanwhile, Peter took the opportunity to put away the suit and dress as an employee yet again. On the other hand, Carlos was still monitoring the cameras, observing their every move. As soon as he saw the three exit the building, he made sure to corrupt the footage before leaving and following the other three.

Jameson was a fucking maniac. He had to be—because no sane person would keep a lab underneath their house. Oh, and to make things even worse, a large glass cylinder cell stood in the middle—and alas, Scorpion was inside it.

Peter observed the passed-out entity before immediately turning to Jameson. “Explain. Now,” he demanded.

“MacDonald Gargan,” Jameson pointed at Scorpion. “When he failed to find out how you obtained those Spider-Man pictures years ago, I decided to hire him as a subject of an experiment. I wasn’t alone. With the help of Dr. Farley Stillwell, the goal was to give him the beneficial traits of a certain animal—a scorpion. We were aiming to create someone powerful enough to be capable of defeating Spider-Man. Defeating you.

“But the mutagenic treatment was too much for him; it began to affect his mind. The entire process was barely tested. We should’ve known it would happen.”

“How long ago was this experiment?” asked Charlene.

“3 years ago. Right after he failed to do the initial job we hired him for.”

“If this was years ago, why is he only attacking now?”

“Stillwell and I spent the majority of time developing the mutagenic treatment. We had no means to test it, so we just went with our guts to continue developing and developing until we thought it was perfectly done. And then, not until weeks ago, I remembered this guy right here,” he glanced at Mac. “I remembered this man and how eager he was to prove himself to anyone. So I decided to call him up and hire him for a new job. And because he had failed me before, he was so eager to prove himself to me and accepted instantly.

“For a while, everything was going well. We believed it worked. And it did work—only it made him insane. Stillwell and I tried to contain him, but we failed. The next thing we knew, he was on the news attacking a neighborhood. So Stillwell and I created this cell—one that’s strong enough to contain him—and with the help of some trusted friends, we were able to lure him inside. But we lost people in the process.”

“You mentioned ‘trusted friends’, who are they?” Carlos asked. Jameson was skeptical to answer. These ‘trusted friends’ were highly important and powerful people who could kill him at any moment if he decided to reveal their identity. But at the same time, he knew that these three people were no different. They may not come in many numbers, but he knew that Spider-Man and his two friends could also kill him. He had no other choice.

He sighed exasperatedly. “They’re really powerful people. Some people are from the government, the military, the media, the news, and the police. It’s a secret group that wants to kill Spider-Man. They cover up the mess that Stillwell and I make.”

Carlos and Charlene eyed each other. If what Jameson said was true, some of their colleagues at the station were a part of this secret group too.

“You haven’t talked about his suit. Can we remove it? Maybe make him weaker by removing it?” Peter asked this time.

“No,” Jameson shook his head. “He’s stuck in the suit. You can’t remove it, he can’t remove it, we can’t remove it. Mac and his suit are permanently bonded.”

“How long has he been contained here?”

“He’s been in here since his first attack.”

Now, everyone was confused.

“If he's been here since the first attack, and the first attack was back in the neighborhood, then who did I fight on that street?” asked Peter.

“Why can’t the city cameras see him? He always disappears,” asked Carlos.

“What happened to Dr. Stillwell? Where is he now?” asked Charlene.

“Dead,” a hoarse voice spoke from the cell. In an instant, Carlos and Charlene’s guns were raised and pointed at him. “Stillwell is dead. I killed him when they contained me here,” Mac smirked.

Peter, being the one who fought Scorpion on that street, was the only one in the room who realized that his voice was different from the Scorpion he had fought before.

Mitch was starting to make you uncomfortable.

When you started your day and decided it was time to visit the Greta Marketing Co. building in the country, he started to ramble and admitted that work would not begin until next week.

You were not aware of that.

He then went on to say that the reason he had you leave New York a week early was to get you used to the country and the new environment. He even showed you a list of activities to do for a week with him before starting work next week.

That alone was already suspicious. But you still gave him a chance. Maybe he meant well, you thought.

Only he didn’t. Little did you know, everything would turn even worse. And spending a couple of days more with him would prove it.

Mitch has changed. He was not the same person you knew. Or maybe you never knew him all along.

It started with weird glances.

The plan was to take a week-long tour to see the famous tourist spots in the country. You must admit, it was pretty exciting. There was so much fun in discovering cultures and getting enlightened by their traditions. Mitch glanced at you every once in a while, but you let it go. You thought that he was just checking up on you.

Which turned to staring.

He was definitely not just checking up on you. You realized that when you noticed it took him at least 4 minutes to get his eyes away from you. You knew because you felt it every time. He was also eyeing you up and down and checking you out.

Which then turned to forcing you into holding hands with him.

He would try to hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. Of course, every time, you would reject it, but that never stopped him as he still kept on trying it every moment you two were in a room—which was every fucking moment because he simply would not leave you alone.

And now, stalking.

You were able to convince him to take the third day off by yourself. At first, he was hesitant to let you wander off alone, but you eventually got him to let you go. You went to the Greta Marketing building once and for all, to ask some questions about your new position and inquire about the adjustments you need to make to get settled. However, along the way, you started to sense that someone was following you. When you turned around, you were able to get a glimpse of someone with a white shirt and khaki pants behind a utility pole texting or pretending to text someone on their phone. You decided to let it go for a while; you didn’t want to immediately point fingers. What if that man was just a normal guy going to work and stopping to rest on a pole to text his family or friend? Besides, he was gone after you crossed a road.

You were fucking pissed when you left the building—you couldn’t believe what you just discovered. Suddenly, you found Mitch running towards you as soon as you stepped out of the exit. He was breathing heavily but you couldn’t care less. “What happened to you?” you asked.

“I just ran,” he answered.

“Why?”

“I-uh–well-uh, it’s not important,” he shook his head. “Did you go in there? Who did you speak to? What did they tell you?”

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or lie. You decided to lie, just as he did to you.

He lied. He fucking lied. That’s why you were pissed the moment you left the building. There was a branch of Greta Marketing in Japan—that part was true—but they did not need you. You were made aware of that the moment you went there and asked for your position.

“I just spoke with the receptionist. The person I was hoping to talk to wasn’t there, so I didn’t get to know anything,” you lied. Mitch let out a breath of relief he tried to hide with a yawn. He thought you didn’t notice, but you certainly did.

And that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. You observed his outfit. He was wearing a white shirt with khaki pants.

“Let’s go back to our apartment?” he offered his hand.

You were disgusted, but you hid it with a smile. You had a plan. “Sure.”

You immediately went straight to the bathroom after entering your apartment. He joked about how you were so desperate for a pee, and you faked a laugh, saying it was because you were holding it in for quite some time.

You didn’t pee. What you actually did was open your phone and try to book the soonest flight back to New York. You were hoping there was a flight today so you could leave as early as possible, but luck was unfortunately not on your side as you discovered that the last flight from New York to Japan and vice versa was actually yesterday. So you instead booked the next one. It was tomorrow. You flushed the toilet before leaving the bathroom.

And the waiting game began—only one more day.

“Do you know someone named Mitchell Gargan?” asked Peter.

Mac Gargan chuckled hoarsely. “My twin brother.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Everything.”

“Go ahead then,” Peter dared.

“Mitch and I used to be inseparable. We played the same games as children, watched the same cartoons, went to the same school and stuff, even fell in love with the same girl once—you know, the usual twin things. We were partners in crime. We protected each other, we cared for each other, and we lifted each other up. But everything changed when our mother died, and we were left to live with our father. We were still in school at that time, Mitch wanted to be a scientist and I wanted to be a detective or an investigator.

“We were always at the top of the class but he has always been the smarter one. That’s why he always excelled in his subjects. He was forced to stop it, though, because our father wasn’t very into the idea of science. He didn’t believe in any of the science shit and did not want to support Mitch in his dream of becoming a scientist, so he didn’t have any choice but to pursue a business-related course. He started changing after that. He rarely talked to me and started being reclusive. He always preferred to be alone and would only get out of his bedroom when it was time to eat. Our father didn’t care. He never fucking cared about our well-being.

“When our father died, Mitch started talking to me again, but he was not the same. I started my investigation and discovered that he had a made-up lab in a secluded area where he was mixing chemicals and experimenting on animals. It turned out that he still continued living his scientist dreams despite not getting education for it. I let it slide. I thought that he was just doing that to compensate for the dream he would never accomplish.

“Everything got worse when we graduated. He was jealous and angry because I graduated my dream course and he didn’t. To be fair, it was understandable that he felt that way. His way of coping was downing countless bottles of alcohol. One time when he had been drinking too much, he let it slip that he fantasized about stalking women, trapping them, and doing things to them—the worst part was he imagined that they would eventually end up dead. From the way he spoke about assault and murder in such a calm way, I didn’t recognize my twin brother anymore.

“I planned on informing the authorities about his fantasy, but I had no proof that he said it, and he then threatened me when he found out that I knew. He had a knife in my throat, threatening me that if I ever told someone he would do much more than that. That was the moment when I outsmarted him. You see, I learned my lesson that night when he was drunk, so I always wore a hidden camera just to catch him the next time we would talk. And guess what? I recorded the entire conversation of him threatening me. He was sentenced to prison, and we never talked again.”

“Is he still in jail?” Peter asked. He thought that if this Mitch was still in prison, maybe the Mitch that was with you in Japan wasn’t the same as Mitchell Gargan. It was a possibility that even Peter himself found it hard to believe in.

“No,” Mac coldly admitted.

“And how are you sure?” Carlos interrogated.

“Because the son of a bitch once paid me a visit. I thought he was going to break me out of here but no. He wanted something else.”

Peter held his hand up, causing everyone in the room to look at him. By this moment, Peter immediately knew the next words Mac would say, so he needed to act fast. He pulled Charlene and Carlos into a corner, instructing them to leave the city and get to you as soon as possible. Once the couple had left, Peter turned back to the creature behind the glass.

“What did he want?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“The formula.”

Mac then glanced at Jameson with a knowing look.

“He got it. And with his science background shit, I assume he was able to modify it to make him turn from human to Scorpion and from Scorpion to being human again.”

You should’ve known to run the moment he planned this entire trip and kept it a secret from you.

The moment you stepped out of the bathroom, you knew you weren’t safe anymore. Your choices were limited, and time was running out fast.

Only a day had passed, but it was excruciatingly long because Mitch started to get touchy. He was adamant about invading your privacy to the point that it was hard to pack your bags without him noticing. And every time you asked for space, he would turn the tables figuratively and make it seem that you were being impolite and ungrateful for his efforts.

So now here you were, at your shared apartment, having that same argument over again. Only this time he actually apologized. Like sincerely apologized.

Or so you thought.

He stepped towards you, asking for a hug, which you did not want to give him at first, but he proposed a deal that if you gave him one last hug, he would be gone in your life forever. And for some reason, you agreed to do it.

Your mind has once again failed to stop your ever-kind heart as you proved to be a fool of his calculated offenses.

He was hugging you too tight, you couldn’t even breathe anymore. While his left arm was suffocating you in a hug, his other hand started to roam your body before it settled on your clothed ass and squeezed it. You froze entirely while his hand continued to feel your body until it stopped at your crotch, and he started rubbing it with his fingers.

You managed to push him away, and with all your might, you grabbed your bag under your bed and headed towards the door. You successfully passed the bedroom door, hoping to get to the main entrance as fast as possible, but you were stopped when a hand threw your whole body away from the door. You had never seen Mitch this angry and powerful before.

Mitch was not the type of person who worked out. He was lean, tall, and he wore glasses. His hair was always a ruffled mess, and he talked in such a slow and soft cadence.

You should’ve been wiser not to let yourself be deceived by appearances.

You stood up with shaking knees and a trembling body, hoping to get through the door, but you were interrupted once more when he caught your throat with his hand. You soon found yourself getting lifted up by the throat every passing second. Your eyes were closed as you tried kicking him and scratching his arm, but he was unbelievably strong. You opened your eyes to look at what was once your friend, but you were met with the sight of him turning into the monster you saw on television.

You gathered every last bit of strength you had as you screamed as loud as you could, forcing him to release his hold of you and cover his ears.

And you did the only thing you’ve known to do for years—whether from your problems, from threats, or from love…

You ran.

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @writingstoraes @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer

THANKS FOR PATIENTLY WAITING FOR THIS PART! SEE YOU SOON FOR THE FINALE :)

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peaky-shelby · 2 years ago

Text

New Romantics | Mbappé [3]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

« Previous chapter

» chapter 3: road to ruin

» writers note: well hello beautiful people! This one is a long one. I usually write chapter 2000 words so this one is an exception 😋 but i also wanted to leave you with a cliffhanger so you'll want more 👀 made a playlist so check out if you want you can listen while reading ⚽

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113

TAYLOR'S HOUSE - DAY

“So, are they as hot in real life as they are on the screen?”

Taylor laughed when hearing the question. She had the phone balanced between her ear and her shoulder while she was packing her clothes. “That’s your first question after everything you heard?”

“How is that not the first thing you notice after working with 20 of the hottest guys in France.” Trish asked. Taylor let down her clothes and took the phone in her hands, holding it to her ear.

“I’m in immune to footballers.” She explained “I’m a woman, if I show a hint of affection towards any of them people are gonna think it influences my writing, let alone my coaching.” She sat on the edge of the bed, looked up at the ceiling “I’ve trained my brain to see footballers as the least attractive human beings on the planet.”

“And that’s why you’re gonna be single for the rest of your life. Shit, I need to go Miranda is here.”

Trish hanged up before Taylor had barely any time to say goodbye, perhaps it was for the best because she herself had to run on the training campus. She didn’t tell her friend she would be playing again today, she knew it would lead to questions and worries, so she kept it a secret. She looked at her bag and picked it up hanging it over her shoulder.

When she reached the campus she had a wide smile on her face, ready to face the guards that had taunted her the days before. She got her ID card out of her pocket before they asked for it, waving it in front of the face. “Nothing to say now, do you?” she asked, smiling. One of the guards smiled and motioned his head for her to go in. Neymar was standing in the main entrance, waved at her when he saw her and walked closer to her.

“No problem with the guards today?” he asked, while looking at his phone.

“I came prepared!”

The two of them started walking outside on the pitch when she noticed that almost the entire team was here already. She looked at Neymar, giving him a questioning look. He smiled “Don’t worry you are not late we had a fan meeting.”. When they reached the field she saw Kylian kneeling next to a little girl, she couldn’t have been older than 7. He was talking with her, laughing. The rest of the team was standing behind them. It was a beautiful sight that melted her heart. She had never seen Kylian like that, she couldn’t even remember if she had seen him smiling ever since she had gotten here but he seemed to be enjoying the time with his new tiny friend.

“Who is she?” she asked, her eyes watching the adorable interactions between her and Kylian.

“I don’t know. Kylian volunteers for a number of organizations, agrees to meet ill fans, kids mostly.” She nodded. Maybe he wasn’t such a big asshole after all “We are gonna spend some time with her and start training, ok?” Neymar ran to where the others were. A few seconds later Kylian had gotten up and was playing football with the young girl, kicking the ball gently to her while she kicked it back at him. Taylor reached for the camera around her neck, she took a picture of the moment, then another one. She zoomed in on Kylian’s smiley face, noticing for the fist time how much smiling suited him and suddenly he looked straight at her, through the camera. The smiling fading away and she lowered her camera, giving him a slight nod which he didn’t even acknowledge. Back to normal, she thought to herself.

“Wilock!” She jumped and turned around in the sound of her name. Marquinhos smiled at her, handing her a plastic bag. “You ready?” she took bag and looked inside; it was a psg uniform she could wear for the game. She hadn’t worn a uniform in years.

“Is too late too back out?” she asked, begging he’d give her an out but Marquinhos shook his head.

“Cold feet?”

She glanced back at the girl who was going to sit through training and back at Marquinhos “Didn’t think I’d have an audience. I haven’t played for a crowd in years.”

“Don’t worry about it. Go, change.”

“Yes captain!”

OUTSIDE TRAINING AREA - DAY

Kylian was doing his stretches while Marquinhos was separating the teams. So far, he was with Hakimi, Kimpembe, Verratti, Ektike and Emery.

“Kylian you are captain!” said Marquinhos and threw him a yellow arm band. Kylian caught it, quickly standing up. The rest of team put on their blue flannels, the other team would be wearing red. From the corner of his eye, he got a small figure walking towards the field, he looked up to see who it was, his eyes scanning her from her legs to her face. His mind went numb, his body froze- Verratti smacked him in the stomach, they both shared the same dumbfounded expression.

“Why’s she wearing a uniform?”

Taylor walked towards Marquinhos, an evil smile on her lips, or at least that’s how Kylian would describe it.

“Wait a damn second-“

“Wilock! Thank you for joining us!” Said Marquinhos. Kylian and Verratti rushed to their side, the rest of Kylian’s team running behind him. Everyone was confused, making a circle around her and Marquinhos. “I was down one man, she offered to help.” Ramos guffawed, holding his stomach. Neymar clapped, laughing as well. The rest of the team was too confused to react.

“Does she even know how to play?” Asked Kylian, raising his hands. Taylor snickered, looking away from him and crossing her arms. Hakimi came behind Kylian placing his hand on his shoulder. “What does a journalist know about football?”

“Enough to piss you off apparently” she shot back.

“I assure you she has the experience necessary.” Said Marquinhos.

“When’s the last time you played?” Asked Ramos “High school?”

Taylor calculated the years in her head, narrowing her eyes “Technically- yes-“

Kylian laughed, this whole thing seemed hilarious to him like God was pranking him. He rubbed his face, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous. She’s gonna hurt herself kicking the ball- we have a game coming up we can’t be wasting time-“

“So far the only thing wasting time is your whining.” That earned her a few claps and gasps from the rest of the team. She smiled at her win. Kylian looked over to her like he was going to attack her any time now. Then his body suddenly shifted and he waved her off.

The two teams made and stood in two separate circles to go through their plans before the beginning of the game. Kylian gathered his team on the left side of the field.

“Are we allowed to tackle her or are we just going to ignore her existence?” asked Kimpembe. Kylian laughed.

“As if she’s ever getting that ball." He said and Hakimi lowered his head, shaking it “keep your eyes on the real dangers. Messi and Neymar. Don’t let them get on our area.”

“OR-or- or-“ Hakimi raised his hand, looking left and right at the others “listen to this maybe they are expecting you to act like sexist idiots and they are gonna use her as an advantage.”

Everyone looked at him blinking, processing his words. Verratti leaned closer to Kylian “He’s got a point.”

“Fine. Ektike, you keep an eye on her.”

“Why me?”

“Hold up!” Kimpembe raised his hands “So are we allowed to tackle?”

Kylian thought about it, glanced over at the other team and then back at his “she was the one that wanted to join. We are not changing the way we play for her. If she gets the ball, you tackle her like she is freaking Zlatan, I don’t care.”

“Maybe not as hard” suggested Hakimi.

On the other side of the field the second time was assigning their roles. Taylor had been assigned as a midfielder. Ramos kept his eyes on her through the whole conversation, eyeing her up and down “We sure she knows how to kick a ball?” He asked, looking at Marquinhos.

“Yes we are sure.” He reassured the team. “They’re probably gonna keep away from her so we’ll use that as an advantage. You shoot to her when she’s open.”

“Keep your eyes open, I’ll use you for the assists.” Messi said, pointing at her. For a moment she felt like she was back in her own pitch with her team. There was beauty in these pregame conversations. The anticipation. Making plans that everyone knew were possibly gonna get fucked up 10 minutes in the game. The trust the team was putting on each other. She simply nodded at Messi, a hand reaching up to her chest, rubbing the skin over her heart. The team pulled away from each other, chanting for their win.

“You guys ready or what?” she asked when she saw the other team still in a circle talking. That was enough to break them apart as well. Hakimi stayed behind Kylian, Kylian gave him a quick look.

“You think she could be good?”

“I think Marquinhos wouldn’t have put her on the field unless he was sure about her abilities. To undermine her would be undermining him. And undermining him would be a mistake.” Hakimi patted Kylian on the back and ran to his rightful spot. Kylian stared at her, his eyes, for some reason, lasting on her legs. Why was he looking at her exposed skin? The uniform looks good on her- stop. He shook his head, waving of the thoughts and raising his eyes to her neck. She had her hair up again, rubbing her neck while trying to loosen her shoulders. He was staring again but he didn't realize it until he heard the referee's whistle, waking him up. Now the only thing on his mind was the win.

The boys kept the ball away from her for the most part, she was moving up and down the field slowly, trying not to pressure herself. There was this itch in her throat, demanding her to chase the ball faster, to steal some passes but whenever she tried, she’d stop last minute like someone was pulling her strings. Marquinhos approached her during the first 15 minutes, hand over his mouth.

“Are you ok?”

“Just out of shape.”

“Get your shit together.”

“Its supposed to be my job to tell you that.” She smiled. In a way promising that she was going to do better. She started running faster. There was an opening, Marquinhos sending the ball to her, she took control of it but was quickly tackled by Ektike. Rolling on the ground. Perhaps it was some sort of muscle memory but the minute she hit the ground something awoke in her. She got up on her knees, Neymar coming to hold her up, she waved him off. Now she was really in the game, picking up the pace and chasing behind the ball, ruining the passes of Kimpembe. Marquinhos smiling from the other side of the field.

“She’s fast.” Said Hakimi to Kylian as he was passing by him. Kylian nodded. He was starting to lose his patience. The ball found it’s way to Messi’s legs. Everyone was focused on getting the ball away from him no one was marking her. She was wide open. Messi kicked the ball to her and she ran towards it, getting control. She moved it in between her feet, but turning around she was faced by a very dangerous looking Kylian, standing in front of her like a wall. She laughed when she saw him. He tried to get the ball right from under her but she rolled it backwards, drippling and almost making him lose his balance.

“How’s this for high school football?” she asked, Kylian giving her the side. She moved to the right, then to the left. She was playing him. Then she rolled the ball in between his legs. Kylian’s eyes widened, his pride getting hurt in the worst way, she moved around him and headed straight towards the goalpost, giving it a powerful kick and sending in inside the net, just right over the goal keeper who was expecting her to go lower.

She thought time stopped. She felt this fulfilment in her body, this beautiful satisfaction she had missed. Her whole team ran to her, all of them throwing themselves on her to hug her. Neymar picked her up on his shoulders and she closed her eyes while she listened to the cheers. Ramos wrapped his arm around her head, rubbing her head like she was a kid.

“Good job chipmunk” he laughed.

Messi neared her after everyone else was gone, holding his hand out for her. She grabbed it and he pulled her closer. “That was really good”

“Thanks for the pass” she smiled.

Kylian stood watching, breathing heavily, his hands on his hips. Hakimi thought he could see smoke coming from his ear as he walked closer to him. Kylian glanced at him “Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t.” he said but he was thinking about it, i told you so.

The referee called for everyone to get back on their place and start the game again. She was more confident now. That alone made her quicker, braver and more dangerous. She’d try to steal the ball anytime she was close enough, falling and rolling on the ground more than once but she’d get back up in seconds. Just before the end of the first half Verratti had complete control of the ball, she saw it, she scanned him. He was moving his ball on his left leg, just the other day he had an accident on his right leg, it was his weakness, she wrote a whole article about it. She ran to his left side, she slid her entire body on the ground, tackling him from the left, he tried to kick the ball on his right leg but he lost balance, falling forward, she got control of the ball, twisting her body and getting up. She started sprinting with the ball in her legs while Hakimi ran to her to stop her. He stretched his leg to get the ball but she jumped over it, kicking the ball up. Kimpembe headed right towards her, she moved under him, ducking her body, kicked the ball in the air and then with her knee, searching for Ramos. He was across her, when the ball reached her foot, she sent it to him and with his head, he sent it right on the net. Taylor jumped up in excitement as the Referee whisteled for the end of the first half. She ran to Ramos, throwing her entire body on him. He picked her up, holding her like she was a trophy. The rest of the team jumped on them and they all fell on the ground together.

Kylian stayed, staring blankly at them. veratti joined him. “What the ‘ell just happened?” he asked, looking at Kylian. He was feeling all sorts of emotions, anger, jealously and of course bitterness. She was good and eventually he would have to admit it to himself and the team. His blood was boiling.

“I need water” is the only thing he said before he left.

Taylor sat on the benches, taking a few deep breaths and drinking from her bottle. Marquinhos knelt in front of her, fist bumping her knee. “Told you this would work.” She smiled “they loved you.” He said, encouraging her.

“Don’t tell me they want me on the team now?” she teased, looking over at them.

“Would you join?” he asked.

She thought about it, then nodded her head left and right “No, I’d go back to my girls if I had the chance. Wouldn't betray them for a bunch of guys.” She admitted, laughing “I missed them today.”

“What was the dream?”

“The dream?”

“Yeah. You know before the accident and the doctors. Come on, we all had a dream.”

She tried to hold back her smile, looking down. “Barcelona.”

“Damn girl!” he laughed. She chuckled, wiping the sweat from her forehead. He looked back at the field “Any advice for the second half?”

“Verratti is misplaced. Kylian is using him as a defender but he plays like a midfielder. That creates a hole. Use that to your advantage.” She continued by pointing at each player, noting the weaknesses she had noticed until Marquinhos had to head back. A part of her wanted to join the second half too but her heartrate reminded her of why she shouldn’t. She rubbed the skin over it again, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.

“Burnt out already?”

When she opened her eyes Kylian was standing in front of her. There was something about him she couldn’t explain. He looked more angry than usual; his tone suggested some sort of challenge. He smiled at her in an undermining way. She wanted to slap the smile of his face. “One goal wasn’t enough for you?”

“Why? Can you put a second one?”

“I mean I kinda did-“

“You used Verratti’s injury against him. He’s gonna get back at you for that.”

“Really? How about he spends that time training to get his right leg working again.”

“You were lucky-“ she hated that word. She stood up, their faces inches apart. She had to stop herself from spitting on his face. “I let you have that pass, so I wouldn’t tackle you and send you in the hospital.”

“Do you say that to your male opponents as well?”

“No, I don’t have to- they are professionals. They know sometimes things can get out of hand but it looks like you can barely handle a first half-“

She stepped closer. She had already taken her decisions, no matter the consequences “Please dear lord, let things get out of hand.” He laughed, he felt in uncomfortable standing so close to her, staring in her cold eyes. “Let’s go for a second round Kylian.” She challenged and pushed him out of her way, making her way back on the field. Marquinhos saw the devil in her eyes, terrified of what was going to follow he moved in front of her to stop her from stepping on the grass.

“What are you doing?”

She took the ball from his hand “I’m fine.” He grabbed her arm.

“Hey! You need to calm down. We agreed for the first half.”

“I said I’m fine. I can do this.”

“You don’t have to pressure yourself”

“I’m not” she said. She definitely was but she didn’t care.

“What did you do?” asked Hakimi when Kylian joined him on the field.

“I’m not getting beat by a high school player-“

Hakimi grabbed his arm “She’s obviously not just a high school player. Get out of your head Ky.”

Kylian pulled his arm away “My head’s in the game Achraf.” He reassured him and walked away.

The second half started slow. But that was only for the first 5 minutes, Taylor was going above and beyond, running like she was in a world cup match. Bumping and getting in between anywhere she could. Especially when the ball was at Kylian’s feet. If she was writing an article about herself, she’d write about how unfocused she was, letting her pride take over and Verratti’s murderous stares to get to her. But that didn’t stop her from running like she was back in her own team, before the accident and the hospital. Neither did the continues ache in her chest, the loud beating of her heart that was quickening by the second, neither did her view getting blurry. It was when she felt her breath shorten that she paused, her sight getting darker. She didn’t even realize she stopped moving. Kylian didn’t realize it either when his body bumped onto hers. He was running so quick he must have hit her with all the strength in his body, his shoulder knocking the back of her head, his entire body toppling over her. legs getting tangled together. His arms, out of instinct, wrapped around her tiny body as they both lost balance, pulling her close to him as they spun around themselves so he’d be the one hitting the ground with his back and she’d be shielded from the crash. She landed on his chest and he rolled her over, to lay her on the grass, she was unconscious. Kylian pulled away one of his hands, giving her a gentle slap on the cheek to wake her but she didn’t seem to respond.

Marquinhos was on the other side of her, calling for the medics and for someone to get some water. Her eyes fluttered when they threw water on her. First thing she saw was Kylian, she could only feel frustration for that man. With whatever strength she had she pushed him away, causing him to fall back on the ground “I’m fine” she said when the medics got near.

“Do you need a doctor?” Marquinhos, pulled up her head. Helping her sit, she argued.

“No.” she rubbed the back of her head “His shoulder just hit me pretty hard.”

“Who the hell stops in the middle of the field like that?”

She glanced at him scoffing. “Are you incapable of apologizing ?”

He started regretting protecting her from the fall. “Apologize for what? You blacked out in the middle, what you thought was going to happen?

“It was an accident” Verratti defended Kylian. Helping him stand up.

“Sure.” She mumbled and stood up, looking a little dizzy as she did but Neymar quickly held her on her feet.

"you're out of the game." Marquinhos announced. The only one that knew the whole truth.

Then she heard the one thing she hoped she wouldn’t. It was her name being called out by Galtier. She looked back, he was standing by the benches. She knew she was in trouble. She tried to look as steady as she could as she ran over to him, her expression remaining blank so she wouldn’t give away how much her chest was hurting.

“What’s going on?” he asked

“Marquinhos suggested I join them; I thought you knew.”

“For the first half. What is this? Do I have to worry about my right hand being as reckless as my players?”

“No.” she answered fast. Trying to defend herself. Regretting of telling him the reason she kept away from the sport. It was better when he was just wondering “I got carried away sir, I’m sorry but I’m good. I wouldn’t have joined if I thought it would be dangerous.”

“I don’t need excuses. Remember why you are here.” He demanded “Don’t throw away that chance by being irresponsible. This is your first warning there won’t be a second one.” He raised her finger at her. She felt like a kid, getting yelled at by her father. She felt so small. “I’m still waiting for those reports. If you have time to play, it means it’s going well, right?” she didn’t respond them “Get them to me on Sunday instead of Monday. I want them by noon. So, I can make a new schedule on Monday morning.” He closed his jacket and left before she could argue. Taylor sighed disappointed at herself, hiding her face on her palm. She looked back at the field, her eyes passing by the girl with the illness Kylian had brought.

She was still on the bleachers; she was looking at her. She waved, smiling. Taylor ran up the stairs to her, kneeling in front of her and her mother.

“Did you enjoy the game?” she asked.

“She doesn’t speak English.” Her mother said and translated the question. The girl nodded smiling, it was a genuine smile, an innocent smile.

“Tu vas bien?” the little girl asked. Taylor laughed, lowering her head.

“Oui. Oui.” She reassured.

“She was wondering how come you are playing with the boys.”

Taylor gazed between the kid and her mother “I’m like the wise side-kick. You know? Like they are in movies.”

“Comme un entraîneur?” the girl asked after her mother translated what taylor said. Taylor gazed at her mother.

“She asks If you’re like a coach”

She held herself from answering right away “Kinda yes. I help the coach, give him notes, pointers. All that. And sometimes I guess I play with them. It helps see what their weaknesses are.” She explained.

“Les filles peuvent faire ça?”

“Of course, they can girl! Bien sûr!” she exclaimed “And can I tell you a secret?" Her eyes softened "I get ill too sometimes” she smiled “and look at me. I’m right here. So don’t get discouraged, alright? You’re a fighter no matter what. Tell me Who’s your favorite player?” she asked

“Mbappe!” the little girl exclaimed. Taylor raised her eyebrows, grinning.

“Kylian has helped her a lot.” Her mother added. There was so much gratitude in her eyes, it was almost making taylor emotional “not just us. The entire hospital. The kids love him.” If she didn’t know better, she’d think the woman was talking about a different Kylian, maybe cillian murphy but not Mbappe, until she remembered; she didn’t know him at all, same way he didn’t know her.

Said Kylian was watching at the three women from afar. For some reason he wanted to go up there and join the conversation but he was scared he’d show his worst self to Ann, the little girl Taylor was talking too.

“Stealing your passes and your fans? Tsk tsk tsk.” Neymar clicked his teeth, glancing over at Kylian. “that’s bold” Kylian’s eyes remained cold.

TRAINING CAMPUS / KITCHEN - DAY

“Since when is Ramos best buddies with her?” Asked Verratti sitting next to Kylian on the table.

“The entire team loves her now apparently.” Kylian said. Looking down at his food. He kept messing with potatoes, pushing them back and forth with his fork.

“You look like she killed your mother.” Joked Hakimi, stealing on of Kylian’s potatoes.

“I don’t like being mocked on my face, ok? And that’s exactly what she doing. First Galtier appoints her as his eyes and ears, then she is giving pointers to Marquinhos who for some reason has her up on a pedestal. And maybe it’s just me but she hasn’t really been journaling anything ever since she got here-“

“Or maybe Galtier respects her because she is experienced and a direct contact to JW who can help with publicity of our team.” Hakimi stole another one of his potatoes. "but that's just a logical explanation, how stupid of me."

“I think she is ambitious; she wants a place on the crew. So, she is trying to invade our team. Sell our weaknesses to Galtier to get on his good side and get us in trouble. or maybe she works for another team, spying us and JW is just an excuse.” Hakimi couldn’t believe his ears. He reached for another potato chewing it slowly while staring worryingly at Kylian “we need to get close to her. Stop her before it gets out of control-“

“She’s the one getting out of control?” he asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Whose side are you on?”

“No one’s because There are no sides."

“Who are we gonna send to get close to her?” asked Verratti completely ignoring Hakimi. Hakimi dropped his fork in desperation. Why was he hanging out with them?

Kylian looked at Verratti “I mean-“

“Dude I’m married.”

“You’re just gonna flirt with her. You’re not actually doing it because you like her-“

“You wanna be the one explaining that difference to my wife?”

“Don’t you even dare look at me!” said Hakimi, stopping him before he even thought about it. So Kylian looked at Neymar. Neymar was chewing on his food, looking as lost as ever.

“I have a girlfriend.”

“Isn’t she on a world tour or something? She’ll never know-“ a napkin landed on his face, hitting him right on the nose.

“Stop encouraging people to cheat-“ hissed Hakimi.

"stop throwing napkins at me-"

“You could do it.” Suggested Neymar.

Kylian wanted to argue at first but then he thought about it. He looked over at her, she was laughing alongside Bernat. The two of them were sitting alone now and she was making notes of what he was saying on her notebook. God was he dying to read whatever was inside that notebook. Bernat was looking at her like she was taking a liking. He bit on the inside of his lip. Without looking trying to stab one of potatoes to eat them but his fork kept falling on the dish so he looked down, he dish was empty. He looked at hakimi who was chewing his food.

"bro-"

"it's not my fault you've been plotting conspiracies." He said and got up to leave. Just as he was leaving Taylor started walking towards their table, keeping her eyes on Neymar. Verratti would hit Kylian on the knee as she was drawing closer like he warning him. Kylian kept his eyes on his dish so he would avoid eye contact.

"junior" she called and Neymar looked back at her, wiping his mouth with a napkin "you mind coming with me? I have to do the one on one interviews."

Neymar nodded "sure, yeah. I'll be right there."

"thanks." She smiled and glanced at Kylian. She noticed his dish was empty but for some reason he kept looking at it. "You know, you're not gonna turn to stone if you look at me I'm not Media."

"easily debatable" mumbled Verratti. Taylor scoffed and walked away. Kylian gazed at her as she left, she was still wearing her uniform, her legs were exposed. He gulped, a slight shiver growing on his body. Neymar noticed it, he smiled but didn't say anything.

TRAINING CAMPUS / JACUZZI - DAY

While Taylor was interviewing Neymar on the other room, hakimi and Kylian sat in the jacuzzi, calming themselves after a long day in training. Kylian kept looking at his phone, refreshing JW's website or clicking through all the Instagram accounts with the name Taylor Wilock.

"stop looking at that thing" Kylian didn't respond. "You're gonna drive yourself insane" he huffed and left his phone on the edge of the tub. Crossing his arms and sinking in the water. He leaned back his head. "I think you're just looking for an excuse"

"what?” he opened his one eye to look at his friend.

"to get close to her."

Kylian sat better "what are you on about?”

"It's not rocket science- she challenges you. You're not one to shy away from a challenge. She could prove to you she's the greatest player in the world and you'd still want to kick her out of the team because you can't have her on your side. She deliberately annoys you and not for nothing but she enjoys it. But you never let things get under your skin ky" hakimi looked at him "not unless you're scared"

Kylian didn't say anything. He looked at the ceiling. Scared? Why would he be scared of her.

TRAINING CAMPUS / FRONT ENTRANCE - DAY

Taylor waited outside of the campus for her Uber as always. She was scrolling on her phone, pictures and videos she had taken during the day. A few of the boys came out, laughing and jumping on each other like boys do. She smiled at the picture, as much trouble as they ad brought in her life she actually enjoyed their company more than she let on.

“You guys going home?” she asked, smiling.

“We’re going for a drink. You wanna come?” Neymar asked “We want our star player with us.”

“You maybe do, I’m not sure for the rest.”

Neymar gave her a wink “you just gonna go home?”

“I’m tired anyway. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He shrugged his shoulders and followed the rest of the crew. She hadn’t realized Kylian was behind her, with his back against one of the poles, arms crossed to his chest. She jumped at the sound of his voice catching her off guard when he asked;

“Do you have any friends?”

She turned around and looked at him. Narrowing her eyes “excuse me?”

He grinned, the dimples on his cheeks showing as he tilted his head “I mean here in Paris. Do you have any friends? Do you know anybody except us?”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to answer the question but she didn’t wanna look desperate either “Yeah I do.”

“Really? Thought you moved here from London or something.”

“What does that mean? I can’t have French friends?”

“I mean you are a bit loud for us.”

“Are you capable of talking to me without offending me every other sentence?” she asked, half serious, half as a joke. He laughed, pushed himself of the pole.

“It’s hard but I promise I’m trying.”

“I do have friends, you know? Really good friends cause I’m a likable person. People like me. French people too- my new best friend is French, you know?”

“Is she? What’s her name?”

She thought about it then in one breath she said “Luna”

Kylian leaned forward, crossing his arms. He blinked a couple times “That’s a cat name-“

“Wha- it is not” she laughed nervously “she is absolutely not a cat- she is an actual human being.”

“Sounds like a cat name-"

"it's a very human name"

"my cousin had a cat named Luna"

“That’s very offensive of you to say- so if you don’t mind, I’ll just go to my house-“

“Come with us. Have a drink. You’ve been in Paris for what? 3 days? All you’ve seen is this fucking campus and your apartment with your cat-“

“It’s not a cat!” she argued

“Fine, whatever. Just come along”

She thought about it, made a step forward suspiciously “why? So you can poison my drink or my food?” she asked. He laughed but shook his head as if to say ‘no’. She drew closer “get me drunk? Drive me of a cliff?” he looked amused, waiting to see what other idea she was gonna come up with “Lock me in a basement till the day I die?”

“You know” he stepped closer, looking down at her, a smirk on his lips “I’d do all that but Hakimi would have to go down as an accomplish to murder. I wouldn’t do that to my best friend.” She smiled. It was the first time he stood so close to her without threating her or offending her. He looked sweet, she had never noticed it before. “i wanna buy you a drink for knocking you down earlier. You had me worried for a sec. Thought I would have to be calling JW, telling him i killed his assistant" she laughed.

"you know your double personality has started terrifying me."

"I could say the same about you." He forced a smile "come on, I’ll even get food for your cat on the way.” He walked passed her expecting her to follow.

She knocked her foot on the ground. “She’s not a cat!” she yelled. But for some reason still followed him.

Next chapter : every night is like a battle »

Can we appreciate the way they are unable to talk to each other without offending each other? I think it's beautiful. 🥲 Next chapter is gonna be interesting 👀👀 Kylian wants to get close to her, she is softening bc she knows he's actually a good person deep down,,,, what could possibly go wrong? 👀 If he hates her know he's gotta wait till he finds out she's JW, that's gonna be hilarious 👀 prepare yourselves for the angst is about to begin 😌

#kylian mbappe #mbappe imagines #mbappé #mbappe #mbappe x reader #mbappe x oc #neymar one shot #neymar x oc #neymar x reader #football writing #football imagine #Spotify

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thomasschabot · 1 year ago

Text

saw you in a dream

quinn hughes x non-binary!oc (she/they pronouns)

they were simply a figment of quinn’s imagination, until she wasn’t

word count: 3.3k

warnings: vivid dreams, cursing, not soulmates!au but kinda soulmates!au without being weird

a/n: hi @puckmaidens!!! it’s me, your fic exchange partner. really hope you enjoy this little ditty 🤍 original idea didn’t go as planned but i’m crossing my fingers this will suffice. a very large thanks goes out to @wyattjohnston for creating and managing yet another super successful fic exchange AND for letting me borrow daisy for a fun little moment!!! hats off to you dem. @matthewtkachuk gets a big shout out for proofing this love u babe (also as a reminder non-binary people don’t owe anyone androgyny! or anything for that matter. all my little enby babies you’re perfect as is 🥰)

⭑⭒⭑

They were laughing the first time Quinn saw them.

It was the head tilted back, mouth agape kind of laugh, and it was the most beautiful thing the man had ever seen. Quinn couldn’t tell if any sound was coming from the prettily parted lips, but he also didn’t care. Just watching them was good enough, and if given the opportunity he’d do it for the rest of his life. Fate isn’t that kind, however, so Quinn resigns himself to the idea that this perfect person will have to reside in his memory. There was a split moment where kind eyes met his own guarded ones, and Quinn felt the world stop spinning for a millisecond. Every single feeling, look, thought, was heightened when they smiled and raised their glass in a silent toast, prompting him to follow the lead with a tentative look on his face. A split second later they were gone, pulled onto the dancefloor with friends to enjoy the long night ahead. Once sure they weren’t coming back, and didn't want to actually say hello in the way he so desperately wanted, Quinn closed out his tab with a sigh of defeat and exited the club, kicking himself the entire way home for not having any courage.

⭑⭒⭑

An alarm startles Quinn awake. It’s Sunday, supposedly a rare day of rest for the team, but he needs to put some time into the gym and bulk up ten pounds as fast as possible. The Canucks have been playing well enough, but the team is still below five hundred and has a tough second half of the season ahead. Quinn could stand to be more of a physical force to be reckoned with. He’s so focussed on the goals to complete during the day that it takes several moments to realize there had been no mysterious yet beautiful person at a nightclub last night. In fact, there hadn’t been a club at all — just his cold sheets and the same sadness that’s permeated Quinn’s house for years.

The realization knocks all the air from his lungs. Quinn could swear up and down that he had seen them with his own two eyes, and tasted the whisky they’d sipped while maintaining eye contact. It was all such a vivid image that he has a hard time reconciling the knowledge it was all fake with how he woke up feeling. It was real to him. Brock would undoubtedly shake his head and rattle off a few statistics about the probability of meeting those found in one’s dreams, ever the pessimist about love and fate, but luckily he isn’t there as Quinn moves sluggishly about, trying desperately to remember everything about the person with kind eyes and the brightest smile he’s ever encountered.

Quinn doesn’t even get both feet onto the turfed outer surface of the gym before a trainer finds him. “Hughes,” he says, syllables tense and over-punctuated in a way they appear only when ownership gets antsy about poor results. “I need you working today until it feels like you’re about to drop dead.”

“You got it,” Quinn sighs, feeling guilty for contributing to the man’s stress simply because he can’t maintain his weight. Being a franchise player at such a young age, Quinn feels pressure to make things as easy on the staff as possible.

Teammates are scattered about the levels of the facility, each working on their own weaknesses — it’s becoming more apparent to Quinn that no one in the Canucks organization understands the term rest day. Nils is hunched over on the floor doing an intricate warm up stretch routine, clearly in the same boat as him, and it makes Quinn feel a bit better. He doesn’t look up, just raises a hand in silent greeting, and the other man chuckles before pushing back the slight waves he hadn’t bothered to tame in the bathroom mirror and getting to work.

Time flies by at a record pace, and an hour and half later Quinn has put in one of the most intense workouts of his professional career. It seems stupid to leave when so many of his teammates are still working, so he finishes a cool down and wordlessly stands behind Nils to spot. Neither of them acknowledge the favour Quinn is doing him, but it doesn’t matter. Just knowing he’s done something to make someone’s life easier is enough. Despite the intentions of making the work easier, Quinn lags behind, taking a few too many breaks to think about the person from his dream and how much he’d like to kiss them, to cherish them.

Always a fast dresser, he waits until his friend is heading down the stairs from the change room to tug the long discarded backpack over his shoulders and lowers the baseball cap onto his head. Quinn holds the door and emits quiet laughter as Nils recounts a recent failed attempt at romance.

“You were a little spacey today, everything okay?”

It’s not so much a question as it is a prompt to spill his thoughts, and Quinn knows it. Nils Höglander may be a lot of things, including a dear friend, but subtle is not one of them. A breath filters through his nose and fills Quinn’s lungs with air that both calms and accelerates his heart rate. “It’s nothing. Just a dream I’m having a hard time shaking.”

“Was she cute?” This time it’s a leading question, one Nils has a sinking suspicion his friend will answer despite not really wanting to.

“Focus on your own love life first,” Quinn grumbles, picking at a thread on the hem of his sweater. A pause, then, “They were extremely cute.”

Nils quirks his eyebrow. Blushing slightly, Quinn continues. “I don’t know their pronouns, so I don’t want to assume anything. Plus, it’s not like they’re even real.”

“Always the gentleman, Quinner.”

The pair of men separate in the parking lot, walking to their respective vehicles with chants of genuine happiness at seeing each other in less than twenty-four hours. Nils swears up and down he won’t tell anyone else about the fascination with the dream person, but Quinn knows it’s bullshit. His friend has never been good at keeping his mouth shut, and the Canucks are like a tight knit family. Everyone will always know each other’s business.

⭒⭑⭒

They shouldn’t be there.

The last time Quinn saw them, they had been in a dive in Vancouver, but now they’re standing in line at a farmer’s market thirty-five miles outside Pittsburgh. Logically, Quinn understands that it was a dream, that the two of them could be transported anywhere occupying space in his brain, but this place specifically is sacred. It’s his safe space, discovered once on a solo road trip home from Michigan, has never appeared in dreams before, and Quinn wasn’t sure what to do about the intrusion. Their presence wasn’t necessarily unwelcome, just foreign. In fact Quinn was quite sure he’d like the person to be in every dreamscape if it meant he got to experience them over and over again.

A dainty red ribbon held their hair into its makeshift ponytail, but the locks threatened to spill out at any moment. They looked absolutely ethereal, denim overshirt blowing in the wind and legs encased by a pair of practical hiking sandals. Everything about them was easy and carefree — Quinn knew he had to experience the sunshine they cast at least once. A tote bag dangled from their forearm, encasing a plethora of apples that was undoubtedly too many for one person to eat alone. There was no one in line behind them, so without thinking Quinn grabbed the nearest item of produce and made sure to stand at a respectable but still close distance. Their hair smelled faintly of lemon and basil, and it took a godly amount of strength for Quinn to pull away once he caught a whiff. At the very last second the magical human with the red ribbon turned their head and caught the hockey player in the act.

If they had been put off by Quinn’s interest in learning intimately what shampoo combination made the smell, they never mentioned it. “Aren't those the best this time of year?” they asked with a whimsical lilt. Damnit, even their voice felt like it wasn’t made for this world, but a mythical plane above it.

“Uh —” Quinn sputtered, unsure of what he was holding. A glance down proves he’d chosen to buy strawberries, the only fruit he was allergic to. “I wouldn’t know. Just stopping by on the way back home. I was out this way on business.”

“Well then, you picked the right time to visit. Late summer brings the best yield of strawberries, in my unprofessional opinion.” Their smile could have rivaled the sun at high noon, it was that bright and blinding, and Quinn was absolutely enamored. Before he could respond, however, the line lurched forward and the market attendant called the other person forward. “Enjoy them,” they said sincerely, and Quinn offered a thumbs up in response.

With their back to the brunette and preoccupied with a conversation about the weather, Quinn knew he wouldn’t have gotten caught for leaving without the strawberries. Carefully he put them back on the table and walked in the opposite direction. At least this time he had been able to start a conversation.

⭑⭒⭑

The hissing of air brakes jostles Quinn awake, and he opens his eyes to see the back entrance of the arena. Bus rides from hotels to rinks are incredibly short, but somehow the man managed to get a few moments of unconsciousness. Just enough to dream about the mystery person and wake with more questions that will forever go unanswered. Who are they? Why do they keep appearing in his dreams? Does repetition in dreams really mean anything? Quinn will have to remember to send a text to Jack’s girlfriend Daisy, since she knows about those sorts of things.

Teammates shuffle off the bus in front of him, and Quinn quickly follows them, hoping not to seem too out of sorts even though his mind is swimming. Andi, one of the team’s photographers, is standing between the bus and the entrance to the rink, snapping away and making silly faces to make some other guys laugh, knowing that those sorts of candids bring more engagement for the team.

“A-dog,” Quinn chirps, trying to seem chipper. “No pics of me today, please? After work beers on me if you say yes.”

Andi tilts her head in confusion but doesn’t probe. “You got it, boss. I want the best Guiness your expensive contract can buy.”

“Anything for you. I owe you big time. Thanks!”

Quinn quickly embraces the photographer and darts inside the building, knowing that not everyone will be as understanding as Andi. Normally he’s game to play the role of the Canucks’s social media darling, but tonight Quinn has enough to worry about without being followed around and scrutinized.

Each professional hockey player has a different pre-game warmup routine, despite the game being a team sport. He’s always been one to do his own thing, only rarely joining in the games of two-touch, so no one blinks an eye at Quinn heading in the opposite direction of most of the guys. Nils gives him a quizzical look, mischievous glint in his eye, but before he can ask any questions Quinn turns the corner and takes the first flight of stairs he sees.

Before he can think too much about the teasing that will inevitably come from the New Jersey contingent of the Hughes family, Quinn pulls out his phone and sends the text to Daisy.

Not even going to bother to tell you to keep this a secret because you suck! I’ve had an unknown person appear in some dreams lately, and since you’re into all that manifestation shit I thought I’d ask if it means anything. Also, tell Jack and Luke I hope they lose tonight.

The device slips into the pocket of his shorts and settles into a position that hopefully won’t allow it to fall out during his jog around the depths of the arena. Quinn doesn’t like to run with headphones, instead choosing to focus on his breathing. It’s an odd quirk, he knows, but relentless teasing from teammates has never stopped him before. He likes the ritual and knows it will probably continue long after he retires from playing professionally.

Quinn rounds the corner, braces himself for a high sprint, and runs directly into someone instead of meeting a clear hallway. He isn’t the speediest on the team by far, but Quinn is fit enough that even his entry into a sprint could knock over an unsuspecting person, whom this clearly was. They fall to the ground, the momentum of an adult’s body weight and shock making it a hard one. In order to prevent more injury by landing on top of them, Quinn propels himself forward and turns mid-air in a quasi-front flip that he’s sure looked just as stupid as it felt.

“What the fuck, man?”

The voice, even in anger and resentment, is warm and welcoming. Quinn thinks the person has never been cold-hearted, not like him, and it befuddles him until he looks to see who his unsuspecting victim was.

It’s them.

From the dreams.

Standing right in front of him, looking for an explanation as to why they were knocked onto the ground with the ferocity of a barely-legal bodycheck. “Uh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Quinn sputters, utterly failing to suppress his astonishment.

A dry laugh, verging between a chuckle and a cackle, spills from their lips. “No shit. Help me up?”

Quinn wastes no time extending an arm and hauling them off the floor. He notices a lanyard sporting an official arena badge. ‘Logan Haynes (she/they), Public Relations’ is written in neat serif script, along with a picture of her wearing a bright smile. Trying to not be obvious, he gives her a once over, telling himself it’s just to make sure he isn’t hallucinating but really it’s because Quinn wants to get a better look. He isn’t as sly as he hoped because her voice once again comes into focus.

“Do you have a habit of injuring arena staff and then checking them out, Hughes?” Logan asks, cocking their head just enough to let Quinn know the comment is mostly in jest.

He isn’t surprised they know his name, especially if they work in sports. Still, he stammers an answer nervously. “Actually, no. This is my first time.”

“So you were checking me out?”

“I plead the fifth.”

This time a real laugh tumbles out, a hearty one with warmth of a sun-kissed afternoon and Quinn decides in that moment he will do whatever he can to hear that sound for the rest of his life. Neither of them make a move to go their separate ways, nor do they speak. Time stands still, but not in the awkward way that Quinn is accustomed to. It’s all-consuming, how sanguine the moment feels, how things almost audibly clicked into place when he saw Logan. Never one to believe in fairy-tales or the mushy feelings Jack and Daisy describe, Quinn finally gets it.

“Uh, this is really weird, and I swear I don’t normally do this,” he begins, “But can I get your number?”

Logan smiles, almost devilishly, and Quinn is scared for a moment. “So I can send you the bill for my physical therapy? I think I might have seriously pulled a muscle.”

“Whatever you want.” The grin on Quinn’s cheeks makes them ache but he doesn’t care. He extends his open phone and they enter a sequence of digits Quinn decides to commit to memory. With nothing else to do the pair return to their original paths, and Quinn can only hope they want to see him again.

⭒⭑⭒

The game and subsequent activities pass by in a blur. Quinn was attentive, always on the puck and converting turnovers into scoring opportunities, but Logan was the only thing on his mind. The chances of her being real, of being in the same vicinity as him and getting the chance to meet is too serendipitous even for him. He gets knocked around more than usual due to his wandering mind, leading to some questioning looks from teammates and staff members. As soon as he can, Quinn is looking through the arena to find Logan, let them know he wants more than to pay for potential recovery from the injury that he caused, but he can’t find her.

Dejected, he goes back to the bus. Quinn is a quick undresser and prefers to unwind at home or the hotel, so despite his detour he isn’t the last one on the bus. The win doesn’t matter much to him, too in his own head about Logan to care, so Quinn chooses to decline any and all invitations to celebrate with his teammates. He just wants to have a second shower and debate whether or not to text her.

A gentle buzz comes from the inside of Quinn’s suit jacket, and he pulls out his phone with suspicious speed. The guys around him pay no attention, engrossed in their own phones or suspecting Quinn of hitting up someone on his roster like so many others were doing. He hopes it’s Logan, but then realizes that would be impossible seeing as the exchange was strictly one sided. It’s Daisy, finally answering his message from hours earlier.

Nice to hear from you, Quinny! So glad you only reach out when you want my extra-special opinion on ur love life. Could mean nothing, or could mean you’re bound to meet the mystery person soon. Devs won 6-2, suck it. See you next week!!

Quinn thinks that if Daisy knew the events that transpired tonight she’d call it fate, especially given her text, so in order to keep his brothers from finding out and using the situation as teasing material he doesn’t respond. Instead, he opens the contacts app and scrolls until he finds the number he’s looking for.

Still at the back of the bus, his fingers shake as Quinn types out a message.

Hi. It’s Quinn. Hughes. Ready to pay for all of your up front and continuing medical costs.

He hits send, then continues typing.

I’m extremely sorry for earlier tonight, and just realized I never actually apologized. That wasn’t cool of me. I hope you’re okay.

Before he can overthink it even more, Quinn keeps going.

This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous and insane, but I swear I’ve seen you in a bunch of my dreams lately. Crazy, isn’t it?

Not wanting to sit and wait around for his potential embarrassment at his own hands, Quinn closes his eyes. However, he’s hyper aware of the rectangle in his pocket that feels more like a brick than anything. Sleep does not overcome him, just anxious thoughts, and he thinks he might explode if Logan doesn’t respond. No one will ever know except him, but the crushing weight of rejection and dismissal will sting for a long time. Quinn has never been one to put himself out in public this way, and if it blows up in his face on the first try he isn’t sure he’ll have the confidence to try again.

One single vibration hits right below his breastbone. It takes Quinn a moment to realize it isn’t his rapidly beating heart, but instead his dreaded cell phone. A message appears on the lockscreen under the heading he’s been yearning for. When he opens it, Quinn sees four words that might just change his life forever.

I’ve seen you too.

⭑⭒⭑

enjoy this fic? give it a reblog :) <3

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #the summer fic exchange 2k23 #cwrites

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bad268 · 10 months ago

Note

hiii! any chance you could write a Sebastian Montoya enemies to lovers fic? in my Sebas era at the moment 🤩🥳

Because of You (Sebastian Montoya X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (thank you for being patient I loved this request!)

Warnings: road rash, injury, mentions of being attacked, hurt/comfort, “i had nowhere else to go” i hate myself

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 2015

Summary: Classic enemies to lovers with Sebas

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Racing was my life. For as long as I could remember, I was racing, and I was racing well. I rose through the ranks relatively quickly going straight from karting to single-seater championships within two years, and I was already catching the eyes of different Formula 1 teams.

One thing is for certain: I had my fair share of haters. One of which was someone I looked up to while karting who then turned out to be my teammate in F4 and FRECA at Prema and eventually, in F3 for HiTech. That person would be none other than Sebastian Montoya.

It was all fine when we first met during preseason testing for F4. We were getting along great, found some common interests, and he gave me some tips and tricks he used to prepare for a race. All was well until the season started, and I started winning.

It was like I was no longer a friend but a competitor, so I did what I always did and reciprocated the acts. If he was going to be cold to me, I would be cold right back. I was taught to never waste my time on people who didn’t deserve it, and when he ran me off the road during a crucial race of the FRECA season, I saw red.

“You gonna run me off the track again, Montoya?” I teased as we both walked out of the HiTech garage toward our new cars for free practice in Spielberg for the F3 race. “I don’t think the bosses would appreciate that, honestly.”

“If you stay out of my way, we won’t have a problem,” He sneered, rolling his eyes as he finished doing up his race suit.

“Oh, trust me. I plan to be nowhere near you,” I laughed as I pulled my balaclava over my head and started preparing the straps to my helmet. “Besides, it’s not like I have a problem with keeping my nose clean.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed given that you crashed into Gabriele last week,” Sebastian mocked, pointing out my DNF from a couple of weeks ago.

“Because you turned wide!” I exclaimed, slamming my helmet down on the table. “You turned into me, and I took evasive action. It wasn’t my fault. You were the one that got the penalty, dumbass.”

“At least I finished the race,” he snickered as he turned to walk toward his car.

“And at least I can run in the top 3,” I whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“Mind saying that a little louder?” Sebastian snapped, turning to face me as he came to stand directly in front of you.

“I said, at least I can run in the top 3,” I stated firmly, not backing down from his threatening stance. “At least I can say that I’ve won in Monaco. I’m keeping up in the title fight, and where are you? Oh, right! Down in 14th. Our gap is almost as bad as Alonso on Stroll.”

“My car is shit, and you know that,” he seethed, getting up in my face as he pointed a pinger at my chest.

“Excuses, excuses. We have the same fucking car, Seb,” I pointed out as I glared at him. “We all have the same fucking car, so don’t blame the team for your shitty driving style. Maybe if you knew how to drive, you would keep up.”

“You two can fuck later, get in your cars!” Dino shouted from the next garage over as he put his helmet on.

“Shut up, Dino!”

The race went great for me. I secured pole position, scored third in the sprint, and won the feature race. These points shot me up from third to leading the championship. I was on top of the world. I decided I was going to celebrate for the night before I left for the next race.

I was walking through the streets of Monaco pretty late at night. I was pretty sure I knew where I was going but it was also my first time in Monaco. I should have followed the map closer. I don’t remember if I walked into a bad area or if it was some crazy haters. All that I remembered was them yelling at me.

“You’re stealing a seat from people who really deserve it!”

“You’re never going to win the championship!”

“Gabriel deserved that win! You’re just in his way!”

“Undeserved! You’re just lucky!”

At some point, it got physical, and they didn’t stop until they heard sirens in the vicinity. I was breathing heavily as I picked myself up off the ground, immediately taking notice of the soreness across my face and my limbs. Somehow, I limped my way back to the hotel I would need to check out of in the morning.

I got into my room, and as soon as I saw my reflection, I broke. It hit like a ton of bricks (and looked like it too). I slid down the wall, letting it all out. Maybe I didn’t deserve to be in F3. Maybe I didn’t deserve my seat. There are definitely more talented drivers out there. Heck, Ollie swept the weekend at the last race in Baku, and I couldn’t get past Fornaroli for second in the sprint. Maybe they were right.

I took a deep breath, stood up, and moved toward the restroom to get a good look at the wounds and clean them. My right eye was black and bruised, there was a large gash on my eyebrow, my lip was bleeding, and don’t even get me started on the road rash on my arms and legs. I was going to need some supplies to clean these up.

I grabbed my room key and walked out to the hall. Hopefully, Dino or Paul would be in their rooms. Across the hall was Dino’s room to which he didn’t answer. I sighed, already knowing if Dino didn’t answer, he probably already left, and chances are Paul was also gone. Still, I moved over a door and knocked on Paul’s door. Of course, he’s gone too.

They were the only people I talked to on the grid, and I was not about to swallow my pride and go to the lobby for a first aid kit. Just as I was about to head back into my room, I saw a light flash from under a door. Specifically, Sebastian’s door. How desperate was I going to get for this first aid kit? Enough to ask my sworn enemy for help? Yes.

I sighed, walking up to his door. I hesitated before knocking. What was he going to say? What if he laughed? What if he just slammed the door in my face? What if- I didn’t let my mind run anymore as I hurriedly knocked. It took a couple of seconds, but a confused Sebastian opened the door. As soon as he registered it was me, his gaze hardened until he took into account my appearance, his eyes softening almost immediately.

“I had nowhere else to go,” I whispered as I bit my lip, already expecting him to turn me away. “Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?”

“Who the fuck mauled you?!” He all about shouted as his jaw dropped.

“Shut up,” I hissed, covering his mouth as I pushed him into his room. I closed the door quickly as I flipped us, so I was leaning into him against the door. “Do you have any idea what time it is? You’re gonna wake someone up.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied sarcastically as he pushed my hand away from his face in annoyance but quicking wincing as he heard my hiss of pain as he rubbed against one of the road rashes on my arm. He sighed as he dropped his voice to a softer tone, “Sorry, it’s not every day your teammate shows up at your door bloody. Forgive me for freaking out.”

“No, it’s a valid response,” I admitted, stepping back to give him space. That’s when I notice his eyes looking me up and down, taking in all of the injuries. “I just need alcohol and bandages if you have any.”

“Here, hop on the counter,” He offered, leading me into the bathroom. “I’ll help you.” He put his hands on my waist to help me jump up as the rashes on my legs had started scabbing and it was getting difficult to bend them. We fell into a comfortable silence, surprisingly, as he started addressing the wounds on my legs first. As he moved up my legs, he would glance up at me, making sure I was comfortable with what he was doing, causing me to nod almost every time. The one time I didn’t nod immediately was when he got back to my hips and grabbed the end of my shirt. “What if there’s a rash on your side? Or something with your ribs?”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with taking my shirt off in front of you, Seb,” I said, honestly. “We’re constantly at each other’s throats. Who’s to say you won't make a comment about my body?”

“I would never,” He defended, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. How about I just lift it and do a quick check? If there’s nothing, we move to your arms.”

“Quick check,” I pressed, sending him a pointed look, “Nothing else.”

“Nothing else,” he smirked, pulling up my shirt a little and his eyes grew wide immediately. “So, good news and bad news. Good news, there’s no rash. Bad news, you are fifty shades of back and blue.”

“You’re kidding,” I gasped as I tried to turn around and look at my reflection, but quickly felt the pain from turning, causing me to hiss in pain again. “Okay, I believe you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He stood directly in front of me but refused to meet my eye.

“Why would you be sorry? It’s not like you did this,” I asked. He had no reason to apologize for something he didn’t do. “If anything, you’re making it better.”

“I just- if I had been nicer, if we had been friends, if I had gone out with you tonight, none of this would have happened,” he admitted. “Instead, I was in here, watching a movie while you were out getting attacked. I just feel like I could have prevented this somehow.”

“That is out of your control,” I told him. Of course, it was! “You can’t control how people feel toward me. You can’t control the haters.”

“But if you had someone with you, the haters probably wouldn’t have approached you,” he explained, finally meeting my gaze. “I could have protected you.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you hated me when I left the track. There’s no way you would have risked yourself on my behalf.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a fine line between hate and love,” Seb admitted. “Maybe I was jealous of your success. It’s hard being compared to my dad all the time, and I was finally doing good. No offense, but you came in out of nowhere and started dominating. I don’t know if I was just jealous or envious.”

“Really? I’m here because of you!”

“What?”

“You were my idol, Seb,” I chuckled. “I saw you at a karting competition a few years ago, and because of you, I started karting. I was so excited to race with you, and it was awesome getting to learn from you ahead of the season. Then, you just flipped, and I didn’t know what I did. All I knew was that suddenly you hated me, and I reacted back.”

“You’re here because of me? And because of me, we became enemies?”

“Yeah, but because of me, we could be in our lover's arch,” I slipped in, jokingly. At least, it was supposed to be jokingly. Sebastian didn’t take it as a joke as he immediately leaned in and connected our lips in the first of many kisses.

~~~~~

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